prima settimana in roma

It's hard to believe I've only been in Rome for one week as I already feel like I've known my host family for much longer and am very comfortable in their home. The entire Vitolo family has a very good sense of humor and has been extremely generous with me. Now having spent nearly three weeks in Italy, I am understanding a great deal of Italian. I feel like a certified creeper since I am constantly eavesdropping on Italian conversations. I only wish I could speak as much as I comprehend.

Some of this week's highlights: 
Both Monday and Tuesday, Giovanna (mom), kids, and I spent half the day at the military beach just 10 minutes from home. While I say "beach," it is much more like a mini resort, complete with two swimming pools, dressing rooms, showers, playground, and even a bar.

Please notice the blue swim cap Giullio is wearing in this picture. To my great shame and disappointment, this unfortunate fashion statement was protocol for all swimmers. Since I had no choice about swimming in the pool (Virginia and I had our many jumping routines, handstands, and dolphin kicks to practice after all), I was forced to join the rest of the human turtle heads. Virginia and I made the executive decision to be photographed sans caps, despite Giovanna's threats to capture (pun intended) the evidence.

We spent both mornings building castles with dark, mineral-rich Mediterranean sand, cooling off in the pool, catching lizards, and playing Neapolitan cards. Always ready for lunch time, we escaped the heat under bar umbrellas and enjoyed grilled focaccia with prosciutto and cheese followed by coffee and gelato.

Speaking of food, it wouldn't be an Italian blog (or a Sarah Meyer blog for that matter) if I didn't describe the menu. Before this trip I thought it might be stereotypical to assume that Italians eat pasta everyday, but it seems that they really do. I've already had a variety of pastas: one with peas, another with shrimp and grated zucchini, plain oil and cheese, homemade chunky tomato sauce, and even octopus (no grazie). A few of my favorite dishes so far have been gnocchi with red sauce, an interesting combination of sliced pears and goat cheese drizzled with honey, fresh prosciutto and pepper mortadella (YUM!!), fresh tomato-basil salad, and another salad of skinless grilled red peppers, garlic, and olives in olive oil. I've gone for a run once this week so I'm sure it's all evened out;)

Pictured above is the centerpiece of Wednesday night's dinner: buffalo mozzarella. A staple from Naples (the hometown of both Giovanna and Benito), the Vitolos frequently place special orders for this precious white blob. Your standard mozzarella is made with cows' milk in factories, while buffalo mozzarella is handmade with buffalo milk as well. At dinner, Benito served each of us a generous slice, just as if he were cutting a loaf of bread. They shared with me that the Italian nickname for a slab of buffalo mozzarella such as this one is something like "big boob," for the shape, color, and well, milky discharge. Gross. It was delicious, though, with a potent milky flavor. What I didn't expect was that the texture would be so dense and spongy. I may have accidentally told them that chewing it sounded like waxing a car. They laughed, I think.

When asked what my family members like to order at our favorite Italian restaurant, Pucinella, Giovanna responded with equally humiliating and terrible news: neither our chicken parmesan nor veal parmesan are Italian dishes--eggplant parmesan is the only authentic Italian cuisine from the "X parm" category. I could have cried and thrown up at the same time. I felt like a child that's just been told that Santa Claus doesn't exist. 

This week also marked the beginning of my English "lessons" with the kids. As a 9-year-old Italian native, Giulio is impressively working on a 4th grade English language book and Virginia (6) is flying through one for pre-K. I have been amazed by their level of concentration, long attention span, and willingness to learn. I told "Ben" and "Jo" that I only wished my high school students last year could have stayed focused on Spanish material like this. I am thankful I still get to teach this fall, albeit in a vastly smaller and different capacity. I think I am seeing now that it is in my blood...I get just a little too excited when Virginia recalls the few English words that she learns during our playtime. 

Each afternoon, Virginia and I have kept busy with lots of art projects. Everything is glitter for VA: from painting on paper, clay, or even our nails, no project is complete without glitter glue or sparkly stickers. Benito and Giovanna have labeled the little princess as my "cozza" (mussel). Describing someone as a "mussel on a rock" is the Italian version of being a "leach on someone" in English. After my experience in Madrid, I'd much rather "deal" with a "mussel" than the alternative. I am extremely thankful that Virginia and I get along so well despite the language barrier. I already see a lot of improvement in her comprehension and her parents agree.

This weekend, the Vitolos and I (honorary Vitolo) will head to Circeo, a beautiful beach town just one hour's drive from Rome. Jo's parents have a vacation home there where we will enjoy one of the last weekends before Virginia and Giulio head back to school. 

fine settimana in roma

 Yesterday morning, the Vitolos took me to downtown Rome for my first orientation of the city. As we made the twenty minute drive, I couldn't help but think of a funny comparison: Rome to them is like D.C. to me. The kids slept in the car and walked the streets like it was not big deal while I "oo-ed" and "awe-ed" and snapped frantic pictures like a fool. We passed through the ancient city walls and drove by a number of sights like Saint Peter's square...

and the Colosseum (not pictured) to name a few. Apparently, I picked an especially touristy time to see Italy, but I am convinced that the long wait to see the Colosseum at least will be well worth it. When in Rome!

We found parking along the Tevere River, right in front of Castel Sant'Angelo. This is where the Pope lives...not too shabby.

Meandering in and out of one beautiful street after another, we finally arrived at La Piazza Novana, which was crowded with artists and costumed "performers." This is also the square where thousands of Italians will celebrate the Epiphany on January 6th. 

more Piazza Novana

Wedged in between these larger buildings is just one of the over nine hundred churches in Rome. This city is massive--I'll barely be scratching the surface in three months time.

Parliament building

At dinner on Friday, Benito had explained to me the Italian approach to driving tickets, which I also witnessed during our trip yesterday. In contrast to the States, speeding tickets are completely negotiable. No respectable Italian driver would ever accept a ticket from an officer without a thorough conversation first. Apparently, these arguments can last for several hours and often lead to drinks at the bar. In many cases, other drivers get involved and "help" each other piece together the story as witnesses. In this way, one Italian's driving offense can easily become a group activity. 

I have already come to eagerly anticipate dinner here...even more than I already do in the States. While I have never gone hungry here yet, I am thankful that their portions seem to be much smaller than in Spain (or the States for that matter). Last night, we enjoyed an appetizer of bruschetta (halved cherry tomatoes, garlic, basil, and olive oil on top of grilled hard brown bread) and meatballs. For the main course, Benito served us an assortment of grilled seafood including a silver fish, shrimp, and calamari. This was the first time I had ever tasted a naked calamari and I genuinely missed its fried coat.

And then this morning, the entire Vitolo clan and I returned downtown via metro to attend an American Episcopalian church service, which Benito had found for me. Both Giovanna and Benito, having been raised in a Catholic country, had a multitude of questions for me which I enjoyed answering. I so appreciate their curiosity towards life and their desire for learning in general. While worshipping in this beautiful cathedral, I found it much more formal than what I am used to in the Presbyterian church, and yet, far less formal than they are accustomed to in Catholic mass. Benito and Guilio seemed to especially enjoy the atmosphere. Being that the congregation is so small, we were the clear newcomers. After the service, as we enjoyed refreshments in the courtyard, we were quickly surrounded by a host of very kind people, several of whom shared their contact information with me. The overall warmth and hospitality seemed to speak volumes to Benito and he announced that he and Giulio would be coming to Protestant churches with me every week! I couldn't be more thankful for a wonderful first weekend in the ancient city.

la mia nuova famiglia romana

After a short flight from Catania to Rome, my entire Italian family was waiting for me right outside of the baggage claim, complete with a welcome sign and roses. 

In about twenty minutes we had arrived home in Infernetto, a small region within the Roman city limits. 

Even after an espresso in the kitchen with Benito (dad) and Giovanna (mom), I had no problem sinking into a nap coma. Actually everyone was very tired. Apparently, the children got almost no sleep the night before I arrived because they were too excited:) I have the upstairs to myself, which includes a very comfortable bedroom, bathroom, and flat screen TV with American channels included. OK, I'll try to stop rubbing it in...for now;)

Later, I woke up to sweet little knocks on my door, beckoning me down for lunch of fried chicken filets and salad---just like my Spanish madre's. After lunch, I shared some things I had brought them from the States. Benito loved flipping through the Virginia book, the pictures reminding him of all the places that had seen while in their very favorite state. They even named their daughter Virginia (6)! Guilio (son, 9) also seemed to enjoy his Derek Jeter t-shirt (even if it was down to his knees) because he immediately threw it on and wore it all day. I can't wait to see Virginia in her new dance costume. She takes ballet lessons during the school year here.

In the evening, the kids and I spread a number of craft materials out on the kitchen table and set to work with some clay. Art seems to be a favorite hobby of theirs and they have a very impressive closet collection of books and supplies to prove it.  I am already so impressed with how good-natured and respectful these children are. They share a room, do their chores, and get along. Even the parents said that their kids rarely fight with one another. Who are these people anyway!?

Before dinner, Giovanna, Benito, and I toasted my first night in Rome with a delicious summer cocktail. I guess you could call it the Italian mojito since it was made with prosecco, sparkling water, simple syrup, and mint. We then enjoyed a delicious meal where Giovanna showcased her signature dish: lasagna, and served it with peach sangria. Apparently she is highly regarded as a very talented cook even among Italians. I think I am really going to like this place:) Dinner conversation was so wonderful that it accidentally lasted until after 11pm. Giovanna and Benito have lived all over the world and they had a number of fascinating stories about their travels, as well as his work experiences with the UN and now NATO. We also seem to share very similar philosophies on raising children and the importance of honesty and keeping an open mind. For this I am more thankful than words can express since a clash in views on discipline and a gross lack of communication proved the central problems for my au pair job in Madrid. It is so refreshing to hear how fondly they speak of the US, the American accent, and especially their favorite state: Virginia. 

God is so good. I could not have picked a more perfect family with which to spend the next 3 months. It's a reminder to me that He is sovereign and cares deeply for His children. I need to take this truth and entrust my fear of manual driving in Italy with Him as well. At least they claim Roman drivers are not as crazy as Sicilians, but I guess it's all relative really.

"Nonna knows best"

We thought the day would never come--our last in Sicily, for now anyway. Early tomorrow morning (as in leaving the house circa 4:30 AM--6 hours before my ideal waking), we will all go our separate ways. Jess will return to the States, Becca to meet Elliott in Vicenza, and I to Rome where my new Italian family will be waiting. 

Per usual, Jess and I spent our last afternoon upstairs sunbathing and chatting on the upper terrace with our adopted Italian grandmother. I could cry she is so gracious and adorable. She was in Milan visiting her children when I arrived in Sicily and Jess daily mourned for her return. Nonna and Nonno have been back in Motta for only a few days now and I already feel like I've known them for years. Nonna ("grandmother" as she has demanded Jess call her) speaks to us as if we are capable of a fluent Italian exchange. I have been able to understand a good portion of what Nonna relays to us, though, and have been able to communicate far more than I originally thought I'd be able to, which is fun and exciting for me:) Nonna bustles about to bring out the "cuscini" (cushions) for us, serves us shots of espresso, and we chat and plan our prospective return to Sicily next summer and my trip to her home in Milan this fall. She plants one thousand little kisses on each of our cheeks and tells us how tan and beautiful we are, all before we are allowed to leave. 

 View from Nonna's upper terrace. In the distance you can just make out Etna's silhouette. 

Nonna, me, and Nonno

Noi amiamo la nostra nonna dulce :)

Nonna reminds me so much of my Spanish host madre (except probably less bossy) from when I studied in Salamanca, which makes me very nostalgic. In my opinion, everyone could use an Italian "nonna" or Spanish "abuelita" in their lives. I firmly believe that a nonna revolution would cut down on crime and even terrorism worldwide. This entire town is full of little old cuties really, and Jess and I certainly have our favorites--like Ciccio (Chee-choh) at the convenience store. He thinks he's such a lady's man; but then again, he is.

This time tomorrow I will be eating dinner with my new Roman family in my home for the next three months. Ciao Sicilia, let the adventure begin!

Siracusa

Today, the Garber girls and I made the hour drive to the city of Siracusa (sear-ah-coo-sah). There seem to be a number of sites to see within only one hour of Motta, which has made for a very full and varied visit.

First stop was the open-air market. Personally, I preferred this one to Catania's for the free samples: stewed vegetables on french bread and chunks (I hate that word) of baked ricotta. Grazie mille!

The main piazza in the heart of Siracusa.

Formerly a Greek temple, this edifice was later transformed into a Roman Catholic cathedral, showcasing an interior of eclectic columns and architecture in general. 

Man down! When this baby decides she's tired, no piazza littered in cigarette butts and bird droppings is going to stop her.

11:30 AM fix...never too early. Please also note the palm tree in the upper right hand corner that also conveniently bears a striking resemblance to a gelato cone.

Apparently the city of Siracusa is famous for the papyrus pictured here, which can only grow where freshwater meets saltwater. Surrounding shops were filled with paper they made from the plant.

Try and tell me this speedo-ed man wasn't posing.

After a long stroll in the heat, the Garber women and I stopped for a crucial beach break.

Sending this one in for Carnival Cruise Line ad

Before heading back to Motta, Becca introduced us to her favorite pizzeria in town. After all, (wo)man cannot live on gelato alone...or can she? 

Somehow these rocks reminded me of a shredded wheat

And just for fun: on a city-wide quest for granita in Motta yesterday, Jess and I discovered the European life"saver"...

Mount Etna

After church on the base this morning, the Garber clan and I planned our hike up Mount Etna, a massive volcano about 30 minutes from Motta. No major eruption has occurred since the '80's so the trails are frequented by hikers on a daily basis. 

We found the Sicilian Mordor!

Jess and I have commented on how Middle Eastern the landscape looks, and yet many parts very closely resemble the plateaus of the Western United States. Etna was like nothing I had ever seen before: a curious dichotomy of bleak and barren against thriving flora and plains. Not to mention, lava ash as far as the eye could see.

This was also the first time in a while that I've actually felt cold. Under the first cloud cover I've seen in Sicily, we hiked in bug-less, zero humidity, cool bliss.

Jess and I came across the sweetest family of goats on the trail too. What dears.

At the summit we spotted a large group of hikers running/sliding/FLYING down the ash and trailing an incredible dust cloud behind them. Add one to the bucket list.

To finish off another perfect day, we stopped at Donna Fortunata, a favorite Pizzeria of Becca and Elliott's in Motta. Elliott foolishly ordered the most delicious and ended up having to trade away a good portion of his pesto ham pizza. Jess and I also had very solid choices: the classic Margherita and the Norma (salted ricotta, eggplant, and tomato sauce). Becca ordered an interesting pizza with anchovies and without cheese...call it the pregnant pallet. 

Instead of bringing us a basket of bread and waters, we were given bruschetta and strawberry champagne. I'll be spoiled for anything less now. I also marveled at how inexpensive the menu was for items that would have easily been double or triple the price in the States. I guess the cuisine is just "no big deal" to Italians.  

I've been so blown away by how gracious the locals have been to us during my stay here in Sicily and this seems to be true of my family in Rome as well. Somehow I doubt that many immigrants (even tourists) to America feel that way about us.

This picture helps explain just how comfortable baby Lena has become with me. Walking home from dinner, I carried her through the Medieval Festival and quickly discovered a warm trickling sensation running down my arm and torso. Pee would have been a blessing. It wasn't pee. 

Later at home, Lena did pee...this time on the floor. Elliott appropriately labeled the scene of the crime as not just pee, but "pee with lava footprints." How's that for some culture?!

La Spiaggia

Once a very tired Elliott came home from Ghana this morning, we all made the hour trek to another beachy paradise--this time, right outside of Syracusa.

Even though the Outer Banks in North Carolina is very near and dear to my heart, it just can't compare to crystal clear water and white sand in the Mediterranean. The only downside was feeling a little too close for comfort to young (and some not-so-young) steamy Italian lovers. 

This is the view from a rocky ridge on one side of the cove where Jess, Elliott, and I climbed. Even better was jumping off just below.

On the other side of the cove we found the main attraction: a large group of Italians showed us up with back flips and dives into the water from impressive heights. In some ways it reminded me of taking children down to the river and jumping off the rocks in Honduras...except without machetes. 

As I mentioned in a previous post, the Medieval Festival has been going on all week during the evenings here in Motta. Jess, Becca, and I have spectated a number of performances ranging from fire juggling to belly dancing. Jess was so moved by a particular belly dancing performance last night that she created her own spirited rendition. I'll leave it to her to explain that one.

Another nightly ritual here: we love dark chocolate gelato! And happen to be blending in seamlessly at the Medieval Festival...