home

I confess.  I haven't been very good about getting the laundry out on the line.  But today, I did five loads, and it all went out into the breezy sunshine.  The Major was shocked when he saw the laundry billowing on the line.  I was just happy that nothing fell into the street four stories below...

Keep in mind that we have a tiny washer - so one of those loads was a king sized sheet and a towel.  For real.  Not even both sheets - just one.

And you think you do a lot of loads of laundry...

My Italian is coming along.... slowly (piano, piano).  I can get to the store, and buy what I need, more or less, so most days that is satisfactory.  Things will probably change when we put Smalls into Italian school in the fall, and I need to converse with her teachers...

I can actually understand quite a bit, probably thanks to years of spanish.  It's just when I speak, my Italian has a Spanish accent, and here in Naples, everyone speaks the local dialect (there is even a micro-dialect in our neighborhood of Pozzuoli).  So...  "real" Italian is hard to find.  It's actually easier for us to communicate when we are in other parts of Italy - especially Tuscany, where the language is clear, enunciated, and more proper.

We've been here for almost ten months already, and I wonder if it will ever feel like "home" here.  I think, probably not...

Here is a small example...

I got excited about Easter and wanted to dye eggs for Smalls.  But there are only brown eggs in Italy.  I learned this after going to about four different stores and then finally asking at our little market.

It's not a big deal really, in fact, I have a habit of buying brown eggs in the states.  However, it really puts a kink in your decorative panache.  We had a Tim Gunn moment and "made it work" but I'll be shopping at the commissary for white eggs next year.  It's not like we usually eat them anyway...  especially if they have been rolling around on the ground...

I've told you all about the insane traffic, the hauling things up and down four flights of stairs, the constant party that is also our piazza (now every night since the weather is better), the daily circus of parking and parking attendants in the piazza, the nightly fireworks (seriously, on Sunday night at midnight they went on for about 20 minutes...  we have no idea why)...

And then...  bear with me here...  there are the toilets.  First of all, have I mentioned that most public  toilets don't have a toilet seat?  Ok, fine, one should never touch a seat in a public bathroom, I get it, but when you have a toddler strapped to you, your balance might be off a bit...  just sayin...

And THEN...  well, the toilets are designed differently here.  They don't flush quite right.  Those of you who have lived outside the US can commiserate I'm sure.  It's just not the same.  I'd almost rather just use a hole in the floor like in Thailand...  Yes.  It's that frustrating.

I was in the states recently for a couple of weeks.  I was curious how it would feel, if I would "miss" anything Italian, or crave anything specifically American.  Other than American toilets, here is the dirty list: avocados, hamburgers (specifically Five Guys), fried chicken, blue cheese dressing, toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and grilled cheese sandwiches, and avocados.  Did I mention avocados?  To be fair, we can get peanut butter here, and we can make grilled cheese, but the bread here is...  Italian.  It's just not the same.  Oh, and we don't have a toaster.  But we are going to fix that soon.

About the avocados...  it's weird.  Not to be found.  Apparently someone tried to start an avocado farm here once (somewhere around here) - but the Italians, being creatures of habit, just didn't take to them, so they don't grow them and you can't find them.  Oh, and same with cilantro.  Only difference is, I could care less about cilantro (thank you Thailand for that aversion).  The Major, however, loves himself some cilantro, so we'll see if we can grow some in our container garden.

I missed the tomatoes from Italy.

They smell like the garden from my childhood memories.  I want to curl up into that smell.

I don't know why we bother to even include them on things in the US - especially out of season.  Horribly offensive.  And couldn't wait for mozzarella di bufala.  And pizza.  I will never get over our pizza here.  I will get more specific about that soon.  And same with the gelato.  Just collecting some more data...  samples...  to make sure you get the full picture...

Meanwhile, I'm working on a container garden.  Mostly herbs - since they aren't so easy to find all of the time, and other than parsley, basil and celery, you are generally out of luck...

And then...  I visit the ortofrutta truck downstairs and bring back all of this...

And suddenly I feel so very at home...

multiple personality

A city with four names...

Ancient: Fiorenza,
Italian: Firenze,
Latin: Florentia,

and for everyone else:

Florence...

Although we visited Florence many years ago, and have very fond memories of the walkable and friendly town, during this two-week visit, we saw other sides to her personality and got to know her a bit more personally...

Like much of Italy in March, Florence was moody and mostly spitting grey.  

While the Major engaged in an intensive language course, Smalls and I donned rain covers and boots to explore quaint lunching areas and gelaterias...  having visited all of the major sights on a previous trip, we were more interested in seeing the more casual and local side of our surroundings.

It was nice to taste a few different flavors.  The cheesy casseroles,  risotto dishes, and polenta offerings were a nice change of pace.

Smalls gets a lesson on how to eat pumpkin risotto.

And, apparently we were ready for some non-italian food palate cleansers... we also found kabobs, Indian food, and we ate at a Mexican restaurant THREE times.  Man, do I miss avocado...

Aside from the culinary detour, there were some more familiar sightings...

A view of the Duomo from the adjacent bell tower.

It boggles the mind what was accomplished architecturally in ancient times...

Duomo floor.  The three-dimensional designs are awesome.

We visit our old friend Amerigo outside of the Uffizi.

Learning to "roar" at the lions around town.

Special treat of a schiuma di latte (milk foam) at the illustrious Gilli Cafe.

And the big people indulged in a bit of cafe as well...

And we discover a new friend, Galileo...

A lovely little museum with a ton of interactivities for kids of all ages...

The little church on the hill by the Piazza San Michelangelo was an unexpected surprise...  inside there were multiple layers, dividing the church population, and creating an intriguing and decadent floor plan...

And then there was gelato...

And more gelato...

Not gonna lie, we did a tour of the "best" gelaterias in town...  At least half-a-dozen...  we (and by we, I mean mostly Smalls), are becoming experts on the stuff.

Finally, we suffer through an infamous Florentine steak...

And indulge in our still new-favorite wine, Morellino di Scansano...

I can say with confidence that Smalls most appreciated the large park on the Arno with never ending tree-lined paths...

As a final coup d'etat, Smalls convinces us that riding the merry-go-round is necessary on several occasions...

As we take a final stroll around the city, we note that there is a quaint grandness to Florence that really lends to her qualification as one of Italy's great cities...

One of the ancient doors to the city.  Now we just need to find the keys...

Before we leave town, we decide to take in just one more major "official" cultural experience - the palazzo vecchio.  We had walked by the building numerous times, once encountering a flag throwing exhibition reminiscent of renaissance reenactments.

Little did we know that among the decadent rooms and unbelievable architecture of the old palace, we would find the desired keys to the city...

Keys to the city.

Finally the ones we carry around daily don't seem quite as humoungous...

Well... sort-of...

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.  

blood orange

I felt completely relieved when we returned from our New Years trip to Sicily.

That feeling of "having survived" something.  The three of us, successfully reunited with our belongings...

... everything (and everyone) in one piece.

And with the bonus of a couple of new recipes...

Blood Orange Salad

Funny thing, vacations...  We dream about how fun and relaxing they will be.

In our family, I have finally begun to come-to-terms... fun very rarely comes with relaxing.

It occurs to me after we are unloaded from the trip, a strong desire to stay in one spot for a while setting in...

We have just returned from an adventure.

No wonder I feel in need of a vacation.

More on that later...

Let's rewind.

Major says...  "let's take a drive down the coast".

I say...  "isn't Sicily down there?"

And thus it begins...

We skip Amalfi this trip since the Major and I have already visited that part of the country (albiet many moons ago), the infamous coast is a mere day-trip away...  we'll save it for a sunny spring weekend perhaps...

We instead jog over to the coast once we pass Salerno to take a look-see at Maratea - a resort town tucked into a peaceful cove.

Maratea

We imagine throngs of fancy people milling the streets of the bitsy city in high season, and agree that the tiny winding roads approaching the city make the Amalfi coast look like a superhighway...

On the Calabrian Riviera

We bob in and out of coastal towns for a couple of hours till we hit our first formal destination of Tropea - a town perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the volcano Stromboli.

While we search out a nice place for dinner, we stumble upon a gathering in the center of town.  By the looks of it, the entire town has shown up to see a traditional dance presentation, and we are treated to a Tropean Tarantella.

Tropean Tarantella

What a captivating surprise.  But we are starving, so we press on.  Finally discovering only two open restaurants hiding amongst the dozens we pass shuttered closed.

Red Tuna Carpaccio salad with Red Tropean Onions

Tropea is known for red onions of all things, and the culinary creations offered do not disappoint.  Being on the coast, there is also a plethora of fruits from the sea...   we are especially pleased with the Mussels, although we discover later that they are probably from Spain...  not that Spanish food is a problem, but we do try to eat local whenever possible.  In this case, we ate the local preparation - peppered mussels - or rather, mussels in a black pepper sauce...

The next day, we decide to do some car-sightseeing of the area, discovering even smaller, windier roads in a mountainous territory inland from Tropea.

This rough terrain has been dominated by a mafia family known as 'Ndrangheta.  As we twist and turn through the changing landscape, it becomes clear that our short jaunt will actually take hours - as the switchbacks and hairpin turns present themselves in rapid succession... slowing our pace to a crawl.

Calabrian Winding Roads

It's a wonder the mafia find this territory worthy of habitation...  or perhaps, it's the idea of keeping others out that is appealing.  We see only a handful of cars in the hours drive.

What we do find are breathtaking panoramic views of valleys and mountains, and herds of livestock... with accompanying shepherds (a sight I am unexpectedly thrilled by).

Already exhausted by a day of weaving and winding, we return to Tropea and plan our departure for the Island we could see in the distance most of the day - Sicilia.

****

We drive on board the ferry for the twenty-minute ride to Sicily, among busses, semi-trucks, and a seemingly endless line of cars.

Then a ramp is activated, and more autos drive on.  For Italy, this process is amazingly quick, smooth, and simple.  There is even a ferry option that involves train cars rolling directly onto a boat, and then back onto the tracks on the island.  Perhaps we will try that option next time.

Taormina is another resort town, with a wealth of upscale shops on its singular main street.  Capped by one of the most amazing ancient sites I have ever visited.  I suppose the effect is compounded with the experience of having described this kind of theatre to hundreds of my students over the years...

Teatro Greco di Taormina

We sit for a moment, absorbing the view of Mt. Etna and the Mediterranean Sea.  The spirit of the ancient grounds brings about a hungry desire - for lunch...   So we look for a reasonable place - and settle on a small establishment tucked away just past the neighborhood juggler off the main square... 

Taormina Performance Art

Although it is generally rare for us to be disappointed when we eat out in Italy, in this case, we have discovered a real gem.  The blood orange salad (above), mixed fish appetizer,

pasta alla Norma (with eggplant, ricotta, and smoked cheese curds), 

and pasta alla sarde (sardines).

These typical Sicilian dishes set a high bar for the duration of our trip.  We are simultaneously pleased with the delectable house white wine...  which is slightly fizzy, dry and pairs perfectly with the citrus and seafood offerings.

I had no idea that blood oranges were only grown on the side of Mt. Etna.  One of those unexplainable feats of nature, although people have tried to grow these trees in other parts of the world, they have never been successful.

For the rest of our trip food plays a central role (oh, who are we kidding, this is always the case!) - but sometimes the food is more exciting - and in Sicily this is definitely the case.  Ingredients we have become used to -

Sepia Ink Pasta

but used in new and delightful ways.

Typical Sicilian Appetizer

On the West coast of the island, we search for traces of African and Arabian influence...  we find couscous and squid stuffed with grapes...  

among the more common veal marsala (drizzled with balsamic).

On every adventure we scour local markets...

In search of new and unusual food items - in this case we were rewarded with one called "cardi" - apparently a type of cardoon.  

Unfortunately we did not have a kitchen at our disposal to try the cardoon, but the Major got a lesson from the man selling the vegetable, so we are prepared when we next cross paths.

We did bring home some sea salt from Trapani.

Along with the culinary lessons, we chase history intensely.  

From the valley of eight ancient temples in Agrigento, 

the ancient Greek ruins in Syracuse, 

to the gold Basilica in Monreale...

with the notable Arabian designed facade.

The unbelievable three-dimensional baroque offerings in Palermo...

Fairytale castles in the misty medieval town of Erice -

where I even find a sweet baby Jesus that doesn't give me the heebeejeebies...

Baroque, baroque, and more baroque in Ragusa, 

and Noto...

An unexpectedly mystical elephant monument in the centro storico of Catania...

And finally, a wine-shaped cave as tribute to the Greek God of wine and theatre - Dionysus.

As we criss-cross the island, Smalls napping in her tiny auto-chariot, or carried snugly on her daddy's chest, we marvel that she probably won't remember a thing about all of the amazing things we are experiencing...  

We struggle against our urges to try to "see everything"... but really..., it's already too late.  

We're exhausted - ready to go "home", to sleep in our own bed, to not have the pressure of "seeing all the things" and eating out for every meal.

We've been in Italy for almost six months now...  and we are constantly reminded by strangers to slow down - "piano, piano" they say...  

I do think that somehow the Italians are more keenly aware that this journey we are on is not a sprint...

But we are learning.