fireworks piano forte

I hang up on people all the time.

We have a house phone here, a land line.  That archaic device that we shared as a family when I was growing up, always trying to snatch it before the first ring completed to avoid parental interference.

It turns out - there are telemarketers in Italy...  at least, that's what I gather they are rattling on about - after I say, in my Spanish-accent Italian, as clearly as possible "I don't speak Italian very well."  Inevitably this is responded to with "something, something, 'piano', something something."  More rattling on with gusto...  to which I make a few noises of "um", and finally, with a quiet panic, set the phone down.  A few minutes later, the phone rings again...

Italy and I, we are struggling to communicate.  Luckily it feels lately like I have all the time in the world...  so we try, try again...

I learn that Mario, who owns our favorite fruit and veggie truck, has twins.  They are only a few months younger than Smalls.  We trade videos and photos now when we cross paths...  learning a new word here and there as our excitement about parenthood takes over.

The butchers know my name, and teach me how to identify the cuts of meat, which I inevitably forget the next time I visit...  but they always greet us with a smile, and even Smalls is charmed by their enthusiasm.

For the most part life here is feeling mostly normal - less like an extended vacation meets culture shock - and more familiar.

Even the parking "attendants" in our piazza are friendly now, always looking out to lend us a helping hand.

This foreign place, with its strange customs and language barriers, seems more like a real neighborhood than anything I have experienced since I was a child.  We belong here now.

There are moments, however...  when we are reminded of the cultural divide. We attempt to maintain our Americanism despite the world around us.  It's not generally a successful position.

There is a video going around the internet...

It's a man driving a car in Naples, trying to make a three-point-turn...  but there are multiple problems:  the street is too narrow, there are cars parked on both sides, there are cars approaching from both sides, there are people approaching from all sides....  throw in a herd of sheep, and a few construction workers, and you have a pretty normal day of driving around here...

You never appreciate how good you have things, till you are in a situation extremely unlike your own...  Do you ever consider how much you respect a good stop sign?  Never till we lived in Naples.

There are several things we have discovered about adventuring living in Italy:

1.  Driving is perilous.  Even with a GPS and a map, you will probably find yourself driving off-road, through markets and throngs of people, and down city streets that change names, narrowing to impassible, dumping into pedestrian-only areas.  Lines in the road are "for decoration", shoulders entertain entire lanes of traffic, and people will drive within an inch of your car (literally).  And if a car does bump you - they will not stop.

Also, little old ladies are the most frightening.  The Major literally had to suck in and stand on tip-toes to avoid impact from nana's agressive barreling down a tiny street in Palermo.

2.  Shops, restaurants, and other destinations are open and closed seemingly at random.  We have heard that there is a schedule, and there may even be hours posted for said establishments, but the sheer number of Italian holidays (national, regional, city, personal, whatever), is impossible to track.  You really must travel with plans A-Z.  And be prepared to start from scratch when that doesn't work out.  After six months of living here, I just now am starting to understand what is closed when...  but it only applies to our area - our friends who live in another city, well...  they have different opening and closing hours of course...

3.  Strikes, although generally planned, for greater effect I suppose, can happen whenever, so your ability to get gas, see a city without trash piled to the clouds, or take public transportation (ferries, trains, busses) will probably be impacted at some point.

4.  Although related to other schedules (see number #3 above), Italians don't really stick to a schedule per se...   when they show up, and are ready, that is when things happen, not before...  "piano"  - which translates to "slowly" or "softly", is a word we hear many times a day...

5.  Finally, nothing is as you expect it to be.  Everything takes longer, is farther away, and is hampered by unimaginable obstacles. 

All of these factors can make for some amazingly unexpected events, sweetened profoundly by the knowledge that any second now, something is probably going to go terribly wrong.  But then again, it's a matter of perspective...

On Monday night, after eleven p.m., two different sets of fireworks were set off.  Not the small kind...  rather, the light up the sky and shake the dishes kind...

Last night, Tuesday, fireworks again.

As we mused about what our neighbors might be celebrating, I wondered if fireworks would ever be "special" again...  since we see them on average a couple of times a week...

But I think, yes...  Actually, now every time I see fireworks in the future, I will think of our home in Italy, and what a crazy adventure life we had.

double dutch

Our trip to The Netherlands was quickly accomplished.  Within two weeks we had plane tickets, hotel reservations, and the bags were packed.  Constantly adjusting our travel plans to accomodate an ever increasingly energetic Smalls, regrettably gone are the days of only carry-on baggage.  We lumber to the airport...

Landing near Amsterdam, Smalls in a carrier, we take a train to the center city.  Public transportation rocks in Europe.  To be carless, is a freeing experience, and we love trains, so there is that...  

Suddenly, Amsterdam is not exactly our kind of town.  Perhaps it's the pot wafting through the streets, or the lovely ladies beckoning from under their red lights...  It just doesn't seem uber family friendly...  

However, with daylight waning, we wander across town to a destination that intrigues us all - a Mariner's museum.  Where there might be pirates...  and an exhibition on the West India Trading Company.  This adventure does not disappoint - mainly for the tall ship we get to explore...

We find a Thai restaurant down the street from the hotel, our first "non" Italian food since we have arrived last July...  and it is divine.  We head out the following morning for our actual destination - The Hague.

While I had been to several locations in The Netherlands, Den Haag was not previously one of them, and I was intrigued by the history and political reputation of the city.

Since we were gifted a welcome drink at the bar to bide our time while our room was prepared, we decided to inquire as to what is a local specialty.  I think we were both surprised to learn that Gin is made locally.  The Major was presented with a itsy glass, filled literally to the brim, and shown to sip off the top before picking it up.  A local dutch custom.

I was delighted to know that beer is also a specialty...  and while I really only was aware of Heineken, previously, the beers that I tested during the week were much more flavorful and interesting.  Not to mention there were many Belgium beer offerings probably due to the proximity...

While we sipped, and waited in the bar, a group gathered in front of a television, rapt attention for what looked like a queenly figure.  A toast went up at the end of the announcement, and we learned later that in fact the Queen had just proclaimed her plans for abdication of the throne.  

Other than that exciting news, it was a quiet week in The Hague.  The Major attended training, while Smalls and I poked around the Escher museum next door...

With a bonus display of artistic chandeliers...

Sampled Flemish fries...

Compared dutch and Belgium beers...

And discovered a new favorite food for the whole family - dutch pancakes...

Crepe-like pancakes with savory ingredients - like cheese, red pepper, bacon, and mushroom...  

And of course, there was Appeltaart...

And don't forget about the Herring!

We found a little street vendor that sold herring like you have never seen before.  It was almost like sashimi - it tasted like it had just moments before been taken from the sea.  

Finally, we ventured out to the seaside part of The Hague, called Scheveningen, where apparently, even the art is appropriately into the fish...  

And we discover one of the most impressive displays of seafood we have ever encountered...

Full of herring, we return to Amsterdam with a day to spare and decide that in the misty weather a canal ride, might be a great way to see the city without getting our feet wet.  We putter down several canals, and to the outskirts of the city, observing architectural wonders, houseboats, and feats of engineering.

On our way back to the hotel, we swing by a cheese shop we discovered the week before, with a mission to acquire "all the cheese we can carry".  The flavors are so drastically different than Italian cheeses, we have a hard time limiting our selection.  We ultimately decide that a goat gouda.

And a two-year-old Edamer, are our favorites.

On the train back to the airport, loaded with cheese, our palates cleansed and ready for our familiar Italian delicacies, we strategize on how best to create dutch pancakes at home.