Dinner and Dancing...

Hold up- I didn't get asked on a ridiculously romantic date.

A couple pics from our meal-time jamfest:

A Little Pee O'd

For some reason, during the past week, either Maxi or Alfonso has wet their bed every single night. And right on schedule at 5am this morning, Alfonso and his dripping wet pajamas woke me for help. Not sure why this is the week their bladders can't hold out for the night, but I won't complain if I don't have to clean someone's bed before the sun comes up tomorrow.

I mean, who doesn't get pissed being woken that early? Eh, eh?

Sorry for that horrible pun.

Am I Really Saying This?

So far, the long weekend alone with the twins and Giulia (now half over) is going okay. No tantrums-like-anyone's-on-fire yet, just mild ones. And I can't believe this is coming out of my mouth (from my keyboard?) but we had a dance party at the dinner table tonight, and I had fun. Can you believe it?! Fun.

They really like American music, specifically dance music. On the playlist tonight:

LMFAO "Party Rock Anthem" (their absolute favorite song)
Katy Perry "Last Friday Night"
Jason DeRulo "Don't Wanna Go Home"
Alexandra Stan "Mr. Saxobeat"
Britney Spears "Til the World Ends"
Pit Bull ft. Ne-Yo "Give Me Everything"

I'm hoping this doesn't jinx me. Who am I kidding- it probably will. I mean, they went to bed without a tantrum tonight. Something rough's gotta be in store for me tomorrow. Come on karma, hold out!

Ideas?

I've been asked to cook a typical American dish before I leave my host family next week. However, this family uses their oven as storage... so I can't use an oven. (Otherwise I would've baked chocolate chip cookies by now.)

We eat pretty Westernized food a lot anyways (hamburgers, breaded chicken pieces, etc) but what's a super American dish (that isn't ew, American) I can make?

Italians...

...have an interesting and conflicting set of views on life. There's a mantra here: "we do the best we can," which is usually applied to things like train strikes and ridiculous traffic and never being on time (and giving up instead of disciplining terrible children.) On the other hand, though, if certain things don't go exactly as Italians want them to go, the world might as well be ending. This applies to things like having certain foods piping hot (not just hot) and wearing certain clothes and running the dishwasher after every meal and daily showers. My brothers are all over the age of 15 and if any of them took more than a weekly shower, the world would actually be ending.

Just kidding. But seriously, this weird dichotomy has been something I've had a hard time getting used to. How can being an hour and a half late to meet your friends for dinner be okay, but not wearing a polo shirt on a five hour car trip be unacceptable?

When Friends Tell You At Dinner That Your Kids Are Spoiled...

... you should really take a hint, don'tcha think?

Can I Get Some Foccacia With This iPad?

Last week, Guido remarked at dinner that I had enjoyed all this high-quality Provencal food, but I hadn't really enjoyed truly high-quality Italian food. He decided I must have some in order to make a comparison of the two cultures, and made a reservation for this week immediately.

My first thought: sweet!
My second thought: wait, so I haven't been eating good food for the past 7 weeks? How is that possible...

So tonight, Guido and Alessandra and I are dining at Il Marchesino, the restaurant under La Scala Opera House. Apparently it's very famous. (I'm an American gastronomic imbecile, though, so I've never heard of it.) They've arranged for a babysitter and everything!

I've been told the menu is on an iPad. Now that is the harbinger of a fine dining experience. Right?

On Nono To The Rescue and Lorenzo

Before leaving me for four days with the twins this weekend, my host parents needed to leave me alone today as well, as they were going to Bormio to inspect the house they were having made. (Uhh, yeah...)

Waking up this morning, I wearily rubbed my eyes and prayed to make it through the day. But as I was setting out breakfast, Alessandra informed me that their grandfather would be taking them for the day. I thought I was still dreaming. Best news ever!

Nono was very nice. A little on the shaky side (not sure he should be driving...) but very calm and genuine.

After lunch, Giulia told me she was going out to the city center to buy a pair of earrings. Since we had hung out all morning, and it seemed she wanted to go by herself, I told her I'd meet her back at the apartment at 5pm. I decided to lay out a blanket and read in the field by the Villa Reale, and as I was biking through the park, spotted: Giulia and a BOY strolling down the path. Bow chicka wow wow.

I turned around to give them their privacy, but I ran into them on the way back too! I wasn't exactly introduced to good ol' Lorenzo, but at least Giulia wasn't so mortified that she ignored me. We chatted for a sec and when she got back home, she told me a very nice story about running into her little Italian Stallion on the way to the center.

Which is in completely the opposite direction of the park.

Second Time's the Charm!

No train strike yesterday! So I made it the long trek to the western coast of Italy to do the Cinque Terre hike.

The whole thing is split into 4 stages, and I decided to go north to south and get the longer ones over first. Thank god I did, because on the first stage between Monterosso and Vernazza, I sweat probably a gallon and a half and it wasn't even that hot out. That first stage was supposed to be the hardest, but I didn't think it would be bad- I mean, it's only about 4km.

Uh, it's 4km of steep (and I mean steep) stairs.

By Vernazza, I'm ashamed to say my muscles were shaking. Here I am thinking that running all summer has kept me in shape, and I get beat by a 4km hike! But after a foccacia, a large water and a long sit by the marina, I had psyched myself back up to make the trek to Corniglia, another 3.5km.

The rest of the hike was nowhere near as tiring as that first stage, and the stage from Corniglia to Manarola was closed for repairs, so I got a little respite on the train to Manarola. The entire hike was amazing, though- it's right on the vibrantly blue sea, built into the mountains with terraces of grape and olive and apricot crops surrounding the trail. The path sometimes is only wide enough for one person, and often the only thing between you and a drop to your death is a creaky wooden hand rail. Smooth wind rolls in off the ocean and the sounds of the waves put anything on your ipod to shame.

I found myself smiling the entire day, and I realize that I didn't even think about anything that usually bothers me when I have time alone. It was just a full day of a nice breeze, a slight tan, grins and puppies and silly foreign kids and blue blue ocean and mountains and dumb people in flip flops (seriously.) A completely enoyable day. The only thing I wish I had time for was a swim, which I had to cut out of my trip if I wanted to do the hike and wander in each village a little, but that's okay. Still perfect.

My favorite village of the Cinque Terre- Vernazza ^

Don't Be Fooled...

...they're only smiling because they still get cake even though they threw tantrums 20 minutes before.

Will I Survive?

Next weekend, Alessandra and Guido are going away and leaving me at the apartment all weekend long with Giulia and the twins.

Oh. My. God. Help.

So far, there is no hint that we will be doing anything special by ourselves, so we'll be shut up in the apartment for 3.5 days with nothing to do. And without any form of punishment when the parents are here, I'm sure I will have absolutely no control over the twins the entire weekend.

If no one hears from me after next Monday, I may have killed myself.
Or, I may be in hiding, as I may have killed the twins.

More Weighty Issues and a Taste of Her Own Medicine.

This morning, Alessandra informed me after I had made everyone's breakfast that "Giulia is making some changes in her eating habits." Uh oh.

Apparently, Mom has decided that her daughter is going on a diet because she- and I quote- "is getting too heavy." So instead of an extra scoop of Nesquik in her chocolate milk, a Kinder Delice (read= chocolate covered cake), fruit and Krave (read=chocolate crunch cereal), I have been instructed to set out toast with jam, cereal and fruit. So... normal breakfast...

I was half afraid she was going to limit her to half a peach or dry toast, but I think what I consider "normal" breakfast seems abnormal to them. Everyone else is still eating cookies and cakes.

Sidetrack: Alessandra also just told me she is "still tired from yesterday" and that she missed having me around to help. UH okay, soooo yesterday you dealt with your devil children and did everything I do six days a week... tell me you're tired again. I might slap you.

Italians...

...have seriously delicious rest stop restaurants. I mean, they're not high-end establishments, obviously, but the quality of the Autogrills we've stopped at since I've been here have been 17x better than any Mickey D's on an American road trip.

Bummer!

Italy is prone to strikes from it's public transportation systems. This week there was a bus strike, so the housekeeper couldn't get home, but I didn't think much of it. Shoulda' realized I couldn't avoid the strikes forever.

Today I had a day off (respite from almost a 2 week work stretch!) and I booked an early train to get to the Cinque Terre by 11am to hike all day. Waking at 6am, I rode my bike to the subway, took it into Milan, got to the train station and found the departures board covered in blinking red cancelatos. GAH.

At least I still have a couple more days off to fit in the hike- I realllllllly want to do it before I leave. But the day wasn't totally wasted: I did a little more shopping (eek) and saw Harry Potter, albeit in Italian. I understood about 7% of the dialogue (it's dubbed over here.)

For next week's day off, I'm checking online before I leave the apartment at the crack of dawn to see if there's another strike.

A Bit of a Heavy Situation

My host mom is not afraid to comment to me or tell her daughter Giulia to her face that she is fat. It's happened multiple times now, and though I think it's just the way Italians are, it's kinda harsh.

In Giulia's presence, Alessandra has said the following (or a variation):

"Giulia needs to lose a few kilos."
"I'm laughing because Giulia has big thighs."
"Giulia you're getting heavy. She needs to eat less cakes."

...and that's just this past week.

I usually try to insist that she's fine the way she is, but not even my "You've never been to an American beach, have you" quip could deter the comments this weekend. Giulia looks like a normal-sized (maybe a little tall) 13 year old girl. Is it just the Italian way of thinking, this bluntness? Am I a weak-minded American for thinking it's a little severe?

Believe It-

the Olive Garden actually serves a dish that is close to true Italian cuisine!!

A few weeks before I left for Europe, my mom and brothers and I met at the OG for lunch one day. (Should I be ashamed to say that?) After a decidedly mediocre lunch, we picked a dessert to share and were delightfully surprised at the quality of our zeppoli.

Last night, after consuming an entire pizza, I realized I'm already coming back 10 pounds heavier, so I smiled and accepted a dessert menu. I ordered the Calde Calde, understanding about half of the description (per usual) but content with the recognition of cioccolato. The waiter kindly brought me the zeppoli with a drizzle of Nutella sauce, and- my god- I can die happy now.

But really, if I remember correctly, our friendly neighborhood "Italian" restaurant's zeppoli measured up pretty well to the dolce-deliciousness I had last night. Props, Olive Garden.

Guess What-

Italian waterparks only play music in English. What's up with that?
A sample of the tunes from our trip to Le Vele Aqua Parc:

Jumpin Jack Flash- The Rolling Stones
Big Love- Fleetwood Mac
We Are the Champions- Queen
Hot and Cold- Katy Perry
Home- Michael Buble

View From Our Room at the Chateau de Berne

The breeze wafting over the vineyard was certainly nice to wake up to each morning...

I Think Getting My Own Bed Made the Difference

This weekend away with my Italian fam was definitely better than the excruciating weekend we spent in Pesaro. I think it helped that the kids were split up into two rooms, and that there were things to do at the hotel. It also didn't hurt that the parents didn't have any friends nearby that they could visit, so they spent most of the weekend close by, able to handle all the tantrums. 

We spent hours at the pool, on the tennis courts, in the ping pong room and on the dining terrace (Provencal lunches and dinners are minimum 2 hours.) It was actually relaxing, and the hotel staff was extremely nice. I got to practice a little bit of French (tres mal) and tried different house wines with every meal. If you need a recommendation on a Provencal getaway- Chateau de Berne is perfection.

Marie Christine and Daniel, the kids' godparents, live in a house built into the side of one of the hills in Vence, near Nice, and they welcomed us for lunch and a swim on the day we were travelling back to Monza. They had an outdoor kitchen with a brick oven and a pool wedged into the hill with a spectacular view of everything from there to the sea. They served the traditional pissaladiere- a pizza-like flatbread with browned onions, olives and a paste made from sardines and anchovies. Don't make that face- it was amazing. Their little dog was named Phillipe, and he followed Daniel around whenever he moved. He also took a liking to me: I was the only visitor who received kisses. It made me miss Roxie :( haha.

I still can't say that the twins aren't fiendish brats, but all in all, the weekend was certainement agreable.

Italians...

...(and the French) actually obey that unwritten rule of the road where from left lanes to right lanes your speed is fast to slow. In fact, it's not unwritten here: it's posted what your speed should be in each lane. There are signs showing all three lanes marked with a speed in km/hr, and even if you're trying to pass on the left, if a car behind you seems to be going faster, most people will move back into their travel lane to let others speed by.

En Provence/On Provence

I wish I could capture this part of France and bottle it. We stayed from Friday-Sunday at the Chateau de Berne, and on Monday we visited the kids' godparents in Vence, which is close to Nice, and took a stroll through St. Paul, which is a village founded as early as the 9th century. The thin cobbled streets were just wide enough for perhaps 4 people to fit across, and the medieval buildings were still magnificently intact, while dozens of art galleries call the lower levels home.

But Provence, ah Provence! The weather is warm without being suffocatingly hot, always breezy. The summer sun is always strong and the sweet shade is always comfortable. Air always fresh with olives and grape crops and love and easy living. Lots of hills. All picturesque drives.

Getting there, you drive over dozens of bridges hundreds of feet above ground, peeking into the windows of the towns built into the sides of huge hills. You race through dozens of tunnels that burrow through the little mountains and spit you out the other side to scope out another village in the valley far below.

The food is always so flavorful, yet light and filling. Always at least four courses. Many times fish. Always local. Always olives and wine. I wish I could eat this lamb and polenta that I had the first night for every meal. Or that turbot fillet. (I think I can do without more foie gras, though. I don't care if it's a "delicacy.")

Mmmm orange trees, macaroons, gold faucets, blazing colorless vibrant eyes on the pool boy, sumptuous streets in St. Paul, kisses from the little dog named Phillipe (what other name for a French pup?), oils and creams and smiles and aubergine and herbed butters and L'After Eights.

Delicious.

Low Points.

-The twins do not dress or bathe themselves. -The twins do not feed themselves.
-The twins get baby bottles full of baby milk at bedtime.
-The twins do not wipe their own butts after they go #2.
-The twins are almost 7 years old. 
-Tantrums are an acceptable form of expressing yourself in this family. Daily.
-Sometimes, the 12 year old boy needs his food cut up/fed to him.
-None of the children can pack their backpacks or suitcases. Not even the 13 year old girl.

Yes, this is a fabulous experience,
            but there are times when I have to remind myself of this.

Fun Fact...

...in the learn-to-speak English books here, they call a ladybug a "ladybird." Alessandra even called it that at lunch one day. (Not sure how a ladybug looks remotely like a bird, or how that translation got so confused.)

Swiss Cheese

Kind of ugly ducklings in this pic, but when you put them on, they're sooo comfy and cute.

Hey, Big Spender

Last time I went into Milan, I kind of didn't have time for the Quadilatero d'Oro or any of the famed shopping in the city. Since I couldn't get a ticket for a Cinque Terre hike on short notice, I decided today to go back.

If you don't know, the Quadrilatero d'Oro (or Rectangle of Gold) is a section of Milan cornered off by four streets that dozens of high-end stores and boutiques call home. Gucci, Ferragamo, Dolce & Gabbana, Rolex, Louis Vuitton, and Prada set up shop here, and each store has a well-dressed man in black tie to open the door for customers. The window displays are simple yet decadent- but let's face it, if they're Roberto Cavalli heels, they stand on their own. No pun intended.

I did mostly window shopping in the Quadrilatero d'Oro. I'll be honest, I was intimidated that everyone inside was wearing sunglasses that cost at least twice my entire outfit. (At the Paul and Shark store, all of their shirts said Rhode Island on them! Weird, but I still wouldn't go inside.) I rounded the corner and hit up some of the less account-draining stores.

There are a bunch of outlet shops that offer some big names at even half or more off the regular prices. Beware, though: this doesn't mean "not expensive." To complete my Milan shopping experience, I did (oh yes, I did) purchase a pair of Italian shoes at one of the outlets! I had tried them on earlier in the day, and these things fit perfectly and were so comfortable for heels, but at 175 euros, I hesitated. In fact, I hid them under a chair in the store (oops) and told myself if no one finds these by 6pm, it's a sign.

Well even with a sign at the end of the day, I still winced paying for these 50% off suckers. My grandfather says they last forever. (They better.) But hey, now I can say that I own Italian shoes from Milan! Fancy.

To Sleep or Not To Sleep.

Okay, so Alessandra told me I get another day off this Monday because the rest of the week is busy, and...

1. she told me this yesterday, so I couldn't get a train ticket to the Cinque Terre (I know, I know- quit complaining that I have to find another way to spend a summer day in northern Italy.)
2. this means that, however happy I am that I have another day off, I won't be getting another one for a looooonnnnng stretch. We're going on another family trip this weekend (I'm praying it won't be as disastrous as the last one) and then who knows what the next week will look like.

A lot of times I'll stay up late because it's the only time I have to myself. I can feel myself getting tired, but even on my days off, I don't like to sleep in because then I lose part of the day to go tooling around. Might just go back to Milan tomorrow (since it doesn't require a few hours of a train ride) so I can sleep in past 7am for the first time since I've arrived. Or maybe I should sleep when I'm dead.

Fake Out!

You can see it really well in this picture because it's so close, but this is an example of one of the many buildings in Genoa that have frescoed facades to trick the eye. The wall is flat- but from farther away, it looks much more majestic with columns and detailing and shutters. Psych!

Who Keeps Superglue Within Reach of a Six Year Old?

These people do.

Um...

My host mother just explained to me that I dressed the twins in clothes that are "too complicated" for today because Alfonso just peed on himself.

They are wearing shorts and a polo shirt.

Fun Fact...

...Italians claim that one of their own, a guy named Meucci, invented the telephone.
Alexander Graham Bell (who most Italians have never heard of) is probably rolling over in his grave.

Not To Get All 'My Fair Lady' On You, But...

... I could've danced all night.

Before Milena and her friends came to pick me up to go to this Latin American festival, I was kind of nervous. I mean, at first glance, I'd be going to some place unaccessible by public transportation, with a bunch of people I don't know, none of whom speak any of the languages I do, and I had no idea when I'd be getting back home.

So who knew that hardly comprehending a word anyone says all night could be so much fun? Milena's family and friends (there was an entourage of us) are the most welcoming people on the face of the planet. Seriously. If I knew a random foreign chick, I'm not sure I would've asked her to come out with my friends and family, never mind include her completely in the entire night's festivities. I had SO SO much fun, and they were so genuine and happy, how could I not?

We danced all night long. I'm not too shabby with the basic salsa steps (HA) unless you add another person... Andrea, Milena's 17 year old cousin, was convinced he was going to teach me, and he tried (in vain) for a good long while before it hit 2am and we had to leave. It was embarassing to see me trying to let him lead me and not be confident enough to stop staring at his feet haha. Italian (and Latin American, I guess) men actually like to dance- and they're good at it. If I ever have children, they're getting basic dance lessons before they think they don't like it. They'll thank me later.

Quick Thoughts on Genoa

DAY OFF THANK GOD

Anyways, Milena is taking me to a Latin American festival in the city tonight, so I need to get ready, but I spent the better part of today in Genoa! Definitely didn't like it better than Verona, but here's a couple quick thoughts on this city on the water:

-It's a port city, and it embraces it, which is really cool. There are fish shops everywhere near the water, and the port still thrives with life, especially in the morning.
-Another excellent gastronomic advantage: foccacia is Genoa's specialty. There are foccacerias everywhere too, and I'll admit it- I had two lunches because I couldn't just try one slice. AMAZING.
-The city is full of buildings that have frescoes on the sides, but it's not like Verona where the frescoes function mostly as art. In Genoa, the paintings are mostly of... windows... shutters... columns... haha things to trick the eye into seeing a magnificently crafted building, while many Genoan buildings have simply flat facades. Why are they trying to fake everyone out? Wasn't Genoa a super rich city, the center of art and commerce back in the day?
-Totally touched a stingray at the Genoan aquarium. They're kind of slimy, actually.
-The streets are super hilly, super thin and super dark because the buildings are so high they almost block out the sun.

Didn't love it, but certainly enjoyed it, and it was definitely interesting to compare the different feels and unique hum that each city eminates. Also, I kept thinking about the Princess Diaries all day, because the Italian name for the city is Genova, and the country that Julie Andrews is queen of in the movie is Genovia.

The Dish on the Mafia, and Other Patriotic Thoughts

Did you know the Mafia was originally formed because southern Italians didn't want to pay taxes and be united under one government? I guess I'm just a dumb American, but I never really knew how the whole thing got started- I just knew what it was. Alessandra told me that even today, northern and southern Italians don't feel like they're part of the same country, and there's a lot of problems with this invisible division, leaving the Mafia very present in southern Italy today.

When Italy became a united republic in the 1800s, the south, which had more subsistence farmland and was more rural, didn't want to pay the taxes that the government imposed on the entire country because they'd never paid taxes before. The Mafia was formed as a kind of criminal governing body in the south, and in some parts, you still have to pay the protection fee if you own a business and don't want it burned down or your family harmed.

She also said that Berlusconi has been trying to pass a law that will force taxpayers' money to be used in the area from which it originated, which is causing major uproar in the south. Northern Italians say that they pay all the taxes, and the south uses them all up, while the south argues that because of it's rural environment and problems (Naples piles trash in the streets) they need the money and are entitled to it because of the unification of the country.

The stories of corruption are ridiculous: families taking in disability and welfare money after a member dies, people forging papers that say they're blind to claim diability, building houses on un-sanctioned land only to have them ordered demolished after taking the buyer's money, the Mafia in general.

Alessandra remarked that she wished the country had a patriotism like the US. Our conversation was sparked by my mentioning the Fourth of July celebrations back home yesterday, and it's funny to think about the differences between Italy and the US. Both countries are extremely critical of their governments and policies and problems, but the dichotomy and marriage of criticism with patriotism is what makes the US so unique, I think. Italy is fabulous, but I can honestly say I'm glad that I'm American (for more reasons than one, but you get the idea...)

Italians...

...actually have super uncomfortable beds.
(Not that I've been in many!)

Weekend in Urbino/Hell

This past weekend, the family took a trip to the Italian countryside town of Urbino. Think fields of sunflowers and rolling hills with orange and yellow villas spotting them. It had landscapes from out of dreams, and the place we stayed out was a cute hotel that embraced the countryside feel.

Let me just say, both Alessandra and Guido are some of the nicest people, and they're incredibly generous to bring me along. That being said, I still cannot wrap my head around the disconnect between these extremely nice people and how their children can be such hellions.

I basically was left at the hotel with the twins all weekend long, and they were the most ill-behaved I've ever seen them: throwing food, lighting sugar packets on fire, dumping water on each other in the bathroom, grabbing each others' crotches... and all this at the dinner table in the hotel restaurant. Italians already stare more than Americans, and I was getting full-on dirty looks from the entire place. There was no controlling the monsters, and they were like this all weekend.

On top of this, I had gotten stop-the-car-I'm-going-to-barf-on-your-windows car sick (Italian driving, ugh) on the 7 hour drive there. (Seven hours, let me tell you, is a looong time to be stuck in a mini-van with any six people.) Also, I had to share a room with all four kids and a BED with Alfonso. There was no place to get away: I sat in the hallway after I somehow managed to get the twins to sleep.

As we were leaving, Alessandra asked me how I liked the place, and I replied (wearily) "It's beautiful." She then revealed that we would be coming back in a few weeks... for not 3 days, but 5 days this time. Since we'll be minus one child (Federico is going to camp that week) I'm praying that I can at least get my own bed this time. Maybe that will ease some of the countless types of pain I felt this weekend, and maybe I can stave off a nervous breakdown.