Just returned from a weekend trip to Monte Argentario, a beach town near Tuscany. I know I've definitely been in Italy for a while because my skin now has the color of a pepperoni! The Tuscan sun was strong, despite my best intentions at battling it with my trusty spf 45. I went with two french friends and we set up a tent at a campsite a mere 2 minutes from the beach. I learned how to play raccatoni, a popular game where you bounce a small ball back and forth with a partner using a wooden paddle in the water. I also went to a Sangra Gastronomica in a small village nearby. During the summer, most small towns have some kind of Sangra, or food festival, where they serve their local specialty, such as eel, polenta, pasta, beer, etc. The sangra I went to was a general 'Food' festival where I had a delicious plate of seafood risotto and local beer. Then, we watched the dance floor, where the whole town was boogying in a line. For every song that came on they had a different line dance and everybody seemed to know the dance. I couldn't figure out how they managed to memorize such distinctly different dances for every song, so I finally asked somebody. She explained that everyone on the dance floor had taken the town dance class together and today was the only day of the year to show off all their hard work. It was pretty incredible to watch.
Yesterday, on the drive back from the beach, we stopped at a local hotspring about 2 hours away from Roma. Its a free, natural hotspring with lots of little pools leading up to a waterfall. If it weren't so difficult to navigate to and from Rome I would be there every weekend, it's gorgeous. However, the drive to and from is through the countryside of Italy, which takes you on small windy, rocky roads. The scenery looks surprisingly similar to Walla Walla, with small rolling hills in the distant, large fields with corn or melons or grapes growing, and warm warm wind. We passed hundreds of agriturismos on the way back home-- small, family-run farm houses that grow some kind of produce and open their doors to tourists. Many of these agriturismos used to be rustic, but with so much tourist attraction they are becoming more high-end, with restaurants and swimming pools and fancy accommodations.
August in Rome is surreal. The city looks like a ghost town. There's hardly any traffic, most shops are closed down, and the streets are quiet. All Romans are either at the beach or in the mountains. It's an interesting time to see, although the local grocery store is closing tomorrow for a week so it will be even more interesting to see what happens when the stragglers are left without groceries.
Another highlight of the past month was a solo weekend trip to Paris, where I saw the sites, picniced on bridges, and ate croissants, and heard more English in a day than I have my entire time in Rome.
I will post pictures tomorrow!
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
La Dolce Vita
Ciao amiche! I feel like I'm truly getting a taste of "the sweet life" of Roma... 75 degree evenings, pizza, gelato, pasta, friends, beach adventures, pizza, kind strangers, pasta, wine, pizza, you name it. This past weekend I journeyed to the beach town of Rosetto on the east coast of Italy and met with another American nanny and some of her friends. My plan was to take a private bus from Rome to Pescara, a beach town neighboring Rosetto. To get there, I took a bus to the underground metro, which I'd never used before. I had forgotten my directions at home but was trying to catch at 5:30 bus so I braved it and tried to make the trip by memory. I successfully made it to Tiburtina's train station with an hour to spare and I was feeling pretty smug about my ability to navigate the city without a little assistance. I got off the metro and followed the crowds to a ticket office where, sure enough, there was a place to by a ticket to Pescara. I bought the 11 euro ticket and wandered around trying to figure out where to catch the bus. The ticket didn't indicate a station or a time to depart, but after the help of one, two, three, four strangers I figured out that I had to look up the bus schedule on an independent billboard that they posted for each day's journeys. I found the stall where I thought the bus would depart but the time didn't match up, and nobody else could seem to figure out the billboard's logic, so I called up my friend and explained my predicament. She too was confused, until I finally walked to the place where the busses were supposed to leave and discovered that there wasn't a single bus but about 5 different trains. It turns out I had bought a train ticket to Pescara, which takes 4 hours longer and left two hours later than what I had planned. I actually needed to walk across the street to the bus station and purchase another ticket.
I ran over to the bus area and got into a long long line of other people eager to get to Pescara for the weekend. I was getting anxious because I wanted to get the 5:30 bus and by the time I got in line it was 5:15. Luckily, I was able to successfully buy a bus ticket for Pescara by 5:25, and I ran out to look for the bus. However, my ticket didn't indicate which of the 20 buses I was to board, so I ran from bus to bus asking "autobus a Pescara?" Nobody seemed to think there was an autobus going to Pescara. I ran back to the bus station and asked in terrible Italian what bus stall for the 5:30 bus to Pescara and she indicated that it had already left. I almost melted-- I had purchased TWO worthless tickets to Pescara?
Then the woman pointed out that she had sold me a bus ticket for 6:30 to Pescara, and that all I had to do was wait at stall 15 and the bus would come. PHEW!!!
The drive over to the beach was worth it all. Absolutely stunning. We wound through the and mountains, passed hundreds of little farms and mansions and towns tucked into the mountains. We sped through tunnels plowing through the mountain and gasped at the giant rainbow that emerged as we came out on the other side. I can't wait for another trip to the east coast.
It was great being able to exchange nanny stories with the other American and get in contact with some friends she has in Rome. She is working for an Italian family and makes far less money than me for far more work, so it made me feel grateful for having such a generous host family. We did some swimming in the Mediterranean and then stayed at her Venezuelan friend's house, a mere 20 step walk to the beach, and exchanged nanny information, lounged under umbrellas, and explored the nightlife. The mother, MaryLou, made amazing Venezuelan food and we ended up speaking in Spanish the whole time so that we could actually communicate.
My bus trip back home was much more straightforward and it almost felt like I was coming home when I saw the familiarity of Rome.
This weekend I have a friend who lives in Firenza coming to visit me here in Rome, so for the first time I will be the tour guide. Surely then I will take lots of beautiful pictures of Rome and I will post them immediately! Next Thursday, I am taking off to Paris for the weekend! One day late of Bastille Day, but it will be a beautiful and lively adventure nonetheless.
Cynthia, thank you for the Pear/Gorganzola recipe, I made it for a Roman friend and WOWed them, a tough feat for someone eats pasta 8 days of the week! It helps that the Gorgonzola here is fresh fresh fresh and pungent. I used fresh basil instead of parsley and it tasted like manna from heaven.
A presto!
I ran over to the bus area and got into a long long line of other people eager to get to Pescara for the weekend. I was getting anxious because I wanted to get the 5:30 bus and by the time I got in line it was 5:15. Luckily, I was able to successfully buy a bus ticket for Pescara by 5:25, and I ran out to look for the bus. However, my ticket didn't indicate which of the 20 buses I was to board, so I ran from bus to bus asking "autobus a Pescara?" Nobody seemed to think there was an autobus going to Pescara. I ran back to the bus station and asked in terrible Italian what bus stall for the 5:30 bus to Pescara and she indicated that it had already left. I almost melted-- I had purchased TWO worthless tickets to Pescara?
Then the woman pointed out that she had sold me a bus ticket for 6:30 to Pescara, and that all I had to do was wait at stall 15 and the bus would come. PHEW!!!
The drive over to the beach was worth it all. Absolutely stunning. We wound through the and mountains, passed hundreds of little farms and mansions and towns tucked into the mountains. We sped through tunnels plowing through the mountain and gasped at the giant rainbow that emerged as we came out on the other side. I can't wait for another trip to the east coast.
It was great being able to exchange nanny stories with the other American and get in contact with some friends she has in Rome. She is working for an Italian family and makes far less money than me for far more work, so it made me feel grateful for having such a generous host family. We did some swimming in the Mediterranean and then stayed at her Venezuelan friend's house, a mere 20 step walk to the beach, and exchanged nanny information, lounged under umbrellas, and explored the nightlife. The mother, MaryLou, made amazing Venezuelan food and we ended up speaking in Spanish the whole time so that we could actually communicate.
My bus trip back home was much more straightforward and it almost felt like I was coming home when I saw the familiarity of Rome.
This weekend I have a friend who lives in Firenza coming to visit me here in Rome, so for the first time I will be the tour guide. Surely then I will take lots of beautiful pictures of Rome and I will post them immediately! Next Thursday, I am taking off to Paris for the weekend! One day late of Bastille Day, but it will be a beautiful and lively adventure nonetheless.
Cynthia, thank you for the Pear/Gorganzola recipe, I made it for a Roman friend and WOWed them, a tough feat for someone eats pasta 8 days of the week! It helps that the Gorgonzola here is fresh fresh fresh and pungent. I used fresh basil instead of parsley and it tasted like manna from heaven.
A presto!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
sociale socialismo
Today is the first really hot day (83 degreegs) we've had in a while-- the last week was actually pretty cold (low seventies). I'm extraordinarily tired as I write this--I've been really fortunate to have made so many friends since I got here and so I've been going out pretty much every night. It keeps me sane; otherwise I would never get to escape Max meltdowns. I've been watching a lot of World Cup games and checking out the student hangout places with my friends and going to concerts (they are cheap here!!!) and eating tons of pizza. Still haven't sat down for the full four course meal because there's so much going on, but that's on the top of my list for next week. Tonight I'm going to meet some friends at the Colosseum and then get the scoop on more Italian nightlife. Hopefully this weekend I'll get a chance to escape the heat/city and go to the beach.
It's fun to learn about politics in Italy-- everyone here wants to know what Americans know/think about Berlusconi. A lot of people draw parallels between Berlusconi and Bush, and mourn the fact that unlike the United States, Italian politicians have no term limits. One person also noted that he's never actually met anyone who has voted for Berlusconi, but somehow he always wins. I live on Vialle di Via Grazioli, which is also the name of Berlusconi's living quarters (but very far away from me), so a lot of people are at first horrified when I reveal where I live. A lot of people are unhappy with socialism here, because the public hospitals are lacking, the buses run on an honor system that everyone takes advantage of, and the whole political sphere is corrupt and yet most Italians appear to remain apathetic. Most of my friends tell me they vote Communist.
There's a really close park on Grazioli that has a lot of other au pairs hanging out, mostly from South American countries, so I've befriended some of them and spoken a lot of Spanish. I didn't realize how much I actually know in Spanish until recently, everything I want to be able to say in Italian comes easily in Spanish. A lot of times if someone doesn't know what I'm saying I can say it in Spanish and they miraculously understand everything. It's kind of silly how similar and yet different Spanish and Italian are-- Amigo versus amiche, fiesta /festa, media/mezza.
I want to hear about everyone's summer, so please e-mail/skype/facebook me when you read this!
It's fun to learn about politics in Italy-- everyone here wants to know what Americans know/think about Berlusconi. A lot of people draw parallels between Berlusconi and Bush, and mourn the fact that unlike the United States, Italian politicians have no term limits. One person also noted that he's never actually met anyone who has voted for Berlusconi, but somehow he always wins. I live on Vialle di Via Grazioli, which is also the name of Berlusconi's living quarters (but very far away from me), so a lot of people are at first horrified when I reveal where I live. A lot of people are unhappy with socialism here, because the public hospitals are lacking, the buses run on an honor system that everyone takes advantage of, and the whole political sphere is corrupt and yet most Italians appear to remain apathetic. Most of my friends tell me they vote Communist.
There's a really close park on Grazioli that has a lot of other au pairs hanging out, mostly from South American countries, so I've befriended some of them and spoken a lot of Spanish. I didn't realize how much I actually know in Spanish until recently, everything I want to be able to say in Italian comes easily in Spanish. A lot of times if someone doesn't know what I'm saying I can say it in Spanish and they miraculously understand everything. It's kind of silly how similar and yet different Spanish and Italian are-- Amigo versus amiche, fiesta /festa, media/mezza.
I want to hear about everyone's summer, so please e-mail/skype/facebook me when you read this!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
piano piano piano--- slowly slowly slowly
Hello all,
I am slowly getting adjusted to life here. My work schedule is very structured, and my play time is very unstructured. The World Cup started a couple weeks ago and so I've diligently watched all games that Italy plays (in fact there is one in the background as I write this now) because it's a great way to meet people. In Rome, there are not sports bars like there are in the United States-- most people watch the game in their home or while eating dinner at a restaurant. However, the English and Irish have introduced pubs to Rome, so I went to a few of those last week. At the pub, there are no obligations to buy a fancy dinner in order to watch TV, and you get to be boisterous. There was a fun match between US and England and the bar was divided 50/50, so there was good clean competition between the two fan groups. However, I was lucky to discover that a nearby park (the 3rd largest in Rome) has a giant screen TV that thousands gather at for the big Italian games, so here I have met many friendly local people.
Villa Borghese's screen
Many of the Italian friends I have met have been very excited to practice their English, so they are always willing to give me a tour of their favorite haunts in exchange for the opportunity to practice English. It's a fair trade, but I think my Italian is worse now than when I left!
I also discovered a great fancy jazz club in downtown. I saw an Italian swing group play and it was just classic Italian atmosphere; I wish I had taken a picture but I'm trying to avoid advertising myself as an American tourist in local haunts.
My work schedule is roughly like this each day:
Wake up at 7 am, play with Max, feed him (a long, arduous chore because he thinks he can get by without eating!), get him ready for an excursion (also a big task because if you forget his graham crackers, apple juice, safety blanket, or toys you'll hear from him the minute you step out the door), explore the local streets and parks with Max in his stroller), feed him lunch, put him down for a nap, calm him down when he wakes up, and play with him until Nick (his father) comes home from work.
Max on the go!
I am really enjoying the house dynamic and my work schedule, and I thoroughly enjoy getting lost in Rome and stumbling across views like this:
This is blocked by a gate, at the end of a small street, with no explanation or sign as to what historic site it is. Rome is full of these mysteries at every twist and turn!
I'll leave you with this funny Max-ism I discovered today:
Max has many "talking" (noisy, loud, battery-operated toys), but one of them is a color wheel that tells you the colors as you press on each colored button, and you can switch the languages between English, Spanish, and French. Max's favorite color is "rouge." Just a few minutes ago, Max had the biggest meltdown his parents have witnessed, and they couldn't trace what had caused it, until they discovered the language had accidently been switched from French to English, leaving Max with the awful word "red"! Max immediately calmed down once he heard the reassuring sound of rouge. I think Max will have a thing for french girls when he's older!
I am slowly getting adjusted to life here. My work schedule is very structured, and my play time is very unstructured. The World Cup started a couple weeks ago and so I've diligently watched all games that Italy plays (in fact there is one in the background as I write this now) because it's a great way to meet people. In Rome, there are not sports bars like there are in the United States-- most people watch the game in their home or while eating dinner at a restaurant. However, the English and Irish have introduced pubs to Rome, so I went to a few of those last week. At the pub, there are no obligations to buy a fancy dinner in order to watch TV, and you get to be boisterous. There was a fun match between US and England and the bar was divided 50/50, so there was good clean competition between the two fan groups. However, I was lucky to discover that a nearby park (the 3rd largest in Rome) has a giant screen TV that thousands gather at for the big Italian games, so here I have met many friendly local people.
Villa Borghese's screenMany of the Italian friends I have met have been very excited to practice their English, so they are always willing to give me a tour of their favorite haunts in exchange for the opportunity to practice English. It's a fair trade, but I think my Italian is worse now than when I left!
I also discovered a great fancy jazz club in downtown. I saw an Italian swing group play and it was just classic Italian atmosphere; I wish I had taken a picture but I'm trying to avoid advertising myself as an American tourist in local haunts.
My work schedule is roughly like this each day:
Wake up at 7 am, play with Max, feed him (a long, arduous chore because he thinks he can get by without eating!), get him ready for an excursion (also a big task because if you forget his graham crackers, apple juice, safety blanket, or toys you'll hear from him the minute you step out the door), explore the local streets and parks with Max in his stroller), feed him lunch, put him down for a nap, calm him down when he wakes up, and play with him until Nick (his father) comes home from work.
Max on the go!
I am really enjoying the house dynamic and my work schedule, and I thoroughly enjoy getting lost in Rome and stumbling across views like this:
This is blocked by a gate, at the end of a small street, with no explanation or sign as to what historic site it is. Rome is full of these mysteries at every twist and turn!
I'll leave you with this funny Max-ism I discovered today:
Max has many "talking" (noisy, loud, battery-operated toys), but one of them is a color wheel that tells you the colors as you press on each colored button, and you can switch the languages between English, Spanish, and French. Max's favorite color is "rouge." Just a few minutes ago, Max had the biggest meltdown his parents have witnessed, and they couldn't trace what had caused it, until they discovered the language had accidently been switched from French to English, leaving Max with the awful word "red"! Max immediately calmed down once he heard the reassuring sound of rouge. I think Max will have a thing for french girls when he's older!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Week One
Ciao-- this blog is for family and friends to read about my life in Rome, Italy. A big welcome to more distant facebook friends creeping as well.
I'm here, I'm happy, I'm healthy, I'm hot!
It's been a whirlwind of a week, with lots of faces and places and things to remember-- and unfortunately I can only stumble out Spanish phrases when it's most essential. I love the apartment I am living in-- big and spacious with lots of windows. I am extraordinarily fortunate-- it is a mansion by Italian apartment standards. It is owned by the U.S. Embassy so everyone here is American; however, they are apparently hard at work all day every day because I've really only seen one other face wandering about. Our tax dollars hard at work! And don't worry grandma, nobody has exclaimed the common refrain "Che butta (how hideous)!" to me yet in response to my attire-- but they take what they call la bella figura (cutting a fine figure) very seriously here, and moreso than anyone the men.
I will go into detail about my day-to-day life and family and neighborhood as I get more settled and familiar with it. I will post some pictures of my pad in the next entry.
I'm here, I'm happy, I'm healthy, I'm hot!
It's been a whirlwind of a week, with lots of faces and places and things to remember-- and unfortunately I can only stumble out Spanish phrases when it's most essential. I love the apartment I am living in-- big and spacious with lots of windows. I am extraordinarily fortunate-- it is a mansion by Italian apartment standards. It is owned by the U.S. Embassy so everyone here is American; however, they are apparently hard at work all day every day because I've really only seen one other face wandering about. Our tax dollars hard at work! And don't worry grandma, nobody has exclaimed the common refrain "Che butta (how hideous)!" to me yet in response to my attire-- but they take what they call la bella figura (cutting a fine figure) very seriously here, and moreso than anyone the men.
I will go into detail about my day-to-day life and family and neighborhood as I get more settled and familiar with it. I will post some pictures of my pad in the next entry.
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