Lunch & “Spontaneous” Art

Ciao Readers!

So, when we first arrived here we had lunch at our local osteria – Cocotrippone; I mentioned that I didn’t take photos as it was the first time we were eating there and I knew we’d be back.  This is a real “mom & pop” place – simple tuscan food (complete with tripe and rabbit if ya want it) at affordable prices, with a complete staff of 2 (the husband does the cooking while the wife does everything else).  We decided to go back a couple of Sundays ago.

I love eating outside in Italy (and everywhere, really) – somehow it makes it even more of an “event” to me and I can spend all afternoon people watching and relaxing.  The weird thing was, the entire street on which Cocotrippone sits was blocked off and deserted (notice the street behind Steve in the picture), as were several other streets in the neighborhood.  We couldn’t figure out what was going on – maybe Sunday street cleaning?  In any case, while it cut down on the people-watching factor, it was really nice to have some quiet for a change (neither of us has ever lived in the middle of a city and still haven’t adjusted to the constant level of noise). I ordered the same bruschetta with fagioli and lardo I described last time (but this time you get to see photos!).  I had a simple but yummy salad with that and Steve had the fresh pasta with radicchio and bacon (pictured below).

While we were eating, someone moved the street barrier and drove their vehicle into the street and parked – at first we thought nothing of it as we have learned that street signs, signals, barriers, etc. don’t mean much here (one day I’ll have to post a photo of the cars parked all over the street downstairs).  But it kept happening.  Finally, we saw the reason – the folks who parked started taking out easels and tables and ART from their vehicles – they were setting up for an art festival!   We hadn’t read anything about this and were totally surprised.  By the time we finished our lunch, the deserted streets had turned into a HUGE crowd (pictured below).  In addition to folks selling art, they had rolls of paper on the ground on which kids could draw – pretty cool!   (A few photos, below).   As I have mentioned before, at times (times you are not in line at a government office) Italy does feel like one ongoing festival…  I wonder what will pop up this weekend…

10,000 Views (from 61+ countries)!

Ciao Readers!

Today I am being totally self-indulgent (like a blog focused on me and my adventures isn’t self-indulgent enough already).  This past week my blog past 10,000 all time views!  How cool is that?!?!  To be fair, “views” do not equate with visitors, let alone different visitors; “views” refers to how many times people click on pages, etc. on my blog – so for instance, if you have clicked through on half of the e-mail notifications you have received to individual posts, then clicked on more pages while you were visiting, you alone may be 100+ of those 10,000 views.  Some people land on my blog totally by accident – interestingly, the most popular search terms that get people here are things having to do with scarves – “why do Italians wear scarves” or “how to wear a scarf like an Italian.”

In addition to being tickled at the number of views (and by the way – THANK YOU ALL!!!), I am really tickled by how far my blog has traveled (way further than I have).  I think it’s cool, so I am sharing with you the country views report, below (fyi WordPress, Puerto Rico is actually a commonwealth).  Thanks for coming along for the ride and please stick around for the next 10,000!

Country Views
United States FlagUnited States 6,912
Italy FlagItaly 1,218
United Kingdom FlagUnited Kingdom 810
Australia FlagAustralia 312
Sri Lanka FlagSri Lanka 145
Canada FlagCanada 93
Germany FlagGermany 89
Spain FlagSpain 69
Denmark FlagDenmark 39
New Zealand FlagNew Zealand 31
Japan FlagJapan 28
Singapore FlagSingapore 20
India FlagIndia 16
France FlagFrance 12
Belgium FlagBelgium 9
Slovenia FlagSlovenia 8
Philippines FlagPhilippines 8
Croatia FlagCroatia 8
Finland FlagFinland 7
Greece FlagGreece 7
Turkey FlagTurkey 7
Switzerland FlagSwitzerland 6
Egypt FlagEgypt 6
Serbia FlagSerbia 6
Brazil FlagBrazil 5
Malaysia FlagMalaysia 5
Korea, Republic of FlagRepublic of Korea 5
Russian Federation FlagRussian Federation 4
Indonesia FlagIndonesia 4
Lithuania FlagLithuania 4
Mexico FlagMexico 4
Netherlands FlagNetherlands 3
Bulgaria FlagBulgaria 3
Portugal FlagPortugal 3
Saudi Arabia FlagSaudi Arabia 3
Czech Republic FlagCzech Republic 3
South Africa FlagSouth Africa 3
Thailand FlagThailand 3
Hungary FlagHungary 2
Bosnia and Herzegovina FlagBosnia and Herzegovina 2
Austria FlagAustria 2
Sweden FlagSweden 2
Poland FlagPoland 2
Taiwan, Province of China FlagTaiwan 2
Ecuador FlagEcuador 2
Puerto Rico FlagPuerto Rico 2
Pakistan FlagPakistan 2
Israel FlagIsrael 2
Hong Kong FlagHong Kong 1
Montenegro FlagMontenegro 1
United Arab Emirates FlagUnited Arab Emirates 1
Lao People's Democratic Republic FlagLao People’s Democratic Republic 1
Estonia FlagEstonia 1
Macedonia, the former Yugoslav Republic of FlagMacedonia, the Former Yugoslav Republic 1
Ireland FlagIreland 1
Syrian Arab Republic FlagSyrian Arab Republic 1
Mauritius FlagMauritius 1
Tunisia FlagTunisia 1
Romania FlagRomania 1
Libya FlagLibya 1
Peru FlagPeru 1
Chile FlagChile 1

Texbook Case of “Culture Shock”

Ciao Readers!

So here I’ve been – thinking I am so unique and special and all that jazz.  I have witty observations about my new country and I go on wild quests to find ingredients to make comfort foods (or to join non-existent organizations).  I blog about it for your entertainment (and my need to vent).  And, unbeknownst to me, all this time I have just been experiencing a textbook case of culture shock.  Not even a scientific-journal worthy case, just a normal ol’ case.  There are like umpteen million articles out there on this, but I had never read one until today.

Apparently there are 5 stages of culture shock.  Depending on the source, some of the stages vary a bit.  However they all have the same first stage – the “honeymoon” phase.  Now, all I have to do is look back at my own blog and my adoration of the food and the culture when we first arrived to recognize that phase.

Phase two, depending on the source, is either “rejection” or “distress.”  This is where you feel isolated and start getting seriously annoyed by and judging your new culture (descriptions of trips to the post office, anyone?).  I think I am still partially in this phase (I’ve been grumpier than I let on as I realize no one likes a grumpy blog) – but now that I know I am just reacting “normally” I don’t feel quite as badly (though being “normal” has never really been appealing to me….).  Phase three involves regression – such as seeking out food or t.v. shows from home (am I really that predicable?!?!).  We don’t even need to discuss if I’m in this phase (yesterday I spent about 5 hours searching for ingredients and then making California sushi rolls; we already know I caved and got internet access to t.v. from the States)!  It’s weird having yourself described to a tee – especially by some list of common stages.  While having my uniqueness myth dispelled isn’t fun, I do appreciate one theme in all of the articles – “IT WILL PASS.”  And that’s a relief – because I was starting to wonder about whether I will ever adjust (and also because the lame sushi rolls were nowhere near worth the effort I put into them).  Hopefully, I will soon move on to stage 4:

Stage 4 has many variations – “recovery,” “acceptance,” “emergence,” “assimilation” (I like this one – it has a Borg ring to it), and so on.  The main point is that you are adapting and feeling okay about being in your new culture.  I’m glad to hear that that stage is next because the thought of packing everything and 2 cats back up and heading “home” sounds ridiculous (and tiring!).   I’ll worry about stage 5 (reverse culture shock) some other time.

But, have no fear readers, I am sure just enough of stages 2 and 3 will hang around that I will never run out of witty (i.e. smart-aleky) observations about which to blog!

Delicious dinner or cry for help?:

A Call from “House Hunters International”

Ciao Readers!

So, an interesting thing happened this past week…

As I may have mentioned in a much earlier post, Steve and I both love the show “House Hunters International.”  We used to watch it all the time – especially when the folks were moving to Europe and had a modest budget – we were curious to see what we could afford to rent if we actually moved here.  So, when Steve got the job here in Florence he suggested we apply for the show.  I sent an e-mail of interest the end of January.   We never heard a word.  Until last week…

It started with a series of e-mail exchanges.  The first one, from the Producer, asking if we’d be interested in talking with her (and could I answer a few questions).  I immediately replied something to the effect of “darn, we already found our place and have been living here for over 2 months….”  I should have listened to the little voice in my gut when she responded with neither surprise nor a drop in interest level, but even I got caught up in the excitement of possibly “starring” in a tv episode (gasp!).

To make the rest of the story short, the following day the Producer called and we talked for quite a while.  From this conversation I began to understand that House Hunters International is actually just a “reenactment” of the house-hunting process, with many details being “massaged.”  In any case, we thought we were still interested and planned to film the short video she wanted to make sure we were both t.v.-presentable.  I made the mistake of asking our realtor if she would be interested and if she thought the owners would let us film (both things I needed to find out).  She seems enthused about the prospect and I feel badly (can someone reading this break the news to her please).  However, we started thinking and talking…

AND….I started google-ing.  Instead of re-hashing what I found, you can check out the blog post here and follow the links to the stories in the newspapers, etc.  In a nutshell (and I have no idea why we believed otherwise) the show purposely picks folks who have already chosen their new homes for production sake and then films another 2 options which may or may not have been real options to begin with (and in at least one case were friends’ houses not even for sale).  Now we don’t think that anyone believes reality t.v. is REALITY, but I guess I thought that that shows like HHI are more real than they appear (now I feel really stupid, but I guess if a semi-intelligent person like me even fell for it…).  We had a long talk about the pros (possible exposure for me to potential employers/opportunities here), and the cons (being disingenuous on national t.v.) and we just could not get over the con (though others feel differently).  Even if no one else believes HHI is “true,” we just wouldn’t feel right going along with the ruse.   So, I am planning on e-mailing the producer back and am trying to come up with the right thing to say to our realtor (who is lovely and would be perfect for t.v.).

In the meantime, we decided to have some fun “reenacting” a smart-aleky version of an audition video for the show (still photo of it):

*Update – the Producer was very nice about our decision and she IS interested in our realtor and e-mailed her about possibly working together, so “YAY” all around!

My First Italian Run

Ciao Readers!

So, I think how I’ve mentioned that I miss all of the runs back home this time of year.  If there’s a 5K, 10K or 1/2 marathon, I’m usually there!  I may have also mentioned that I have been thwarted here by the need for a professional sports medicine certificate in order to run organized races.  As they say, where there’s a will there’s a way (and in this case a nice woman willing to help me) – so this past Sunday I got to participate in my first Italian run.  Before you read this, know that as I write it I have a smile on my face and am laughing hysterically (lest you become concerned).  So, here’s the story:

Saturday afternoon I get a call from my new acquaintance telling me there’s a run the next day – an easy flat 8k and an uphill 12k; since it is sponsored by a running group I can choose “non competitive” and won’t need the sports certificate.  Since there have been many occasions where I have run a 5 or 10K without adequate preparation, I decide to be spontaneous and over-confidently say (in reference to the 8K) “sure” – sounds great!   The next morning we take off on her moped to where the race begins (first motorini ride in Italy – fun!).  Since she can’t stay, I’ll be walking the 3-ish miles back after the run.  I get signed up for the run, no problem, and we’re off…

Or rather everyone else is off – for about a mile I was able to keep the back of the pack in my line of sight, but soon after that it was just me.  In any case, the route seemed very well-marked with chalk and there were people at intersections pointing the way.  When I encountered one woman she asked “otto?” and while my Italian is not very good, I am sure she was asking if I was running the 8K, to which I said yes and promptly followed her direction.  There were actually a few runners (i.e. walkers) I passed at this point, so I still felt like I was part of the “run.”  Soon after, though, I again found myself alone and at a literal (and figurative?) fork in the road.  With no chalk marks this time I did the best I could – seeing a runner off in the distance and going as fast as I could to catch up with him, I pointed at my bib and said “corso?”- to which he promptly responded “no” and pointed back in the direction from which I had come.  I ended up running into 2 other participants who asked me in Italian which way to go – boy were they asking the wrong person!  In any case, they asked some non-runners along the way if they had seen anyone running by, and we went in the direction they pointed – up a steep hill, into a new town called Fiesole

Now, I have been here long enough to know that things are not always what I expect.  But even in Italy I was guessing that when I saw my very first water stop (and my iPod was telling me I had already gone 7.5K), that this was probably not the water stop for the 8k…  And, as I guessed from the clues (and as you have guessed by this point), I was in fact now on the 12K trail.  I stopped to talk to one of the race volunteers about my confusion and if there was another way back.  He asked me “bella, no?” pointing out to the view.  And, alas, he was so right.  The view from the top of that hill was breathtaking.  If I had any idea I would have brought a camera!  (Since I didn’t, I have found one online for you, below).  At this point I really had no idea where I was except that I wasn’t in Florence (nor Kansas) anymore and I guess my fear got the better of me and I decided to take his directions back to town instead of finish the beautiful trail. In hindsight (knowing after-the-fact that I was really only another 3 miles out) I would have finished the run (in other words walked it) to fully take in the incredible view.  In any case, we have a great place to go back to and really appreciate!

At the bottom of the hill I encountered a family cleaning their little restaurant and I asked the son who was out front how to get to Piazza Beccaria (a landmark close to home).  He looked at me and asked “a piedi?!?!?!”  Which translates to “what – on foot?!?!?!”  I pointed down at my running clothes and race bib and said “certo!”   Since I was lost and had no idea how far from home I was, he got me really scared  – from the way he asked I was guessing I was 10 miles from home (yeah, I know, the math doesn’t add up).  To cut this story a little short, between his father’s directions and a few calls to Steve (“Ah – you’ve walked into the map now!”), I found my way home a mere 3 miles later.  All in all, it was a grand adventure – from the spontaneity of saying “sure” on a day’s notice, to my first motorini ride, to getting lost amidst the most beautiful scenery.  Needless to say, though, I am not quite ready for “non-competitive” runs here!

Bella, no?:

photo by Jefie on “virtual tourist”

Foreign Food in Florence

Florence is a “foodie” town – if we’re talking Italian food.  Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Italian food (a huge part of the draw here). And there will be many more posts to come about all of its deliciousness (we’ve started the arduous task of searching out the best pizza).  But once in a while, I just gotta have something different.  I have been surprised that (unlike Bologna), it is really hard to find decent foreign food here.  So, I have been on a quest to discover hidden restaurants and source ingredients.  Today I share with you some of what I have discovered:

Asian food – as there are quite a large number of Chinese immigrants here, there are numerous Chinese “rosticceria.”  From what we have tried, the food is cheap and tasty, though not of the spicy-Szechuan variety we like.  It also seems that Italians don’t really frequent these places (one explained to me they are rumored to be dirty – which leaves me wondering if this is true, or a prejudice…).  As for other Asian food, it is almost completely lacking.  There is not a single Thai or Vietnamese restaurant – not one!  And these are two of my all time favorite cuisines.  There are a few “Japanese” places though most of them don’t look at all Japanese.  We went to one very popular sushi buffet – Pingusto Sushi Wok.  It was not bad – the sushi comes out on a rotating belt and if you stand close enough to where the chefs are launching the plates, you can sometimes snag plates of whole sashimi.  The choices are very limited, (no unagi or umi; very limited tuna), but for 10 euros at lunch, it’s worth a visit.   I did stumble upon what looks to be (here’s hoping) a traditional Japanese ramen house (all the writing is in Japanese).  It wasn’t open when I saw it, but I know we’ll be trying it soon.  There is one “fusion” restaurant – Buddakan – which we have not yet tried – the menu has something that looks like pad thai and something else that looks like Korean bulkogi – will let you know.   So, if you want Asian food, here’s the best discovery in Florence – Vivi Market.  They have lots of imported foods, mostly Asian.  I was able to get authentic green curry paste, bamboo shoots, etc. (pictured below) and create my own green curry chicken (after 2 other stops for the chicken and veggies [hour+ walk total]) – it was extremely close to what I get at Thai II back in Albuquerque! (They also have “American” groceries, which appear limited to all varieties of Duncan Hines cake mixes and frostings, as well as 2 brands of peanut butter I have never seen and am pretty sure are not American).  There is also a lady at Sant’ Ambrogio market among the produce vendors who sells Asian ingredients – have gotten jasmine rice and ginger from her.

Indian food –  so far we have discovered two Indian restaurants (actually, I think the two Indian restaurants).  Neither of them have a buffet, which is interesting, because everywhere else we’ve been in the world (including Kyoto) has these.  However, we did try one of the restaurants and it was delicious (and the naan was fresh made on the spot).  We had the “fixed menu” for lunch an it tasted authentic to us (of course, we’ve never been to India, so “authentic” is relative).

“Mexican” food –  okay, this one is a real sticking point.  We’re from New Mexico, so we love all varieties of Mexican food (real Mexican, New Mexican, Tex-Mex).  There seems to be no Mexican food here.  There is one restaurant, Tijuanas, but the menu looks incredibly expensive, and an American I spoke with (from California, so she should know) said that it is not authentic, but a touristy thing.  There is a brand of “Mexican” food in all the grocery stores, and I was mistakenly excited when I saw it – “Casa Fiesta” (pictured below).  If you read the tiny print carefully you will discover that it is produced by a Swedish company (I know – what??!!!).  I have no idea how you make flour and water taste like absolutely nothing, but that’s what the tortillas in my fajita experiment tasted like (other than that, I got pretty close, though I cheated by having sent some salsas in our boxes).  I have never made my own tortillas of any kind, but since Vivi Market had masa, I have decided to give making corn tortillas a go.  (If you ever come visit and want to bring a present….).  The one ingredient that it seems I will never find here is cilantro.

American food – I am not really sure what this category is, but there are supposedly a few “American” restaurants, which we have not tried (there are also two Irish pubs).  There is a McDonald’s and a Burger King (which, I admit, we did try).  Burger King sells beer and all sorts of stuff you’d never see on a menu in the States, but the burgers taste exactly like you’d expect, or actually better (disclaimer – those who know me know I wouldn’t be caught eating at Burger King in the States, but, 1) Steve really wanted a burger and 2) here I consider it part of my culinary-cultural exploration).  As for groceries, as I mentioned, you can find cake mix and peanut butter; the grocery stores actually have these cute tiny jars of Skippy for about 4 euros (hint for present number two).  There is also a fine food store, Pegna, in which I spotted a big round of cheddar cheese (they also carry English teas and some of the Fauchon line of foods from France).

Other –  there is a Kosher Market and “deli.”  The market part is cool – I bought some matzo meal there so I can make matzo ball soup once the weather changes.  But the deli – oh my – this has been my biggest culinary let-down.  We had passed this place during ferie and saw “pastrami sandwich” on the menu (which is in English), so we were all excited and knew we had to go back and try it.  I am looking at all of this as an adventure, but I’m only human – when I saw the nice kid pull out pre-packaged turkey loaf and a bun from a freezer bag, my heart sank.  Wow, was it bad – not only because it didn’t even resemble a pastrami sandwich (I have the one from Katz or Carnegie Deli in N.Y. in my mind), but because it was just bad.  Lesson learned.

A ubiquitous (and luckily delicious) food here is “doner kebab.”  Now, when you think “kebab,” you may think food on a stick.  But think closer to a gyro instead.  There are little Middle-Eastern places all over town that have a big spit of slow-roasted meat (chicken? turkey? other?) (pictured below) and serve very delicious and cheap sandwiches and wraps (meat, plus veggies and chile and yogurt sauces; some have falafel; also pictured below).  I think kebab are actually the “fast food” of Italy (and all of Europe for that matter).

These are a few of my culinary discoveries (and non-discoveries) so far – if you live here, please post a comment if you have your own finds to share!

A Day at the Italian Post Office

Ciao Readers!

Today I am going to share one of the unique cultural experiences of living in Italy that is neither delicious nor beautiful (sorry).  I am going to take you to the post office!

The post office in Italy (“Poste Italiane”) is a post office and so much more.  The post office is a bank – you can have an account just like at any other bank (though I hear it is the least efficient bank in the country).  The post office is a bill-paying center (you can come here to pay your gas, electric, etc. [your only other choice is online]).  The post-office is a gathering place for retirees to get their pensions.  And, I am sure there is more you can do at the post that we have yet to have the “pleasure” of discovering.

We just happen to have a post office right outside our apartment, so I have been watching the comings-and-goings on a regular basis.  Two weeks ago, during ferie, I went to mail some post cards; the wait was only about 10 minutes – nothing like the terrible tales I’ve been told (if you’re wondering why I don’t just buy stamps in a machine – it’s because they don’t exist).  This is how the post office works – when you go in you push a button to get a number – the button you push depends on why you are there (P = post, E = banking, A = paying bills, etc.).  (It seems that there are several tellers for “A” and usually only one teller for “P”).  And then ferie ended…

On Saturday the line outside the post started about 30 minutes before opening (pictured below).  This was the first time I had seen a crowd and as they mostly appeared to be pensioners and it was the first of the month, we guessed it was pension day.  However, as of this writing, almost a week later, the crowds have not seemed to dissipate (just looked out the window – yep, there they are).  Fortunately, we had set up a bank account that is supposed to have internet banking capabilities, so when we got an electric bill with a due date of Sept. 3 I was not concerned (apparently checks also do not exist here).  But then (and still now), our electronic banking was not set up correctly, AND, we missed the post man one day and had two notes to come to the post to pick up something (we assumed 2 of our boxes).  Of course, the boxes were at an entirely different post office than the one outside our apartment.  So, off to the post offices we went.

I could not decide if I could just wait and pay our electric bill when we went to pick up our packages, but I guessed (correctly) that that would probably entail two separate waits in any case (one for “P” and one for “A”), so I decided to brave the post office in the morning to pay the electric bill.  I watched and waited, but the crowds outside the post did not get any thinner – actually the more I waited the larger they got, so sometime after 11 I decided to go down and brave it.  I picked number A229 and they were currently on 181; after waiting about 5 minutes and seeing NO number progression, I decided to take a bet – that I could go back upstairs, cook and eat lunch, and still get back in plenty of time for my number to be called.  I was right – it was exactly 45 minutes later that my number was called (it took about 30 seconds to actually pay the bill).  Trip one to the post office was over.

When Steve got home from school we used our rental car to go to the other post office (we thought we were picking up boxes) before returning it.  We made it to the post office and picked a “P” (for post – or so we assumed).  We thought we had lucked out as there were 2 tellers for “P,” but after watching one transaction take literally 25 minutes, we lost that optimism.  We waited about 40 minutes until we were called (we, like everyone else, acted like we had won the lottery when it was our turn).  Ah, but things are never that “easy” here.  I could tell from the look on the teller’s face that we had done something wrong and he had bad news – the place to pick up packages was upstairs (duh – the note said “1 piano” or “first” floor).  For one moment I let myself hope that we wouldn’t have to re-do the number process up there, but, of course, we did (but just one set, no letters).  I think it was about another 25 minutes until we were called (turns out, it was not boxes, but our bank cards).  We couldn’t feel too badly because right behind us was another American who had done the same thing (and he has lived here almost 8 years! – interesting aside – the owner of the Rosticceria had told us about another American couple living on our street – this was the husband and here we were meeting at a post office 20 minutes away!).

All in all, it was over 2 hours of my day and 1+ of Steve’s spent at the post offices.  Here’s hoping our internet banking is up and running soon…. (*live update – after 2 weeks of e-mailing, I finally received a response from the bank – our foreigner account does not have online bill-paying features…arg…)