The Legendary Day that Was (pause for effect) Deruta

WHAT a day.  We've been trying to go to Deruta for three days.  It rained/snowed on Tuesday, and we got the bus time wrong on Wednesday.  So today was the big day.  I was determined.  Kim, never having been, didn't see Deruta as much of a priority, but I persisted.  (Cliff note: Deruta is where pretty much all Italian ceramics are made.  Some immensely beautiful stuff.)

We were at the bus stop 10 minutes early this time: 7:30.  In girl time, that meant Kim and I had to wake up at 6 and 6:30, respectively.  An early morning for these Assisans.  We rode the bus down to the train station, and the machine wouldn't sell us a ticket to Deruta.  Strange.  I knew we had to transfer in Perugia, so we just bought a ticket to go there.  NOTE: we almost went back home.  What if we can't get there?  But persistence and the promise of gorgeous ceramics prevailed.

Once in Perugia, we found no schedule with a Deruta stop.  It wasn't in their machine, either.  However, it was now 9am, so there was a friendly train staffer to sell us each a ticket for 1 euro to get to Deruta.  Success!

Our stop was only a 9 minute train ride away.  Stepping off the train, we felt triumphant.  We knew it was a bit of a walk to town, but we've walked such distances before.  (Sidebar to the Alesandrinis - we totally walked from Santa Maria to Bastia and back the other day.  Holla!)  But looking around the station, we noticed something eerie.  There were no people.  No snack machines.  No ticket machines.  How the heck would we get back home?

That's a problem for another hour.  On to Deruta and her fine ceramics!  My keen intuition, aided by googlemaps, told me that Deruta was due east of the train tracks, so we followed the sun.  The road didn't want to do the same, so we weaved a bit, semi-confident in our direction.  As we walked further, we were concerned by the fact that there was no town in sight, nor any people.  Hmmmmm.  

We pressed on, boldly following the sun's guidance and familiar road signs.  Just when we thought we'd found a road heading in the right direction, it dead-ended into a farm.  Embarrassed and slightly desperate, we approached some of the workers and asked for help.  They were very kind, offering confusing directions, friendly smiles, and ultimately, a ride into town.  But not from them - from the elderly owner.  As he started his car and waved us over to the garage, his daughter pulled into the drive.  Mama came out of the house.  "No.  You go with her now."  Yes ma'am!  So she explains the situation to daughter Marta (later to be dubbed Santa Marta), who drops her visiting plans to drive us into Deruta - a 15 minute drive from our location by highway.  (!)  Marta gives us her phone number and says to call if we can't figure out how to get home, and she'll come get us.  Seriously.  From this day forward - Santa Marta (Saint Marta).

Now we're in town!  We stop for a coffee to warm up, and ask for ideas about how to get home.  The mother/father/daughter team in the caffe/bar is incredibly friendly.  After a few minutes of conversation, mama tells us that if the tourist office can't give us the help we need, we should come back and their daughter will drive us the half hour home.  (!)  Could these people be any nicer?

Then we shop.  Apparently we looked cold when we walked into the first store, so the owner hugged me and rubbed my cheeks to warm up my face.  Yeah, we bought some stuff there.  The woman at the next store kissed us goodbye when we left.  Everyone was extra friendly and sincere.  We found the tourist information office and figured out how to get home by bus.  Mission accomplished again!

After a tasty pasta lunch, we stopped in one more store.  The owner, all smiles, immediately began a long, chatty conversation, all the while hugging us, pinching our cheeks, and patting our faces (a little forcefully, I might add.)  When he learned that we'd have to walk down to the bus stop, he explained that he has another store down there and offered us a ride.  So he closed his store, and we got into a stranger's car for the second time today.

As we walked into his second store, I realized I'd been there before.  In fact, my sister had been in his studio - he taught her to throw pottery.  So I tell him about my family, and he claims to remember.  Sure, sure.  Making the sale.  A few minutes later, he puts a photo album in my hand and points to a picture of Emily.  There she is, plain as day!  He (who we now know as Rolando) then proceeds to take us both downstairs, and soon we're all throwing pottery and getting all muddy.  

You should know that the cheek pinching has now upgraded to full groping status.  Rolando is regularly patting my rear-end, and Kim mysteriously has clay on her boob.  (Ok, not so mysterious.  I saw him put it there.  No shame!)

Finally, we make our purchases and say our goodbyes.  Kim and I force ourselves to do a little more window shopping (torture, really), and then we find our way to the bus stop.  With ten minutes until the bus's arrival, there's our friendly salesman, Rolando, shooing us into the nearby bar for a coffee.  He insists on treating us, so it would be rude to say no.  This will be my third espresso of the day.  After a few more minutes of hugging, kissing, and groping, we get on the bus to Perugia.  Whew!

Two more bus rides and 3 1/2 hours later, we're home!    Now that we've spent way too much money, learned the non-ease of taking public transportation to the ceramics capital of Italy, taken multiple charity rides with strangers, and been thoroughly groped by an old pottery-thrower, I do believe we've conquered the juggernaut that is our Deruta.  For the full set of the day's pictures, click HERE.  

Good night!

Thanksgiving Preparations

In preparation for the upcoming holiday, Annie and I have been on a turkey hunt (thankfully not with bows and arrows). Today, we were victorious! We found a turkey. Well, part of one anyway. Ironically, neither of us are big turkey gobblers. However, to give our Italian friends the full American traditional meal, we feel a turkey is a must. For awhile, I was worried we would be stuffing a chicken. Here's what else is on the menu: mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean bundles, homemade bread, deviled eggs, stuffin' (we're fighting over calling it stuffin' or stuffing, but this is me typing - stuffin' it is), cheesecake, and hopefully a pumpkin pie. All of this will be made with no electrical appliances and from scratch. The search for food has been a long and tedious one. We truly feel like pilgrims. It has been difficult to find certain ingredients that we're so used to having...for example, sour cream. Not only can we not find it, we also stand in the grocery store with our dictionary looking up every word on items in the cold section. Fun times. We also have yet to find a can of pumpkin pie filling. So, we'll be scraping out the inside of a pumpkin come Friday. We've now been to five different stores (not including the fresh markets) in search of the needed ingredients. We have not found them all and so the hunt continues.

Annie's roommates from Genoa, Simona and Francesca, are arriving Friday and our Thanksgiving feast will be Saturday. We are thankful to have found such great friends here in Italy. We definitely will miss our friends and family back home (well, most of you). Both of us agree, that our experience in Italy has made us more thankful for the blessings in our lives and all the conveniences the US provides. We're very thankful that at this moment, we're cooking dinner, eating amazing cheese and drinking fabulous wine, and listening to Christmas music (and all you suckers are at work - mwahaha).

We wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving and I'm sure we'll give you a full report of ours. ~Kim & Annie

And the clouds parted.....

Today we were asked for directions dozens of (read: 2) times, because we are truly Assisans and obviously, people can tell.  Let's talk about the day overall: a mix.

First: I was asked for directions by an Italian man on the way to the San Matteo market, and bought some fresh veggies and a food processor down there.  Felt pretty good about myself.

Second: We fought the mighty lizards on our long walk down to Santa Maria.  It was quite the tiring adventure.

Third: After visiting the Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli (pretty!), we donated to a local boy scout troop and got ourselves a Christmas pencil.  Not too shabby.  They were super-polite.  Here's a nice shot of the basilica:

Fourth: We paid a visit to our favorite local pasta fresca shop, where they opened Just For Us.  That's right, VIPs Annie and Kim were in need of some good pasta, and they made it happen.  Pumpkin ravioli and fresh spaghetti.  Yum!!

Fifth: Our trip to the grocery store proved fruitful for almost everything on our list, but they had no Amaretto.  Seriously?  Seriously.  We're still slightly in withdrawal.....

Sixth: While we waited at the bus stop to get back up to Assisi, we were honked and hollered at by (ready?) Italian firemen.  Yes.  True.  Vero.  Si.

Seventh: We gave excellent directions to some international tourists seeking the city's center, a path which we clearly know by heart.  We could walk this place in our sleep, people!

So overall, a good day.  With the mighty lizards defeated (for today... dun Dun DUNNNNN!), and enough wine and whisky cream to tide us over until the amaretto is restocked (shut up, it's for our coffee), I think we'll live another day.  Ciao, babe.

Indiana Jones, Take Two

This morning, rested after a long night of gnocchi-making, we walked down to Santa Maria d'Angeli to do a little grocery shopping and see the cathedral.  On our way, I noticed a leaf blowing across the sidewalk in front of me.  Ever-paranoid about large bugs and whatnot, I stopped until the leaf stopped.  Just in case.  Once stopped, I started to take a step when suddenly THIS GUY (right) ran out from under it!!  I screamed, albeit briefly, and jumped back.  My yelp startled Kim, but maybe not as much as Chuck over here.  He ran up the wall just to our right, and I managed to snap a couple of pictures before his complete disappearance.

We continued to walk, unharmed, when Kim stopped in front of me.  It was then we realized that we were surrounded.  Leaves rustled without breezes, the inanimate bricks were moving at odd angles and paces.  One quick glance to the right showed us THIS:

They're everywhere, man!  Luckily we survived this test, but let me tell you.  We're on the lookout.  No leaving open purses sitting on the sidewalk while we take pictures.  No sleeping with our mouths open.  No no no.

We made gnocchi!

Welcome to Kim & Annie's kitchen. Tonight, we made homemade gnocchi from scratch - with NO electrical appliances. Since we've been eating gnocchi like it's our job (since, well, it kinda is our job right now), we decided to go straight to the source. How is this stuff made? We've heard it's really complicated and time consuming. Can we do it? Yes, we can! And we did.

Here are the ingredients needed for gnocchi:

1) potatoes
2) flour
3) lots of time
4) wine and champagne
5) cheese
6) the movie Elf

Okay, okay, maybe you just need numbers 1-3 for the gnocchi. The process is much more fun though if you add numbers 4-6. We may have gone a bit overboard in our first gnocchi production. We made waaay too much and will be eating gnocchi for awhile. Something tells me that it won't go to waste.

If you're interested in seeing how we made our gnocchi, here are the pictures from our fun Friday evening.

Playing house, playing guitar, and lots of new pictures!

If you click on the picture above, you can view a close-up that lets you see the olive groves past the yellow leaves, and the cathedral in Santa Maria degli Angeli down below.  Gorgeous!

Here I sit, eating leftover homemade tomato soup, while Kim practices guitar by the window in the kitchen.  It's a pretty, domestic little picture.  We had an early morning, getting up at 6 to go to the Friday morning market in Bastia Umbra.  There were Tons of clothes there, but we focused on the food and came home with some good, fresh vegetables and cheese.  

Nap time has come and gone, and I think we're going to try to make gnocchi this afternoon.  (Y'all know how I love gnocchi.)  It's probably best to start with plain, potato gnocchi, though I can't help but be tempted to add cheese, basil, etc.  We'll see.

Since we're [gloriously] without jobs and all, we've been spending a lot of time exploring lately.  We went to Perugia on Monday and walked around.  (Pictures HERE.)  And here's a little taste:

 

Tuesday was Assisi, Wednesday was Santa Maria degli Angeli, and Thursday (yesterday) we trekked up to Rocca Maggiore, the castle at the top of Assisi.  Amazing views!  You can check out the many beautiful pictures and captions HERE, though here's a nice one from up top:

And for those of you itching to see what Kim looks like with a guitar on her lap, look no further.  You can see her wide range of chord knowledge HERE.  Good work, Kim!

Before we left Genova

We did some walking around in Genova last week, trying to find the good parts.  There were some pretty sights to see, including the Brignole (pronounced bree-nyo-lay) station, to the right.  My roommates, Francesca and Simona, graciously held two, separate dinner parties to share some delicious Genovese dishes.  The food was fantastic, and their company even better.

The first dinner (pictures HERE) was for Francesca, Simona, a friend of Francesca's, her toddler son, Kim, and me.  But later in the evening, our bartender friend across the street sent some of his buddies over.  Soon the apartment was full of twenty-something Italians, all enjoying the wine and hashish they'd brought along with them.  Italians stay up late!  I was so tired from the wine and big meal that I was barely able to stay awake on the couch.  One of them spoke excellent English, and we practiced our Italian as well.  Good humor and friendliness translate easily.  It's always fun learning new slang and local words.  (Sidebar: my new nickname is Gnoccha.  It's like female gnocchi, and sort of means cutie.  Some more, er, colorful, yet positive descriptors are also related to potato words.  "Why potatoes?" asked Kim.  Francesca didn't hesitate, "Because they're good!"  Perfetto.)  But back to our dinner party.  It was really fun to be around so many people our age in a social setting, in this different culture.  Spirits were up, but I was still exhausted, and the night ran late.  So I took a few pictures here and there, all the guests eventually left, and Kim and I hit the sack.  Whew!

The second dinner was just last Friday, and much tamer, though the four of us did put a dent in a bottle of amaretto, Kim's new favorite before/after dinner apertif.  Francesca made focaccia formaggio (among other amazing dishes), and we spent most of the evening joking, laughing, and taking terrible pictures (shown HERE).

Ultimately, I think these lovely ladies are the only things we'll miss about Genova.  We're SO happy to be in Assisi, and there are many more pictures to come from this phenomenal city.

Assisi - Day One

Today marks our first full day living in Assisi.  We both have colds, so we're not as energetic as we'd like, but it's gorgeous here.  Kim's cold was hitting her hard this morning, so I went out for a walk on my own (pretending he's beside me..... Eponine!)  Ahem.  Anyway, we're not too far from San Matteo, which is on the northeast side of Assisi.  But instead of walking down into the center of the city, I veered further north outside of the city walls and found a little, paved trail.  Very steep.  Why not?

Well the paved trail soon became a gravel trail, then a dirt trail.  There were a lot of dogs on the way up in big, wide cages.  The one closest to me was surprisingly calm when I approached - she looked a lot like my Dad's old hunting dog, Lady.  The trail got steeper and steeper, and a man passed by me walking two more hunting (looking) dogs.  A few minutes later, he came up from behind with two more dogs.  I followed them up, and he stopped at a wooded park with picnic tables, all on a steep hill, situated next to an old tower.  I walked to the top of the park and took a rest at one of the tables.  

Thinking I couldn't possibly climb any more, I saw a little, old woman (70's probably) making her way down the mountain trail, now back to gravel road size.  She was wearing workout clothes and carrying a walking stick.  Well if this woman can get up there, then so can I!  So a kept going.  And going.  And hurting.  And panting.  As the end of each uphill stretch revealed another long, steep haul ahead, I finally stopped and turned around.  Making my way down this trail safely hurt almost as much as on the way up!  

Hopefully today's lunch will turn my legs from jelly back into muscle so I can venture out this afternoon with Kim.  Pictures from this morning are here: 

http://picasaweb.google.com/annieoctober15/HelloAssisi#

The butcher shop.

Tonight, I unwantingly found myself in a butcher shop. I will not be visiting the butcher again. My stomach is still churning.

Allow me to ruin your dinner by settting the scene. In Italy, food is bought daily. You go to the cheese store for cheese, the bread store for bread, etc. Guess where you go for meat? Yep, the butcher store. Since everyone tends to go at the same time, you grab a number when you walk in the door and wait for your turn. This provides ample time for you to peruse the goods. Ignorantly, I think I'm prepared to enter the butcher store. I've been around the meat section at the supermarket before, right? I can handle this. We go in and lucky for me, the line was rather long. There are many kinds of meat lying around - unwrapped and out in the open. No problem, I've seen similar things before. Then, there is an animal that is staring at me. It is fully intact with eyeballs and all, just no skin. "Ummm...what is that?" I ask. "Oh, those are cats," the person I'm with answers. "Here in Italy, we eat cats." Now, I'm not very fond of cats and would usually think this was funny, but in this situation - not so funny. Of course, he was teasing me and upon closer inspection I could see their little ears and even a little fur left. Rabbits. Ewww.

I had already noticed, but was trying to avoid looking, at the man in the corner. Since I have to avoid looking down at the rabbits, I have to look up and there he is in clear view. The butcher. In front of him is a large animal hanging from a hook, by what I'm guessing used to be his legs. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STORE! The man is wearing a blood-stained apron and has a sharp knife. He will cut for a second on the animal and then literally hang on the meat to rip it off. When it's off he throws it to another man who is slicing and chopping and putting it out to sell. That's right, straight from the animal to your table people. I mean, I know this is how you get meat, but is it necessary to put it out there for everyone to see?

To make matters even more disgusting, everyone is doing everything with bare hands. This means touching meat, touching money, putting things in bags, handing things to customers - bare hands! Ewww again.

It's at this point in my butcher shop visit, that my stomach and I agree we can take no more. I feel it starting. It's the "I'm about to get sick" feeling. I tell the people I'm with that I will be outside. The fresh air and a few deep breaths and I manage to hold it in. Several hours later, and my stomach has not settled completely. I'm thankful that there are many pasta combinations that do not require meat. I don't know if I can go back into one of these here butcher shops. I'm very thankful for Annie. She graciously volunteered to buy all of our meat while we're in Assisi. Right, Annie? Right? ;) Per favore?

Time for a Catholic shout-out

Tonight my darling roommate Francesca made a spinach-asparagus bake thingie for dinner.  Looks delicious.  Before she left the house, she wanted to make sure we knew it was for everyone, so she put a little sign on it:

It basically says, "Take this and eat it.  It's not my body, though!"

Hah!

My small victory over the five-year-old.

For the past month I've been working with, or rather for, a five-year-old little girl. She is the most spoiled rotten brat I've ever met. I mean rotten to the core. She treats the housekeepers terribly (like her mother) and gets away with everything - she even hits them and calls them witches. There is no discipline in this house. I understand that it's not her fault but that doesn't mean I can tolerate it. I've done very well at keeping my mouth shut. Well, for the most part anyway. There were a couple of times I said something ;) Basically, I play with her everyday for four hours. We color, we read books, we watch movies, etc.

The first week I was here, she spoke no English to me although it was obvious she understood me (she has a lesson in English everyday at kindergarten). The first week I tried not to let her lack of manners bother me. Just the first week. After that, I decided that if I was going to teach her English, I would teach her manners while I was at it. For awhile I was pretty sure she hated me. Fine by me. She can hate me, but she's gonna be nice about it. I wouldn't give her things until she said please. She would hit me and I would tell her I would not play with her until she apologized. One day, we had a MAJOR stand off. She wanted to do something other than what we were doing and I said we have to clean up our mess first. Of course, she didn't like this and went into a huge tantrum. Fine. Surprisingly, I can be patient in some circumstances or maybe I'm being stubborn. I mean, I want my way too. Either way, I tell her we're not doing anything until it's all cleaned up. I know she's used to people cleaning up after her, but I refuse. We sit. I wait. I sing. We wait. I tell her it sure would be fun to go outside. We wait. After a few minutes, she starts cleaning up her mess. I win. We go outside.

Here we are a few weeks later. The scene I described is a pretty common one and somedays I really want to hit her. I haven't yet. I have had a lot of wine though. She's now speaking English to me most of the time. Sometimes, she speaks Italian and I've learned a lot of Italian from her. Yesterday, I still think the girl hates me. As is usual here, it's raining and I think it would be a perfect day to watch a movie. We're sitting on the bed and the next thing I know her little head is on my lap, then she grabs my arm and wraps it around her. Crap. She's attached. I completely wasn't expecting it.

The victory happened today though. We were in the kitchen. She says, in English, "Can you give me the water, please?" It wasn't until after I gave her the water that what she said registered. I literally almost fell over. Her mother even looked at her. "Please?" her mom said. "All on her own? Brava." In my head I'm thinking, "see how easy that was?" I must say, it felt good. Okay, maybe I feel like I won again.

So, I know I shouldn't feel bad about leaving these kids, but I do. It's not that I'm going to miss them, cause trust me; I'm not. It's that I feel bad that someone else is leaving them. It's just not fair to them. They're both obviously attached to me and here I am leaving. There are people in and out of the house all the time. The mother said she'd tell them what she always tells them, that I've gone on vacation. Can you imagine? Talk about having emotional problems later in life. These kids are doomed.

Well, hopefully I'll be remembered as "that mean American who made me say please."

How I'm failing Italy

I'm about to head into school to teach a couple of classes.  It's raining.  Again.  I had most of the day free, and Kim and I planned to go see some Genoa sights.  But it rained all friggin day.  It's tough to get motivated and excited when you're constantly being spit upon from above.

Because of the craptastic mood this place puts me in, when I come home I watch English television on itunes, read English books, and listen to English music.  To get the full Italian experience, I should really be watching Italian TV, walking around Italian neighborhoods, and spending my free time studying the Italian language.  Instead of whining about the stupid weather and bus system.

So tonight, after class, I buckle down with studying.  There are many things to do in preparation for the move to Assisi this weekend, but that doesn't mean I can't start now.  

Ciao,

Annie

Shout out to Kurt Hall!!

Venice was gorgeous.  Just look at this!   But now.... Flashback time..... 

Picture it.  New Concord, Ohio, 2000.  Kurt and I are working on a project, late night, in-depth, pain-in-the-ass type of work.  We come to a stopping point for the evening and decide we need a drink.  Everything is closed in New Concord, which is a dry village anyway.  So we drive to Cambridge on a mission.  This was before Cambridge had any bars for the college kids, so we pulled Kurt's car into the one open place that we knew would have drinks: the Best Western Bar & Lounge.  This place had it all.  Middle-aged waitress with attitude, $5 cheese platter, and even cheaper main courses.  But above all, they had a fully stocked bar.  I'm not proud of what I'm about to type, but at that time in my life, my drink of choice was the buttery nipple.  It's a super-sweet shot of half butterscotch schnapps, half bailey's irish cream.  Today, I might be able to stand it over ice cream, but back in 2000 I thought it was tops.

So there we were, kickin' it sweet style at the Best Western Lounge.  We both drank enough to warrant an external DD, so we buzzed Ben & Kari's house.  Both were asleep.  Kari answered the phone, then brilliantly told Ben it was for him.  Lucky for us, Ben is easily amused and soon arrived at the BW to drive us safely back to campus.  Good friends and trashy liquor - always a pleasure.

So let's flash forward 8 years...... Kim and I found ourselves in Venice with full stomachs, miserable feet, aching backs, and sagging eyelids.  We thought we'd be able to stay up for the 3am train, but the beauty of the city convinced us to stay another day.  We just had to find a room.  Easy, right?

Well, the hostels were on the other side of the island.  Water taxis were 60 euro a pop.  After begging at 10 different hotels in the beautiful island paradise of Venice, we found one, single, tiny room at - you guessed it - the Best Western Hotel.  In Venice!  The room was big enough for one twin bed and some walking space on the floor.  The window faced a lovely, grey/brown stone wall.  The bar was open.  So eight years after what I thought might be my only night spent in the Best Western Lounge, Kim and I shared a nightcap at the Venice Best Western Hotel Bar to lull ourselves into a night of awkward sleeping arrangements.  And were it not for those silly college memories, I may have been too embarrassed to even write about such a generic hotel selection on this here blog of ours.  But Kurt, this one's for you.

p.s. - this time I had amaretto.  

Annie & Gnocchi

So, I'm starting to notice a theme with Annie. The theme? It's called gnocchi. Every ristorante we go to HAS to have gnocchi or Annie will not enter. In Venice this weekend, we were looking for a place for lunch. I noticed one place where the pizza looked great. Annie says, "I'm just gonna look at the menu over there." I tell her the first place looks fine. "But the other one has gnocchi con quattro formaggi," she whines. The same day, we're looking for a place for dinner. Once again, we're reviewing menus, the place has gnocchi; it's a winner. The next day - still in Venice, we're lost and really needing to sit down. We decide it's time for lunch. We find a cute little place along a canal. This place has three types of gnocchi. Annie has never smiled bigger. "Gnocchi again?" I ask her. "DO YOU KNOW ME AT ALL?" she yells. Seriously - she yelled at me! "This is my third gnocchi meal in a row, not counting breakfast." She was definitely proud of this fact. I swear, if they'd have had gnocchi for breakfast it would've been four meals in a row. The girl is mad for gnocchi and I can't blame her. The gnocchi here melts in your mouth. It's like cotton candy. Just look how content she is in this picture, post gnocchi.

Throw Kim & Annie from the train.

This weekend Annie and I visited Venice, or as the Italians decided to rename it, Venezia. It was beautiful and despite all of the water in the city, it did not rain. Apparently, it only rains in Genova.

Anyway, we've become pretty confident in several things. One of the things we do best is travel. We can purchase tickets for the bus, train, and even rent a car! No problema. So, Saturday morning we take the bus to the train station and purchase our train tickets to Venice. We are relaxing in our little train cabin with four other passengers. The train officer guy comes by and yells at Annie for having her feet up on the seat across from her. She understands and puts her feet down. Talk about being on a power trip. About 30 minutes later, the little dude returns and asks for our tickets. Everyone hands him their tickets while I'm digging in my purse for ours. I proudly hand him our ticket and he inspects it then looks at us and says something that I cannot understand at ALL. Yikes. I don't understand, I say. He speeds up his Italian, repeats what he says, sounds angry, ads more that we can't understand, and stares at us. I decide to inspect the tickets and Annie and I agree that our entire ticket is indeed right there in my hands. I mean, we've done this several times before. We are proficient at ticket buying. The four people in our car are graciously trying to help us. They speak very, very little English (about like our Italian I would say). This is the FIRST time we've been in this situation. We have no idea what's going on, no one can explain it to us, and there's a scary guy with a big mole on his face staring at us. After a few minutes, the little man leaves. Hmmm....are we safe? Are we about to be tossed from a moving train? We have no idea. We pull out the dictionary and begin talking with our cabin buddies. We finally understand what happened! We apparently only had two of our three ticket stubs. We didn't wait long enough for the last one to be printed....even though it looks complete and we've always only received two. Like I said, we're pros at this stuff now. The man comes back and says more that we don't understand. The lady in our car says that we're okay until we get to Milan (where we're switching trains), then we'll have to talk to the captain of the next train. Well, we have less than 15 minutes to switch trains and talk to the captain in a language we can barely speak. The nice lady in our cabin says she's going to Venice too and will help us. She does and the captain acts like he could care less that we're on the train. He barely even looks at our tickets and we're safe. Whhheewwww....talk about a stressful situation.

So, we arrive in Venice and left the train incident behind us. We did however, have a hotel incident. Basically, we hadn't planned to stay the night in Venice but decided last minute that we would. We had no hotel but tourist season is supposedly over. It's about 11 pm and we decide to start looking for a room. We went to at least 9 different hotels before we found the smallest hotel room ever. The front desk man gave us a break in the price and we took the room. We flipped a coin for the bed and Annie ended up on the floor. We actually slept better than either of us had in awhile...probably because we weren't in Genova.

Despite these minor and fairly entertaining events, we had a marvelous time in Venice. It is a very romantic place in every sense of the word.

Here are my pictures from Venice.

It's moving time.....

Although we thought we'd be in Genova for almost a year, things have changed.  Boy oh boy, things have changed.  At first, the charm started wearing off.  That's fine, that's normal.  You get used to what's around you, it's not as exciting.  But then our struggles started really building.  Several factors came to a clash at once:

1. When you set aside the language difference and the wonky store hours, Genova is actually a lot like DC.  Only not as pretty, and with crappy weather.

2. The public transportation system here is far from ideal, but most of the people here have to use it.  Sometimes the bus comes every 5 minutes.  Sometimes you have to wait 45 or longer.  It's often reeeeally crowded, which makes for interesting grope-avoiding tactics and missed stops because you aren't able to reach the exit in time.

3. It has rained every day for the last two and a half weeks.  Poured.  Every day.  Now, if I could sit inside with a book or a friend or a movie or whatever, I could just watch and listen to the rain with a sort of detached enjoyment.  I'd probably get cabin fever, wishing I could be seeing the sights or whatever, but it'd be somewhat tolerable.  But spending 3 hours a day commuting, often standing in the rain with a bunch of other cranky workers, it just makes me unhappy.

4. It's grey and smelly here most of the time.  When walking outside in Genova, I'm either breathing in bus fumes or smoke.  (Everyone, and I mean Everyone smokes here.  And throughout most of Italy.)  Tough to stay upbeat when you feel invaded by stink.

5. My hours at school - they're usually in the afternoon/evening.  By the time I come home, it's rush hour.  The buses are slow due to traffic, and cramped beyond belief.  The only places open at that time in the evening are restaurants, serving 2-3 hour dinners, and McDonald's.  Ew.  The grocery stores and markets are closed.

6. My actual work hours - though I thought I could work as many hours as I wanted, often the maximum available is 1-3 hours a day.  Again, max.  The commute alone will take up 2-3 hours, plus I need an hour of prep time, which isn't paid.  It's frustrating.

So here's my day today: this morning is relaxing.  I'm cooking, doing laundry, and running errands.  I was supposed to have an hour class at 1:30, then an evening class.  However, the bus and rail workers are on strike today.  (Happens often.)  So I don't have a way to get to work!  It would take about an hour and 15 minutes to walk, but of course it's raining again.  The afternoon class is cancelled, as the students haven't been showing up all morning anyway.  I'm still supposed to come into the city's center for my evening class because, "the buses are supposed to come every once in a while to get people home from work."  Still, I don't know how I will get home from work tonight.  

Ok, enough whining, and back to topic.  Two weekends ago, Kim and I visited Assisi.  It is an incredibly beautiful, charming place.  I already knew I loved it, and Kim quickly fell in love as well.  After a long, wonderful, first day, we had a lovely dinner and a bottle of wine.  Soon we found ourselves discussing a move to Assisi.  What?  And leave our jobs?  Our homes?  Our stability?  What would we do?  Where would we live?  Are we being quitters?  Taking the easy way out?  A few phone calls and one night's sleep later, we spent another lovely, rain-free day in Assisi.  We looked at two apartments.  We discussed.  We drove back to Genova.  

After some more thinking and some more perspective, we agreed.  We're unhappy in Genova, and we're moving to Assisi.  We have an apartment, we have some plans, and we are counting down the hours until we can leave this city.

The only really sad part is that I'm leaving my roommates.  They have become good friends, and they are fantastic people.  Unfortunately, the blatant unhappiness that Genova creates for me is too powerful for me to stay.  

For those of you still reading this long, not-so-exciting post, thanks for working your way through all this negativity!  A lot of things are still up in the air (2009?), and believe it or not, there were many more factors that went into this decision than those shared above.  But the bottom line is that we're moving this weekend, we're optimistic about the next leg of our adventure, and we'll keep you posted!

More soon.....

Thank you dad!

Dear Dad,

Thank you so much for teaching me how to drive a standard. Considering that almost all cars in Italy are standards, it came in quite handy this weekend when we rented one. I remember when I was learning to drive one and I thought it was stupid. When would I ever need to know how to drive a standard? As soon as I got behind the wheel, I was very thankful. I hadn't driven one in almost four years, but it all came back to me. Apparantly I missed the "stop and go from first gear" portion of the program though. You see, I just happened to be driving when we reached a toll booth with a very long line of cars. I may or may not have killed the car five times (okay I did). I also managed to get stopped at a red light on quite a good sized hill. In order to not roll backwards, I gunned it and we smelled burnt rubber for quite awhile. I know that I learned in our very flat backyard, which never saw traffic jams, but I felt very ill-prepared. You should have seen me in second thru fifth gears though! After reaching Assisi, which is nothing but stop and go mountain driving, we switched drivers. Annie had no problem. She informed me that her father also taught her to drive a stick shift. She later told me that he had to replace the transmission when she was finished learning! Luckily, when we returned the car they didn't inspect the transmission or tires!

Taking the train from now on,

Kim

Sunday Sounds of Assisi

Nuns are mean

We're driving towards Assisi and I see this beautiful city up on top of the mountain in front of us. "Wow, look how beautiful that is!" I say to Annie. "Dude, that's where we're going" she replies. We drive up this mountain and into this ancient city. The city is an old fortress in Umbria, which is located in the middle of Italy. I don't think I can even describe all of the feelings I felt during our visit. All I can say is, this is the Italy that I came here to experience. There is no subway system. There is no McDonald's, or other signs of American culture. The roads are barely roads. Most people don’t speak English and we are forced to use our Italian. One of the things I love most about this little town is the roads. One car can barely even fit. Try throwing in some picture-taking tourists and it gets interesting. There are random stairwells and paths that I cant help but want to explore. This is Italy.

Annie’s family spent 8 months here a couple of years ago and so we were fortunate to have a contact in the town, Barbara. She was kind enough to take us around a bit. She took us to the place where Annie’s family had stayed, to her grandma’s house, to her house, and then to an olive grove owned by her friend Luigi. Luigi’s family has been making olive oil for centuries. In the old days, the olives were squeezed between two huge stones. Nowadays, they have a little machine that squeezes out the oil. This olive oil is coming from the olives being grown in his backyard. From there, they’re squeezed and bottled. It is not like in America where it was bottled a year ago, shipped somewhere, and sits on a shelf for another six months before we eat it. This comes right off the tree. Luigi’s wife toasted some fresh bread over an open oven (with fire and everything), then she put some of the oil on it and sprinkled salt on top. It was amazing. I’m a bit embarrassed to say this, but my eyes literally filled with tears when I put it in my mouth. It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever tasted. That plus the setting we were in and the people we were with was just overwhelming. To be honest, Annie and I both teared up several times from the sheer pleasure of our environment. As I said, this is Italy.

So, why are nuns mean? Well, let me tell ya. Annie and I were so cheerful that we would say “Buon giorno” to most everyone we passed that didn’t seem like a tourist. Many of the people seemed very happy and some even shocked that we would say good day to them. They would smile and respond. It was just a great, warm feeling. In the center of the town, we were approaching two nuns and Annie, in her best Italian, says “Good morning.” Neither of them responded or really looked at her for that matter. That's right, Annie was snubbed by nuns. About 10 minutes later, the same scene is reinacted but with three nuns this time. We were both very shocked. I mean, okay, so maybe thousands of tourists are there a year and they get annoyed by being “the nuns coming out of the church” but couldn’t they smile or something? I mean, come on, you’re in Assisi…how can you do anything but smile?

Here are my pictures from Assisi.