There Is No World Without Verona Walls

Will Shakes was not kidding when he called it "fair Verona." This little city (where I spent my day off) is just so pretty and happy, and it's charm is only paralleled by it's perfect mix of history and beauty. There's remains of Roman roads exposed underneath the sidewalks. There's a drinking water fountain like a bird feeder for humans in the middle of the street. The tech crew loading in for this weekend's show at the Arena keep giant roses and two-story sphinxes in the piazza, and the villas on the hills watch over the city amongst their tubular trees. As the train nears the Verona Porta Nuova station, the corn fields change slowly into grape crops, and from the window you can see both mountains and a gorgeous lake.

It's a city reveling in it's past, captivated by a famous love story, and celebrating the arts. Although very walkable, I ended up with sunburnt shoulders and my feet hate me right now. It was completely worth it, obviously, even without finding a Romeo.

Personal Victory

While I was on a run in the park today, somebody stopped me and started asking me about where to rent the bicycles, and I answered them. ALL IN ITALIAN yayyyyyy!

At least, I'm pretty sure that's what they were asking. Whatever, I'm counting it as a personal victory anyways.

Pesaro, Breakfast, and Le Cose Belle

So next weekend, the fam (including me) will be taking a weekend trip to Pesaro, which is a seaside town in the northeast. The only thing I'm not looking forward to? Rooming with the twins. Can't wait to deal with all the tantrums and not be able to leave the room.
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Okay, is it just this family, or is it this country? These people literally eat dessert for breakfast. Seriously. How is this country full of so many rail-thin people? The menu at breakfast:

chocolate chip cookies                    Kinder Delice bars (basically chocolate cake covered in chocolate)
chocolate milk                                 Nesquik or Honey Pops cereal
vanilla or chocolate chip yogurt        chocolate chip muffins
chocolate cake                                sweet bread with nutella
croissant filled with chocolate           blueberry applesauce

All of the above are things I set the breakfast table with every day. I'm the weird one who eats Peach yogurt and Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes with (plain) milk.
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A few things I love/think are funny about this place (other than cake for breakfast):
<3 bikes bikes bikes
<3 bells from the church floating into the kitchen while I cook dinner
<3 shops closing on Sundays
<3 it's normal for people to bring their dogs into stores
<3 men in suits taking naps on park benches
<3 clothing has writing in English on it, even though lots of people don't speak it
     (there was a grammatically incorrect tank top today that said "Came and Turn Me On")

Notes on Italian Men

-They're all skinny. I think it's more normal and European, but honestly, most of them aren't much bigger than me.

-They stare. A lot. I assume this is also much more normal here, but I actually have noticed a lot of staring from both women and men. Except from women it's more dirty looks than anything.

-I think this is just my experience, but I've been getting catcalls from old men and young teenagers hahahaha. (Maybe it's because I look 16?)

-Bright pants are "in."

-A moped is a dignified form of transportation for a man in a suit. Who knew?

-The first hot guy I saw here was on my first day when I went to get a phone card. Fabio (real name) was meant to be a Calvin Klein model, and I almost asked him why he was wasting his time working the Vodafone desk. Alas, he was definitely not interested, and I definitely have seen no other hotties since.

Not So Fun Fact...

...hundreds of cats and dogs are abandoned every summer in Italian cities when people go on holidays. People just don't find care for their pets and leave them to fend for themselves.

Guess What-

-I had octopus for lunch.

You Spin Me Right Round, Baby...

If you spin your heel in the bull's nether-regions, it's good luck. I had to wait in a crowd of people for my turn to squish the poor guy's parts, and the hole from all the spinning of heels for however many years had left the floor sunken in by a few inches.

Speaking of heels- well, feet in general- I've noticed something. Italians obviously do shoes very well. Except sneakers. (Tennis shoes, whatever you call them.) Italian sneaks are the ugliest things I've ever seen. They look like a volleyball and Skechers Shape Ups had a baby- and those are the Prada ones. A lot of young people opt for American-made Nikes or Converse All-Stars, but most people over the age of 25 can be seen at one time or another in the only type of shoe Italians haven't quite perfected. I think the poor bull is safe from those sneakers, though- the spinning seems to be left to foreigners like me.

Lunch. It Was That Good.

After a typically busy Sunday morning (I don't wanna sound ungrateful but I literally do everything on the weekends) my host mom let me know we were going to lunch in the Monza Park. The park is huge, lush and a mile down the street.

Yes this is an entry about my lunch.

It was that good. Other than my day off, when I got an (obviously) amazing panini and gelato for lunch, I've only really eaten at their home. Not to say that the food hasn't been good- I can't figure out how the fruit and cheese and bread and vegetables can taste that much better- but the family eats more Americanized meals than I thought they would. Case in point: one night for dinner, my host mom laid out... turkey burgers. Hmm.

But anyways, after a sampling of antipasti (seriously, HOW do they get the cheese that delicious over here?) I ordererd a first course of freshly made pasta with tomatoes, asparagus and truffle sauce. When I tell you I would eat this daily for the rest of my life, I am not exaggerating in the least. I almost cried when I finished my plate. Luckily, my second course arrived to dab away my tears. Complemented by a joy of a sparkling white wine, my tuna with balsamic reduction was perfect. And dessert? I don't even know what it was- some fabulous cake that came with strawberries and made me want to go all Julie Andrews on the family and start singing.

I thought before that Panera's Broccoli Cheddar soup was possibly the only food that could change the way my day was going. How ridiculous of me. This wasn't even a high-class restaurant and this food changed the way my life is going. Okay maybe that's going too far... but I'll bet wars could be avoided if people just ate at St. George's Premier once in a while.

Fun Fact...

...instead of the Tooth Fairy, Italians have the Tooth Mouse.
Does he leave cheese instead of money?

Undies in the Piazza

Yesterday I went for a bike ride into downtown Monza, and there was this open air market going on in one of the piazzas. I locked up the bike and started to walk through. There were hundreds of people- old people, women with strollers, kids, teenagers, men with shoulder bags (can't get used to that, somehow...) and they were all packed in like sardines.

But when I looked around at some of the stuff people were selling, I was a little confused. There were some shoe tables, bags and purses strung about our heads, but also a pots and pans salesman, and multiple underwear stalls.

I'm talking bras and panties hanging like Italian flags from windows. Mens underwear, too. Nothing was packaged, everything was fluttering in the breeze, and people were actually crowding these stalls to buy this stuff. Yes- stallS (plural!) It was pretty weird. And the prices weren't even that great.

Week of Peace Comes to a Close.

Tomorrow is Friday, which is the day the twins come back from their school trip to the beach. They've been gone since Monday, and I have to say, life without daily tantrums is prettttttttty great. All good things must come to an end, I guess.

Because the twins have been away, I've had a bit more free time to explore the city. By foot and by bike, I've been getting to know the ins and outs of Monza, and I haven't gone out with a map since Tuesday! Biking as a mode of transportation is a very common practice here, which I LOVE, but honestly, if I hadn't been biking to work back in the US, I would not be able to get used to how close the cars come to you here. Luckily, enough riding to work down Douglas Pike in North Providence has prepped me for Italian cars coming within inches of me- I don't even flinch anymore.

Giulia began her final exams this week- she'll be taking her third written one tomorrow and will have more next week and her oral exams on the 27th. The school system here is different- you have to take a bunch of tests to get out of middle school and into high school, so Giulia and I have been studying every day to prepare.

My host mom, Alessandra, explained that she dislikes the Italian school system actually, because you basically have to decide what you want to do with your life at age 13. After middle school, most high schools are apparently more like vocational schools, and if you want to go to university, you have to attend the right school, not only to get into a university, but for what you possibly may want to study at university. The tests to get out of middle school are also almost irrelevent: they were put in place when school was only mandatory until age 13, but now, with school mandatory until 16, the tests don't hold the purpose of certifying that a student has received a middle school education if they don't choose to continue on. Pretty interesting. Alessandra says she likes the American school system better, but hahahaha she's never had first hand experience I guess. Giulia is going to an American school next year in Switzerland, so she can see for herself.

Italians...

...asked me for directions twice today! Then became disappointed when all I could mutter was "Uh, non parlo italiano molto bene..."

The Duomo

That Time I Got Kicked Out of the Duomo.

Woops.

For my first day off, I decided to explore the little city we live in, so I took my bike to the historical center of Monza. This section of the city is sooooo beautiful, so Italian, with thin cobbled streets and brightly colored buildings and national flags dangling from the upper apartment windows. The street level is home to zillions of stylish boutiques and gelaterias and little restaurants, while up above people opened ornate shutters to let the mid-morning breeze into their flats.

I locked up my bike and took a stroll around, window shopping and thinking about where to get lunch in a couple hours, and trying to figure out where the Duomo San Giovanni Battisti was. Honestly, I got a pretty good feel for historical downtown Monza. In other words, I got kinda lost.

When I finally did find the Duomo, I peeked in and there was a mass going on, so I decided to come back later to go inside. When I did get to go in, all I could do was look up. The artwork and architecture were pretty magnificent, and I slowly made my way from the back up to where the choir sits, closer to the altar, when a man approached me. He said something to me in Italian, which I hardly understood, then pointed to my shorts and said "No." I apologized and mimed that I would leave, and when I turned back to look up one last time, the guy was glaring after me.

Not thinking, I had worn shorts because of the heat, which is obviously a big no-no if you're going into a place of worship. Silly American. Actually, when I looked around after I was booted from the Duomo, there were probably only about four other people wearing shorts: one of them was a guy and three of them were about 7 years old. Maybe Italian women only wear shorts when it's sweltering out?

Oh well, nothing a little gelato couldn't fix.

Villa Reale Pics

Fun Fact...

...breakdown lanes do not exist over here.

Italians...

...put olive oil on everything.
...would school even MA drivers in a drag race.

The Villa Reale By Bike

So after I served and cleaned up breakfast and got the twins dressed, (almost no tantrums- great morning!) my host mom, Alessandra, asked if I wanted to go on a bike ride with her. It was the first day without rain, so I agreed, and she took me down the street to the Villa Reale.

The Villa Reale used to be the summer villa for the Austrian and Italian royals in the late 1700s-1900. It was abandoned when King Humbert was murdered there (eek- ghosts in Monza) but now is used for occasional art exhibitions, school grounds for those training at Dolce and Gabbana, and the site of an annual rose competition.

This place is literally 2 blocks from the apartment, and it's like I stepped into a movie. I can't wait to go back a take pictures, but they won't do it justice. It is GORGEOUS and the park that's attached to it is littered with picturesque cottages and lush fields and running rivers so that the guests of the royals could frolic all summer long. Tours were reserved for certain dates, so I could only peak into the grand salon, but seeing the grounds by bike was fabulous.

Speaking of bikes, even on the days when the weather wasn't nice this week, Italians are out on bikes in droves, and I mean droves. Today, hundreds of men in cycling gear were speeding down the roads next to cars (not sure I'll be trying that during my stay...) and dozens more people were biking on the walkway that parallels the street. What is it with Italians and their bikes? Alessandra says cycling is the second most popular sport here, save for football.

Ho una gomma bici bucata.

Yes, I'm In Italia...

...but Ecuadorians are maybe the nicest people I've ever encountered.

Milena, who is the au pair for this family during the spring, winter and fall months, has been showing me the ropes for the past week before she leaves on her holiday. She speaks Italian and Spanish... and I speak neither. We've been using Google Translate, but before we thought of it we actually could understand one another better than you would think.

Anyways, Milena, after about 48 hours of knowing me, asked me to come visit her home in Ecuador next June and told me we would go to the disco one night when she gets back in July. AND she is having her sisters (who I've literally never met) come pick me up on my first day off to show me around Monza and have dinner at their house. I wish I could do more for her than give her some short English lessons- we attempted One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish together. She is one of the sweetest people I've ever met.

Side note: I haven't heard any Italian music since I've been here. My window is above a stoplight on a street intersecting a main drag in Monza, and I keep my window open a lot. The cars outside that have their windows down keep playing Flo Rida and Coldplay and Rihanna. Giulia (the 13 year old daughter in the family) told me she doesn't like even one Italian song. She prefers Beyonce, Jesse McCartney, Shakira and -you guessed it- the Biebs. FEBBRE DI BIEBER!

Spoke Too Soon.

Did I say relaxing summer?

A note on the young Italian children I've so far encountered. There kind of seems to be no disciplining them (which is not helping me do my job sometimes.) If they don't want to do something, they can throw a tantrum and not be in trouble for anything. And it's not just my host family- a lot of the children I see when I pick the kids up at school misbehave and their mothers do nothing about it, or they simply roll their eyes and chase after them. Am I too rigid? Maybe I should let kids be kids. (After all, I don't have to deal with them in 2 months.)

When Italian children feel like being good, though, it's fun. Today Maxi and I blew bubbles for the better part of an hour, and listening to the Monzan breeze while sharing his pure enjoyment was the perfect way to spend a summer afternoon. Even if it did rain.

Yeah, it's been raining. On and off for 2 weeks, I'm told. Which is fine, but I haven't really had the chance to go out and explore Monza at all. Well, that's what my day off is for- this Tuesday!

What You Can Tell About a Country From Their Airport

Caution- sweeping generalizations ahead.

From the 2 hours I spent in airports in both Reykjavik and Copenhagen, here is what I can tell about these countries.

Iceland. Lovely people, very happy and friendly. VERY environmentally conscious. I'm talking airport-personnel-on-scooters-instead-of-trams-or-carts conscious. Seriously. The food, though? Maybe their airport isn't a good window onto true Icelandic cuisine, but they are huge fans of mayonnaise and eggs. I am not. My lamb sandwich lost 3 lbs. when I scraped off the mayo.

Once I hit Copenhagen, I was preeettttttty sleepy. All I really remember was having to pay for WiFi and, perhaps in my crankiness, being irritated by that. The other thing I can say about Copenhagen- SUPER comfy purple chairs, but again, this might be because any chair at that point was a godsend.

You know how in American airports a lot of people seem irritated and in a rush? Not so in the Milan Malpensa airport. Guess that's a good sign for a relaxed summer.