Welcome back to Italy Dr. and Mrs. Rosenzweig!

Excuse my handful-of-weeks-long absence from my blog, I haven’t had time to sit down and write because of my travel schedule. First, my parents came to visit me and we took a road-trip all over Italy. Second, I got back yesterday from a trip to Holland.

A few weeks ago I took the train to Roma Termini and then another to Frascati in the hills of Rome to meet up with the ‘rents. Going from the daily stress of being a foreign student in Padova to the familiarity of being in the Castelli Romani with my parents was like sliding into a bubbling jacuzzi after a day of heavy physical labor. All of the sudden I was completely relaxed.

We started out staying with the Favas, and, as usual, Toni Fava cooked up some fabulous meals including pasta with a creamy mushroom sauce and concord grapes (what!?) and a pasta carbonara that was by far the best carbonara I’ve had in my life. We also went into Roma centro one night to go to a restaurant called Stil Novo (Romanesco for stilo nuovo or “new style”) with two of my dad’s collegues and their wives. We had four courses -none of which I could finish- each more delicious than the last. My favorite, hand’s down, was a shish kebab with nuggets of rare beef, on-top of which thin sheets of lard were melted, and roasted chestnuts. During the day we gave into our nostalgia for the times that we lived there and took drives around the Castelli. We ate fragolini (tiny strawberries) in Nemi, porchetta (delicious slices of a whole-roasted herbed and spiced pig) in Torre Jacova, and granita di café (basically a coffee slushy) in Roca di Papa.

Another especially exciting day we helped out with the olive harvest at casa Fava. They invited physically able friends to help them, enticing their unpaid workers with the vision of a large lunch banquet and the opportunity to take part in a tradition that is as old as time. First thing in the morning my mother and Liz spread nets under the trees, after which we spent hours brushing off the olives with little hand-held rake tools. Toni was in charge of using this contraption that vibrated the branches to get the olives at the tippy-tops of the trees. It was slightly uncomfortable how many vibrator jokes were being tossed around by my parents and Toni and Liz, but hey, I would’ve joined in on the humor if it hadn’t been my parents. Once the olives were collected we took them to a rustic frantoio (olive-press) where they separated the leaves, ground up the olives, squeezed the liquid from the olive-paste produced, then separated the oil from the water. The oil is like nothing you’d ever find in America. You can’t even find that quality of oil in the stores here. I was really excited to bring the oil back to Padova though because many of the Italian students have oil that their father or grandfather make with their own olives so I was very happen to level the culinary playing field.

SO. MANY. OLIVES.

See the olive rake?

Also, I just really like this picture of my mama...

Two beautiful things about this picture: 1. the gorgeous stream of olive oil

2. the classic old Italian man surveying his product.

From the Favas my parents and I embarked on a road-trip to Padova so they could see where I live. We picked up my old friend Carlye in Bologna on the drive up north so that she could join in on the free meals and comfort of once again having parental figures around. We only had one night in Padova and spent the following morning walking around the daily farmers markets in the historic center. The next day we drove more north to Trieste, which I found vaguely similar to San Francisco, due to the look of the narrow apartment buildings built upwards and the trolleys that roll up and down the windy streets. While my dad worked, my mother and I walked throughout the city, mostly window-shopping, but also stopping to see a Roman ampitheater and some beautiful piazzas.

Next we drove onwards to Lago di Garda, staying at a hotel right at the edge of the still as glass lake. The town seemed surreal because no one was out and there was no wind swaying the boats. The absence of the clanging of the boats and the splash of water was so strange that it felt like an episode of the twilight zone. The next day, however, people were out walking in the streets and the shops were open so we took advantage of the high-quality merchandise, buying a couple of beautifully crafted leather bags and a bunch of artigianal chocolates. Then we hit the road back to Rome, stopping only to eat and to buy some balsamic vinegar in the city in which it originated, Modena. Back at the Favas we ate more scrumptious meals and I said goodbye to my parents. It was a fabulous trip: I ate, I travelled, I saw my parents, and I went back to Padova with so many goodies that I needed one of their suitcases. Funny enough though, after they left I felt my first pangs of homesickness since arriving in Italy.

HOLLAND POST IS PENDING don’t fret. 

Oh, and there are more pictures of Trieste, Lago di Garda, etc... but I have yet to get them since my parents have them all.

Tea, Tachiflu Medicine, Tissues, Emergen-C, and more Tea.

I got some shit called Tachiflu to help my cold. It's a powder that you put in hot water and it tastes like medicated lemon-honey tea. I guess it's working, my nose has dried up which is great. Pre-Tachiflu my nose was like the fucking Niagra Falls and I was sneezing every other second so, yeah, this is definitely more ideal. I still have no energy which sucks but I only had class on Monday and Tuesday this week so thank god for that.

Classes, Colds, and Complaints

October 12, 2011

I’ve just finished my second full week of university classes and am living in a university apartment with three lovely Italian girls, one with whom I share a double. We have no living room, just two bedrooms/bathrooms with an adjoining kitchen, so visitors beware: bring your own sleeping bag or portable air-mattress if you plan on coming here.

My classes are interesting…I think…I’m not quite sure because I only understand about 30% of what the professor says in one of them and about 60% in the other. I’m taking history of contemporary philosophy, which, as you might assume, is the class in which I only understand 30%. All the lectures are on concepts and theories, which can be difficult in English, so just imagine how much info goes zooming over my head in Italian. My other class, contemporary Italian literature, is slightly easier. My professor gets very excited about the novels we’re reading and is a small, slightly chubby, old lady so it’s a little like listening to an Italian grandmother tell a story. I’m very excited about this class because the novels that we’ve been assigned sound really interesting and I can read four of them in English (hurrah for reasonable professors!).

But, alas, Italy always throws obstacles at me the second I start to feel comfortable. I have yet to find any of my courses’ books (because why would Italian bookstores sell Italian novels in English?), the weather took a sudden turn so all of the sudden it’s cold out, and because of this sudden temp change I’ve come down with a pretty bad cold. Meh. Now I have to go to the pharmacy. I’ll tell you about it when I get back. OH! And the internet just went out so I have no idea when I’ll be able to post this.

Alright, I’m back. So the pharmacy run was surprisingly easy, I don’t know why I thought it wouldn’t be. I knew the key words to explain my cold to the pharmacist: raffredore (cold), congestionata (congested), and le tosse (coughs). Armed with the correct vocabulary and very obvious symptoms I conveyed my illness, received my medication and its instructions, and paid in all of three minutes. 

Prompt service? In Italy? Unheard of. Except, apparently, at the pharmacy. 

Ashes Ashes we all Fall Dead

October 10, 2011

The week before last will forever be referred to as….THE WEEK OF DEATH

It was by far the most hectic week I’ve had here, which is saying a lot because I’m including weeks where I had to lug around my two large suitcases (plus an over-loaded backpack) from city to city and on and off trains.

 

List of Pains-in-the-Ass:

1. I had two oral exams for my language class. The exams here are more like an interrogation than an exam. It’s just you and your teacher face-to-face. One was on the history of Padova/Italian grammar and the other was more of a presentation on a topic of your choice. All in Italian, of course.

2. Then I had to move from one residence to another on the whole other side of town.

3. And then I had to miss class to sit for five hours at the police station to deal with some beaurocratic bullshit about the Permesso di Soggiorno (I honestly have no idea what it’s purpose is, but we had to do it).

4. AND on top of all that university classes started.  You have to shop around for classes here instead of just signing up for them on the internet like at the UC’s so it’s a lot more time-consuming.

So I missed most of our last week of language course class which means that I half-assed my presentation and crammed hard-core for the oral exam because the history reading we’d been assigned was so thick with Italian technical terms that none of us really understood it the first time around. Finally, now that I’ve settled into my permanent housing, got an A in my language course, and found all of my university classes, I can relax.

Oof. Venice.

Last Wednesday we took a little field trip to Venice. After a half-hour train-ride our teacher told us that we had the option to stay there over-night, an offer we took without hesitation, who wouldn’t? Her brother is a hotel manager at a four star hotel in the heart of the city and the room that all nine of us stayed in for only 90 euro in total is actually 1400 euro a night. Basically, we lived like Venitian queens for a night. We toured the city during the day, stopping at il Museo Correr and the Palazzo Ducale, eating a little gelato, and then we went for an aperativo drink before dinner. Our group consisted of us UC girls, our teacher Ilaria, her brother Luca, and Luca’s friend Claudio. We thought that after our drink we’d grab a bite to eat, see a little Venice at dark and then call it a night.

But no…apparently that’s not how you do a Venetian Wednesday night. After our aperativo we went to another bar to drink wine and eat tiny fried meatballs saturated in garlic, cold potatoes that have been marinating in oil, parsely and salt, and fried filleted sardines. The bar was so cute, the doorway was crowded with people ordering little appetizers/wine but the back was a trattoria-style restaurant. With our hunger and exhaustion from the heat of the day temporarily sated by delicious snacks and wine we thought, “okay, back to the hotel.”

But, again, nope…on to another bar! The drinkers of the group thinned to myself, Tess, Erica, Luca, and Claudio. This bar was an Irish pub, so everyone was sipping on brew and watching the soccer match on the big screen TV. After finishing our drinks (quickly because most of the group had stopped drinking and were waiting awkwardly outside) we walked, slightly tipsy, back to the hotel stopping only to dance to a mariachi band serenading the tiny streets (I know, mariachi in Venice? Yes, it exists). And, once again, those of us who had decided to enjoy the Venetian nightlife, despite knowing full well that we had a 7AM revelry the next morning, were invited to the hotel bar by Luca.

So Tess, Erica, and I enjoyed our own private bar well into the next morning. We were our own bartenders - helping ourselves to anything and everything behind the bar, learning how to make drinks, and trying disgusting Italian liquors. When we got hungry; Luca called the consierge, who suddenly appeared with cheese and crackers. When we ran out of ice; Luca called and, again, the consierge came running with a bucket filled to the brim with ice. When we wanted our music louder; Luca made a call. Our wish was his command. The shear privilige we had was almost as intoxicating as the alcohol we were drinking.

The next morning we woke up, had a splendid continental breakfast, filed through the four-feet-wide streets to the train station and was at class by 9:30. Needless to say, for the three of us that stayed awake:

it was an amazing night. The morning was definitely not. 

There's a dryer on the roof I think...

I present to you, gentle readers, the Italian version of a dryer. 

There is a machine in our dorm building but it's not very effective. The first time I opened the dryer after the cycle was finished I was confronted by a pile of steaming wet clothes. Not exactly what I wanted. So on to plan B: dry in the waning sunlight. I should probably just call it plan A, however, because it's most Italians' method of drying laundry. I have yet to find/buy un stendino (a standing drying rack that's foldable for easy storage) so my impromptu stendino is the roof! I just hope my clothes don't blow away because I don't have any clothespins... And there you have it. I found a dryer...I guess..?

My Pet Patrizio

Me an Patrizio, my pet basil plant.

Mmmm Rooster Sauce

I’ve had shoddy internet for about four days now. It’s slow and crashes so often that it’s really not worth using for anything except the necessities: email, blog, and the occasional facebook fix. I really don’t mind it though, I’m no internet fanatic. And when you’re not surfing the web you can make deliciously simple lunches like the one I made today!

Simplicity is best done in Italy because the ingredients are so pure. Here I have a simple focaccia from the local panettiere, arugula, and some fresh salty cheese (I don't now the name...). And, as always, my trusty condiments are sriracha and olive oil. 

By the way, bringing sriracha with me was the best decision I've ever made. Seriously though, put it on anything and it's all the more tasty. It was the only dressing on my arugula and it was fantastic.

Argh. Real Apartment or Fake-University-Apartment?

I want.

I can’t decide whether or not I want to find my own apt here in Padova or to stay in the university provided apts. The plus side to the university apts is that utilities are included in rent and I wouldn’t have to apt search. The plus side to finding my own place is that it will definitely be more aesthetically pleasing, I won’t have to abide by any university rules, it could be cheaper, and my roommates would be Italian. Do I want to put in the effort to find my own place? I think I do. I think that the university housing will place me with international students, which is cool, but having Italian roommates will help me learn more of the language and lifestyle. Also, I know that I’ll be in a double at the university apt and I prefer having my own space. There are singles available for a similar price as the double that I know I’ll have at the university residence so…find my own apt I guess?

Biciclette!

Sept. 9, 2011

Oh the fun that you can have with bikes here! Two other girls decided to buy bici and had heard that you can buy stolen ones for 10-20 euros from these shady guys posted in a park. Our instructions were to wait near the entrance of the park, to not approach the guys just let them come to you, and to not go alone. When we went at noon we waited for about two minutes and then an untrustworthy type fellow approached us, quickly scanned the area, and whispered,

“bici?”

We nodded yes and he waved over his friend who wheeled over two bikes, he offered 50 for the two, we haggled a little and then settled on 40 for both. They were the old school bikes that are abundant in Padova. When I was looking to buy my own I had my heart set on one of these bikes because they’ve got so much more character than newer ones. I offered to exchange mine for one of his but he just laughed and said,

“We only sell, no exchange. Tell your friend to buy and then exchange with her.”

So we did just that.

Now I have an old school magenta bici. It's the same style as the one below but pretty beat up and equipt with a basket. I also survived a transaction shadier than a drug deal.

New City New People New Life

Okay, so here’s an update of the last couple of days:

Sept. 4, 2011

Sunday we had another family dinner using leftover pasta, new pasta, and some tomato sauce that we hadn’t used Friday night. The dinner wasn’t the interesting part, however, the weather outside was. A thunderstorm came in around 8pm and lasted throughout the night. There were cracks of thunder and lightening striking constantly all over the sky. The summer thunderstorms I’ve experienced in Wisconsin pale in comparison to this behemoth of a storm. We huddled together by a semicircle of windows at the end of our fourth floor hall for a half an hour mesmerized by the impressive display.

Sept. 5, 2011

Monday the rain continued in the morning as we dealt with our permosso di soggiorni (residence permits), led by our wonderful Italian teacher/guide Ilaria. But that was boring and tedious so I’m going to tell you about my dinner instead---which is always more exciting. Becca and I bought fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, crusty Italian bread and wine earlier in the day and decided to have that for dinner (along with Patrizio my pet basil plant). So we prepared our simple meal and crawled out my window to enjoy a rooftop cena complete with a gorgeous view of the city at twilight. Then we met up with the other girls in the city center in search for a pub that was highly recommended by a German man they had met at the cafeteria. Suddenly, we found ourselves in an new part of the city where the streets are even narrower and the cobblestones aren’t flat, but are instead round and slightly raised. The pub that we ended up at I can definitely see myself going to quite a lot this year. It had forty types of beer, the bartender was friendly, and the other bar-goers were Italians my age. But most importantly, they weren’t playing the euro-crap music that is normally heard here.

Sept. 6, 2011

            Today….man oh man what a day I had today. In the morning we met up with Ilaria at Café Pedrocchi, a bar in the city center (in Italy a bar is where you grab coffee and pastries although they do sell alcohol as well). At Pedrocchi they make espresso from an old recipe that continues  to blow contemporary coffee drinkers’ minds. It’s a steaming espresso with a dollop of cold mint cream and cocoa powder sprinkled on top. No sugar. No stir. It’s perfect as is. I can’t even express how balanced it is… the hot bitter espresso paired with the cold refreshing mint cream…. It’s ridiculously tasty.

            The second amazing experience I had today was the purchase of my new bike! I found a used bike shop with prices around 30-60 euros. My bike is called “wind bike.” It’s a blue mountain bike that I paired with a lil’ black basket for the front of my handlebars. All together the bike, basket, and chain/lock were only 50 euros! Not a bad deal, especially since the only other used bike shop was selling only a bike for 60-70.

            Padova is a bike town and what I find most interesting about it is that riding is so universal. Students, old ladies, businessmen, middle-aged couples, and even nuns ride their bikes all throughout the town. Now that I have my own bicicletta I finally feel like I live here. Pre-bike, I had just moved into a sterile dorm single and explored the town with eight other Americans, but now, now I live here.

Sono Arrivata!

Sept. 3, 2011

After my five day incubation period at the Fava’s household outside of Rome I’ve finally made it to Padova. I say “incubation period” because during that time I conquered my jet-lag, got comfortable speaking my broken Italian, and fell into the relaxed Italian life-style.

Yesterday I arrived at the train station with Giorgia and Tess, and thank god for Giorgia! With two bags each, Tess and I were in dire need of an extra hand with both our luggage and travelling advice… We took a seven euro taxi ride to the dorm because, let’s face it, there was absolutely no way that we three scrawny girls could’ve gotten those huge bags on and off a public bus, much less lugged them all the way to the dorm.

Once there, Tess and I signed a little paperwork and were promptly handed the keys to our single rooms! They proved to be spacious abodes with a closet, desk, bed (sheets and pillow included) and a bathroom shared with an adjacent room. I only managed to unpack one suitcase before getting antsy and heading out to explore the town with Giorgia at my side.

The cobblestoned streets are narrow with arches lining the sides. There’s a balance between modern and old stone buildings, usually two or three stories, with little garden boxes overflowing with flowers outside the windows. Needless to say, the whole town is adorable. There are five or six main piazzas but my favorites so far are Piazza delle Erbe and Piazza dei Frutti where, as the names suggest, there are produce vendors stationed everyday (except Sunday, of course). Yesterday I walked there with my new UCEAP friends and bought a gorgeous white-streaked dark purple eggplant, an enormous green red and yellow heirloom tomato, five zucchini, garlic, onion, and a basil plant. With these ingredients we made our epic first “family” dinner: a pasta primavera with an addition of pancetta (basically Italian bacon) for some more flavor. It was a very pleasant dinner, with box wine (don’t judge, we’re on a budget) and great new friends.

After dinner most of us went to a park where there are free world music concerts and theater during the summer. Sainkho Namtchylak from Tuva was performing. She proved to be very interesting. At first she just sang, first in a crystal clear soprano and then, all of the sudden, she dropped to a baritone that you couldn’t believe was coming out of her. Then she played a little jaw harp and managed to sing whilst playing. Unfortunately, we didn’t stay for long because the venue was full, but what we did see was impressive.

With no show to go to we wandered for a bit until we fell upon Piazza delle Erbe which was almost unrecognizable without the cloak of produce and cheap clothes kiosks. We sat down for a beer and people watched for an hour or two until we decided to find our way home before the beer got to our heads. 

Casa Fava: stop one on my Italian Adventure 2011

    FAVAS!

      After five hours traveling from LA to Dullus and eight and a half to Italy I'm finally in Rome! I've started this blog to document (for purely selfish reasons) my ten or so months living in Italy. My great friends Jonia  and Giorga Fava picked me up at Fiumicino this morning. Revelling at the familiar autostrada scenery on the drive back to their home in Torre Jacova I was exhausted but over-joyed to see my girls. The Fava household has a unique balance of international friends staying at their house right now: six Italians (almost all bilingual), two English, and me, the lone Los Angelina.
      Needless to say, I'm perfectly at home having already spent a year of my life with an international group of friends int Italy. In the few hours that I've been here (five of them fast asleep in Jonia's bed) I have savored a much-anticipated caprese, caught up with old friends, and munched on concord grapes that are literally growing around the ceiling of the porch. Oddly enough, Italians call concord grapes uva fragola---strawberry grapes.
Why?
I couldn't tell you.
Apparently they're sweet like strawberries but the taste is not at all similar. Oh, crazy Italians...
      I've already sacrificed a good twenty minutes of my limited time at the Fava's household, so I'm going to have to cut this post short. In a nutshell, it's surreal to be back in the hills of Rome but only because it feels uncannily like coming back to an old childhood home. I have great company, Italian beer, and just ate a simple yet delicious pesto pasta. I'm so content and I can't properly explain the phenomenon. I guess I'm just home.

~Julia (Giulia?)