Ravenna + International Gastronomy

Last weekend I went to Ravenna (a city on the east coast) to watch a fencing tournament.  I tried to pick up on the minute details that made one competitor better than the other; making very controlled, straight jabs as far extended from your body, etc.  At this age (~12 years old) height makes a very big impact.  The #1 in the country last year was a good foot shorter than all the other competitors, and ended up taking 21st place, though he lived up to his nickname "the painter" with his artful strokes.  Ricchi, the fencer I was cheering for, did extremely well, as one point beating the #2 ranked in all of Italy!!  Ricchi is very tall, but he doesn't take his height for granted, and still puts a lot of effort and skill into each match.  In fact, his skill impressed me very much!  It was fun to watch.

There were competitors from all over the country.

See how well-dressed all the judges are in their suits?

We also visited a couple mausoleums in Ravenna, which were quite stunning.  Forgive me, but I cannot remember each of their names.

Only the four chosen testaments in the cabinet on the left survived this historical book burning.

Glass mosaic.  Stunning! and Shiny!

The Christmas spirit has arrived!

Then on Monday my Italian school here organized a lunch in which everyone brought a dish representing their country. I made a pumpkin pie and put a crust turkey on top, which I actually thought looked pretty good.  And you'll have to take my word for it because I forgot to take a picture.

Italy: Sandwich tower; each layer held a different type of sandwich.

My favorite sandwich from the tower: Salmon and cream cheese.  mmmm, and the bread was soft and sweet

Polland: Sweet cakes filled with apples and raisins.

Our Reggio Lingua family :)

Cin Cin! Salute! Italian prosecco.

Ukraine: sausage filled pastries.

Russia: salad of sausage, pickles, egg, mayonnaise and celery.

Italy: a savory tort filled with onions and potatoes.

Italy: Succo d'uva.  It is a natural sweet paste made out of grapes.  The texture reminds me of congealed blood, which surprisingly doesn't do it for me.

 Needless to say, we all left satisfied.  And with leftovers!!

Italian women can do anything in heels

Ok, parliamo di qualcosa...

Every day during my Italian class we take a 30 minute break halfway through during which almost everyone in my class smokes (almost everyone in Europe smokes.  Actually during an exercise in class today we were talking about things our grandparents did that today are almost nonexistent: typewriter, record player, etc.  I said smoking and everyone in the class was confused and thought I didn't understand the lesson).  We meander across the street to the closest bar, each get our own version of coffee and settle into our morning routine.  Anastazia always orders a cappuccino and a croissant, the two men from Japan order cappuccini, and I have finally figured out that my drink of choice is caffe macchiato.  The barista remembers all of our orders and salutes us with them as we walk in.  It is very endearing.

Un macchiato

Caffe italiano = american espresso
macchiato = an espresso with a little milk foam ~a small cappuccino
cappuccino = espresso with a gorgeous mound of milk foam
caffelatte = a tall glass of milk with a little coffee in it

Un cappuccino.  Also, is that soccer player in the newspaper carrying a Louis Vuitton? Italian men- so fashionable! 

I often like to go for a walk around downtown Reggio Emilia during the break.  It is a great site for window shopping, but be sure not to go on a Sunday, Thursday or any afternoon between 1:00-3:00 PM, because everything will be closed.  Actually, I've noticed that window shopping is the rule unless you're actually going to buy something.  I see people huddled around store windows as if they're looking at a cage full of puppies rather than socks or purses.  I've walked into shops just to browse and I get strange, expectant looks, but I go on and do my thing.  Most of the shop attendants look like they need something to do anyway.

An example of my window shopping; check out our US friends on the left window.

 One day during our break I strolled to the main piazza of Reggio Emilia and found a skirt and a pair of pants I wanted to try on.  The attendant directed me to the back of the shop where there was a tiny closet with a sheet hanging as a door and mirrors inside.  I tried my things on, found a perfect fit and was preparing to leave when the attendant came over to ask if a little old lady by her side could borrow the mirror to look at a skirt.  I said of course, and the meek, little old lady launched into a ten minute conversation without coming up for air.  I was excited that I could understand most of what she was saying, and I gave very short responses to allow for my Italian to seem perfect.  She told me (I think) all about how she used to go to school in the area and one time she was out shopping with her sister and someone asked to borrow the mirror, except she herself was still inside changing and she was scarred by the experience.  Now she picks her grandchildren up from school and cooks them dinner every night.  I kept making eye contact with the attendant during this rant and she nonverbally said, "sorry for latching this woman onto you".  I ended up returning late to class, but I laughed the entire walk back.

Piazza Mazzini, where I met my nonna friend.

Another day, after class, I accompanied my host mom to her hair dresser just down the street from my school.  Her hair is phenomenal, so I was interested to see the master at work.  It is amazing how little he actually looked at the hair while he was cutting, and how much everyone chatted.  It was more like going to a social club.  His apt hands weren't bothered by the head motions of his client as she animatedly told stories, and she wasn't worried when his scissors found her hair while his eyes were following a conversation elsewhere.  They told me about a phenomenon called "Shatoosh" where the ends of the hair are lightened to make it appear like you've just gotten back from several weeks at the beach.  The hairdresser was being very persuasive, because the color would take so well to my virgin hair.  He drew a picture of me and whipped out a highlighter to demonstrate the effects of a Shatoosh.  Later at home I google-imaged the word, and figured when in Italy, why not?  The next day I went back and made an appointment.

Projected effect of a Shatoosh

It ended up being a glorified highlight, so I didn't feel ahead of the times, but the process was entertaining.  My hairdresser would have conversations with people all over the room, and politely make eye contact, while he was cutting my hair.  It was a little nerve wracking.  He would intermittently hand me his iPad and have me search something (Kansas City, Smithville Lake, a piazza I have to go see).  He also said he was going to set me up with one of his friends nearby to go horseback riding.  We will see.

Before:


After:

Last Friday night my family here and I went out to a pizzeria, because I hadn't had the "good" Italian pizza yet.  I have to ask every time we go out to order if the pizza is to share, or each person orders their own, because there's no way I would sit down in a U.S. restaurant and order a pizza for myself.  But every time they answer that it's every man for himself, and I usually only eat half of mine.  I ordered the Sottobosco (bottom of the forest) pizza that had lots of mushrooms on it, which tasted like they had been marinated in balsamic vinegar.  It was absolutely delicious!  I asked for the Northern Italian thin crust as opposed to the Napoli thick crust.  It was so thin and brittle that when I grabbed the edge to pick up a slice it crumbled.  But it was so delicious!  We each ordered a dessert, and one of the kids decided to try cheesecake for the very first time in his life (whaaaaat??).  I ordered a gelato di crema with strawberries, which were drizzled with an aged balsamic vinegar specific to this region.  I was thinking about the life of wine, and asked how many months a vinegar is aged before bottling to become "old".  They scoffed and explained that balsamic vinegars are aged up to and beyond 50 years, which makes them quite expensive.

Gelato di Crema with strawberries drizzled in balsamic

 Ok, in regards to high heels, Italian women have a magical talent for living every aspect of life in them: cleaning house, walking across the lawn, shopping, teaching, going to school.  I can't even go out in a pair for a couple hours on a Saturday night!  The proof is in the pictures:

Walking the town

Picking the kids up from school

 The following picture doesn't involve high heels, but it does display a fashion sense just as popular; camouflage is EVERYWHERE here!  It makes me laugh every time I see it.  The border land between Missouri and Italy is not so big after all.

The flavor on the right is called libido.  It was straight up Nutella.  Delicious, but overwhelming.

 Bea and I built a house for her beautiful dog Neve.  However, we could not get Neve inside of it for the life of us.  She was petrified of our construction.  (I think any architect might be, too).

Venezia

I am smitten.  The stars aligned for a splendid weekend in Venice; fears of l'acqua alta (high waters) kept many tourists away, and the sunshine, low tide and mild temperature provided a perfect contradiction to that forecast. 

I went Friday night to the train station in Reggio Emilia to buy my tickets for the weekend.  After proudly explaining in Italian (and fighting through a bit of language confusion) that I wanted a roundtrip ticket to leave early Saturday morning around 7:00 and return Sunday evening before the last train parted, the man handed me two open-ended tickets which I could validate any time within the next couple weeks.  I who pretend to know so much, actually know so little.

Good morning, Venezia!

I woke up at the end of the train ride Saturday to see water all around.  We parked around 10:00 AM, and I quickly found my friend and coworker, Ashley, waiting at the end of the same platform.  She is staying in a town 30 minutes from Venice for a few months, and is a wonderful travel companion with her curious spirit and positive energy.  Our hotel was just around the corner, so we dropped off our things in our closet of a room (with no room number, but it was next to room 18= closet) and hit the streets.

There was a huge fish market going on, which you could smell from blocks away. 

Seppia; the small squid I was saying we ate in a fried ball filled with cheese.  They make a pasta dish in Venice using Seppia and its ink, so the sauce is black.  I wanted to try it, but was always too hungry when we ordered to risk not being able to eat it.  Plus, what would happen to my teeth?

 

This stranger accidentally posed for my picture so well.

We walked around each day for 6 hours, and I completely fell in love with Venice.  I had heard that it was a dirty city, but I didn't see that at all.  I've heard that when it's hot and humid everything stinks.  Since the weather is cooler now, it was just a clean, organized, fairly quiet city built atop the water.  The entire city was so romantic; what a great place for a honeymoon!  Although stay away from the gondolas; we tried to take a short trip on one at the end of our weekend and were scared away by the price of 150 euros.  GAHH! No thanks, we'll walk.  There are ferry buses that you can take pretty much anywhere for 6 euros, and you can easily walk the entire island within a few hours.  Not getting lost is the tricky part; you have to crisscross back and forth over waterways and around dead ends, so it is very easy to start traveling in the wrong direction.

Ponte Rialto; a very famous bridge with a shopping center on top.

Careful! You have to pay for that beauty guiding the oar

We made it to the famous Piazza San Marco with the Doge's palace where the most important government figures lived.  The church of San Marco was overwhelmingly COVERED in gold.  If it were a home I would say it was almost a bit tacky :), but being a basilica it was gorgeous. 

House of the Doge, Piazza San Marco.

...and later that night.

Basilica San Marco.  Free entry, but there was still a line with guards...?

Inside Basilica San Marco.  Gold EVERYwhere!

Front view of St. Mark's, with the Doge's palace behind.

Saturday night we met up with a friend of Ashley's, and a few of his friends, at a pizza joint.  We tried to stay away from the most touristy locations, but all of Venice is really made for tourists now.  Most of the locals have moved to the surrounding areas to get away from tourist traffic, high prices and uncomfortable flooding.  Therefore there weren't any restaurants to find that were for the locals.  We were waiting outside the pizzeria Ae Oche ("to the ducks") and I noticed a familiar symbol inside on the back of a booth:

I thought the guy in this picture was attractive, but he had a girlfriend.  And she joined us shortly after.

The restaurant was loaded with U.S. sports memorabilia.  I thought it was hilarious!  The pizza was good, though.  Ashley and I ordered a salad and a pizza to share, and all the guys thought it was crazy that we were ordering a salad. Even the one who was on a diet because his doctor told him it would save his life was eating a sausage pizza.  But he did only take one bite of dessert.  I will say, though, that for as little salad as they eat here everyone is very fit.

After the pizzeria we went to Piazza San Margherita, where the young folks go.  The bar scene was way different; there were open-faced little bars you would walk in, order, then go stand out in the piazza with everyone else.  We got our drinks, then stood and talked like all the other under 40-somethings on a Venetian Saturday night.  Ashley and I tried montenegro, which had a black liquorice taste, and grappa, which tasted like alcoholic fire.  They are both popular Italian drinks, which I think I will only try once.

This couple was so cute; Ashley had to reset the camera for a minute and they just kept right on kissing!

Some interesting artwork we found on our walk:

The Other King

King of Pop (and angels?)

King of Tasmania

 It was interesting finding hints of local life in the backstreets:

Sunday we took a ferry out to Murano, which is famous for its Venetian glass artists.  We took a free tour, then hit the shops.  It wasn't long until we had gained a judgmental eye; we saw the same items over and over again in a multitude of shops.  We were on a seemingly hopeless mission of finding a necklace that was different.  Just before turning back we walked into a tiny one-room shop run by a beautiful older woman.  You could tell she put a lot of love into her work; when I asked to try on a necklace she also brought out matching earrings, and would only allow me to try the ones that matched PERFECTLY.  When I spoke a little Italian with her she was excited, and told me the story of how she was able to visit New York City during Christmas time one year.  She really was a dear.

"The Tour" which was 5 minutes of watching this man blow glass, then we were asked for donations.

It was actually really cool watching this horse be made.

Sustenance!!  Pasta Bolognese to the left and all'Amatriciana to the right (a Roman dish with bacon).  YUM

There were very impressive glass sculptures on Murano.

A cross-canal picture of the shop where I finally found my necklace.

I wonder how different the Venetian experience would be if I went in the summer, with lots of people and the stench of the city.  I think I'll keep believing that situation doesn't exist, and allow Venezia to remain as perfect and magical in my mind as I witnessed it to be last weekend.

Big Brother

WhoooEEE it's been a busy few days!  It's amazing how fast midnight comes after waking up at 7:00AM; it must mean I'm having fun.

I have had lots of intriguing conversations this week.  I enjoy how long we sit and discuss things after meals, sometimes lapsing two hours from when the meal started until we finally stand to clean up (and I wonder where my day goes).  It's wonderful, though, I've run into such open, interesting and interested people.  Not to mention intelligent; my host mom fields all topics of conversation from scientific experiments to international politics to silly jokes.  Very versatile, with great energy.

So one of the things I've gleaned from discussions this week is that Big Brother is really out there.  In my first days here I was not as directionally sophisticated as I am now (although the kids still demand I turn on the GPS every time we get in the car; did I mention that they're smart?).  I park my car in a free parking lot just outside of downtown.  Before I gained control of my route, dear old uncle TomTom took me and the Scenic on a tour of downtown (and uptown, and side town...).  I figured the only damage done was in my class punctuality, but it turns out that every car that enters the downtown district has its picture taken.  If the license doesn't have a certain permit a fine is mailed to the house of the owner.

A similar strategy is used on major highways in Italy.  A time-tagged picture is taken when you enter the highway and when you exit the highway.  The distance between your entrance and exit point along with the time is used to calculate your average speed.  If it's above the speed limit you get a fine in the mail.  None of this honky business crossing your fingers that a copper isn't waiting over the next hill.  You can run, but you can't hide from the fine that will come in the mail.

In Italian class it is often a speaking exercise for each of us to describe the view of our country about a certain topic.  We were talking about sweets one day, and I described (with as many hand gestures as possible) how Americans use the gooey innards of pumpkin to make a pie.  The Danish couple sitting next to me said that in Denmark there is a problem with how many sweets children eat because of how easily accessible they are (waiting along the lines of a grocery store check out) and inexpensive.  The quality of teeth is going down. The government placed a tax on all sweets, in a similar way we do with cigarettes.  Wild.

Big Brother, or more aptly put, Big Sister also strikes very close to home.  Our classroom is inside a building downtown which has a huge wooden door that must be electrically unlocked from inside for us to enter.  It is quite a nuisance for the people inside, really, and I have been surprised at how diligent the teachers are about keeping it shut.  Who cares; who's going to walk into a school courtyard anyway?  Yesterday I was sitting in class by my window seat, with a straight view to the front gate/door.  The door was standing slightly open, which we often do when a class takes a break since people are going in and out.  I heard a high pitched noise, kind of like an alarm, except it was erratic.  The noise got closer and closer until I realized it was an old woman, who had made her way down from an upstairs apartment to scream at the teachers for letting the door stay open.  My teacher looked at us and whispered the story about how the woman sits by her window all day staring at the door, and throws a fit every time it's open.  Jolly good time.

 And sometimes I am Big Brother, sneaking into my "kid's" fencing practice where only first time moms are allowed and snapping pictures.  The sad kid in front of me up top spent more time hacky-sacking his sword than he did fighting the motionless opponent coming out of the wall.  The others were pretty impressive.  It was obvious the coaches couldn't get me out of there fast enough, but it was nice of them to let me in at all.

So much more to write, but GONE FISHING to Venice.  Be back soon

Let's Talk Cibo

I’ve had a number of new dishes since I’ve been here, and enough pasta to create a new stomach lining.  In the States (at least in my household), pasta dishes always involve garlic and a lot of some herb, generally basil.  The dishes I’ve had here have been more basic than that; really just a cooked noodle and a tomato sauce.  And obviously topped with Parmeggiano Reggiano.  A popular dish in Reggio Emilia is tortelli, which is a rectangular noodle (similar to ravioli) stuffed with either spinach (tortelli verdi) or pumpkin (zucca).  I like both, but I prefer the Verdi because the zucca has a sweetness that doesn’t fit well with tomato sauce for me.

When I think of tortellini, I think Yale Dining Hall chicken broth soup with cheese-stuffed crescent-shaped noodles.  The dish in this region that is most similar to this is called cappelletti.  The name comes from the Italian word for hat (cappello), because the noodles look like little bonnets.  The little bonnets are usually stuffed with meat.  This is an extremely common Reggio Emilia dish, served in a light broth.

La seppia frita is a decadent dish I’ve recently tried.  [I notice that most of these dishes are meant for the kids, whose metabolisms are burning rapidly.]  It is a breaded and fried ball of squid the size of a fist, stuffed with a cheesy bread mixture.  The texture is chewy like calamari, but all the flavors together are rich and delicious.  You can also order the seppia grilled, but as long as it's not a daily occurrence I recommend the fried.

I’m still having a hard time with auditory learning of Italian, so I had to use google to find the name of the new pork dish I tried tonight: ciccioli.  It appears to have the same consistency of blood sausage’s innards, but is served in a patty wrapped in pig fat (I was assured this dish contains the healthiest kind of fat…).  You remove the outer layer of lipids and eat the tender patty inside.  The salty flavor and the tenderness of the meat reminded me of corned beef, which launched me into a conversation about St. Patty’s day.  St. Patrick’s day does not interest Italians.

November 11 is the day of Saint Martin, so San Martino was scheduled to have a festival full of food, wine and historical reenactments.  I woke up feeling like it was Christmas, and looked out my window to see…nothing but rain.  Due to weather the festivities were canceled, so I spent this Sunday at the house with my host family, though I am technically off on the weekends.  It’s nice to spend time with the kids when they have a free day, as they go to school six days a week, and I really enjoy being in the house with the family.  We took a break from playing Guess Who (Indovina Chi? One turn in English, altra nel'italiano) and Hotel to make biscotti.  The just-barely-sweet batter had a hint of lemon, which was quite good.  We rolled the dough out and used cookie cutters to create stars, flowers, moons, bells and other less-identifiable shapes.  After the biscotti cooked we were rewarded with a sample.  I had mine with green tea, which was a match made in Sunday afternoon heaven.