Sorry that it’s been over a week, but I finally got a scheduled time to be on the internet in the USAC office. I figured you could wait a weekend. Hey, it keeps you in suspense, right? Well, this week we had another Italian exam, but we won’t get the grades back until our next meeting, which is this afternoon.
Kevin and I did a little bit of clothing shopping last weekend, and I bought two sweaters and he found 4, which is surprising, because he never wears sweaters. I think the weather here is convincing him, ha ha. I am still looking for a pair of boots, which would rock my world. Too bad all the boots are pointy toed and spikey heeled. We found a pair of flats, but they were 45 Euros, and I'm not ready to part with that kind of money on a pair of shoes, Italian leather or otherwise. I am waiting on two other pairs to drop below the 40 euro mark so I can feel better about purchasing an expensive pair of shoes.
Oh, this is for my mom: I know how to say "deep conditioner" now! Ha HA! I triumphed over the Italian Language... ok, really I didn't, and I just found a similar name on the product I use at home (but in Italian) and found a less expensive brand... but I will still consider it a triumph... on the other hand, Saturday, at the market, I asked a guy how old the shoes were instead of how much they cost... talk about embaressing.
It didn't snow, it actually got warmer, but weather here is a tease. Thursday and Friday it was in the low 60s. Saturday in the 50s. Today it is about 35 again, with insane windchill. I think the winds come from over the Alps, so they are ridiculously cold.
This weekend, our USAC group planned another trip for us for free, so we went to two little towns nearby. One was a cute town that we rode up to on a cable car after an hour on a bus on switchbacks, yes friends, I was sick sick sick the whole day from being on the bus for so long, and then being suspended over a deep gorge. Anyway, it was still a blast. We saw a Cathedral, and took some excellent pictures. The cathedral at Orvieto was built when a priest who was having doubts about transubstantiation broke the bread at communion one Sunday and, being the body of Christ, it bled. It's a long story, and I'm not Catholic, but that is the gist of it. At lunch, we went to this little cafeteria place (common style here) and I had some lasagne. I'm not gonna lie, Chef Boyardee has better... and I hate Chef Boyardee! If the oven in my apartment worked, I would so be whipping up my mom's lasagne. I am trying to be understanding about differences in the regional food, but there are just some things (like lasagne), that I am picky about. I'm not really picky about much when it comes to food, honestly, but Lasagne is my mom's specialty! We went to take some pictures, and it was so foggy that we felt like we were in Scotland. It was kinda cool.
Anyway, we also went to basically a ghost town. The medieval section of the town was built on a high hill connected only by a foot bridge. Eventually, the nearby volcano caused enough earthquakes that the town's base started crubling on the outside. Now, the houses are really close to the edge of the cliff. One house we saw was even cut in half because it was L shaped and three of the sides on one part of the L fell off the cliff in an earthquake. Only 8 people live in the medieval section of town now. It was really quite picturesque. We boycotted a few of the group pictures. By the end of the day, after being nauseated and spending time with a big group of loud people, I get a little cranky. A word to the wise: don't ask me to run to be in a group picture when I feel like hurling--I will not feel bad about rolling my eyes at you.
This Thursday we ate at a pizza place called “The Labyrinth.” It was really good pizza. We were supposed to eat with Gretchen and Allison at their apartment, but Danielle (their roommate) is really moody, and they wanted to get away from her for a while, so we ate out. It was a really big group of us. Gretchen and Allison, obviously, Corey, Lucy, and Caitlin. I had the best pizza. The crust was baked, but the rest was a crudo (raw). It was fresh mozz, basil and tomatoes.... so plain, so wonderful.
It was really a quite reasonably priced meal: bruschetta, a pizza all to yourself (medium-sized in America), a drink, a coffee, and a Limoncello (lemon flavored dessert liqueur) for 10 Euro. Without the bruschetta it was 8, so Kevin and I got out for under 20 Euro for a 2 course meal with wine and coffee and a dessert drink… I know I am dedicating a lot of time to this meal and the prices, but if you lived here and realized how often people go out to eat/drink, and you realized how very important the food is in this culture, you would understand why this is necessary. You can rarely get out of a trattoria or a ristorante for less than 20 dollars. This leads me to my next topic. Food.
Food here is life. I am not kidding. Food is social. It is an event. It is crucial. In America, we go out to eat, sure. We do not do dinner like Italians do dinner, let me tell you. In this country, you order an appetizer, first and second courses, wine, vegetables, bread, coffee, dessert, and perhaps and after dinner drink. The evening meal takes 2-3 hours typically. Not only do we not take so long to eat in America, we also do not eat as much, yet Italians are thinner. The differences are in time, and quality of foods. If you took a good hour to eat your first course and talked with friends while sipping on wine, you would probably be thinner.
So you think dinner here is a new thing, huh? This is not the end of the food culture that is Italy. Here, school lets out between 1:30 and 2pm. The shops close. Everyone goes home. If you walk around between 2 and 4 pm, the vacated streets will make you conscious of your footsteps and your breathing. It is almost unnerving. It is not a ghost town, but it feels like everyone got snatched away. Lunch is actually the most important meal of the day. It is bigger and grander than dinner. You go home and eat with your family at lunch. Lunch in homes are more like dinner in restaurants. There are so many foods to eat and things to talk about. There is another reason that the Italians eat so much and stay so thin: they eat the most when their metabolism is highest.
What if I told you that everyone in Italy goes to their favorite bar in the mornings. Would you flip out? Does your mind automatically jump to the stereotype that Italians are prone to alcoholism? Well, perhaps that is another aspect of this culture that catches outsiders off guard. Bars here are not “Bars.” Bars have glass cases of sandwiches and cornetti (croissants). Sure, there is alcohol behind the bar and lots of the same pretty glasses you find everywhere, but the central feature is the espresso bar. If you are Viterbese, you will eat breakfast between 8 and 10 am, and you may well not eat Breakfast at home. It is a social outing. You would go to the same bar everyday, and you would know what your favorites were. The bartenders would know your face and name and greet you informally. You do not go to breakfast in this country because breakfast at home is not as good, or because you have more options in the bar. You eat at the bar because you see people you know and because you want to read the morning paper.
This weekend, we were invited to dinner at our land-people’s house in San Pellegrino (the medieval quarter). We went over with Carla, a girl whose family heritage is Italian, but who is from Melbourne. Our landlady believes that Carla is distantly related to her. It is really cute. That is not the point though. Teresa had some meats out for us, we had wine, and then while we were eating, she would bop over to the stove and heat anything that was already prepared for the next course. We had pasta in red sauce, pork with greens, and pineapple for dessert. We also had coffee and an after dinner liqueur. We discussed culture and politics in the three countries we were all from, and price differences and salary differences. It was all so very interesting. Besides having an excellent meal, what I took away from the experience was how Italians really cook in their homes. We had as many courses at Teresa’s house as we do in the restaurants. Rarely in America will you find that occurrence, I feel. In my home, my family feels that I have outdone myself if I make a vegetable, starch, meat, and dessert at dinner. Here, that would be a small meal. At home we eat in half an hour. We were at our landlady’s house for 4 hours.
I started my cooking class this week. I made pasta for the first time, and now I can make it at home… if I buy one of those nice machines. I found that I have a distaste for raw anchovy salad dressing (oh yes, it was raw… ick!) and that I like spaghetti sauce with tuna in it. The other day we ate rice that said “marinara” on the box, but it was seafood (“frutta del mare” fruit of the sea). So, I asked my professor if marinara got twisted in America, like so many other Italian foods. She said, not always. In some regions, you will see red sauce called marinara, and in others marinara is seafood. It is always best to ask.
So what do I mean by “twisted”? Well, alfredo… not an Italian sauce. Lasagne is basically just another noodle that likes a little red sauce in between if it is layered… oh, and sauce? Italians think that Americans drown their pasta. Here, the noodles are tossed into the sauce and barely coated. We also have a skewed idea about how much garlic and oils are used in the cooking here. What we think of as “Italian food” is really Sicilian food or other regional foods that have been altered by immigrants to suit American tastes. Oh, but do not worry, I still make food the same way I did before I left, really. I have a few more ideas now, but anchovy salad dressing is out of the question. This is getting really long, so I will sign off. Mom, don’t forget to water my plants!
A Presto!
Doreen