3/27/10
Chiuso o Aperto
Yikes…I am as good at this blogging thing as I used to be at face book. In December I realized that I hadn’t checked my face book since October. Updates have been difficult because internet access has been infrequent. It has become painfully obvious is that whether something is open or closed depends on everything from the weather, to the days of the week to what someone ate for lunch. While Amy and Jeff were here, the weather was very temperamental. Almost every day after eating “Pranza” (an extended Italian lunch) we were all in need of a good hike. A climb up “La Rocca” behind our house would have been perfect but we could never figure out when it was open. Wind, rain, too many beans for lunch, were all a good reason for the local forest ranger, (equipped in the latest, fashionable bright yellow rain gear) to close the gate. Lucca took many trips up to the gate only to read “Chiuso”. Its one of the first Italian words he learned. The internet cafes have been no different. While I appreciate the fact that no one seems to sweat the details here, I am also realizing how truly American I am. Doing business here must be a struggle. Maybe I can blame the fact that I have difficulty making it to appointments on time to the fact that I was born here (Umbertide, Umbria 1967).
Ear Worm
I feel very rich in friends. Everyone who has come for a visit has been such fun to spend time with. Jeff was his usual calm, collected dapper self. He and Tony took a trip to Palermo and confirmed my suspicions from a previous expedition with Amy. Palermo is the Detroit of Sicily. It is surviving somehow. Palermo is the 5th largest city in Italy (?) and is somehow surviving despite serious neglect and chaos. I suspect that the city would feel quite different if I were staying there with the right person. Right now, it seems like a tragic, crumbling version of its former glory. At least 2 guidebooks have quoted noted historians about Palermo’s stunning beauty in the past. It was considered by some to be the most beautiful city in the World. We decided not to take Lucca for a day trip because the traffic is so crazy. I have already lost several years off my life from my enthusiastic over consumption of pasta. I don’t think spending a day getting more grey hair while trying to cross the street is a good idea. This is supposed to be a vacation after all.
Andreas arrived and it was like we hadn’t skipped a beat. His frank, un-self conscious enthusiasm for travel and sweets is unparalleled by anyone else I know. Lucca couldn’t get enough of him (maybe because they are so similar). Andreas and Lucca spent at least two days at the beach in Cefalu building sand castles and “Greek Temples” out of sticks. Andreas remarked that it was such a shame that a grown man couldn’t do the same thing by himself at the beach…that he had to be accompanied by a child.
A little more about Andreas.; Andreas is a “former” East German. He grew up behind the iron curtain. Despite the restrictions imposed upon him he somehow managed to do a tremendous amount of traveling before the wall came down. His stories are mind blowing. We met him almost 17 years ago in Indianola when he was a camp counselor at Camp Indianola. We were smitten with him then, and we have seen him at least every 2 years since. He is a living contradiction; he’s German but he hates soccer, he hates beer and he would leave Germany and own a chocolate-teddybear shop in Poulsbo if he could. Despite the fact that he looks like he is Greek, he is convinced that Germans invented everything that has made modern life livable. I can’t count on my fingers how many times we were discussing some random topic and Andreas would remark that Germany was responsible for the particular concept, or invention. He hates to be wrong. One evening Andreas stated that there was a movie made in Italy that took place on one of the Islands off the coast of Sicily, the Island of Stromboli. He was sure that Gina Lola Brigida had starred in it. By happenstance, I found a mention of the movie in our guide book. It turns out that Ingrid Bergman had stared in the movie. Andreas was miffed that he had been wrong about the starlet. He asked me if I knew that Ingrid Bergman had shot one of her lovers and had spent some time in jail. I’m no expert when it comes to celebrities…but this didn’t ring a bell. We decided to make a wager…a chocolate covered torrone bar, my favorite sweet here (made with egg whites, pistachios, honey and chocolate). Do you know anyone who hates to be wrong? For me the victory wasn’t actually winning the bet…it was watching Andreas wring his hands when he went to bed that night. I had looked up Ingrid Bergman on Wikipedia on my cell phone that night and even though the site clearly stated that she hadn’t shot anyone and that she hadn’t spend any time in jail, Andreas was convinced that the American version must be wrong. He was determined to look up the information on German Google the next day. Victory is sweet…especially in my case. As it turns out, a German woman named Ingrid Von Bergen, who had been a star in the 60’s (?) shot her lover and killed him in a moment during a heated argument. She spent 7 years in jail. Note to self…move to Germany if you want to get away with murder! Ingrid Von Bergen is still alive and recently participated in the German version of Survivor. As Andreas stated…she’s not even “B” list anymore. The years haven’t been kind. Ingrid looks like she could be Ozzy Osbourne’s older sister. I ate my torrone with such pleasure.
We started to mourn Andreas’s departure a few days before he left. He is such easy company. He made our parting a little easier by singing the same song over and over and over again before he left. It was a song from a TV show for kids called “Jim Knopf and the Locomotive Driver”, according to Andreas it became a top ten song in Germany in the 90’s. Hours before his train left I thought Tony was going to kill him. Andreas explained that when you have a song that rings in your head repeatedly it is called an “ear worm” in Germany.
Here is the English version of Andreas’s “ear worm” song, translated by Andreas ;
“There’s an island with two mountains and the deep blue sea and the tunnels and the rail-tracks for the train traffic.”
“What the name of the island might be which is surrounded by nice beaches. Everybody should travel one time in its live to the nice island Lummerland.”
It sounds so innocent…you’d never know that this song was used by the German’s in World War II to extract top secret information from captured Allied soldiers. They just sang it to their captives repeatedly until their ears bled.
St Theresa
My Italian classes gave me enough of a vocabulary to make me dangerous. I can now say “My name is Brigitte, I have a husband who can speak Italian well…I cannot. My son is 5. I am studying Italian. I am American. I am staying in Sicily for vacation for one month. I would like an espresso.” That’s about it. The poor suckers I talk to are under the delusion that I can actually understand what they say after I’m done with my canned dialogue. When they encounter my blank stare they usually give up. I understand enough Italian to know that a few of them say; “You don’t know what I’m saying, do you.” I can order food in a restaurant, purchase produce, fish, meat, cheese from a vendor and get my cappuccino in the morning. I can also buy shoes….
My cooking teacher, Theresa, is a retired Bank director. She lives about 2 miles up a long hill in the countryside on the outskirts of Cefalu. She only speaks Italian. Theresa is a friend of a young woman named Jennifer who works at the language school “Cultur Forma” in Cefalu. It took a few days for me to piece together that Jennifer had dated one of Theresa’s nephews who died tragically 7 years ago. They stayed in touch. Theresa also lost her husband 3 years ago. She lives in an enormous 5 bedroom house on at least 7 acres with olive, chestnut, orange, lemon, apricot, and cherry trees all by herself. I am the first student she has ever had. I had 4 classes and they went remarkably well considering that each one resembled a very animated pictionary game. When it comes to food, I can speak any language. Really…give me a parachute, some spare change and a kitchen…I can poison anyone in any country. What I learned from Theresa (which is true anywhere in the world) is that nothing beats fresh ingredients. We cooked with olive oil from her trees, olives that she cured, sardines caught that very day….you really can’t make a bad meal when you keep it simple and cook from good local ingredients. I feel so lucky to live in the Northwest. We may not have fresh Buffalo Mozzerella , fresh Ricotta, or swordfish from the bay outside our door…but we have our own amazing seafood, locally raised meat and lots of fresh local veggies. I’m not disappointed that our water isn’t coming from ancient Roman lead pipes either.
I soon discovered that Theresa was a very generous, good humored and well educated woman. She opened her house to me and had the good grace not to ask me any questions I couldn’t answer in my cave-woman Italian. She talked, I listened…and amazingly, I understood a great deal. She insisted on inviting Tony and Lucca for lunch one day and Joni and Scott Kimmel the next. Her sister and brother in law, Ester and Guiseppe, drove everyone up from town. One day we sat having lunch (the television was always on) when it was announced on Italian television that Obama’s health-care bill had passed, we all raised a glass and made a toast. The whole world is watching us. Sicily is a country with an amazingly dramatic past and a long series of terribly corrupt leaders. Berlusconi owns everything, the television stations, the radio, the papers. People here are watching us, and by every indication it seems that they want us to succeed. They want to believe that Democracy is possible because they are hoping for change in their own backyards. Our country is so young and yet in such a short amount of time we have become a symbol of what is possible. Personally, I was thrilled to see Obama elected, but I feel the importance of our decision on a global level here. I am convinced, more now than ever how critical traveling is...especially as an American. Sicily is a good example of what is happening elsewhere. There are amazing sites to see, the landscape is so dramatic and moving, but there is ruin and poverty everywhere you turn. People are desperate for work and change. I can’t imagine living in a country where a huge part of the economy relies on tourists who arrive for an afternoon in huge buses, see a few sites, buy a few postcards, eat a meal and leave.
The Kimmels
Scott and Joni’s visit was a huge success. They arrived after spending 5 days in Rome and we had a wonderful time. I made them a few of the Sicilian dishes I had learned how to cook from Theresa…if they were feeding the dog under the table at least they were very subtle about it. They were a pleasure to host. It’s always a gamble spending time and/or traveling with someone for the first time. Ordinary people can turn into werewolves when they aren’t sleeping in their own beds, eating familiar food or living according to their normal routine. It can be hell when you are navigating a different country with someone who can’t roll with the punches. Joni and I work together well (we are business partners) for the same reason that we enjoy each others company in unfamiliar territory. We like good food, we like good wine, we are married to good men, we get a thrill out of having to respond spontaneously to unusual situations…and we are spot on when it comes to giving each other shopping advice. It’s a rare combination of attributes that only align once every 500 years or so.
A Few Observations of Sicily…
1. The TV is always on…and Italian television is, well…take all of our worst shows; Jerry Springer, Judge Judy, American Idol, Survivor. Make sure the host has over styled hair, breast implants, obvious cosmetic surgery, and a smoker’s voice. Add about 10 extraneous bimbos who just hang around on stage, and a huge over dressed, noisy, opinionated crowd.
2. I’m pretty sure the entire country has only one radio station and it’s an American “soft hits” station. I have never heard so much Barry White and Whitney Houston in my life.
3. If Sicily had a scent it would be a combination of fresh baked bread, orange blossom, cigarette smoke, espresso, with just a hint of cat urine
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Saldi!
One of the first words for any sensible woman to learn in Italian is SALDI. On a past trip to Italy it took me at least a week to figure out that this word on every store front wasn't advertising a popular brand name...but letting everyone know that the store was having a SALE. Cefalu is on SALDI at the moment. The weather has been pretty terrible for the past week and a half (rainy, windy, cold). However, we now have sunny weather predicted for next week. The tourists are starting to arrive, mainly Germans and some French, and the stores want to clear out their winter merchandise to make way for string bikinis, pre-shredded jeans and mid rif tops. Thank God we are here off season. I can hardly fit into my jeans now...if I had to wear a bathing suit I'd be in serious trouble.
I walked into a shop today advertising 70% off of everything. They pegged me for an American right away. I realized it was the way I was aggressively pawing through the clothes. At least I wasn't chewing gum! Not only do I walk like a cowgirl,and talk like a cowgirl, but I guess I shop like a cowgirl too. From what I've observed, when Italians shop they ask the shop owner to bring them the merchandise. It's a dance. You ask for a black sweater and the owner brings you an assortment in the size SHE thinks you need. Most baked goods are behind counters, most meat is behind a counter and at a fruit and vegetable shop you do NOT touch anything. You ask for what you want and the vendor picks it out for you. While this practice is old fashioned, it does encourage people to interact and it helps to create and maintain a sense of community. It is much easier to walk into a Supermarket, but I think we lose a little something.
Tony has been talking a great deal with his teacher, Vittoria, about the mafia in Sicily and Italy in general. It isn't something that is obvious at first sight. Even though there is a fair amount of theft and racketeering, the biggest issue is that the corruption is at all levels of government. Sicily has been devastatingly impacted by the hold the Mafia has on business here. A number of European countries have wanted to start operations here in Sicily because the wages are relatively low and it has a well educated population (Ikea has been trying to open a plant here for years). However, it takes so much time get every one's approval and so many palms have to be greased, that most businesses give up. It's a real shame. Palermo is recorded in paintings and history books as having been one of the most beautiful cities many travelers had ever seen (a few hundred years ago). Palermo was hit hard during World War 2 and most of the money for reconstruction when into private pockets. When Amy and I visited Palermo last week I was pretty shocked at how rough it looked. The internal part of the Island (where there isn't much tourism)is especially poor. In most of the guide books I've seen there are warnings about leaving your car parked in one place for too long in a number of cities. Some of these towns and cities have the best remaining Greek ruins in the world. I feel for people here. There is a feeling of helplessness about politics. As if this is the way things have always been...and always will be. No wonder many people in other countries are enamoured with America. As bad as it may seem right now in the states, I can't imagine knowing that everyone in the government is on the take.
I walked into a shop today advertising 70% off of everything. They pegged me for an American right away. I realized it was the way I was aggressively pawing through the clothes. At least I wasn't chewing gum! Not only do I walk like a cowgirl,and talk like a cowgirl, but I guess I shop like a cowgirl too. From what I've observed, when Italians shop they ask the shop owner to bring them the merchandise. It's a dance. You ask for a black sweater and the owner brings you an assortment in the size SHE thinks you need. Most baked goods are behind counters, most meat is behind a counter and at a fruit and vegetable shop you do NOT touch anything. You ask for what you want and the vendor picks it out for you. While this practice is old fashioned, it does encourage people to interact and it helps to create and maintain a sense of community. It is much easier to walk into a Supermarket, but I think we lose a little something.
Tony has been talking a great deal with his teacher, Vittoria, about the mafia in Sicily and Italy in general. It isn't something that is obvious at first sight. Even though there is a fair amount of theft and racketeering, the biggest issue is that the corruption is at all levels of government. Sicily has been devastatingly impacted by the hold the Mafia has on business here. A number of European countries have wanted to start operations here in Sicily because the wages are relatively low and it has a well educated population (Ikea has been trying to open a plant here for years). However, it takes so much time get every one's approval and so many palms have to be greased, that most businesses give up. It's a real shame. Palermo is recorded in paintings and history books as having been one of the most beautiful cities many travelers had ever seen (a few hundred years ago). Palermo was hit hard during World War 2 and most of the money for reconstruction when into private pockets. When Amy and I visited Palermo last week I was pretty shocked at how rough it looked. The internal part of the Island (where there isn't much tourism)is especially poor. In most of the guide books I've seen there are warnings about leaving your car parked in one place for too long in a number of cities. Some of these towns and cities have the best remaining Greek ruins in the world. I feel for people here. There is a feeling of helplessness about politics. As if this is the way things have always been...and always will be. No wonder many people in other countries are enamoured with America. As bad as it may seem right now in the states, I can't imagine knowing that everyone in the government is on the take.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
3/9 “Sicilia in Bocca”
3/9
“Sicilia in Bocca”
Yesterday I bought a Sicilian cookbook titled “Sicilia in Bocca”. The book looks like it was made out of brown paper bags and must have been originally published in the 60’s or 70’s. It is written primarily in Italian but has the most hilarious English translations. The beginning section of the text on Antipasti reads as follows; “We would much prefer to open this collection of Sicilian recipes with the hors-d’oeuvres section. On the contrary, not only the lacking of such a tradition prevents us, but also our reluctance to give our readers the image of a people that, in order to relish a meal satisfactorily, need appetizing hors-d’oeuvres to excite the gastric juice secretion and, briefly, to stimulate the appetite. In not far away times, here people used to think our genial expedients to “jump” lunch or dinner and surely not because they were overweight or suffering from liver disorder.” There’s nothing like a good introduction to whet the appetite. I don’t know about you, but that paragraph really makes my juices secrete!
I made a little progress connecting with some “town folk” today. I’ve been checking out and comparing all of the produce stands, bakeries and general stores (general stores have cheese, meat, milk, eggs, etc.) since I arrived. Most people are friendly but my Italian isn’t good enough to ask in depth questions and a lot of shopkeepers seem busy and don’t necessarily want to spend a lot of time giving me a free Italian lesson. The weather for the past 5 days has been unseasonably cold, rainy and blustery. So now, when I walk in the door, the first thing I do is mime dying of hypothermia and mention the bad weather “Bruto Tempo!” That seems to break the ice. Then I stroll through the shop and think of a question. Today, in my cavewoman Italian, I asked a taciturn shopkeeper (who I haven’t gotten to crack a smile yet) “What pasta goes with this Pistachio Pesto”? He responded with enthusiasm immediately. It seems that people here are more than happy to tell me EXACTLY what should go with what and how to put it together. I love it. Who needs cooking classes when you have opinionated shop owners!
Jeff Olson, a friend from Seattle, is visiting us now. My dear friend Amy, from Brooklyn, left early this morning. I’m happy to have another person to try out my bastard Sicilian concoctions on. Today we had a huge spread for lunch; antipasti with roasted red peppers, grilled pumpkin (haven’t figured out how the locals give it the sweet and sour taste yet), Buffalo mozzerella with ripe tomatoes, fresh ricotta, locally made pecorino with red pepper flakes, salad with raddichio, tortellini stuffed with beef and served with a béchamel sauce, breaded chicken cutlets stuffed with prosciutto and mozzerella, green olives, warm bread from the bakery 4 doors down the street, and some damn fine local white wine called “Grillo”. I wish I could take credit for all of the food, but the chicken and the tortellini came fresh and readymade from local shops (when I found the one local, fresh pasta shop I did a happy dance). Despite the fact that the Euro has been in decline…it is still expensive to eat out. If you stay somewhere with even a small kitchen, you can eat as well, if not better, than in some restaurants. I am very, very glad that I packed 2 pairs of pants with elastic waistbands…
“Sicilia in Bocca”
Yesterday I bought a Sicilian cookbook titled “Sicilia in Bocca”. The book looks like it was made out of brown paper bags and must have been originally published in the 60’s or 70’s. It is written primarily in Italian but has the most hilarious English translations. The beginning section of the text on Antipasti reads as follows; “We would much prefer to open this collection of Sicilian recipes with the hors-d’oeuvres section. On the contrary, not only the lacking of such a tradition prevents us, but also our reluctance to give our readers the image of a people that, in order to relish a meal satisfactorily, need appetizing hors-d’oeuvres to excite the gastric juice secretion and, briefly, to stimulate the appetite. In not far away times, here people used to think our genial expedients to “jump” lunch or dinner and surely not because they were overweight or suffering from liver disorder.” There’s nothing like a good introduction to whet the appetite. I don’t know about you, but that paragraph really makes my juices secrete!
I made a little progress connecting with some “town folk” today. I’ve been checking out and comparing all of the produce stands, bakeries and general stores (general stores have cheese, meat, milk, eggs, etc.) since I arrived. Most people are friendly but my Italian isn’t good enough to ask in depth questions and a lot of shopkeepers seem busy and don’t necessarily want to spend a lot of time giving me a free Italian lesson. The weather for the past 5 days has been unseasonably cold, rainy and blustery. So now, when I walk in the door, the first thing I do is mime dying of hypothermia and mention the bad weather “Bruto Tempo!” That seems to break the ice. Then I stroll through the shop and think of a question. Today, in my cavewoman Italian, I asked a taciturn shopkeeper (who I haven’t gotten to crack a smile yet) “What pasta goes with this Pistachio Pesto”? He responded with enthusiasm immediately. It seems that people here are more than happy to tell me EXACTLY what should go with what and how to put it together. I love it. Who needs cooking classes when you have opinionated shop owners!
Jeff Olson, a friend from Seattle, is visiting us now. My dear friend Amy, from Brooklyn, left early this morning. I’m happy to have another person to try out my bastard Sicilian concoctions on. Today we had a huge spread for lunch; antipasti with roasted red peppers, grilled pumpkin (haven’t figured out how the locals give it the sweet and sour taste yet), Buffalo mozzerella with ripe tomatoes, fresh ricotta, locally made pecorino with red pepper flakes, salad with raddichio, tortellini stuffed with beef and served with a béchamel sauce, breaded chicken cutlets stuffed with prosciutto and mozzerella, green olives, warm bread from the bakery 4 doors down the street, and some damn fine local white wine called “Grillo”. I wish I could take credit for all of the food, but the chicken and the tortellini came fresh and readymade from local shops (when I found the one local, fresh pasta shop I did a happy dance). Despite the fact that the Euro has been in decline…it is still expensive to eat out. If you stay somewhere with even a small kitchen, you can eat as well, if not better, than in some restaurants. I am very, very glad that I packed 2 pairs of pants with elastic waistbands…
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Forest Gump's twin sister learns Italian
Yesterday evening Tony and I decided that we will not be able to fit into our seats on the return flight home if we don’t stop eating for a party of 5 at every meal. There is just so much good food,it’s hard to turn things down. There is an amazing variety of fresh fish; swordfish, sardines, squid, shrimp, tuna, and countless other critters I don’t even recognize. The cheeses are primarily fresh and dried ricotta, provolone and a variety of pecorino. The bread is very distinctive. What we’ve bought in shops and had at restaraunts so far has had a dense, chewy texture, and tastes like it's made with eggs and a dash of cinnamon. The veggies are off the hook.No wonder so many classic Italian recipes seem deceptively simple. When you cook with really good ingredients it’s hard to go wrong. We can't seem to get enough of the grilled eggplant, roasted red peppers and fresh baby artichokes. The wine has been the biggest surprise. There are hundreds of different wines produced in Sicily. I can’t believe we don’t import more to the states. A shopkeeper told us that there is an issue with the taxes the states impose on importing it. I think the Italian “Padrinos” in New York need to work some things out with their Sicilian counterparts. The variety and quality are amazing. Sicilian wines can easily compete with California, Chile and Australia. We had a Chardonnay the other night that knocked our socks off.
I’m beginning to grasp that life here as woman has some serious restrictions. I took Lucca for a walk along part of Cefalu's rocky shoreline yesterday afternoon and had several local men shout warnings to me about the danger of walking so close to the water. Granted, the ocean along the jagged rocks was turbulent, but there was a path that wound it’s way up and around them. I was holding Lucca’s hand most of the time and while it was exhilarating…it was never dangerous. I’ve decided to stop worrying about offending the locals. Maybe they were just yelling because I had unattractive, sensible footwear on.
Italian lesson #1 or Forest Gump’s twin sister learns a new language. Yesterday I learned that I don’t speak Italian. I’m great at the hand gestures, but that’s about it. I also remembered why I’ve been avoiding lessons, I don’t like being bad at anything. I had a two hour, private lesson with “Liana”, who spoke almost no English the entire time.By the end of the lesson I had smoke coming out of my ears. She seemed a bit puzzled by the fact that I continually redirected the lesson away from “My name is…I am from…I ate some eggs for breakfast on a plate” to “Why do I get funny looks when I order a Negroni cocktail at the local bar?”. At one point she was trying to teach me to say “I am in Cefalu for the first time. I am here on vacation. I am studying Italian.” I kept saying, “I am in Cefalu for the first time. I am here to eat my vacation.” At the end of the lesson I asked her if she had any other students that day. She shook her head vigorously. After her two trying hours with me, I think she was planning to go home and knock back a bottle of Campari.
Italian Lesson #2. Liana almost pulled her hair out today. It's obvious that my sophisticated brain stores such a large amount of data regarding what shoes should go with what accessories, that there isn't room left for much else. About 3/4 of the way through the lesson I couldn't remember any Italian or English. I went to a nearby stationary store and tried to find index cards...I couldn't remember how to ask for them in my own language!! Thankfully, I did have a breakthrough. There is a little mom and pop bar/cafe around the corner from the school. I successfully ordered a capuccino in perfect Italian, and on my way out noticed a new kind of potato pizza being taken straight out of the oven. I think I said "What is that? The perfume of the bread is beautiful!"...either that or "Who are you? You smell like fresh potato!".
Tony’s Italian teacher, Vittoria, spoke to him yesterday about how impossibly difficult it is to be an older single woman here. People don’t really have “friends” outside of their families. You are expected to spend all of your time (outside of work, chores and transit) with family. Family is everything. Vittoria said that this philosophy works when you have small children…but as you get older it gets confining and lonely. So…the sun shines here a lot, the wine and food are unbelievable, but there is no such thing as “Girls night out”.
Lucca is loving his Catholic Kindergarten experience. Today he told Tony “Hey Dad, they say “Bye” the same way we do!” Tony responded “No Lucca, they are speaking to you in English..." He is so much like me it's painful. Most of the time he speaks to the other kids in English and they speak to him in Italian. Watching them you would swear that they understand each other. He seems fixated on the fact that many of his fellow classmates get a chocolate treat from their parents for "snack time" every day. I pack Lucca some fruit, yogurt and one little almond cookie. I don't know how to break it to him that the nuns might think he was possessed if they ever witnessed the "before and after" chocolate transformation in our child. We've had to severely limit his gelato intake because he turns into the Tasmanian devil after wards.
Lucca is asking a lot about religion and mythology. I bought him a children’s book on Greek myths before we came. I wanted him to understand a little bit about the Greek ruins that are everywhere here.While walking along the beach yesterday we discussed “Poseidon” the Greek god of the sea. I can tell that Lucca loves the idea of all of the different deities who have control over specific things. The myth about Hercules is his current favorite. I can only imagine what's bouncing around in his little head. Our conversations now include Pokemon characters, Jesus and the meaning of Easter (Catholic Kindergarten), Godzilla and Greek Gods. This kid's cosmos is full of an astounding array of characters. As a result...I'm pretty sure he will turn out to be a Dentist.
I’m beginning to grasp that life here as woman has some serious restrictions. I took Lucca for a walk along part of Cefalu's rocky shoreline yesterday afternoon and had several local men shout warnings to me about the danger of walking so close to the water. Granted, the ocean along the jagged rocks was turbulent, but there was a path that wound it’s way up and around them. I was holding Lucca’s hand most of the time and while it was exhilarating…it was never dangerous. I’ve decided to stop worrying about offending the locals. Maybe they were just yelling because I had unattractive, sensible footwear on.
Italian lesson #1 or Forest Gump’s twin sister learns a new language. Yesterday I learned that I don’t speak Italian. I’m great at the hand gestures, but that’s about it. I also remembered why I’ve been avoiding lessons, I don’t like being bad at anything. I had a two hour, private lesson with “Liana”, who spoke almost no English the entire time.By the end of the lesson I had smoke coming out of my ears. She seemed a bit puzzled by the fact that I continually redirected the lesson away from “My name is…I am from…I ate some eggs for breakfast on a plate” to “Why do I get funny looks when I order a Negroni cocktail at the local bar?”. At one point she was trying to teach me to say “I am in Cefalu for the first time. I am here on vacation. I am studying Italian.” I kept saying, “I am in Cefalu for the first time. I am here to eat my vacation.” At the end of the lesson I asked her if she had any other students that day. She shook her head vigorously. After her two trying hours with me, I think she was planning to go home and knock back a bottle of Campari.
Italian Lesson #2. Liana almost pulled her hair out today. It's obvious that my sophisticated brain stores such a large amount of data regarding what shoes should go with what accessories, that there isn't room left for much else. About 3/4 of the way through the lesson I couldn't remember any Italian or English. I went to a nearby stationary store and tried to find index cards...I couldn't remember how to ask for them in my own language!! Thankfully, I did have a breakthrough. There is a little mom and pop bar/cafe around the corner from the school. I successfully ordered a capuccino in perfect Italian, and on my way out noticed a new kind of potato pizza being taken straight out of the oven. I think I said "What is that? The perfume of the bread is beautiful!"...either that or "Who are you? You smell like fresh potato!".
Tony’s Italian teacher, Vittoria, spoke to him yesterday about how impossibly difficult it is to be an older single woman here. People don’t really have “friends” outside of their families. You are expected to spend all of your time (outside of work, chores and transit) with family. Family is everything. Vittoria said that this philosophy works when you have small children…but as you get older it gets confining and lonely. So…the sun shines here a lot, the wine and food are unbelievable, but there is no such thing as “Girls night out”.
Lucca is loving his Catholic Kindergarten experience. Today he told Tony “Hey Dad, they say “Bye” the same way we do!” Tony responded “No Lucca, they are speaking to you in English..." He is so much like me it's painful. Most of the time he speaks to the other kids in English and they speak to him in Italian. Watching them you would swear that they understand each other. He seems fixated on the fact that many of his fellow classmates get a chocolate treat from their parents for "snack time" every day. I pack Lucca some fruit, yogurt and one little almond cookie. I don't know how to break it to him that the nuns might think he was possessed if they ever witnessed the "before and after" chocolate transformation in our child. We've had to severely limit his gelato intake because he turns into the Tasmanian devil after wards.
Lucca is asking a lot about religion and mythology. I bought him a children’s book on Greek myths before we came. I wanted him to understand a little bit about the Greek ruins that are everywhere here.While walking along the beach yesterday we discussed “Poseidon” the Greek god of the sea. I can tell that Lucca loves the idea of all of the different deities who have control over specific things. The myth about Hercules is his current favorite. I can only imagine what's bouncing around in his little head. Our conversations now include Pokemon characters, Jesus and the meaning of Easter (Catholic Kindergarten), Godzilla and Greek Gods. This kid's cosmos is full of an astounding array of characters. As a result...I'm pretty sure he will turn out to be a Dentist.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Humble Pie
Ahhh....just finished my first one on one, two hour Italian class and I need to rest my head on a block of ice. I've learned that it's one thing to mangle a language while pointing and grunting like a cave woman when shopping, it's quite another to actually use the language properly (surprise, surprise). We learned the absolute basics today. "My name is Bridget, I am from America, I am here on vacation, This morning I drank a cuppuccino out of a small cup and I ate eggs on a plate." My teacher observed that I asked a lot of questions about food, shoes and alcohol. To be honest, the burning question I was finally able to ask was "Why do I get such surprised and disdainful stares from waiters when I order a Negroni in a bar?" My teacher informed me that it isn't customary for Sicilian women to order cocktails or alcohol in a bar...especially such a "potent" drink....and especially when I have a 5 year old in tow. Not only am I sticking out because of my green coat (people are wearing primarily black or darker colors), off season footwear (sandals vs. boots), caveman Italian and bright rainbow colored umbrella (Tony refuses to use it)...but also because I am a bad alcoholic mother. I don't think I will be elected mayor of Cefalu anytime soon.
The weather has been very tempermental. It is usually very sunny and warm here this time of year...for the past two days it has been rainy and cold (at least I'm used to moody men and weather). In all fairness, Tony, has been an absolute champ. His Italian is light years beyond mine and everyone loves him. I'm pretty sure that they think he was given a big dowry to marry me.
Amy "Brooklyn", has been visiting for the past week. She is leaving tomorrow and we have had a lot of fun. On Saturday we traveled to Palermo and visited the nearby town of Monreale. Monreale is home to an amazing Duomo that has some of the most spectacular mosaic work I've ever seen. We also visited the catacombs "Dei Cuppuccini" in Palermo. Very morbid, musty and creepy. There were signs posted everywhere about being respectful to the dead and refraining from taking pictures. Hmmm...I highly doubt the Sicilians who paid top dollar to be buried there had any idea that they would be on display for the unwashed masses hundreds of years later. Note to self....cremation is the way to go.
Yesterday I spent the day cooking. At least I'm halfway decent at something here. My approach is to eat something in a restaraunt...and to try to duplicate it at home. So far so good...even if I am an alcoholic, sandal wearing barbarian.
The weather has been very tempermental. It is usually very sunny and warm here this time of year...for the past two days it has been rainy and cold (at least I'm used to moody men and weather). In all fairness, Tony, has been an absolute champ. His Italian is light years beyond mine and everyone loves him. I'm pretty sure that they think he was given a big dowry to marry me.
Amy "Brooklyn", has been visiting for the past week. She is leaving tomorrow and we have had a lot of fun. On Saturday we traveled to Palermo and visited the nearby town of Monreale. Monreale is home to an amazing Duomo that has some of the most spectacular mosaic work I've ever seen. We also visited the catacombs "Dei Cuppuccini" in Palermo. Very morbid, musty and creepy. There were signs posted everywhere about being respectful to the dead and refraining from taking pictures. Hmmm...I highly doubt the Sicilians who paid top dollar to be buried there had any idea that they would be on display for the unwashed masses hundreds of years later. Note to self....cremation is the way to go.
Yesterday I spent the day cooking. At least I'm halfway decent at something here. My approach is to eat something in a restaraunt...and to try to duplicate it at home. So far so good...even if I am an alcoholic, sandal wearing barbarian.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday March 4th, Cefalu & Capo d'Orlando
Sorry this is out of sequence. We've had a difficult time finding Internet access. Tony seems puzzled by my sudden need to check Facebook compulsively and to "blog" regularly. He just doesn't understand...people want information and they want it now! If you don't count family members...there are at least 5 other people out there in the world that need Italy updates damn it! It's a tremendous responsibility, but one I am willing to bear.
We arrived late in the afternoon in Palermo, Sicily from Amsterdam. A few reflections; Amsterdam is remarkable, probably one of the easiest cities to visit if you don't speak another language (i.e. you are an American). We spent a night in Alkmarr on Saturday, where Justine is from. It's a beautiful town with a well preserved city center. Many of the homes have large picture windows without any curtains. You can look right in and see how well organized and uncluttered the houses are. Amy McCabe and I were captivated by the front window displays and felt a little ashamed of how our homes wouldn't stand up to such public scrutiny. The town is so well maintained, I didn't see ANY cars up on blocks or any blue tarps anywhere (this was a bit disorienting). I spoke with Mattjias, Justine's cousin, and he said that despite appearances, not everything is coming up roses in the land of Gouda and clogs. Mattjias dished some dirt, for starters Holland doesn't really have any "wild" animals. This is a bummer for the Dutch who love the outdoors. Holland is one of the most crowded countries in Europe. It has been settled for so long that everything has been built up and domesticated. That got me thinking...maybe exporting our raccoons and coyotes to Europe could help with America's economic recovery! Mattjias also said that the Dutch are pretty obsessed with presenting a good image to their peers (large picture windows). There is a lot of pressure to prove that they have nothing to hide. I cannot imagine Americans agreeing to be so transparent about their living conditions...but maybe this isn't such a bad idea. We could institute a "no curtain" policy in the states and that would create a huge market for back yard storage containers. Aha!...yet another ingenious economic stimulus idea.
Saturday night PAUNDY played in Alkmaar to a packed house. Despite a few technical difficulties, they played well. Some groupies drove hundreds of miles to see them again, none of them bought me a drink. I guess "Realtor Lady" hasn't made it big in their town yet.
Back to Amsterdam on Sunday for PAUNDY's last show. Three bands, including PAUNDY played at the Winston Hotel in the Red Light district. FYI, PAUNDY is a band that my husband, Tony Dattilo, plays in. He helped orchestrate a whirlwind tour for the band to coincide with his sabbatical. He and the other band members played in 4 Polish cities, 1 German city and 3 Dutch cities. Basically, it was a mid life crisis Rock and Roll tour and it was a huge success. I've never been a groupie before and I must admit, it was a LOT of fun. I enjoyed rehearsing "I'm with the band". I think I was born to rock...for at least two nights in a row. I'm not sure how I would hold up for more than that. We had friends show up for the last show in Amsterdam from Dublin, Ireland and Berlin, Germany. Lots of fun.
We were up at 5 AM on Monday to catch a flight to Milan and then on to Palermo. A good friend from Brooklyn, Amy, met us at the airport in Sicily. As a side note, nothing looks good from the highway here. Sicily is primarily rocky coastline, cactus, some vegetation in Winter and Spring and scrubby pine trees at higher altitudes. I was a little worried about spending 5 weeks here until we arrived in the older part of Cefalu, a small sea side town about an hour east of Palermo. Once in the central part of town we were charmed. We had a lovely meal featuring lots of great local seafood (sword fish, clams, calamari, sardines and shrimp). There is a big outcropping that acts as the backdrop for the town. Its called "La Rocca". La Rocca is a calfburning climb , but well worth it. On Tuesday the 2nd , we visited the 500 BC ruin of a Roman Temple dedicated to Diana, Goddess of the Hunt. I stopped and chatted with Diana about real estate. We both agreed that the real estate market is looking up and that it is more important now than ever to keep your arrows sharpened and to throw those deadbeat clients onto a burning pyre. I told her that I was never too busy for any of her referrals and she asked me to send her some business cards. She looks amazing; you can hardly tell that she's a few thousand years old.
Yesterday was "Bridget learns how much Italian she doesn't know day". I spent the morning shopping for food that I didn't know the names of. As it turns out, I will be taking cooking classes from a woman in her home. She speaks virtually no English. So, before cooking classes, I'm going to take some Italian classes.
Amy and I took a train to the nearby town of Capo d'Orlando. We went to the train station to buy a ticket to Termini and were informed in typical Italian style that not only was a train not available but that the man behind the counter didn't think that the town was worth visiting. Once on the train to the only available destination, we read in Amy's travel guide that Capo d'Orlando where we were headed wasn't worth seeing either. An hour later we arrived and wandered along the shoreline. It was quite beautiful. What's not to like about staring out at the Mediterranean on a sunny day?
As we wandered about the town, we stumbled upon a small tratorria that advertised regional cuisine. We were a bit early for lunch so we sat outside at a table and drank a glass of local Sicilian white wine and nibbled at green olives and peppers (everything is spicy here). When the chef was ready, he ushered us into the kitchen so that we could pick out our food. There was fresh broccolini, spinach, fava beans, sardines and something I didn't recognize. He cooked us a bit of everything. The "something I didn't recognize" was a local specialty called Spaghetti Con La Neonata. Neonata are the tiny little unhatched fish from a variety of different fish eggs. Yes, it does sound disgusting...and I'd eat it every day for breakfast , lunch and dinner for the rest of my life. Several bottles of wine later we stumbled back to the train station. No complaints.
We arrived late in the afternoon in Palermo, Sicily from Amsterdam. A few reflections; Amsterdam is remarkable, probably one of the easiest cities to visit if you don't speak another language (i.e. you are an American). We spent a night in Alkmarr on Saturday, where Justine is from. It's a beautiful town with a well preserved city center. Many of the homes have large picture windows without any curtains. You can look right in and see how well organized and uncluttered the houses are. Amy McCabe and I were captivated by the front window displays and felt a little ashamed of how our homes wouldn't stand up to such public scrutiny. The town is so well maintained, I didn't see ANY cars up on blocks or any blue tarps anywhere (this was a bit disorienting). I spoke with Mattjias, Justine's cousin, and he said that despite appearances, not everything is coming up roses in the land of Gouda and clogs. Mattjias dished some dirt, for starters Holland doesn't really have any "wild" animals. This is a bummer for the Dutch who love the outdoors. Holland is one of the most crowded countries in Europe. It has been settled for so long that everything has been built up and domesticated. That got me thinking...maybe exporting our raccoons and coyotes to Europe could help with America's economic recovery! Mattjias also said that the Dutch are pretty obsessed with presenting a good image to their peers (large picture windows). There is a lot of pressure to prove that they have nothing to hide. I cannot imagine Americans agreeing to be so transparent about their living conditions...but maybe this isn't such a bad idea. We could institute a "no curtain" policy in the states and that would create a huge market for back yard storage containers. Aha!...yet another ingenious economic stimulus idea.
Saturday night PAUNDY played in Alkmaar to a packed house. Despite a few technical difficulties, they played well. Some groupies drove hundreds of miles to see them again, none of them bought me a drink. I guess "Realtor Lady" hasn't made it big in their town yet.
Back to Amsterdam on Sunday for PAUNDY's last show. Three bands, including PAUNDY played at the Winston Hotel in the Red Light district. FYI, PAUNDY is a band that my husband, Tony Dattilo, plays in. He helped orchestrate a whirlwind tour for the band to coincide with his sabbatical. He and the other band members played in 4 Polish cities, 1 German city and 3 Dutch cities. Basically, it was a mid life crisis Rock and Roll tour and it was a huge success. I've never been a groupie before and I must admit, it was a LOT of fun. I enjoyed rehearsing "I'm with the band". I think I was born to rock...for at least two nights in a row. I'm not sure how I would hold up for more than that. We had friends show up for the last show in Amsterdam from Dublin, Ireland and Berlin, Germany. Lots of fun.
We were up at 5 AM on Monday to catch a flight to Milan and then on to Palermo. A good friend from Brooklyn, Amy, met us at the airport in Sicily. As a side note, nothing looks good from the highway here. Sicily is primarily rocky coastline, cactus, some vegetation in Winter and Spring and scrubby pine trees at higher altitudes. I was a little worried about spending 5 weeks here until we arrived in the older part of Cefalu, a small sea side town about an hour east of Palermo. Once in the central part of town we were charmed. We had a lovely meal featuring lots of great local seafood (sword fish, clams, calamari, sardines and shrimp). There is a big outcropping that acts as the backdrop for the town. Its called "La Rocca". La Rocca is a calfburning climb , but well worth it. On Tuesday the 2nd , we visited the 500 BC ruin of a Roman Temple dedicated to Diana, Goddess of the Hunt. I stopped and chatted with Diana about real estate. We both agreed that the real estate market is looking up and that it is more important now than ever to keep your arrows sharpened and to throw those deadbeat clients onto a burning pyre. I told her that I was never too busy for any of her referrals and she asked me to send her some business cards. She looks amazing; you can hardly tell that she's a few thousand years old.
Yesterday was "Bridget learns how much Italian she doesn't know day". I spent the morning shopping for food that I didn't know the names of. As it turns out, I will be taking cooking classes from a woman in her home. She speaks virtually no English. So, before cooking classes, I'm going to take some Italian classes.
Amy and I took a train to the nearby town of Capo d'Orlando. We went to the train station to buy a ticket to Termini and were informed in typical Italian style that not only was a train not available but that the man behind the counter didn't think that the town was worth visiting. Once on the train to the only available destination, we read in Amy's travel guide that Capo d'Orlando where we were headed wasn't worth seeing either. An hour later we arrived and wandered along the shoreline. It was quite beautiful. What's not to like about staring out at the Mediterranean on a sunny day?
As we wandered about the town, we stumbled upon a small tratorria that advertised regional cuisine. We were a bit early for lunch so we sat outside at a table and drank a glass of local Sicilian white wine and nibbled at green olives and peppers (everything is spicy here). When the chef was ready, he ushered us into the kitchen so that we could pick out our food. There was fresh broccolini, spinach, fava beans, sardines and something I didn't recognize. He cooked us a bit of everything. The "something I didn't recognize" was a local specialty called Spaghetti Con La Neonata. Neonata are the tiny little unhatched fish from a variety of different fish eggs. Yes, it does sound disgusting...and I'd eat it every day for breakfast , lunch and dinner for the rest of my life. Several bottles of wine later we stumbled back to the train station. No complaints.
Friday, March 5th Cefalu Sicily
Today the weather is windy and moody. No rain, but grey clouds are keeping the sun from bringing up the temperature to a typical 60 degrees. Tony and I walked Lucca to Kindergarten at the local convent school. The mother superior gave us a tour of the building. We had a brief but harrowing ride in a tiny elevator. I'm claustrophobic, so when my palms began to sweat I had visions of fainting and waking up to find the nun praying over me.
The convent was built in the 1700's and was originally a girls boarding school/convent. Many of the rooms have views of the rocky shoreline and crashing waves just outside. Despite the age of the building, everything is immaculate. You could eat off most of the floors in every building, shop and home we've been in...with the exception of our apartment (I don't think we'll be inviting any of the neighbors over for cocktails). Considering the amount of cooking and cleaning Italian women seem to do, I'm not sure how they have time for anything else. When do they buy their shoes!?
Speaking of shoes. I was quite proud of myself for packing so lightly. It was only after being here for a few days that I realized that while it is warm enough to wear my sandals in the middle of they day, everyone here is bundled up. I've been getting stares from every man woman and child. I guess short sleeves and open toes shoes are not acceptable until a later, as yet to be determined, date. Maybe I'm doing the Sicilian equivalent of wearing white shoes before June...OH THE HORROR! In the name of cultural sensitivity I bought a pair of boots on "Saldi". Saldi is my favorite Italian word...it means Sale.
Today, as I was doing laundry, I was reminded that I need to figure out how to tackle a delicate situation with our downstairs neighbor. We have a washing machine but no dryer. We've been hanging our laundry out on a clothesline to dry and a pair of my "thong" underwear fell down and landed on the balcony below us. What is worse is that the building complex seems to be populated by a number of elderly Signoras. I was simply going to pretend that it hadn't happened, but a pair of Lucca's undies fell down as well. We are already short on supplies...maybe I can tell the neighbor that one pair of underwear belongs to my son...and that the other "thing" is a new kind of American slingshot.
The convent was built in the 1700's and was originally a girls boarding school/convent. Many of the rooms have views of the rocky shoreline and crashing waves just outside. Despite the age of the building, everything is immaculate. You could eat off most of the floors in every building, shop and home we've been in...with the exception of our apartment (I don't think we'll be inviting any of the neighbors over for cocktails). Considering the amount of cooking and cleaning Italian women seem to do, I'm not sure how they have time for anything else. When do they buy their shoes!?
Speaking of shoes. I was quite proud of myself for packing so lightly. It was only after being here for a few days that I realized that while it is warm enough to wear my sandals in the middle of they day, everyone here is bundled up. I've been getting stares from every man woman and child. I guess short sleeves and open toes shoes are not acceptable until a later, as yet to be determined, date. Maybe I'm doing the Sicilian equivalent of wearing white shoes before June...OH THE HORROR! In the name of cultural sensitivity I bought a pair of boots on "Saldi". Saldi is my favorite Italian word...it means Sale.
Today, as I was doing laundry, I was reminded that I need to figure out how to tackle a delicate situation with our downstairs neighbor. We have a washing machine but no dryer. We've been hanging our laundry out on a clothesline to dry and a pair of my "thong" underwear fell down and landed on the balcony below us. What is worse is that the building complex seems to be populated by a number of elderly Signoras. I was simply going to pretend that it hadn't happened, but a pair of Lucca's undies fell down as well. We are already short on supplies...maybe I can tell the neighbor that one pair of underwear belongs to my son...and that the other "thing" is a new kind of American slingshot.
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