Weekend in Milan

Just back in Rome after a lovely and wonderful couple of days visiting one of my favorite Americans in Italy, my pal Sara. She and her adorable hubby were the perfect hosts, plying me with homemade pasta for Sunday lunch, homemade olive oil and homemade limoncello, and all sorts of the more random things that we expats love to horde and share. For example, I brought up some gossip mags in English that an American guest in my apartments had recently left with me, while Sara filled my bags with treasures like Ziplocs, cranberry juice, and Good Earth tea. All in all, a perfect weekend, and yet another testament to real-life friendships born from the blogosphere!

I had only briefly passed through Milan once, so this was my first real introduction to the city. From aperitivi on Corso Como (where I also had the pleasure of meeting another bloggy buddy, Michelle) to fried pockets of sinful goodness (luckily the line outside wasn't so long), I really enjoyed this Italian city. Yes, it was gray and rainy most of the weekend, but since I grew up outside of Seattle, that was fine by me. Of course, Milan definitely has a much different "city feel" than Rome. On the street I felt an air of fashion and sophistication of a certain type that we don't necessarily have here, with decidedly less of the chaotic tourist frenzy we get around this time of year. While I can appreciate Milan for its business savvy and crisp feel of relative efficiency, I must admit that the haphazard craziness of Rome still holds the #1 spot in my heart.

As far as curiosities go: have you ever heard of the tradition of spinning your right heel on the bull's balls in the Galleria? I certainly hadn't, and this action is reputed to bring said heel-spinner good luck. I was too busy filming it for you to take a spin myself:



We "just happened" upon a major event on Saturday for the Festa della Repubblica (Republic Day). A huge line-up of military personnel were in front of the spectacular backdrop of the Duomo while a military band played the Italian national anthem (which I have to admit I really like, as far as anthems go.)

We walked through Sara's surprisingly lively neighborhood outdoor market, and she also took me to a fascinating shop she recently discovered. We sparked up a conversation with the friendly owner, who told us interesting stories about how many people call the shop this time of year to report beehives they've discovered around (and in!) their apartments, and to get help with removing them.

Creative "bomboniere" or wedding favors, of tiny jars of honey with wooden dippers.

I was truly amazed by the selection of honey and honey-related products in this shop. There was everything from soaps and lotions to a huge assortment of flavored honey, candy and tea, and even honey-flavored grappa. Above you see the front shop of the window, with a veritable laundry list of ills that the various bee-produced products can cure ... from heavy legs to swollen feet, menopause to andropause (!?). I myself picked up a bag of "digestive sugar cubes." Oh, how I love this country and its charming contradictions. Sugar -- to help me digest? Yes, please!

And, jolly fun was had by all through the miracle of Twittervision. If you follow Sara's blog, then you have probably noticed that she's a technological and Internet genie-us, and while we were hanging out she showed me a bunch of cool stuff online, including this random, voyeuristic and reality-TV-like gizmo of a website.

And, last but not least, I even managed to pick up a photo souvenir for another of my favorite bloggy buddies, who I had the pleasure of meeting in person here in Rome earlier this year.

NYC/Caribbean Ragazza, this one's for you!

Knitting in Rome: Not Just for Le Nonne Anymore

Yes, that's one of my two Roman cats, Betsy, enjoying the spectacle of me cleaning out my knitting basket, which for the past 4 years or so has served as nothing more than an occasional cat bed for her. No, this isn’t a crafting blog and I’m not converting it into one. However, I do knit and for a while I’ve been itching to do a post that combines my love of knitting with my love of Rome. So indulge me, will you, just this once? Or, all you non-knitters out there can join me back on my next post.

Truth of the matter is that should you find yourself living in Rome for any extended period of time, and should you be interesting in knitting during said time, you’re not really too much in luck. Knitting, although popular in the States with twenty/thirty-somethings and up, here in Italy is still seen as a sport only for le nonne, the grannies. Which is fine, unless you are one of those non-granny people of any age who has the urge to knit.

A couple things to know about Rome and knitting:
1) Yarn shops aren't that easy to find.
2) The few shops that I’ve managed to find generally don’t display their yarns like you find in other countries (my personal examples are the US and a shop I visited in Sweden where the yarns and projects are on display for customers to browse). No, here in Rome you probably have to stand in front of a counter to look at yarns displayed on the wall behind, and ask for each individual ball of yarn. Perhaps if you're lucky you can see a sample strand or ball of yarn, but nearly always under very close supervision. Pretty tedious.

I learned how to knit through a class I took when I lived in Phoenix about six years ago. Once I started my life here though, things were so hectic I had no time, and certainly no money, for hobbies. I put away the knitting stash and there it stayed for years, half-finished projects becoming no more than a cozy bed for Betsy (the only one of my two cats still "small" enough to squeeze into the knitting basket). Yes, it's clear from the photo that she was heartbroken by this sudden destruction of one of her many sleeping spots.

Just in case you're wondering what I unearthed in my little operation:

A forlorn sock, the first I ever attempted, whose mate was never completed. And now I can't find the pattern I used for it.

A miniature “sweater for your head” project with lots of cables: I finished the first “sleeve” of the hat and it had four cables which ended up being so incredibly time-consuming for something so tiny that I never started the second sleeve. So now we have the rare prototype of a one-sleeved sweater hat.

While I haven’t gotten around to completing either of these projects, I did make a regular "dumb roll-brim hat" for someone as a Christmas present with some angora yarn I bought in Stockholm. I ran out of it about 3/4 of the way through, and was faced with the dilemma of buying yarn here in Rome to finish the project.

I went to “Lana Gatto,” a beautiful yarn boutique, but I ended up feeling like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when she goes shopping for her fancy-shmancy clothes. There were three severe-looking shop assistants dressed all in black, staring me down as I looked at the yarns. Way too nerve-wracking. I asked for the yarn I needed, tried to browse for a while but eventually just bought my yarn and left. They made me feel so uncomfortable! It’s a shame, because they have a pretty nice selection.

Check out the two women dressed in black with their arms crossed. And this is before I even entered the shop. I've never seen any other customers in here. Hmmm, wonder why.

The second shop I can advise you of is called “Lana della Vecchia” near Campo de' Fiori. The photo below is from Unraveling.



I've stopped in here once, and while small, it has a good selection and there were so many other women at the counter that the saleslady didn't have time to stare me down or make me feel uneasy. I think I'd go back here if I needed some yarn. At Unraveling she mentions their sign which says “wholesale prices” and bought 100 grams of cashmere for €53, which must be a good price although I'm no expert on these things. It’s the equivalent of nearly $70 USD.

Thanks to another traveling knitter named Yuvee, I can add to our list a shop called Filati Filpucci, in her words, “… run by men and looked more like a hardware store than a yarn shop.” Interesting, no? Stop by her post to discover other shops in Italy, as her travels took her to Florence as well. I've been lurking on her blog for a while now..she's a very proficient knitter. I’m molto impressed by her skill in seeking out gorgeous yarns, braving the shop owners, and without any Italian to boot. Brava! She encountered the same thing I describe though, the whole “look but don’t touch” phenomenon and the insistence on one-on-one service. Not what we knitters are generally used to.

I personally visited Filpucci after reading about it on Yuvee's blog. Yikes. She wasn't kidding, folks. It was so bizarre. You enter and there's a looooong counter with two young (late 20ish) guys who look like they would be just as at home in a mechanic's garage, but yet are dealing with all these grannies buying yarn. They've got a ton of stuff, but I was really put off by the signs all over the place, literally in front of every single type of yarn, saying that you absolutely, positively couldn't touch anything. Lame. Won't be going back. Although I salute Yuvee doubly now, because I even speak Italian and didn't want to brave that madness.

Knitters visiting Italy, I have a secret to tell you about, and most unfortunately it is not in Rome. When visiting my friend Eugenio a couple weekends ago, I mentioned that I like to knit and was informed that Biella, where he lives, is pretty much the yarn and textile capital of Italy. What? I didn't believe it until he called up his mom for advice on where to get yarn, and then took me to a store that seemed from outside like an anonymous little hole-in-the-wall. Turns out it was none other than the factory store of Lana Gatto--remember the place with the scary sales ladies?

Lana Gatto is based in Tollegno, about a 6-7 hour drive from Rome. To go there you'd have to make a pilgrimage specifically. The factory store was piled high with every kind of yarn they make, and *surprise, surprise!* very sweet and helpful ladies. Try to guess how much I spent for this bag of eight 50-gram balls of wool:

Need a hint? Well, consider that at Lana Gatto in Rome, I paid €6 for two. In Tollegno I paid €11 for the whole bag. It's not factory seconds, either. It's just that buying at the source is cheaper. They sell by weight, and the price is displayed like prosciutto: € X per 1000 gr. They had boxes upon boxes of precious cashmere stacked high to the ceiling, and it was €330 or so per 1000 gr. When you think back to Unraveled's purchase, well, you can see that it's really something. Her 100 grams here would have cost just about roughly €33, about $43 USD.

Last but not least, any keen observers spot the new badge on my sidebar? Yes, I have joined in Stranded: The Colorwork Challenge, in an effort to free myself from irrational hesitancy regarding fair isle knitting. Well, I started this Bea Ellis Knitwear Nordic Hat project in the car on the way up to Biella, and before we even made it back down to Rome, it was finished! I am here to tell you that fair isle is definitely not as complicated as it may look:

Here's my new hat making a recent appearance in a self-portrait with Ale at Stonehenge:

Knitters in Rome and knitters visiting Rome and Italy, unite! If you have any shops to add to the list, or shops in other cities, please add them in the comments.

Lana Gatto (Rome)
Piazza Di S. Lorenzo In Lucina, 38

Lana della Vecchia
Via Baullari, 3

Filati Filpucci
Via Principe Amedeo, 87-89

Lana Gatto (factory store)
Via Roma 9
13818 Tollegno (Biella)

A Walk in the Park

Well, truth be told, I have some more food photos for you, but given the reaction to my last post, I think I'll wait a bit and let you build up an appetite. In order to do this, I'd like to take you on a walk in the woods, at the Parco Nazionale d'Abruzzo: Italy's first national park, founded in 1923. (Map below c. James Martin, Europe for Visitors)

We went to visit some friends of ours who have a house in Pescasseroli in the Abruzzo region of Italy (on the bottom above, even though it's mistakenly spelled "Pascasseroli"), one of the few towns actually inside the park boundaries. By the way, have you heard about the snow crisis this year? There's no snow! Inside the park this time of year it's usually covered with the white stuff. This year we were walking around without jackets, sun beating down on us, to the tune of temperatures as high as nearly 70°!

This is unheard of and is actually quite a problem for those who rely on winter tourism to make their living. In any case, that's why in these photos you won't see any snow, but Abruzzo is generally full of the stuff this time of year, especially in the mountainous areas like the park.

Animals that live in the park include brown bears (the cute symbol of the park's logo above) and wolves, but also "camosci" (chamois) which are harder to spot. And you thought it was just a funny name for that cloth you use to dry off your car! My guess is they were all away sunbathing somewhere because we didn't see any.

We're taking our walk in a part of the park called "Camosciara" and going on a short trail to the "Cascate delle Ninfe": The Nymphs' Waterfalls. It takes us about a half hour to stroll leisurely from the parking lot to the trail head. Don't worry, I'm not into heavy-duty hiking. I have to conserve my energy for eating.

There is water throughout the park and especially in this area, where we found running streams and small waterfalls everywhere we looked.

The walk takes us about 10 minutes through this beautiful wooded area, and has very few steep grades. You don't even really need to be outfitted for hiking, although we did have hiking boots because when we left Rome we figured there would be snow.

Nature lovers, Parco Nazionale d'Abruzzo is definitely worth a trip. I love the Abruzzo region and I feel like it still hasn't been discovered by tourists. Have any of you ever been to this park? Any other great nature areas in Italy to recommend?

Crib Street

Let one thing be said for Italy at Christmastime: these people love their nativity scenes. So much so that I would go as far as to say that a nativity scene, known in Italian as presepe and sometimes by the French word crèche, is more common than a Christmas tree in many Italian homes.

The scene can be as simple as a little manger, to very elaborate, with moving figures, lights, mini-waterfalls—the works.

Something you’ll notice if you see a presepe in a home before Christmas is that the baby Jesus isn’t actually in the nativity scene—he makes his appearance in correspondence with his birth, ie, Christmas Eve. Placing the baby Jesus in his crib is a task usually entrusted to a child in the house and is a big event!

Probably nowhere is more famous for this tradition than Naples, where every year you can wander Via San Gregorio Armeno and be transported to a world of nativity scenes and all the fixin’s you’d ever need to make the most elaborate presepe you can dream up (hence "Crib Street") . On my recent day trip, we wandered onto this street purely by accident, and I discovered that it’s next to impossible to come out on the other end empty-handed. We bought a birthday present for a friend of ours who collects pieces (only from Naples though—he’s a “presepe snob”) for his presepe, which is quite impressive and gets more so every year. I also couldn’t resist parting with €4 to buy a kit for playing Naples bingo, with wooden markers and illustrated cards. Naples has a fascinating tradition that revolves around symbols and their associated numbers (which can then be used to play the lottery), which I would like to take up in a future post.

Something I think is also interesting to point out is that the presepe doesn't necessarily have to have a religious theme. Some presepi can simply represent country scenes or village scenes. I'm not sure if the baby Jesus is actually obligatory in these types of Italian presepe...does anyone know?

Well, as Dick Callaway, mayor of St. Albans, West Virginia, said: "It's not easy to put a light-up representation of a baby in a small manger scene, you know."

So for now let’s just wander down Via Gregorio Armeno and the surrounding area and see what we can come up with.

It's a pretty crowded street—keep an eye on your belongings!

There's a Bambino Gesù for every style and every budget

The lady seated on the left is freelancing it with a stall just off of Crib Street

The foundation for the presepe can be quite detailed—notice the lights inside

A fun part of the tradition is adding on new pieces each year—the possibilities are endless

Of course it wouldn't be Naples without a little of that Neapolitan ingenuity. Every year some of the most memorable moments of the year are transformed into presepe figurines. Remember this one? Something to do with a sister?

If you want to read more about presepi, here's an article from About.com. My pal Avery, another americana a Roma, also wrote about her take on this Italian tradition here.

I probably won't be able to get around to writing a post this year about the living nativity scene at St. Peters. But here's an article about this year's tree, the tallest ever. And here is some more information about where to see presepi in Italy.

Do any of you set up a presepe for Christmas? I don't have one but I'd like to start one day when we have children. I think it must be a fun tradition for them and for families to do together.

What are your Christmas, or holiday season, traditions?

One Day in Naples (Part 2)

Today we continue our walk around Naples, and the photo on the left has something unique in it...can you spot it?

As we were walking around I saw someone lower a blue plastic bucket from a window, then someone on the street either took something out or put something in, and the person in the window started pulling it back up.




And, before we go any further on this tour, I forgot to warn you: watch your step. There’s dog crap all over the streets. I even saw this sign on an apartment building:

It says:

Please take your dogs home to crap, because at my house there are children who want to live in a civilized manner!

SHAME ON ALL OF YOU

(I’m just saying...)

So, as our mission is to get a photo of the floor of this church that's now a museum called the Capella di Sansevero, we head over. Not only are there menacing signs posted at about 6-inch intervals everywhere in the small chapel reminding you that NO PHOTOS ARE ALLOWED, there is a guard-to-visitor ratio of about 1:6, for the sole purpose of preventing said photographs. Still, we figure: are we not in Naples? Land of lawlessness? Land of devil-may-care behavior?

We immediately spot the subject of our photo and the entrance to the little room where it is located is, of course, guarded. As Ale enters, I kind of wander around, hoping to detract attention from our covert operation, but of course doing nothing of the sort, and probably looking more than slightly confused. The next thing I know, the entire room fills with a flash, and that telltale fake clicking noise the digital camera makes. Oh boy, let me tell you, was that guard ticked! But, once you’ve got the photo, what can they really do? After Ale got thoroughly scolded, we were free to leave.

Just for the record, here’s the picture:

Feeling triumphant after our act of defiance, and with our mission accomplished and the whole day ahead of us to just take in the city until our train leaves around 4 pm, we decide on a tour of Naples Underground. We ask directions, and as we go about our merry way, we come up against this:

I realize I could be considered fairly inconsiderate for having documented this poor guy’s struggle, but people, this was such an “only in Naples” moment for me, I had to get it. This truck on the left decided he needed to get by, but once he went for it, you would have been lucky to get a sheet of paper in between his truck and the parked car on the right. In fact, I got even more obnoxious, going so far as to try to make a little movie of it as well. We didn't have much else to do during the wait anyhow.


And just in case you’re wondering—the truck eventually backed up. I don’t really know what he did after that, but I do know that it was like a dam bursting, with about 15 people from each side of the road spilling into the space that suddenly opened back up.

At Naples Underground they tell us the first tour isn’t until noon, giving us about an hour to kill. We decide to wander around, and come across an entire LAND full of nativity scenes and all the trimmings for making your very own (Avery, take note!). So much good stuff there it will have to wait for another post.

Meanwhile, we sidle up to one of the many steaming glass carts that line the street. They’re all full of either pastries like you saw in part one, or pizza. Ale chooses a 6-inch round pizza and folds it in half. I go for a concoction called pizza fritta: you got it—fried pizza. Oh yes, it was just as greasy as it sounds, if not more. Let’s bring out the evidence:

Man, was that thing HEAVY! It was a huge pouch of fried bread, (nearly a foot long when flat, I'm not kidding) filled with ricotta, smoked provolone, and tomato sauce. I told myself I'd only eat half, but then when I got to the "surprise" filling in the middle, I went back on my promise and as a result I think I gained one kilo immediately. But it was worth it. One euro, folks. One kilo for one euro, not such a bad deal?

On to Naples Underground, which takes us down 40 meters (about 130 feet) below Naples, to the street level of the ancient Greeks. I highly recommend this 1.5 hour tour, which was informative and enjoyable and just under €10 per person. But I warn you, if you are claustrophobic, you might not want to do the part that I personally liked the best. At a certain point you enter this cavernous room and the guide starts lighting candles in ceramic holders. Everyone takes a candle and moves single-file into a narrow, I mean NARROW, underground passage without any lights, and this passageway goes on for a good couple of minutes. It was so narrow that at one point I had to turn sideways because my shoulders wouldn't fit without scraping the sides. Everyone got through fine though, and we were pretty astounded by the history of the place.

After our tour, we were ready for the holy grail of Naples (no pun intended, considering the topic of Ale’s book): pizza napoletana. According to this article, pizza was invented in Naples by the ancient Greeks, and the world’s first true pizzeria, Antica Pizzeria Port’Alba, opened in Naples around 1830.

For those of you who aren’t from Italy, don’t live in Italy, and/or have never been to Italy, a quick tutorial. Pizza in Italy is ordered according to types. There are many standard types such as margarita (cheese, tomato sauce and basil), diavola (cheese, tomato sauce and spicy pepperoni), fungi (with mushrooms). You don’t choose your toppings one by one, you choose the standard type you want. Everyone gets their own individual pizza, and they aren’t necessarily individually sized. I usually can’t finish a whole one. It covers your entire plate and you have to cut it into slices.

Naples pizza differs from Roman style because the crust is thicker and chewy instead of thin and crispy. Personally I prefer this kind, even though it’s a lot more filling.

Our favorite pizza place in Naples is called Lombardi a Santa Chiara (Via Benedetto Croce 54, closed on Mondays). We both got the margarita with mozzarella di bufala (an incredible mozzarella made with buffalo milk which is another speciality from the Campania region where Naples is located.)
Here's Ale, one more satisfied customer:


And the guys who make the magic happen:

After such indulgence, we just had to go over the top, so it was back to Scaturchio to have dessert. This time we got a babà, a traditional cake soaked with rum. I found a recipe here, and here’s what it looks like:

Naples enchanted me, on what was only my second visit to the city in five years. I know I will baffle many of you when I admit that I like Naples better than Florence. That’s because I tend to enjoy getting a feel for the people and the local lifestyle of a place, and when I visit Florence I always leave with the distinct feeling of having just visited a big amusement park. No offense to Florence or all of you wonderful expats who have made a life there; this is just my personal opinion. I think it probably comes from the fact that once you live in Italy you can be more selective about things like this, knowing you don’t have just “one chance” to pack in all the sights.

And as far as all those warnings go to “remove all your jewelry, don’t take your camera, etc. etc.” --at no point did I feel any more threatened by pickpocketing in Naples than I do in Rome. You need to use the same precautions you would in any big city.

Naples is a city that has a certain energy and soul that no other Italian city possesses, and once you get wrapped up in it—in the chaos, the mess, the excitement, the confusion—it will leave you with the unforgettable feeling of having peeked into down-home, street level Italian life. While I’d never live here, and while it clearly has a deep-rooted and incredibly complicated problem with an organized crime syndicate known as the Camorra (read Avery’s post from a while back), I can’t help but admire its unique character and resilience.

One Day in Naples

I haven’t mentioned this before, but Alessandro has written a book that’s going to press in the next week or so. The book discusses symbolism related to the Knights Templar and the holy grail, but not in a Dan Brown kind of fictionalized way. It is based on his own personal research and discoveries he has made by studying a church in small town in the Abruzzo region called Bominaco, and his original theories of how this church not only connects to other important churches frequented by the Templars, but how it is perhaps one of the places the holy grail passed through, if not its final resting place.

Before going to press Ale needed one final photo, and it was for the cover, no less. It was a pattern on the floor in a Naples church called the Capella di Sansevero. The church itself has quite an interesting history, being as it was the chapel of a Baroque-era prince who was an alchemist and Grand Master of the Neopolitan Free Masons. Since we couldn’t find a photo in any book and Ale’s manuscript is going to press soon, we decided to take a day trip down to Naples. Besides our mission of getting the photo, there was sure to be the reward of a real Neopolitan pizza, something one should never pass up the chance for.

Well, not only did we accomplish our mission, we ended up having almost a mini-vacation for all the things we saw and did in just a one-day trip. I figured I would try my best in the next few posts to give you a taste of Naples as I see it.

When Ale told a colleague of his that he was going to Napoli, his colleague said, “Better make sure your passport hasn't expired!”

Oh, poor, battered Napoli. The butt of all jokes. Personally, I am fascinated by the place. I’m sure it has to do with a story I was told years ago by my Italian teacher, Anna, a Roman who has lived in Arizona for many years. She told me that when the mandatory seatbelt law came to Naples, the people started driving around with white T-shirts that had black stripes diagonally across them: painted-on seatbelts. You’ve gotta hand it to them for sheer ingenuity.

Our adventure starts at Termini station here in Rome, where we board the much-anticipated “Alta Velocità” or high-speed train to Naples. Inaugurated just a few months ago, the train is a bit of a laughingstock for the fact that it covers the first two-thirds of the route going 300 km/hour (about 186 mph), but for the last third when the high-speed track simply runs out (they inaugurated the route before finishing it), it switches back to the regular track and slows down to a near-crawl, in effect becoming a regional (read: slowest) train as it creeps through town after forgotten town on the outskirts of Naples. One of the men sitting next to us joked that, “usually trains try to speed up near the end to recover lost time, but this train actually slows down to compensate for having gone too fast.” I haven’t quite been able to decipher why this is so, but I’ve been told that the money ran out. I heard some of the Italians on board jokingly refer to this phenomenon as simply another example of doing things all’Italiana: Italian-style.

In any case, I was shocked when a uniformed attendant came through with a beverage cart, free of charge. Usually it’s woe unto he who travels with Trenitalia. Some day maybe I will tell you some of my stories, but for now just imagine herds of chickens and other assorted barnyard animals being rounded up and transported to their final resting places. Luckily this was a surprisingly pleasant trip, made even better by the fact that we managed to get our tickets on a 2-for-1 special, meaning we paid €15 each way per person, even less than the normal Eurostar train.

So, after an hour and a half, we get off at Napoli Centrale. Truth be told, I did feel a little like I had just entered a foreign, exotic locale—Naples to me is almost like one huge street market or bazaar. You’ll hear more Neopolitan dialect being spoken on the streets than you will actual Italian, which contributes to the otherworldly feeling. The best way I can describe Napoli is that it’s not really a place you visit—it’s a full-on sensory experience.

Crossing the street in Naples is akin to being transported back to the 80s and becoming the star of the video game Frogger. It’s not unlike the video you can watch below. Although I have no idea what city this video was filmed in, it certainly could be a busy Naples street on any given day.


After navigating our first challenge, we’re ready for breakfast, and so we head for the hallowed (and very crowded) Scaturchio.

Here you can experience the ultimate in one of the things Naples is famous for: its pastries. I opt for a warm sfogliatella, crispy and flaky on the outside and filled with sweet ricotta cream and a slight hint of cinnamon inside.

I found a recipe for sfogliatella here, but frankly even without reading the recipe, it looks like quite a challenge to make. If any of you have ever attempted this (and succeeded), I'd love to hear about it! Here I found a recipe claiming to be Scaturchio’s own pastiera, another famous Neopolitan pastry.

Don’t let the crowds scare you away—this is a must-stop when in Naples.

Scaturchio
P.zza San Domenico Maggiore, 19
Telefono 0815516944

Next time we venture on to the fascinating Capella di Sansevero church, and after that we continue our gastronomic exploration of Neopolitan delights, while stopping to admire the nativity scenes, do some shopping, and tour Naples Underground. Stay tuned!

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.

When Ischia Becomes ICK-ia

I struggle to type on a wet keyboard, as my tears flow for beloved Finny’s departure this morning… buon viaggio! Italy will miss you!

Oh, the stories, folks. I will leave FK to tell you most of them, but there is one in particular that I have to relate, since it is my big, fat fault that the whole tale unraveled in the first place.

I know you must have one of these stories too. Oh, please tell me you do.

That “I-booked-a-hotel-so-horrible-I-had-to-laugh-to-keep-from-crying” story.

Well, if I didn’t have one before, I sure do now.

Wanting to give one my best friends in the whole world a grand tour of the lovely isle of Ischia, I bravely ventured into uncharted territory: vacation accommodation planning. Seeing as how I run vacation accommodations, you would think this would be my specialty; however, even though I know what I like and try my best to provide that for my special guests, I don’t have a knack for finding great places. Actually, I just always leave it to Ale, who loves it and does a great job. But since he was down playing on the movie set (pics out in this week’s Italian Vanity Fair—I will post if I can get a hold of mine and Ale’s photo with “DJ”), I was faced with the dilemma.

All the good ideas come in hindsight. Like: dummy, you should have just asked Tracie B. But, alas… I didn’t.

Instead, I ventured out on my own. Mind you, I did do my homework. Here are the titles for the first 5 comments that come up for the place in Trip Advisor:

1) “Peaceful setting”
2) “Lovely”
3) “A wonderful relaxing holiday”
4) “Great place”
5) “Highly recommended”

Now, Trip Advisor has never steered me wrong, so I thought I was really onto something.

So, let me now commence with my TOP 10 SIGNS THAT YOU HAVE BOOKED A BAD HOTEL:

1) Upon arrival, your host hands you an opened package of toilet paper with two remaining rolls, smiling: “I don’t normally supply my guests with toilet paper, but…” (BUT, what? I’m special?)
2) When you pull up, there is an illuminated picture of a saint, perhaps the patron saint of the hotel, clearly telling you to pray that you might have a nice room. (No help there.)


3) Beautiful flowers adorn the parking lot, alas, only to cover the garbage bins.

4) Symmetry is not a priority.

5) Lampshades are optional.
6) Owner remarks that the bay is just steps away, and that we are lucky because, and I quote: “a new, super convenient 200-step (yes, that’s TWO HUNDRED step) staircase has just been added!”
7) Looks like owner is attempting some kind of zen experiment in wall decoration.

8) After being handed your sheets to make your own bed (could possibly be #8b in and of itself), you find you were also given a hand-monogrammed bath towel, yet, strangely, the initials do not correspond to anything or anyone you are aware of, as owner’s name starts with a “P.” (Have we stumbled upon a new phenomenon of hotel owners stealing towels from hotel guests? Could be an ironic role reversal.) I later realize that the initials might correspond to two words in the four-word hotel name. Guess the owner didn't want to buy the extra consonants.
9) Patio described as molto bello by owner has "dog issues." (Which I will link to, however not photographically, as soon as FK elaborates, since it was on her patio and this is her cleverly-worded term for the problem.)

10) Your friend turns to you rather desperately, telling you: “I don’t think there’s a shower in my bathroom.” (Um, that would be the big spigot sticking out of the wall. It’s continuing with that whole zen theme, no shower curtain or shower stall needed, just go ahead and spray all over the toilet, sink, clean and formerly dry clothes, etc.)

Oh, the horror of it all. And yet, a silver lining. After many ha has over our misfortune, we take the extreme opposite route and resolve for our next night to find the “most scrumptiousest” (see #7) hotel on the island, or at least the town of Forio on the island. Our search started and ended at the lovely and most scrumptious Hotel Villa Carolina, where we traded views of flower-laden dumpsters and dog issues for this:



So, all’s well that ends well. Sigh. Thank God for low-maintenance friends with a healthy sense of humor and sense of adventure, as my little mishap could have easily sent another less patient person a-packin’. Grazie Finny!