Mia Sorella e Mio Fratello

Novelia e Peppe in Santo Stefano Sessanio

 "Every person is a new door to a different world." ~ Unknown

"How do you like," the beautiful Italian woman started to ask me, "that they call Peppe in and leave me outside.  I wanted to go in. I waited all day, and all day I was standing outside."

Novelia, my wonderful friend from Sulmona, is talking about The American, a 2010 film starring George Clooney that filmed in a number of towns (including Sulmona, Santo Stefano, and Pacentro) in Abruzzo. She and her husband, Peppe, were going to be extras sitting in a restaurant in one of the scenes. Instead, the casting director asked Peppe to follow him in, and Peppe spent the day sitting in for Clooney while Novelia waited outside. She still hasn't forgiven him (Him being the casting director, George Clooney, or Peppe/George, her husband).  (Only joking)

Mike and I met Novelia and Peppe two years ago when we rented their Sulmona apartment for a month. They are as passionate about the Abruzzo area as I am, and they love to introduce people to the wonderful region.  Because of a slight booking problem, Group #1 didn't stay with Novelia this year, but she and Peppe were grand enough to be our guides for three wonderful days and, so very graciously, pick us up at the train station and deliver us to another apartment. They also took us back to the train station on the day we left, and, given the amount of luggage we had, that was no small task

Peppe, Steve, Deb, and Charlene in Raiano

 Born in Pratola Peligna, a small city a few miles from Sulmona, Novelia grew up in Canada. Her father decided that he didn't want to die in that place, and they moved back to Italy.  Her mother and sister live a few kilometers away, and they are very close.  A desire to share Italy in general and Abruzo in particular lead her to open "House of the Heart," the apartment we rented.  She is a great cook, a exuberant and cheery person, and an all-around great sister (from another mother) to me.

Peppe (aka George), her husband, is from the capital city of L'Aquila. Like Novelia, he loves his country and region and is very willing to share.  An architect by trade he helps Nove show off the beautiful area in which they live.  As I mentioned last night, he doesn't speak English (although I think he can) but understands most of what their English-speaking guests say. I am truly happy that I can communicate with him now.

"I hope I'm saying all this correctly," I told him.  "I'm still learning.  I'm still trying."

"I understand you," he told me. "Your Italian is better than my English."  He's gracious.
 

Charlene, Doreen, Novelia, and Leslie's hand in Raiano

 On the last night we were in Sulmona, Novelia and Peppe drove us to Raiano, a small town about 15 minutes from Sulmona, for gelato.  The gelateria uses all natural products and crops grown in the area for their gelato.  Raiano is famous for its cherries, so amarena is a featured flavor.  In addition, the night we were there, they had olive oil, avocado, and saffron gelato (three different flavors).  The olive oil is pretty good (Think vanilla that is smooooooth.), but I stuck with amarena.

Someone in the group (Doreen, I think) mentioned how wonderful Peppe was to help Novelia guide us through Abruzzo.  

"Call me San Guiseppe," Peppe laughed.

When we left for Bologna the next morning, Nove surprised us with sandwiches, a cooler filled with six bottles of water, and her famous chocolate cake. She didn't want us to get hungry or thirsty on the four-hour train ride to Bologna.  Everyone in the group appreciated the kindness she and Peppe showed us, and they all will remember the Abruzzo experience for a long time.

That, my dear friends, is what Italy is about.  Yes, you can go to Rome and Florence and Venice and Pisa and Milano and see the museums and mercatos and gondolas and glass-blowers, but the real Italy is not those things. The real Italy is the people who are generous and kind and loving and willing to share not only their country but also their lives. 


I cannot wait to see Nove and Peppe again.

Parla. Parla. Parla.

Novelia e Peppe

❝To have another language is to possess a second soul.❞   ~ Charlemagne

 Since I speak two-and-a-half languages, I hope I have two-and-a-half souls. If I get good enough at it, I may end up with three. And, if I have three souls, maybe I'll have three lives.  That's not quite as good as a cat's nine lives, but I'll take it.

I probably said this last year, but I love learning languages. As most of you know, I majored in Spanish, went to grad school for Spanish, and taught Spanish. I also took Greek in continuing ed once, and I can still say about three sentences. (Hello! How are you? I'm a girl.)  I know about the same in German except that instead of saying I'm a girl, I can count to 10.  (Look out, World!!)

I read an article recently that outlined 10 rules for learning languages, and while I won't go into all of them, I can tell you that I agreed with most of them.  The guy who wrote it speaks nine languages and is learning a few more.  He advises to not be afraid of making mistakes (one of my big downfalls) and to watch and listen when people speak. 

Some nuns

That's really how I learned. While I had to take classes last summer to understand the grammar, once I learned the basics, I started listening and watching. I got better as the summer went on, as my friend Cesar told me.  He is Spanish, and at the beginning, I spoke to him in Spanish.  He finally insisted that I speak only Italian, so I did.  I still throw some Spanish in with the Italian, but now more than anything, I throw Italian in with the Spanish.

"I do the same thing," he told me today, "when I speak with my parents.  Some of my Spanish friends also tell me that I now have an Italian accent when I speak Spanish."   I thought that was interesting.

"How long have you lived here?" I asked him as I couldn't remember.

"Four years," he replied.  He moved to Bologna from Piacenza a year ago. Before that, he lived in China for seven years. And, yes, he does speak Chinese...and English.

I am to the point that I can understand about 60-70% of what someone says to me, although I usually have to ask them to slow down.  Italians talk in staccato tempo, and it takes me a bit to go from speaking English to the groups to listening and talking to someone in Italian.  There are a few words that drive me nuts, and I have to ask someone to repeat them all the time.  I'll talk about those later, but ice and cherries are two of them.  Geez.

So, why the photos if I'm talking language today?  The top one is of Novelia and Peppe, my good friends from Sulmona.  Peppe doesn't speak English (although I know he understands everything we say in English think he can speak it.... Ti amo, Peppe!), and two years ago I couldn't really communicate with him.  Last week, I was able to talk to him without having Novelia translate. 

Maybe I'll get that third soul soon...

Market Day; (No) Crowds, Part 3

I Mercanti Petroniani without the crowds

 "I would sooner put lit cigarettes in my eyes than share a vacation. . .with a crowd.”  ~ Jancee Dunn

(Note to start this: You already know I hate crowds. I thought the quote was appropriate.)


Today was another market day in Bologna, one that happens only once or twice each season.  I Mercanti Petroniani are a group of Italians from the Emilia-Romagna region (Bologna is the capital.) who put on the markets only six or eight times each year.  The vendors can only be Italian, and the goods, from what I saw, were 90% made in Italy.  The quality was higher—as were the prices.

The candy vendor has a zillion types of licorice.  Who knew?

There were not as many vendors, as you can probably see in the photos, and there were definitely not as many people. No one was throwing anything because, quite frankly, the bins of 1 euro scarves and 6 euro shoes were not there.  The least expensive thing I saw was only 1 euro, but it was a raviole bolognese, and I had to have one.

 Get the picture of cheese ravioli covered with sauce out of your mind.  Raviole bolognese are the same shape as the ravioli we all know, but that's where the resemblance ends.  The raviole of Bologna is a typical sweet of the area, and history has it that it was first served on St. Joseph's Day (March 19), a big feast in Italy (and my birthday).  They consist of a sweet dough filled with mostarda, marmelada, or cioccolato.  (Mostarda, by the way, is a bolognese condiment that contains mustard and fruit. It sounds disgusting, probably, but it's really good.  I ordered something with it unknowingly last summer and loved it.  Had I known it was mostarda, I would not have ordered it because, well, mostarda??  The Bolognese people use it on meats, fish, and in sweets.)

Market minus crowds=Happy Moi

At any rate, God bless the Italian nonna who first made this sweet hundreds of years ago to celebrate St. Joseph on his feast day.  From the time I learned the history of the raviole, I have  considered them "my dessert" since my birth coincided with his feast. So, when I saw the raviole this morning, I had to have one to honor St. J.  The problem was that I wasn't sure which kind to get: apricot, Nutella, cherry, mostarda, mixed berry, etc.  I finally opted for the cherry.

"Una ciliegia, per favore, (One cherry, please)" I said to the gal. 

"Solo una? (Only one?)" She looked at me like I was nuts. I nodded yes not wanting to try to explain that if I ordered more than that, I would inhale them all.  She told me that the cherry were also made with ratafia, an Italian liqueur made from cherries and asked if I still wanted it.

"Certo (Of course)."  I love ratafia and figured it would be delicious.  

It was, and I wish I could show you a photo of it. I ate the whole thing (not that it's huge) before I was out of the piazza.  Sigh.  You can get the recipe and see a photo here, though.

 Getting back to the market.... I found it quiet interesting that the crowds from yesterday were gone. It was odd not seeing the foreign men with PRC-made electronic goods and clothing.  There were also no foreigners shopping. I had the feeling that I was the only non-Italian native in the piazza this morning...not that that's a bad thing since I hate crowds. (I swear I need to buy a taser.)

I'll probably walk down one more time today since the market goes until 8 pm. I was pretty lazy yesterday afternoon, and I just finished my mushroom, lentil, and pea soup, so I'm going to have to walk it and the raviole off.  I'm just going to have to stay away from the baker.

Market Day: Crowds, Part Deux

“Shopping is a woman thing. It's a contact sport like football. Women enjoy the scrimmage, the noisy crowds, the danger of being trampled to death, and the ecstasy of the purchase.”   ~ Erma Bombeck


"You dirty b@5t@rd!"  I heard the woman shouting (in Italian) before I saw her.  The massive crowd hid her from my view, but a man pushed through followed by the red-faced woman.  "Gobbledy gook Gobbledy gook. F#¶K you! F#¶K you! F#¶K you!"   (Sometimes it pays to know Italian words. I wish I could have understood everything she said.)

I have no idea what the guy did to enrage the gal, but he hurried along as she berated him for quite some time. I was halfway up the huge aisle before I couldn't hear them any longer.  What amazed me the most about this entire incident wasn't that the woman screamed at the man but that the crowd completely ignored both of them. No one stopped to stare, and except for a few who gave them a cursory glance, most people didn't even stop what they were doing. Market day is serious business in Italy.

I don't quite know why the European markets attract me. I don't tend to buy much—although I can't deny buying a beautiful scarf or two or three at times—but I love wandering through them week-after-week.  While I prefer the food markets, I also enjoy the general markets, too. The amount of stuff available for sale boggles my mind.

(Side note: When I get to talk about Florence, I'll talk about the market there. It's very different than the ones elsewhere in Italy.)

The Bologna market is more like a discount store than what we usually consider markets. In Sulmona, one can buy fresh flowers, fruit, vegetable, meat, cheese, and fish alongside the clothing and home goods. Certain booths always have crowds looking through the clothing piled in large bins. Usually, these vendors sell seconds and store cast-offs for a set price (sometimes as little as 1 euro). If you've ever seen the comedy shows where Lucy and Ethel or some other comedian goes through a bin and tosses clothing in the air while searching for a certain something, you'll know what I mean when I say the women (and sometimes men) tear through the piles of clothes in search of the perfect article.

In fairness, there are a lot of vendors who have good merchandise. It is, of course, more expensive.  I've seen everything from first-quality underwear to cocktail dresses at the Bologna market. I think I mentioned last summer that one has to really look at the item he/she is purchasing to decide whether it is worth what the vendor wants.  There is one place that sells scarfs for 1 euro each (See photo at the top of this entry.), and while some of the scarves look beautiful and the booth always has women clawing through the packages, the scarves are not well-made and will not last long. That, of course, doesn't stop me from wanting one of those multi-color scarves with the squares. (If you see one falling to pieces on my neck next fall, remember that I paid only one euro and deserve what I get)

Tomorrow, I Mercanti Petroniani (The Petronian Merchants) will hold their spring market in Bologna. From what I understand, the vendors in this market sell only items made in the region. I'll have to see, and I'm sure I'll let you know. :-)

Introducing....

Back L-R: Lili, Cesar, Steve, Doreen, Deb; Middle: Leslie; Front: Charlene & Moi

 “I have found out that there ain't no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.”    ~Mark Twain

 I should have introduced you to the cast of characters that were my first guinea pigs on the Bella Italia journeys right at the beginning.  Somehow, the thought escaped me until this morning. They were fun, funny, exuberant, willing to adjust, easy, and an all-around great group of people.  You might be surprised to know that of the five who came with me, I knew only one in advance (although I had met one other briefly).

Without further ado, let me introduce them.

Charlene Herst
I've known Charlene for more than 25 years. She worked with Mike at KVBC in Las Vegas, and her daughter, Hayley, worked the assignment desk for Mike in those days. In addition, Charlene is on the editorial board of BLVDS Magazine, and we just have always gotten along.

I took the above photo of Charlene the day after she arrived in Rome. She hadn't had coffee of any kind in years, and she decided to try a cappuccino because one drinks cappuccino in Italy. She agreed with me that they are not like the cappuccinos in America, and that was not the last one she had. :-)

Doreen Heimbach (L) & Deborah McBride (R)
I met Doreen about a year ago when she was in Las Vegas to attend a function there. She grew up with Charlene, and they are like sisters.  As a matter of fact, Doreen and Charlene are sisters-in-law as Charlene's husband, Jack, was Doreen's brother.  If you name a Broadway show tune, chances are Doreen can sing it for you.  She's the one who let me try her MBTs earlier this week, and for that I am grateful.  We laughed because she, Charlene, and I are like sisters from different mothers.

Deb worked with Charlene in Reno for years before she retired about two years ago.  While she was the quietest of the group, she was willing to try anything and ate some foods I wouldn't try. (I tell you, I'm a picky eater.)  Deb found out about my peanut butter obsession and brought me a jar of Skippy as a gift, God bless her.  Like me, she's an animal lover, and she has two cats at home.

Doreen and Deb were the only two who were brave enough to go into St. Peter's with me.

 Steve Heimbach
 Steve and Doreen are married and live in Evergreen, Colorado, and Doreen surprised Steve with this trip for his 70th birthday in May. A fisherman who tries to fish daily when home, Steve enjoyed the variety of fish offered in restaurants in Italy.  I think he ate more fish than any of us (especially me since there isn't a piece of fish that will touch my lips).  Steve is not really carrying a floral man-purse in the photo above. Charlene's purse was so heavy that she had him carry it for her at times.

"He's secure in his manhood," Doreen told me.  :-)

Leslie Downs
Leslie, Doreen, and Charlene all graduated from Las Vegas High School in 1964.   Leslie has lived in California for years, and she raises and sells succulents.  The shortest of all of us, she moves quickly.  I forget exactly what we were talking about yesterday, but she said, "He was constantly moving."  I had barely thought, "Look who's talking," when she finished by saying, "Of course, I'm one to talk. I can't sit still."

By the way, Doreen had a Fitbit, and I had my Misfit, and we were counting steps like crazy. I think our record was almost 24,000 steps one day in Rome.

If the Pasta Fits

Papparadelle with fava bean sauce

“It's fascinating to travel around Italy and realize just how many different ways they make spaghetti.”    ~ Mario Batali

 Amen, Brother Mario.

Too often Americans (and others not of Italian descent) think of Italian food as spaghetti and meatballs.  Ouch. I'm sure that most of my cousins and friends of Italian descent would tell you that we ate pasta in a variety of ways.  There are probably more than 200 varieties of just pasta shapes, and with the different sauces, well, one could eat pasta everyday of the year and not have the same thing twice.

I thought I'd show you a few of the things we've had this week and tell you about them.  Most of these are from Rome. I'll catch you up on some of the others later in the trip.

The photo at the top of this post is a handmade and cut (with a knife) pappardelle pasta topped with a fava bean sauce.  Nonna Aida made the pasta, and her daughter, Amalia, made up the sauce. She cooked  down the fava beans, combined them with a little olive oil, a little (LITTLE) garlic, a little cooked guanciale, salt and pepper, and topped it with peccorino cheese.  That's it.  (Probably my favorite of the dishes.)

 

Spaghetti con caccio e pepe

Caccio e pepe is a Roman dish that has only three ingredients—pasta, peccorino cheese, and pepper.  It's easy to make as one only has to cook the pasta, drain most (but not all) of the water, and add cheese and pepper.  The reason you leave a little of the hot water is that it helps melt the cheese and bind it to the pasta.

 

Tagliatelle with porcini mushrooms

I didn't have this pasta, but it looked and smelled good. Tagliatelle is a flat pasta that can hold heavy sauces such as this one. The sauce was basically butter and mushroom, and large porcini mushrooms completed the dish.

Chitarra with grilled asparagus, cherry tomatoes, and peccorino cheese

I love the simple pastas, and we all had this one in Pacentro.  It is chitarra pasta (a square spaghetti cut by hand on a machine that resembles a guitar....more on that later) topped with grilled asparagus and cherry tomatoes.  Peccorino cheese finished the dish.

Gnochetti with salchiccia e ragu pomodoro

Gnocchetti are small, gnocchi-shaped pastas. A simple red sauce topped the pasta, and small pieces of sausage added to it.  Again, Peccorino cheese topped it.  Of all the dishes I tried, it was my least favorite because the sauce was not very good, and the pasta were not homemade.

By the way, most people think Italians all use parmesan cheese.  Nope.  In Lazio and Abruzzo, peccorino cheese is king.  I prefer it to parmesan (Don't tell my Bolognese friends.).

Anyone hungry?


PS... I updated the look of the blog... Hope you like it.

Catching Up

For women, shoes are the most important. 

Good shoes take you good places.”

~ Seo Min Hyun

I don't think I mentioned this last year, but I had one huge problem with my feet. I walked around Italy for almost nine weeks with sausages for feet and ankles (See disgusting photo above.).  Aside from the fact that my feet and legs hurt constantly, I was quite embarrassed because I tend to be a bit vain and thought everyone was looking at my over-stuffed appendages.


Having never experienced something like that before, I hit the doctor as soon as I got home.  There was no physiological cause, which was good, so we assumed the problem was with the support in my Easy Spirit shoes.  I donated those to Goodwill and brought my Skechers, Merrill, and Aerosoles—all with memory foam support—with me this trip. I have had and worn all three for more than a year and never had a problem, so I thought I was safe.  Wrong.  Way wrong.

By the time my group arrived the day after I did, my left foot was already ballooning beyond the limits of the Skechers. I switched to the Merrills, and for a few hours I was okay. The sausages and pain returned.  For 10 days, I switched shoes and tried to stay off of my feet in the afternoon as much as possible.  Going to Firenze on Tuesday, however, was the breaking point.

We left early in the morning (6:50) and arrived in Florence by 7:30.  By the time we had walked from the Santa Maria Novella station to the mercato (about 10 minutes), my feet were already stretching the Skechers. By the time we left at 3:30, the elastic from the band was cutting into my left foot.

Two of the gals wear the same size I do, and they both let me try their sandals. I liked both the Ecco and the MBTs, and in the two days that I wore them, I actually had ankles. (Photo below of me wearing the borrowed MBTs.)

Long story short, I bought a pair of MBTs this morning.  MBTs, if you haven't heard of them, are the original "rocking" shoe. Unlike the Skechers Firm-ups which promised to tone your legs, the MBTs are supposed to aid in walking and posture thus helping with pain and swelling.  The Swiss designers patterned the shoes on what they call the "Masai Barefoot Technology" (walking like the Masai in Africa).  All I can tell you is that after walking on Doreen's MBTs for a few days, the swelling was minimal. They are expensive (but worth it), but I got them on sale (making them more worth it).


Everyone in my first group left today, so I'll give my feet a bit of a rest until the second group arrives. Because I've been up since 3 am Bologna time and it's now 3 pm Bologna time, I'm tired.  Please keep your voices down as I'm going to take a nap.  If I get up later, I'll write another post and try to catch up.


Ciao.