Hidden Treasures of Italy: Offida

For today’s post we’re taking a drive about 3 hours northeast of Rome, to a little town in the region called Le Marche. The name of the town, Offida, is believed to have come from the Latin word “ophis” meaning snake, because supposedly there was a pagan cult here that worshipped a golden snake, and legend has it that it is buried beneath the majestic church Santa Maria della Rocca.

Perhaps you’re wondering how I ended up in such a small town not far from Ascoli-Pisceno, near the Adriatic coast. Alessandro and I have a friend who recently moved there when he became a notaio. Now, I’m not going to take up time today talking about what a notaio is, how you become one, or any of the thousand other things I could say about it. Ale is in the running to become one as well, and that’s why we know a couple friends who have recently moved out of Rome to start up their practices. I say “in the running” because it’s not a career you can choose—you have to go through a Byzantine-like ritual of examinations that take several years to complete, and as with many things in Italy, simply following the rules, studying and doing a good job on the exam doesn’t necessarily guarantee you a spot. In any case, Ale has promised that one of these days he will be a guest blogger for me because he wants to tell you all about what a notaio does, his adventures trying to become one, and those of our friend Paolo as well, who has quite an interesting story of his own.

For now though, we can enjoy the charming little village where Paolo ended up opening his office. The structure that impressed me the most was the church, S. Maria della Rocca, a former castle.


I’m not sure when it was built, but it was passed to the Benedictine monks in 1047. It’s only open to the public on Saturday and Sunday, but it turns out our friend Paolo knows the church custodian, a lively old man who gave us an incredible tour.


Some of the photos are dark because you can’t use a flash inside the church.

This is what you see when you first enter. It is the “lower church” or crypt, and used to be completely covered in frescoes; now only a few traces remain. Mass is celebrated here just once a year, on August 15.


You can barely see it, but in this fresco from the 1400s, the baby Jesus is holding a bird, and the tour guide explained that oftentimes artists would use symbols to identify their works instead of signing, and the bird was this painter’s way of signing his work. To this day they don’t really know who painted it but they believe it was a monk who they refer to as the “Maestro of Offida” because of some identifying symbols and techniques in his various works.


This is the upper church and it too used to be covered with frescoes.


Here is some very old graffiti in the upper church, one of many phrases that was carved into the wall of the altar. Can you figure out what year it was written?


Another thing that Offida is famous for is called “merletto a tombolo” which I would translate to something like tumbler or cylinder-woven lace. At the church entrance the guide showed us a work in progress (I’m not sure who is working on it), and you can see how the pattern is placed over a sawdust-filled cylindrical pillow. The spindles are criss-crossed in order to weave the pattern and make various lace articles like doilies, tablecloths, etc.


A trip to Offida is worth the trouble if you happen to be in northeast Abruzzo or traveling northeast from Rome. It’s best with a car since it’s over 5 hours by regional train with a few connections to make as well.

All the City's a Stage

The other day in one of my posts I mentioned a comment that someone once told me that I think goes well with the photo I have to show you today. It was a professor I used to work with, and as she was doing an orientation with students on Italian life and culture, she mentioned to them that living in Rome is like a big play. As if the city streets were a stage, once you step out onto them, everyone plays a role and everyone is watching the show. I often think of this comment when I feel like someone is staring at me, or being rude, or even when I see nice things happening. It just kind of helps to put it all into perspective.

I'm glad I caught the moment in this photo: I think it is a great example of how the modern and ancient intertwine on a daily basis. I saw this "human on display" while walking through Piazza Colonna the other day. I thought it looked like some kind of living sculpture, that little niche carved out just for him and his book. If you keep your eyes open in Rome, you'll find surprises around just about every corner.

Listen Up!

I figure, while we’re making new categories, let’s really go for it--besides shopping, which I inaugurated on Sunday, I also noticed that something else was sadly absent: la musica!

So, in case you’re wondering what we’re listening to in Rome right now, I’ve hand-picked a couple of my favorites for you:

1. Luca Carboni: Malinconia from the album Le Band Si Sciolgono
Listen here
Offical website

2. Ligabue: Cosa Vuoi Che Sia from the album Nome e Cognome
Listen here: #5
Official website

Oh, how I heart Ligabue—his voice is … sigh. Or, as they would say here: molto sexy. Listen. If you know Ligabue or know someone who knows someone who knows him, please—all I'm asking is that you put me in touch.

3. Cesare Cremonini: Deve Essere Così from the album 1+8+24
Listen here
Offical website

4. Tiziano Ferro: Ed Ero Contentissimo from the album Nessuno è Solo
Listen here: #3
Official website

5. Zucchero: Occhi from the album Fly
Listen here: #3 (And Finny will remember song #1 from her recent visit. When it was on the radio I thought he was singing “Ba bo ba ba bo” then Ale helpfully pointed out that it was actually the words “Bacco perbacco” Oops!)
Official website

6. Neffa: Cambierà from the album Alla Fine Della Notte
Listen here: #7
Official website

I have to admit that I am partial to male Italian singers. The only female Italian singer I really like is Carmen Consoli. (Offical website Listen to tracks.) I don’t like Elisa, Georgia, Laura Pausini, or even Mina (I know, that’s a sin but I’m sorry, she’s just not my fave. I'll make an exception for that one song where she sings "parole, parole, parole..." but only because it was in my favorite Italian movie). I like Gianna Nannini, but just sometimes. (Offical website. Listen to tracks.) Are there any other women singers I need to know about? Who are your favorites in Italian music? Help me out here!

Five Things They Told Me About Rome

Almost 6 years ago, when I was about to embark on my first trip ever to Rome, and first trip outside of the US for that matter, suddenly it seemed like everyone was an authority on Rome. People started coming out of the woodwork with any scrap of knowledge they had about Rome and Italy, even if they’d never been there. And of course, almost none of it was positive. Have you ever noticed how this seems to happen in life? As if I wasn’t nervous enough, going on this adventurous trip alone.

Well, here are a few of the things they told me, and what I actually experienced. Maybe you’ve heard some of the same. Maybe you’ve had different experiences. I’m curious to know!

1. Watch out for Roman men.

Ha. This is a good one, especially considering I met my husband the first day I arrived in Rome. (It’s always when you’re not looking, I tell you!) This piece of advice is stupid. I don’t really know what I was supposed to “watch out” for. Plus, I’ve had Roman men tell me to watch out for Neopolitan men. Ask a Milanese which men to watch out for, who knows what they’d tell you! Even my Lonely Planet guidebook listed Roman men as one of the top 5 negative things about Rome. Here we go generalizing again.
It’s true that women here may get a bit more overt attention on the street than they are used to in their home country, for example I sometimes notice men ogling women and they aren’t so subtle about it. But I wouldn’t consider that cause for alarm—it’s certainly not all men who do this, and it could be simply considered a cultural difference. As someone once told me--living in Rome is like living on a stage: everyone plays a role and everyone is constantly being observed.

2. (could be 1a?) Watch out on the bus and subway—the men will pinch your butt.

This one was already laughable even before I’d come to Italy, but, when you have no personal experience, and other people seem to, it makes you kind of impressionable. I am happy to report that this turned out to be an old-fashioned urban legend, and after nearly 6 years of riding public transport more than I care to, I have never been harassed. That’s not to say that perverts don’t exist on the city’s public transport system. I’ve heard a few first-hand accounts since I’ve lived here of some, ahem, questionable behavior. But, in my experience those occurrences are thankfully few and far between, and I’ve never witnessed any. So I wouldn’t give this one much weight. (Are people still saying this? I got it from a ton of people before I left.)

3. It’s a crime to drink a cappuccino after a meal, or after about noon. Italians only drink them for breakfast.

In my observation this one turned out to be true, in general. I’ve never seen an Italian order a cappuccino after a meal. I have noted that waiters will offer them to tourists, which perhaps makes the tourists think it’s an Italian tradition, but it’s not. The only explanation I’ve managed to garner from Italians is that, “After you’ve eaten a big meal, why would you pour warm milk on top of it?” A more typical after-dinner tradition is a simple espresso followed by a small shot of a digestive liqueur to be sipped, like grappa or limoncello.

4. Italians don’t wear shorts.

This I got from my aunt the night before I was leaving, just as I was setting out my shorts to wear for the flight and my arrival. I immediately changed to a pair of black pants, and despite the fact that it was the middle of the summer, I was relieved once I arrived because I blended in way better. Shorts are usually seen on the beach or in the gym, at least in my experience here in Rome. Ditto for running shoes. Of course, if you’re a tourist, you need to be comfortable. I’m just saying—I haven’t really seen Italians wear shorts or gym shoes in the city.

5. You’re going to get your purse stolen.

In all my time here, knock on wood, or as they say here facciamo le corna, I’ve never had my purse, wallet, camera, or anything I was carrying stolen. But, unfortunately, I’ve worked with many students and tourists who have. The trick is just keeping an eye on your belongings, wearing bags to the front and holding them close, keeping a hand on your wallet in your front pocket, being aware of your surroundings, and not being distracted. Especially on bus 64 that goes from Termini to the Vatican! I think these simple tips have prevented me from being an easy target. The pickpockets don’t tend to waste time with people who look like they know what they’re doing—there’s just too many distracted tourists that are easier to pickpocket.

Well, these are just a few---what have your experiences been? If you’ve never been to Italy or Rome, what have you heard about it? What have people told you?

The Devil Wears Joseph Debach

In looking over my new categories, and going through my posts to label them, I realized that there was a glaring void. Shopping. In my nearly 3 months of blogging, I haven't written one post about anything having to do with shopping here in the capital. I guess that's kind of shameful, but here's the thing: I don't like shopping. Now, don't get me wrong--it's not that I don't like buying things. In fact, I was definitely one of the early adopters of shopping online. I just have never particularly enjoyed that ritual of going into stores, trying stuff on. I have flashbacks of me as a kid during the yearly back to school blitz, hiding in the racks of Sears trying to avoid corduroy pants, velour shirts, and velcro shoes. But, I digress. The point is, I'm going to make more of an effort for voi. But in order for it to end up here, it's really gotta catch my eye.

That's why, to inaugurate my new category, I would like to introduce you to Joseph Debach. Unfortunately I don't have a photo of him, because I found his store in the evening after it was closed, and chances are he doesn't even work there but has his own secret workshop somewhere else, but you can see him on his website. Which, incidentally, has a little wooden puppet and sound effects that made me realize just how easily I am amused.

So, that shoe photo up there? It was in his window and stopped me dead in my tracks. Now, I took my photo in the name of blogging, but let me tell you people that his window had no fewer than six women gaping at it, one of whom was also taking photos. I had to kind of elbow my way up to get the shots. This guy's stuff is really something.

Just one question, however: who wears these? Wait, don't answer that. Maybe the better question to ask is: where do you buy the shoelaces?

Well, what can I say--this tiny shop is definitely worth its weight in pitchforks. Whatever that means. And just in case you have no idea where Mr. Debach got his inspiration for that shoe, in case perhaps you've been spending some extra time under a rock lately, or you just aren't as much of a victim of advertising as I am, click here.

Joseph Debach
Vicolo del Cinque 19 (Trastevere)
Tel./Fax: +39 06 5562756

Photo Hunt: Time

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This week's theme is Time.

At first glance, you may think this photo is an unlikely candidate for this week's theme. But to me, the beautiful colors of these autumn leaves growing on the side of a centuries-old building represent the passage of time in my neighborhood, how things change from one season to the next, and how with time, nothing stays the same!

Da Enzo: Down-home Roman cooking

Well folks, it’s Friday, and I’m feeling generous, so…while many of you figure out what to do with all that leftover turkey, I’m going to share another secret of cucina Romana (Roman cuisine) with you.

I’m letting you in on a place that I consider one of the last great strongholds of true Roman cooking in the city. It’s not just my opinion, but the opinion of many of my Roman friends as well. This is a place where you can get very authentic Roman cooking but not spend a fortune, definitely a rarity.

I give you: Da Enzo, right around the corner from my apartments here in Trastevere. This photo shows the wall where the owner has hung a bunch of drawings by his daughter, and the kitchen on the right.

This place is literally a hole in the wall: I think there are about 10 tables inside. Hence, if you don’t make reservations, you’re probably not getting in. For dinner they run two turni—one at 8 pm and one at 10 pm. Service is usually quick, no-nonsense, efficient and the whole ambience is simply down home.

Hungry people waiting outside Da Enzo for the 2nd dinner seating

I’ll let you in on another little secret: as an appetizer (antipasto) you simply must order the carciofi alla giudia.

My carciofo before I savagely attacked the poor thing

These are “Jewish style” fried artichokes (in ancient Rome, the majority of the neighborhood inhabitants were Jewish) and are a typical Roman dish that is becoming harder and harder to find these days. Lots of people will tell you to go to the Jewish Ghetto neighborhood to try them, at places like the overrated and overpriced Da Giggetto, but Da Enzo has them just as good and you’ll spend half the price for your meal, in a decidedly non-touristy environment.

For your pasta dishes, Enzo has a good selection of the basic Roman classics, like arrabbiata, amatriciana, and carbonara. I think one of their great selling points is that they know exactly how to cook pasta al dente, that Italian style of cooking the pasta so that it is firm to the bite.

See how there’s a white ring in the middle of the pasta when you bite it? That’s the part that remains uncooked and gives it that special al dente consistency that is the mark of a great Italian pasta dish. After getting used to this style of cooking pasta, it can be hard to go back to the squishier version we have in restaurants in the States, which Italians call scotta, overcooked.

Whenever we have visitors, this is one of the places we always try to take them. As the smile (and big bottle 'o house wine) will tell you, our most recent visitor and favorite houseguest Jessica definitely approved!

Da Enzo
Via dei Vascellari 29 (Trastevere)
Tel. 06 581 83 55
Open for lunch and dinner, closed Sunday
Reservations highly recommended
Average cost for dinner: approx. €25-€30 per person (appetizer, pasta, dessert, house wine)

Il Giorno di Ringraziamento

Today I am thankful for:

1. Beloved family, friends, and pets
2. Struggles overcome
3. Opportunities taken
4. Courage, and faith
5. Open hearts and open minds

This year I want to take more time out to recognize the things I am thankful for. I don't do this enough and Thanksgiving Day is a start!

Hope you have a wonderful day and stop to take a moment to think of a few of the blessings in your life as well.

Cookie Swap 2006: Ugly But Good

I found the cookie swap through my bloggy buddies Abe and Hap (they're pugs, check them out!) who play the Saturday Photo Scavenger Hunt. I loved the idea, organized beautifully over at My Smoky Mountain Homeschool.

So, here goes, folks: I submit for your consideration an Italian recipe for cookies known as Brutti Ma Buoni: Ugly But Good.

I've bought these cookies in bakeries here and the cookie swap was a perfect opportunity to try to recreate them in my own kitchen. I looked in a cookbook we have here at home (L'Enciclopedia della Cucina Italiana, no less) and found the recipe, and was surprised to see just 4 ingredients:

500 grams toasted almonds
300 grams sugar
5 egg whites
pinch of cinnamon

What? No flour? No milk? Not even water? I was intrigued.

1. Ground the almonds with a little sugar. (PS I don't think the almonds I bought were toasted, and they worked just fine.) I used a blender for this operation b/c I don't have a food processor. It worked fairly well, and the almonds turned into the fluffy concoction you see below. Hmmm, almost like flour...maybe I'm starting to understand.

2. Beat the egg whites until white and fluffy. (In Italian they call it a neve, like snow.) Add the sugar, then add the egg white mixture to the almonds, and add a pinch of cinnamon. Mix.

3. Pour the mixture into a large pan and cook over a very low flame, stirring constantly, until the mixture doesn't stick to the edges of the pan. (Frankly, I'm not sure how long you're supposed to do this for. I did it for like 15 minutes and I'm still not sure if the mixture wasn't sticking, but, it came out a little thicker.)

4. Let the mixture rest for a few minutes. Scoop spoonfuls (about 2 small teaspoons each) of the batter onto a greased baking sheet, about 1 inch apart.

5. Bake in a 150°C/300°F pre-heated oven for 25-30 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on a baking rack, then serve. Makes about 2 1/2 dozen.

Here's the final product:


They're not that ugly, are they? I am most happy to report that these came out even better than the ones I've tasted from the bakeries. I'm convinced it's because they are fresh. I think they keep pretty well and so I suspect the ones in the bakeries aren't always necessarily from that day. I was surprised at how soft and light they were--I thought with such a heavy almond paste, they wouldn't come out like that.

As part of the cookie swap, Smoky Mountain asks us to tell the "story" behind these cookies. I've kind of told it along the way. It wasn't passed down to me from anyone. I simply really like these cookies and I'm glad the cookie swap gave me the push to try them at home. I'm really happy with the results. And I'm also happy to break the myth that the only Italian cookies that exist are what we Americans know as biscotti (which in Italian simply means "cookies"), which here in Italy are often called cantucci and not dunked in coffee but rather in a sweet wine called Vin Santo.

Speaking of wine, leave it to an Italian cookbook to recommend what wine to drink with your cookies. Mine says that Brutti Ma Buoni go good with a dry, sparkling white, and suggests Prosecco di Conegliano. (Maybe you can stop by my buddy Brendan's Roman Wine Company and pick up a bottle! Or his new, revamped blog, where you'll learn all about Italian food and wine. One of his latest posts was a trip to an olive oil factory.)

If you love candy bars like PayDay or peanut brittle, I think you'll like these cookies. Even though it's almonds, not peanuts, they have that same sweet, nutty taste.

Let me know if you make a batch. I'd be curious to hear how they turn out and what you think!

Happy Holidays!

Castagne Roasting on an Open Street

Chesnuts roasting on an open fire—well, growing up in Washington state and then living in the desert of Arizona for nearly 10 years—I never saw them. Not until I came to Rome.

Granted, this isn’t exactly what you’d call an “open fire,” but, it’s about as close as you can get on the Rome streets this time of year.

Chestnuts, castagne (cah-STA-nyay) start to appear once the weather turns chilly, and it’s another thing I love about fall in Rome.

Mind you, this little sidewalk snack can get a little pricey. A couple weeks ago when I asked first, above all, (word to the wise), how much they cost, and I got the response €5, I told the man, “No thanks, that’s too much.” He said, “How about €3?” and just like that, we had a deal. Don’t be shy when you think it just doesn’t seem right. As we say here in Rome, “ci provano,” which means, “they try,” or simply, if people are willing to pay, they’ll keep asking, until someone comes along and challenges them on it. His stand didn't have any prices written, but most do.

They put the chestnuts in a little paper cone and you can walk around with them. There’s usually about 5-10 in the cup.

I finally did get to roast chestnuts over an open fire my first Christmas here in Italy, in a tiny little town called Arcinazzo Romano, and we ate them while enjoying a bottle of Cesanese del Piglio Dolce, a sweet (dolce) red wine (Cesanese) that comes from the nearby town of Piglio.

What autumn traditions start to appear this time of year where you live?

Sidewalk Masterpieces

Today I’d like to introduce you to another neighborhood personality. His name is Amadeo, and he is the only sidewalk artist I know. You can't see him that well because I wanted to get the mural into the photo, and the sidewalk was narrow and full of people, making it really hard to get a decent picture.

As with any big city, in Rome there are a lot of people who will ask you for money on the street. Some are street performers, some play music on public transport and come around asking for money, some wash windshields or shine headlights, and some simply hold out a cup. Some are intrusive, others are innocuous.

Early on when I moved to Rome, after seeing all this, I quickly made a personal rule to never give money to any of them. It’s not that I wanted to be stingy; I actually consider myself a pretty generous person. It’s just that there are so many of them: how to distinguish who is more in need, and who isn’t? For me it was impossible, so the best policy was just not giving to anyone.

Well, I have to say that all that changed shortly after I started seeing Amadeo, or rather, his sidewalk art. On my walk home from work, I started to notice these colorful murals sketched in chalk on the sidewalk in front of the #8 tram depot. I was always so curious to find out who was sketching them. They seemed like free little gifts, left for us weary workers on our way home after a long day in the office.

Then one day after I started working from home, I walked by in the middle of the day and I saw a man standing by the mural, smiling and trying to chat with passersby. His smile is contagious. Many people glare at him or take pains to try to avoid him as they walk by, writing him off as “one of those crazy street people,” or maybe they are just taken aback by him trying to say hi to them. But I have to say, I was won over by his smile and friendly personality. I’ve never seen him harass people. And above all, I was touched by his artwork, which always has some title that I find very interesting. The one below is called “The Doors of Perception.”

That particular day I had my camera in my purse and since I had recently started my blog, I decided to stop and chat with Amadeo. Like I said, most people walk right by him, annoyed. He was so pleased that someone stopped by to admire his artwork. When I asked if I could take a few photos, he smiled and proudly posed by one of the murals. “Take all the photos you want!” he told me.

I gave him a couple euros, “for chalk,” I told him, and he beamed. I really enjoyed my brief encounter with this artist, and he always draws in the exact same spot: right in front of the end of the line of the #8 tram (just steps away from Caffè Camerino). So, when you’re getting your caffè completo, why not check and see if Amadeo has sketched out a new masterpiece? Maybe he’ll be standing by to give you a smile and a wave.

Mastercard at the Rome Airport

Wait at baggage claim: 1.5 hours

Finding out they don't know where your bag is: 5 minutes

Spotting an ad with the "neighborhood church" where you're getting married: Timeless

Photo Hunt: Plush

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This week's theme is Plush.

Of course when I saw this week's theme I thought immediately of my two cats, a brother and sister team named Betsy (left) and Pavel (right), adopted from the Largo Argentina cat shelter in April 2003.

Largo Argentina is a blessing for cats in Rome. It is a no-kill shelter that spays/neuters and vaccinates the abandoned cats that find their way there. This is still a fairly innovative approach for Italy, and it is so incredibly important in helping to control the stray population. I've seen some places where strays run wild and the number gets out of hand, and it is a real tragedy to see the cats go hungry.

The shelter runs entirely on volunteer labor and doesn't receive any money from the city. It is located in the Roman ruins, reportedly where Julius Caesar was assassinated. A couple years ago I bought a book that they sell, that has lots of short stories about the cats that people have adopted from there, and I gave it as a Christmas present to many of the friends and family on my list. All the proceeds from their "cat store" go directly back to the shelter, for food, veterinary care, medicine, etc.

If you have a moment, I urge you to stop by their website. They are an important force for these lovable animals and they could really use your help. You can even adopt a cat long-distance!

Here Comes the Bride: TomKat in Rome

I know, I know. Big roll of the eyes. For any of my ahem, highbrow, readers, I apologize in advance. Today we are goin' dowwwntown for a little bit of good, old-fashioned gossip.

So, here's the dish. A few days ago, the phenomenon known as TomKat touched down in Rome, with a small entourage of family and, well, other entourage-type people. I was really trying to ignore it. Until I saw this tantalizing little tidbit on the sidebar when I was checking my Gmail. Yikes. Oh-Oh-Oprah sounds a little bit peeved, if you ask me. But hey, we can't all be TomKat's best pals, now can we? Even if the Tom half of TomKat has a field day stomping all over our couches and whatnot.

Maybe you're much more updated than I am, but here's what I can tell you:

Word has it they're getting married in Castello Odescalchi in Bracciano. This is where Italian pop star Eros Ramazzoti got married to Swiss (but working in Italy) "showgirl" Michelle Hunziker some years back. They're divorced now. Hope that doesn't rub off on TomKat. But, maybe they won't get married there after all. Speculation is running so wild that news sources are even turning to local electricians for the scoop.

Staying at their favorite Rome haunt, The Hassler. Not too shabby, eh?

This article in Italian says they're expecting 500 guests (um, Oprah, what's up with that?) and that their Scientology pal John Travolta is whizzing a bunch of them over on his private jet. In fact, some have already arrived. Wait. Did I see Brooke Shields in there?

Being a celebrity at this level must be very similar to being an exotic animal in a zoo. Making news are TomKat "sightings," like this one and this one.

I heard, even though I can't seem to find it anywhere, that Tom Cruise even asked to have the airspace over the castle closed during his wedding. Ha! I bet all the tourists coming into Rome would LOVE that one.

Hey, Oprah, don't feel so bad. If it's any consolation, I didn't get invited either. If you wanna come over and hang out, get an espresso or something, it's all good.

The Night My Fiat Wasn't Stolen

Had a little scare last night thinking my car was stolen...I even put a quick post up about it this morning. Did you see it? It was up for about a half hour, until my gut instinct told me to call again and see if it had been towed. Yep. So, false alarm. If you read my "stolen car" post, well, consider it a collector's item. I deleted it. ;-)

But, I figured, why not take this opportunity to present Lesson Number Two of Behind the Wheel in Rome: Be Careful Where You Park.

Last night I went to a friend's birthday party and drove around the block for 20 minutes looking for parking. The situation was getting desperate. I saw one car wedged in at a 45-degree angle, another bumping up the curb to park on the sidewalk. So, when I saw a spot just around a corner, I was so exausted, I took it. It was behind a row of cars, all lined up neatly.

When I got back about 3 1/2 hours later, my car was nowhere to be found. Turns out it had been towed by the city, but when we called last night, they told us it hadn't been towed, hence my stolen car scare. I found out it actually had been towed when I called again this morning, just to be sure. So, good news is the car wasn't stolen. Bad news was yet to come. How much was this little parking lesson going to cost me?

I rode public transport for an hour to get to the depot where they leave the cars whose owners made a little driving boo-boo like I had. To my relief, when I arrived I found a sprawling parking lot not unlike those huge ones at the airport, full of row upon lettered row of cars. Well, at least I'm not the only one who doesn't know how to park properly.

When I got up to the window to pay, the lady said I needed to show her my libretto. Ok. Now. I know this is a document that goes in that folder where you keep all your important car documents. The trick was going to be figuring out which one it was.

You see, "libro" in Italian means book. When they add "etto" to the word, it makes it little. So, bring me your "little book." Um, yeah. Not really helping me out here. I was trying to call back all those boring hours of driving lessons, but I was drawing a complete blank, and couldn't really remember which document it was.

I know this will sound like a very "blonde moment" (even though I cover it with a beautiful shade of henna :-), but I just brought over all the important-looking papers I could find in the car, obviously none of which really resembled anything close to a little book. In Italy, you have to display your insurance on the windshield, and it's usually a normal sheet of paper folded up like 6 times over and stuffed into a little plastic envelope. So there were like 3 of those. And some other stuff.

I start holding one up.
Me: "Is it this?"
Tow-truck lady: "No."
Me: "This?"
Tow-truck lady: "NO. And how am I supposed to know when you've got all your documents folded up into a million little pieces?"

Alrighty then! Excuuuuse me if you people can't spring to add a little perforation action around here. Luckily a tow truck driver stepped in and saved the day by finding the right paper, and the lady started processing my bill. Turns out my car was parked on a corner where a bus couldn't get by, so that's why they towed it. Oops.

This turned out to be quite an expensive lesson. 100 euros to get the car out of the land of tow-truckdom. Then, the traffic cops had left me a little greeting card on my windshield, which asks me to send them 77 euros. Man, oh, man. Not the best day. My potential Christmas gifts are starting to look kinda shabby...

So, when in Rome, if you really must drive a car, may you always be blessed with finding a valid, legal parking space. It's akin to a small miracle. Speaking of which, it did happen once, in a classic Finny video at the end of this post.

Bread and Tulips

The title of today’s post is also the title of one of my favorite Italian movies. It’s the story of a woman who doesn’t know that she has lost herself until her family loses her by forgetting her at a highway rest stop. She goes on an adventure, follows her heart, and finds her creative talents in the most unexpected ways.

Sometimes, when we’re not looking, life finds us, and then asks us to find ourselves. When I first came to live in Rome, I had saved just enough money to pay for a room for about 5 or 6 months. It was literally my life savings. After having worked for a couple years in the “real world” with my freshly minted college degree, and having braved by myself one whirlwind month here, I moved back in with my parents after 6 years out of the house, worked almost daily in a grocery store bagging and cashiering, as well as part time in advertising. Anything to get my little “nest egg” together to go for my dream, as fast as possible.

When I got here and started living day to day, I had absolutely no extra money. For anything. Even though I was managing to scrape together a bit here and there tutoring English, it was the first time in my life I had to ask myself questions like, “Can I afford shampoo and conditioner? Or just shampoo?” I am in no way trying to garner sympathy by telling you this. I'm fully aware that there are much bigger problems in the world. I guess I just got to thinking about Ms. Adventures in Italy’s comment on yesterday’s post: not everyone’s road to success in Italy is paved with living in a hotel while remodeling their dream home. And that’s a really good thing.

Anyone who has gone on this kind of an adventure knows that really making it in a foreign country involves an unspeakable amount of hard work. Embarrassment. Fear. And those who succeed can look back and know that blind faith comes into play. A lot.

When I had almost nothing else besides my family and friends back home, Alessandro, and my blind faith, I started writing down the things I wanted in my life here. Kind of a wish list, convinced that I was headed in that direction. I’ll never forget: one of the things I wrote, one of the goals I hoped I would reach, was to be able to afford flowers for no reason. Flowers, and a daily newspaper.

Yesterday afternoon on the way back from the grocery store, I stopped to look at these tulips. They seemed a little too expensive to me (8 euro). But the truth is, I so rarely buy flowers for no reason that I don’t really know what a good price would be. And that’s when I remembered what I had written back then.

So I went ahead and bought them. Because after all these years, I realized that I could. And now, the tulips sitting on my desk are not just adding a little extra color—they are a reminder of where a little blind faith and a dream can take you.

What steps are you taking to nurture your “crazy, impossible” dream?

Maybe You Shouldn't Do As the Romans Do

You may have noticed that in my sidebar this month I mentioned that I was reading As the Romans Do by Alan Epstein. Well, I was reading it. That is, until I got to page 101, at which point I was so frustrated by what I was reading, I had to contain myself in order to resist throwing the book across the room and watching it bounce off the wall.

Now, Rome may seem like a big city, but those of us who live here, especially us expats, know that its actually just a small village. That’s why my intention is not pointless book bashing. I have absolutely nothing against the author or his wife, both of whom still live and work in Rome, and I commend the author for having such incredible success with this book and his Roman life. But there are a few things that I think it’s only responsible to point out if you decide to go ahead and dive into this book, since I was half-recommending it by the fact that I had it displayed on my page.

What attracted me to this book:

• Breezy, conversational style that makes you feel like you’re getting a one-on-one peek into Rome from the author himself
• You can tell the author is truly in love with his adopted city and his joy and amazement shine through the pages

What eventually drove me away from this book:

• Blanket statements that are written as if some kind of eternal truth about Romans/Italians, without any citations or opposing viewpoints from Romans or Italians themselves

Alan Epstein and his wife, both Americans, moved to Italy from California with their sons, so the book is written through American eyes. I was hoping this wouldn’t become a Roman version of Under the Tuscan Sun, and overall it doesn’t, except a little Frances Mayes-ing on page 25, when the author describes furnishing his new Roman apartment:

The hand-painted lamps from Sicily were placed on our inlaid wooden side tables that we had picked up at a little antique shop behind Campo de’ Fiori. As we smoothed out the Caucasus Kuban rug under the wrought-iron and glass coffee table that holds our vivid yellow Peking glass vases…

Anyhoo, you get the idea. Luckily that only goes on for a short chapter and is forgiveable.

What I ultimately take issue with are statements that, despite adjusting for the six-year time span from when the book was first published, still have no place being put down as absolute truth, in my opinion.

Take, for example, this from pages 95-96:

• Italians certainly don’t come together primarily for love[…]the romantic kind[…]
• The males want to be pampered, well fed, and given free rein to play. The women expect to be the capo della casa, to run the household, to be able to express their emotions without restraint.
• A spouse is chosen because, all things considered, he or she would make a good partner for familial, rather than for personal, romantic, sentimental, or sexual reasons[…]

Following this reasoning, the author goes on to say, quoting on page 97 an uncited survey, that 70 percent of Italian males “betray” their wives, while 64 percent of Italian women do the same to their husbands. As the reader, we are unable to discern the source of these statements, and are left to assume that they must simply be built from the author’s observations, personal opinion, or perhaps something he read somewhere.

On page 98, he gives an example of an Italian female friend who informs him that when a man is found cheating (already lending credence to his claim that this is a typical occurrence), his wife “hits him on the head with a frying pan, tells him not to do it again, and domestic life continues.”

Then, for the grand finale, on page 100 he explains that "...in Italy, where men do not do housework, do not raise kids, do not get up to help with any kind of domestic chores..." the low birth rate is due to Italian women purposely refusing to have children in order to "shed the weight of domestic dependence" and "by sleeping with whomever they want, since it is clear that they never got married primarily for love..."

I find all this quite offensive. I’m not proposing to be an authority on Italians or Italian life and culture, and I’m not trying to say I am naïve enough to think that marital infidelity doesn’t exist in Italy. However, I am an American girl who came over to Rome by herself, has had several years of professional experience working with Italians, has daily contact almost exclusively with Italians, and has been in a relationship with an Italian (Roman) man for almost six years. These are the things that I feel qualify me to be surprised with such statements being presented as if they were a cultural fact.

After reading such a tirade, I couldn’t continue through the book chronologically any longer, but I started flipping through further, since it is organized in small topic-centered chapters, hoping to find one that might lure me back in. When I did, it only turned me away again, with the statement on page 214 that:

Italians are, in fact, pretty much where the Americans were in the fifties: charmed by new gizmos, earning money, and having more market choices than they ever dreamed possible. Many people are, at bottom, still bowled over by the fact that they own a car.

This came across to me as incredibly condescending. Granted, the book came out in 2000, and I am not a sociologist or economist specializing in Italy; however, I arrived in mid-2001 and my personal experience has never led me to believe that Italians are coming out of some sort of industrial or economic dark age, in which they are continually amazed by what it feels like to be a car owner. On the contrary, I feel Rome is actually a perfect example of what happens when lack of a viable public transport system actually forces most people to own a car.

What compelled me to write a sort of review of this book is the simple fact that an author who presents himself as an authority on a particular subject, even if simply through personal experience, in my opinion has a responsibility to his readers when making broad statements like the ones above. Many descriptions of Roman places and customs are accurate, such as how jogging down city streets isn’t so common, or how most everything stops for holiday in August, or what it’s like during a transport strike; however, the fact remains that statements like the ones above have the power to leave the reader with a rather one-sided and stereotypical picture of Italian lifestyle and culture, and I think that is unfortunate. My personal experience with Italian friends and family of all ages has shown me otherwise, in a most positive way.

If you’ve read this far, by all means, please leave me a comment about what you think!

Five-Finger Discount on Parmigiano

We're almost at the halfway mark with NaBloPoMo! Are you having as much fun as I am?

Well, part of the fun, thank goodness, is provided by my never-ending source of ridiculous and trivial news bits, Metro. If you live in a big city, maybe you have this free commuter paper as well. Don't get me wrong: I love Metro! Remember our friend Thomas? Well, here's another little quirk for you.

So, I know you've been wondering—no, losing sleep at night, actually—over what the most-stolen product is in Italian grocery stores. What? You haven't? Well, me neither, really. But never fear! Metro has. And so, I present for your perusal:

This little gem says:

Parmesan is the Most Stolen
Parmesan cheese is the most-stolen grocery product in Italian supermarkets, with theft reaching 9% of the total value of the product sold. In other words, almost one piece out of every 10 is taken off the shelves.
According to an investigation by Coldiretti, meat follows with a 5.5% loss, wine and spirits 2%. In non-grocery products, one out of every five razor blades is stolen.

So, there you have it folks. A little bit of trivia for your next get-together. You'll be the life of the party, I tell you!

Oh, and the hand? Yeah, that would be Leonardo DiCaprio when he was here for the Rome Film Festival. I don't think he has been recently implicated in any Italian cheese theft. Not sure about the meat or razors, though.

They're Baaaaaaack....

Every year about this time, something strange happens. Mutant Nutella jars, most likely hatched from special pods in one of the Ferrero factories, start appearing in big displays on grocery store floors.

Wait, let me back up a moment. Are we all aware of the Italian phenomenon known as Nutella? I'd go so far as to say that it is as much a part of the Italian culture as pasta and caffè. I always think of it as the Italian version of peanut butter. It's a chocolate-hazelnut spread that most commonly goes on bread, or—let's not be shy with the truth around here—eaten straight from the jar. It's famous on crepes and is eaten for breakfast on crunchy pieces of melba toast. You've gotta love a country where a rich concoction similar to super-fudge chocolate icing is an honest-to-goodness breakfast food.

But, back to the main story. The Nutella I normally buy comes in a 200g (about 7 oz.) jar, and when it's gone you can rinse out the jar and reuse it as a juice glass. Visualize: juice glass. The mutants that come out for the holidays have been injected with something at the factory, because they are no less than 3 kilos in weight. THREE KILOS, people. That is 6.61 pounds of pure, vegetable oil-laden goodness.

Note how, in typical McDonald's take-out bag style, I have carefully arranged my humble 200g jar next to its mutant cousin, to give you an idea of what we are dealing with here.

Now, I love Nutella as much as the next guy, but not as much as my pal Jessica, a.k.a. Finny Knits. While I'm sure many a blog post has been written singing the praises of the stuff originally known as "Supercrema," the most recent one I know of is hers. Finny was out visiting in October and little did I know that she has a thing for Nutella. A little side fling, unbeknownst to her poor, unsuspecting hubby. Given that this girl is one of the few people I consider more than a best friend, but like a sister, I did something this year that I've never done before: I bought the 3 kilo tub-o-'tella. And come hell or high water, that puppy is making it across the Atlantic this holiday season. "Friendship is..." when a 3 kilo box of Nutella becomes a carry-on. Yes indeedy, 'cuz it most helpfully comes with its very own box!

The only drawback is the lack of wheels for when I'm running through the airport. Luckily I don't have any stops in London, so it should make it on OK (since I highly doubt they'd let that go in the little transparent bag for ChapStick and keys). I just hope they don't make me eat some to prove it isn't lethal. I'm sure Finny wouldn't appreciate that.

Photo Hunt: Growth

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This week's theme is Growth.

This is a lemon growing on one of two lemon trees I have on my rooftop terrace in the Roman neighborhood of Trastevere. The medieval bell tower you see in the background isn't visible from the street level, so you're getting a peek at something that many visitors to Rome and even residents of Rome will never see!

The lemon tree was a housewarming gift from one of our dear friends, Fabio, who is an engineer now living near London (ci manchi, Latta!), and in three years the growth I have seen on this tree has been incredible.

When the lemons are ripe, we use them to make limoncello, a typical lemon-flavored digestivo liqueur that is normally sipped from a small shot glass after dinner. I am looking forward to picking these when they are ready, probably in February or March.

The Vespa's Nest

I graduated with a degree in advertising. Some people I've told this to have smiled politely and said they didn't even know it was possible to get a college degree in that. Well, yes, I am here to tell you, it is possible. You'll recognize us because we're the ones who watch the Super Bowl to get to the ads. I've been passionate about the ad world ever since I was a little kid decorating my room not with posters of Kirk Cameron (I'm an 80s kid), but with my favorite ads ripped from magazines. Although I decided to forgo the field for various reasons after working as a copywriter for a brief time, the passion hasn't ever left me. That's why, when I saw this campaign, I couldn't resist sharing it with you.

I fell in love with this campaign by The Ad Store in NYC, whose other headlines include "Relieve Gas Pains" and "Don't Be a Gas-Hole." The campaign came out in late 2005, and I find it interesting how Vespa (Italian for "wasp") is trying to sell to the US market. Do you think that this could be successful? Taking the tactic of pitching the Vespa as an alternative to high gas prices? I like the idea, but I am wondering if it's practical or not. Would your average American buy a Vespa, and is the average American commute suitable for a scooter?

Average, of course, is a term up for wide interpretation. The campaign is most likely targeted just at New Yorkers, and in fact, in this op-ed piece from the New York Times that I found on the Vespaway blog, it seems like New Yorkers are jumping on the wasp, but running up against some growing pains as they try to enter into the US city mainstream. And what age range is your typical Vespa buyer? An article from Business Week in October 2005 says that although Piaggio, Vespa's manufacturer, thought the Vespa would appeal mainly to a 20-something crowd, it turns out that over a quarter of the US market is made up by consumers age 50 and over.

Here in Rome, the Vespa really is an alternative to high gas prices and traffic jams, but it's a city scooter and can't go on the freeways. I read that they have come out with a large 250cc model, but at that point it's really not the traditional Vespa anymore, at least not in my mind, and is more of a motorcycle. The Wikipedia article has a long list of celebrity Vespa riders. I wonder if perhaps it isn't more of a trendy thing in the US, some kind of status symbol. Do you think the Vespa might ever really break past the barrier of a novelty item in the States, and go mainstream? Is it a solution to fighting high gas prices? If you don't live in the US or Italy, what's the Vespa situation like in your country?

The Cofffee with Three F's

I’d like to introduce you to my new friends Alessandro and Massimo. They, along with the barista magic they perform on every incredible coffee confection in their bar Cafffè Camerino, are the reasons why Italy will probably be the last and only stronghold that Starbucks won’t succeed in infiltrating. How could the Seattle coffee giant possibly compete against smiling faces like this?

Yes, blogging can be a tough job sometimes, but somebody’s gotta do it. So, I rolled up my sleeves and made the sacrifice for you, dear readers, when I ordered the caffè (cafffè?) completo, a.k.a.: the complete coffee. Oh, and complete it most certainly is. Wanna see?

I can’t take credit for discovering this little slice (drop) of heaven in a cup, made even more heavenly by its price: just 1 euro. No, that honor goes to one of my favorite former students, whose love for Rome drove him to discover the most intriguing hidden gems in the city, among them this. He told me about the caffè completo, and after three years in Rome at the time, I still hadn’t ever heard of it. I've only seen it at this particular bar. It’s like a mini-cappuccino, but better. On the bottom there is, according to Alessandro, “un cremino di cioccolato speciale,” which I think is a chocolate square, and maybe that’s how it starts out in the cup—I’ll never really know because of course it’s one of their trade secrets. By the time it gets to you, it’s a melty chocolate sauce. That’s because they add your espresso on top, along with a dollop of fresh whipped cream and a sprinkling of cacao. Drool.

Maxwell House, you ain’t got nothin’ on Caffè Camerino, because let me tell you that the caffè completo really is good to the last drop. The last desperate spoonful actually, as I scraped the bottom of my cup to capture every bit of that cremino that I possibly could. They took the cup away to prevent me from licking the bottom. That’s just not proper, you see. And since there wasn’t any bread to sop it up, I simply looked on in awe at the remains of what I had just enjoyed.

Now, my blog isn’t exactly The New York Times, even though Massimo told me he got a photo in there too, but my readers are just as special as theirs; Massimo is even going to be looking up my blog so he can print out a copy of my post for Ale, who told me he doesn’t have a computer. Who needs a computer when you’ve got skills like this?

Oh, and in the morning? Don’t miss their delectable cornetto ai ceriali, a whole-grain croissant with warm honey inside. Double drool. Plus, when Christmas rolls around, they are really the best place to get an amazing assortment of panettone and pandoro Italian Christmas cakes (hey, maybe that will merit a return trip).

Folks, when in Rome, do as the Romans do and try "il caffè con tre effe." Why three F’s? I have no idea. Maybe because it’s just so F-ing good! (Oh, come on, I just couldn’t resist…)

Cafffè Camerino
Largo Arenula 30

Fabio: My Bionic Supercousin

Folks, I've been keeping a secret from you. My Roman cousin, Fabio, is a superhero not unlike Spiderman. If you think I'm kidding, at the end of this post I will provide you with audio-visual proof.

If you've been following my adopted Roman family tree, Fabio is Dario's brother. You'll remember Dario, the aspiring actor who had his 15 minutes of fame on the movie set? Needless to say, I am marrying into an extraordinary famiglia.

Have any of you ever heard of parkour? The Wikipedia article defines it like this:

Parkour is a physical discipline inspired by human movement, focusing on uninterrupted, efficient forward motion over, under, around and through obstacles (both man-made and natural) in one's environment. Such movement may come in the form of running, jumping, climbing and other more complex techniques. The goal of parkour is to adapt one's movement to any given obstacle.

I didn't know this existed as a sport until Fabio started doing it. I guess holding the title of world champion in Kung Fu sword fighting wasn't enough. (I think he held this title more than once, actually). So, quite the phenomenon, my little cugino.

Fabio just got back from NYC where he did a parkour exhibition and also shot a special for MTV. I think he might even appear in an Adidas commercial, or there was talk of a sponsorship deal. Parkour originated in France and apparently hasn't really taken off yet in the States, so it was good timing for his trip. I was told that the New Yorkers, generally known for their fearlessness in underground and extreme urban subcultures, told Fabio he was the craziest of them all. This was to be taken as quite the compliment! Bravo cuginetto!!

So, without further ado, I invite you to watch these videos, and judge for yourself whether or not Spiderman has come to life on the outskirts of Rome.