Three x Three = Nine

Wow....9 months.  9 months?!?!  How has it really been 9 months since I was packing up and heading to Florence for 3 months with my 3 year old???  I'm really not sure if that old adage works here...ya know, the one going "Time flies when you're having fun".  More appropriately, these past 9 months have been dragging on till we can return again!

Well okay okay, I will say we've been having a bit of fun!  We've been moving all over the states these past 9 months.  In fact, since June of 2009, we've been moving about every three months.  My little girl and I have certainly had a few adventures along the way!  After returning from Italy our travels went something like this: Firenze to San Antonio, San Antonio to Maine and Connecticut, Maine to San Antonio (all flights).  Then: San Antonio to San Diego, San Diego to LA, LA to Oregon, Oregon to Seattle (all driving, including 1 flat tire in the middle-of-nowhere Texas).  That all happened in the last 6 months.

Now, believe it or not, for a grand total of 6 months (gasp!) we are settled in a land I NEVER thought I would EVER be living!  In fact, if I wanted to get farther away from Italy, I would probably have to skip over the pond and head to Russia.  Yes...we are in The Last Frontier...ALASKA! 

I blame it on myself, really.  I told myself (as well as anyone who asked) months ago...I will NEVER live in Alaska...I don't EVER feel the need to see that strange state.  Lo and behold, we are HERE!  hahaha...there's another one of those adages..."Never say never", right???  To add insult to injury, I even had to get an Alaska driver's license so that I'm technically a resident of this state!  Honestly, I thought it was the end of the world when I found myself moving to Texas many years ago, but this move to Alaska is just as ridiculous.

Don't get me wrong...there really isn't anything terrible about Alaska (at least since we've been here in the summer months)!  It's just that anyone who knows me, knows I am the complete opposite of a nature girl.  But that's not saying I'm a total city girl, either.  It's something my sister and I have always been confused about:  the fact that if we're in the Big City, we look like country bumpkins...and yet, take us to the Last Frontier, and we look like city girls!  This is how we came to call ourselves suburban-ites.  We can kind of survive in either element, but never quite fit in.

As it is, Ava and I will be residing in Alaska (see photo above from our back deck) until we're able to return to Italy...hopefully at the beginning of the new year.  Until that time, it's prep time!  Yippeee....said with sarcasm.  Mainly this prep time will be used to figure out how Ava and I can stay in Italy longer than 3 months.  Namely, the dreaded Visa process.  Thankfully we have plenty of time to figure it out, but at this point it's looking like we have two options: obtaining a Work Visa or a Student Visa.  I'm sure many more posts will discuss said options in the future.

For now, we'll be enjoying the fact that ths sun is actually setting in the evenings now, (for a while the 20 hours of daylight were seriously messing with my circadian rhythm!) and I won't have to sleep with an eyemask anymore.  Oh, and I'll be ingesting as much cheddar cheese as possible, storing up fat for the cold winter months ahead (i.e. in 2 weeks) and enjoying the fact that I can still purchase it whenever I want to!

Irises and Milk?

So there are many things about Italy that I will probably never understand...even if I end up living there the rest of my life! (If I could only be so lucky!)   There are particular nuances about the language, specific histories relating to politics, and even funny culinary peculiarities that seem written in stone (i.e., never put cheese on a pasta dish that includes fish?).  I was thinking over a few of these things today and realized that even after searching the internet, I couldn't find very good, concrete answers.  Or even good websites to site for the information!  So, I'll send these thoughts out into cyber space, and hope someone can help me out.... 

The Florentine Fleur-de-lis?

For the most part, when people see this image, something about France pops into their head.  Or a football team in New Orleans if they are American.  I have been searching high and low for the reason and history behind this emblem representing Firenze.  Whatever info I have found leads me to some obscure refrence to France...yadda yadda...the first coat of arms for Florence had a white iris (or lily...people seem to think the term is synonymous) with a red background...something or other about 1251 after the Ghibellines turned it to a red iris (though no one has ever created a red iris) on a white background.  Then there is talk about Florence as the 'City of Flowers'...but which came first?  The emblem for the city, or the city inspiring the emblem?  This somehow ties in with the Duomo who's official name is really S. Maria del Fiore; St. Mary of the Flowers, the flower being the lily??? I just want a straight answer from someone! 

Honestly, I love it all.  I hear there is an amazing Iris Garden in the city that blossoms in May.  And it is a beautiful image seen throughout the city in many small ways  In fact, years before I ever dreamed of visiting Florence, back when I was a youngin, I officially decided that irises were my favorite flowers.  Cue my mother confirming this fact, as every year since then, I have received something with a purple iris on it for Christmas!  Another fact, I almost got a tattoo of this when I was 19 and living in Firenze, but decided against it because I didn't want everyone thinking it was the symbol for France!!  It is the Florentine Lily...er, Iris...the Fleur-de-lis, Italian style!  But what does it all mean??  Until I get some answers, here's another thing I ponder about now that I've lived in Italy:

No refrigeration necessary???

ESL Milk? 
No...I'm not talking about Milk with English for a Second Language.  From what I can gather, ESL means Extended Shelf Life.  This is milk that does not need to be refrigerated until opened, and before going to Italy, I had never seen or heard of it in my life!  I'm coming from a place where we buy a gallon of cow's milk, and if it isn't consumed in 4 days, it turns sour and needs to be discarded.  In America everything is stamped with a "consume by" date or "best used by" and the moment our food goes past the little stamped date, we throw it out, assuming it's beyond all hope for consumption.

But in Italy, I was introduced to small bottles of milk, just sitting on a shelf in the grocery store, being picked up and stored in the cupboard like it wasn't a dairy product!  So.....is it???  Is Parmalat real milk? 

Some info I found on the web says it is super-pasteurized and "fresh tasting" but it can't be qualified as "fresh" since it didn't recently come from a cow.  During the processing....uhm....process, does this mean nutrients are stripped out of the milk?  Are there any studies that show fresh milk is superior to Parmalat?  Do they even sell it here in the states?  I know I've seen soy milk just sittin around, but for some reason that makes sense to me.  Soy milk isn't trying to pass as real milk.

I have had several discussions about this while grocery shopping with an Italian.  He is convinced there is nothing different about this milk, nothing wrong with it, nothing out of the ordinary.  Yet, when I confessed that it seemed 'weird' to me, he graciously said "Get what you want..." and I grabbed a half gallon of my normal, fresh milk!  Maybe it was all mental, but the ESL milk just tasted strange.  But perhaps it is similar to the experience of someone who prefers Skim milk, actually tasting Whole milk out of the blue!  Is one better than the other?  Or just different?  So please...I want some info about this milk and if I should be allowing my daughter to drink it in the future!  For now, in America, I'll just enjoy my numerous iris suncatchers and drink my own fresh milk until I achieve further enlightenment.

Summer Reading

Since I can't be in Italy right now, I figured I might as well be learning about it in some way! This week's trip to the local library provided some great ways to keep in touch with the history, the people, and the stories that are inspired by that country! Here are the books I picked up this week and have ravenously devoured...

The Monster of Florence -- Douglas Preston, Mario Spezi
           A thrilling account of the famous murders taking place around Florence between 1968 and 1985. Douglas Preston (American writer known for his fictional thrillers) and Spezi (an Italian journalist) go on a hunt for the killer who targeted lovers around the city and who's identity is still unproven.  While the unfolding events are well-documented, at times the narrative was confusing, especially with all the numerous characters involved.  Had to keep going back pages to remember "now, who was this guy, and what did he do again???"   P.s. I would have to give this book an 'R' rating based on the many greusome details of the murders and associated events.

Vasari's Lives of the Artists -- Giorgio Vasari
          As an Art history major, I am ashamed to say I have never read this book! Now is my chance to discover how Vasari colorfully and represents the main characters of the Italian Renaissance across three centuries. Many credit Vasari with being the first art historian, and reading his ancient words give a first-hand account of the artists that modern-day historians can only repeat.  This is an abridged version I'm reading, seeing as there are I think 5 huge volumes in total!

The Passion of Artemisia -- Susan Vreeland
            This is a novel about a rarely discussed Italian artist: a woman named Artemisia Gentileschi who lived and worked around the time of the Renaissance. The story incorporates Gentileschi's violent painting of "Judith" and tells her story of love, betrayal, and crime. Though some areas may be imbellished, the topic seems to be well-researched and a good piece of historical fiction (my favorite kind!).  I personally connected to the accounts of a single, working mother, and I loved how Vreeland allowed Artemisia's charcter to grow in strength and wisdom with each obstacle that came her way.  Very encouraging and insightful...

Leondardo's Swans -- Karen Essex
            Another elaborate novel, this one about two Italian sisters in the 15th century.  With sibling rivalry, love matches, and societal roles of the time period, this looks like an easy read that incorporates the politics and culture of an Italian time long ago.  I haven't finished this one yet, but it looks to be a quick read, though not as intricately laced with art history as the title above. 

Additions...

This morning while I was doing my hair, I thought of some other things I do not miss about Italy:

~Electrical issues: having to worry about my American electronics blowing up an Italian house.  Maybe it's because I have never been able to really understand how the voltage/wattage of electronics differ; it's all a jumble to me talking about 120V/60cycles and 220V/50 cycles...these being the differences between the US and Europe.  I would literally always hold my breath when I wanted to use my hair straightener, or ipod speaker dock, or any other little thing I needed to plug into a converter.  The other mistake was only bringing 1 converter with me...I was constantly leaving it in one room, running around trying to find where I left it!  And I am still unsure about the differences between a converter and a transformer!  I think I had an all-in-one, but I'm not sure.  Having to use the transformer (???) I could never plug in than one product at a time...or maybe that was a good thing, requiring me to be aware of how much electricty I was using up in the house.  It seems like you had to keep in the back of your mind which things were running in the house or else a fuse would blow.  For example, there were multiple times when the washing machine was running, and the clothes iron was on, and maybe I'd turn on the microwave for 30 seconds and the power would go out.  What pushed the electricity allowance over the edge?  I'm not very knowledgable about all these things in general, but it seems these things just don't really happen to me here in America. 

That brings up another issue: the cost of electricity in Italy.  Never having to pay a bill for it, I really don't know how comparable the expense is with the US, but it always seemed to be an issue.  I also believe related to this would be the kind of wiring in your house, considering if it's a very very old apartment, or just a very old apartment.  Ava and I quickly learned to turn off a light everytime we exited a room, and to only turn on electrical items if they were really necessary.  I just kept hearing "electricity is very expensive here..." so I tried my best not to use too much.  Maybe someday I'll understand these things...for now, in America, I can be blissfully ignorant.

~Clothes dryers: Also related to the use of electricty, is the seeming lack of clothes dryers in Italy.  From what I understand, they are starting to be more commonly used, but all-in-all, line drying is primarily used.  In one sense, it seems quaint, seeing clothes hanging on a line in the sunshine, with a gentle breeze blowing your freshly cleaned garments.  While this may be an enjoyable option in the summer, it isn't very practical the rest of the year.  How many times did it start raining in the Autumn, and I saw our neighbor's clothes hanging out their window getting soaked?  And then there is the uncomfortable stiffness that comes from having to hang-dry your clothes in the house.  At first I was really surprised when I saw our housekeeper ironing Ava's little undergarments, t-shirts and pants...as if that was supposed to help the stiffness of the items!  But then I realized the ironing was supposed to be helping to take away the pinch marks left by the clothes pins!  Accordingly, we would have to plan our clothes washing so that we always had a steady amount of clean clothes, considering it would take 3 days for one load to dry.  With a messy 3 year old, with only enough clothes that would fit in 1 suitcase, I had to be careful.  I also really missed having my jeans shrunk back to their normal size with each washing and drying.  Call me spoiled, but I like having my clothes dried quickly, efficiently, and softly.  Maybe I need to invest in one of these seen below: but I better make sure the electrical currents are compatible or I'll risk blowing up the house!

Words, parole, words

After getting a bit of flak for reading silly, entertaining novels this summer, (He knows who he is, so he'll remain unnamed!) I will prove that my brain is getting some healthy, classical nourishment as well!  I recently discoverd C.P. Cavafy while reading an article in a random magazine.  There was just a clip from one of his poems, but it stood out to me immediately.  I've started searching for his writings around the internet and am waiting for a book at the library to become available (is there really someone else here in this small city who wanted to read Cavafy this month?).  It just seems wrong to read whole works of poetry extensively from a website, right?  I think there is nothing better than paging through an old book without one of those noisy plastic covers...especially when it comes to reading some old-school, Greek poetry! Opa!!


Apparently, as an interesting link to Italy, Cavafy's title of this particular poem is taken from Inferno by Dante. Another book I'll need to finally read!  Adding it to the list!  I found this link to Dante's words from another blogger.  Until I can get my hands on those books, here is the poem that struck me when I contemplate the future, even a possible future in a foreign land.

“Che Fece .... Il Gran Rifiuto”
By C.P. Cavafy
For some people the day comes
when they have to declare the great Yes
or the great No. It's clear at once who has the Yes
ready within him; and by saying it,

he goes from honor to honor, strong in his conviction.
He who refuses does not repent. Asked again,
he would still say no. Yet that no - the right no -
drags him down all his life.
(Translated by Christos)

What have you said 'Yes' to in your life?  Discuss amongst yourselves :)

Other Side of the Coin

As much as I talk about and consider the glories of living in Italy, there are definitely many drawbacks to living in a foreign country.  Just so you know I'm not totally biased, and that deep, deep down, I really am an American, here is a list of things that I do not miss about Italy...i.e. the things I like about America:

~ Ease of access: Namely, the ability to park your car where you want to!  With the exception of LA, I really have never had problems parking in America.  For example, I have never had to parallel park except for my driver's test, and getting around LA for a few days.  Seriously...if I don't want to bother with parallel parking, there is always another option somewhere down the road!  Especially now with the new, more strict regulations of driving around the center of Firenze, parking seems to always be an issue.  Even if you aren't near the center it is an issue!  To find a legal parking place is like finding the Holy Grail.  Most of the time Italians just park where they want (many times double parking for a few minutes while they run into a store), and hope the carabinieri don't happen to see them!  Sure, it's easier for everyone with a motorino or bike.  But with a 4 year old who can't ride either, the car is essential for transportation at this point.  Well...we used the bus a lot, but I'm speaking more about independent ease of access...it's just an issue in Italy with kids.  Period.

~ Grocery stores: Basically, Esselunga was the bane of my existence in Italy, and seeing as our refrigerator was equivalent to what college dorm rooms contain, we had to go shopping at least 3 times a week.  Esselungas are similar to grocery stores in America.  Except they're crowded, with tiny aisles, very small selection of items, and at the check-out you never see a happy person.  I don't know where you live, but most cities I've lived in have pretty decent grocery stores.  But the Italian version is just sad.  The lines are always long, because at anytime of the day there are only 2 people at the registers.  So the lines stretch back into the aisles, people bump into you, and heaven help you if you forgot to put a tag on your produce!  You have to go all the way back to the produce section yourself, (no price checker will do it for you) weigh the item and put the silly sticker on yourself....all the while the long line of Italians behind you are not so quietly muttering under their breath all kinds of obscenities you are happy you don't really understand!  Don't even think about handing your money to the cashier...she will grimace at you and look at a little plastic tray, indicating she would rather get a Staph infection than take your money out of your hand.  So you must place it in the plastic tray or else the muttering begins again!  Then the mad rush begins to start bagging your own groceries and you better get out of the way before the next person steps up to the plate.  Maybe it's because I don't like grocery shopping (or consuming much food in general) but it really is a pain to go shopping, no matter what time of day in Italy.  It would be different if we lived right in the center, and could go to Mercato Centrale, but even our open-air mercatino was a 20 minute walk.  Alright, alright, I'll be generous and give one thing to Esselunga: the fact that the shopping carts are smaller, and have wheels that move in 4 directions...I do enjoy those wheels that roll sideways.  I wonder why we don't have those here in America?  Well, I'll take a cashier who bags your food with a half-smile on her face anyday in America.

~Familiarity: It goes without saying that living in a foreign country means there won't be a whole lot of familiar things.  But this is just one of those things about growing up in America...for the most part, you feel like you know what you're doing!  And even if there is some legal problem, or you can't seem to get a package in the mail, or just want to try something new, there is usually someone you can ask and you'll get a straight answer on what to do.  Not so in Italy.  Along these lines also comes the inability to understand how to appropriately react to certain circumstances.  It seems there are many unmentioned codes of conduct that Americans would have no idea about, unless an Italian told them to you.  Many times I felt as if I were doing or saying the wrong things according to a particular situation.  Personally, being very sensitive to appropriateness, this was a big struggle for me.

~Humor: This goes along the same lines as above.  I get American humor. I can make some small pun or relevant joke when it comes my way. But Italian humor is something I'll probably never get, even if I master the language.  What they consider funny is just baffling to me.  Additionally, the one person in my life who thinks I am genuinely funny, and who I can always make laugh, is my sister.  If she's not in Italy, I'm probably not making anyone laugh.  And I wish I could do that in Italy!! 

All these things are just a little glance at the other side of the coin...

Updating, 2010

(Back in America)

First of all, Ava is no longer 3.  Second of all, we're no longer in Italy.  Thirdly, it has been way too long that I wrote about life in Italy!  So, it begins again...updating, changing, evolving.  Just like life!

More info later on what we've been up to since we left Firenze in December.  For now, a list of things I've been missing about that beautiful city:

~ My friends: Honestly, when you make friends with Italians, you don't ever want to let them go.
~ My adopted Italian family: This small group of people, aged 85 to 10 made our lives so rich and happy.
~ The river: No, not particularly the Arno...although I loved to walk along it on my way to Piazzale Michelangelo...but more importantly, the little river than ran beside our house.  I miss hearing the water fall right outside of my bedroom window...the sound drowning out the ambulance sirens and motorini.  Even with the windows closed, I could hear it, and it always helped me fall asleep.
~ The music: At least once a week (usually more) I was able to listen to live music.  Though I am no musician, I am certainly a dancer.  There is something therapeutic for me, feeling the loud music beating inside my chest, making my toes tap, my hips sway, my eyes close.  Since returning to the states, I haven't gone out once to listen to live music.
~ The language: Still trying to learn the language, I've been attempting to do a lesson from Rossetta Stone everyday.  Some days it makes me depressed, other times it encourages me to keep learning...because someday I know I'll get back there!  It also was nice at times to hear people speaking all around us, and not have to worry about what they were saying.  I could sort of zone out, in my own world when I wanted to.  Here, back home, I can't escape conversations that I would rather not be hearing!  Additionally, not having my daughter exposed to crude or vulgar language.  Sure, it was around us in Italy, but she had no idea what it meant, or tried to repeat it!!
~ The wine: I miss being able to drink wine or beer at lunch time, without someone thinking I'm crazy!  I never had to worry about buying a bottle, because there just always was a bottle hanging around somewhere, or people bringing a bottle to the party.  And honestly, I can only think of one time where I tasted a red wine in Italy and totally detested it.  Here, I can't find a red that I enjoy.  Could it just be psychological?  Perhaps.
~ The shoes: Enough said.
~ So much more: Things, places, people that I can't even begin to describe.  I never really thought a place could truly take up residence in your heart...but from the moment we returned to the States, I haven't felt complete.  Call it romantic, nostalgic, or insane.  But we left a part of ourselves in Italy...and we are ready to go back!

Already?....Not Ready

Christmas is upon us, and so is our departure.  How can I express the joy of one, and the dread for the other?  The last weeks since Thanksgiving, I have been feeling out of the holiday spirit.  There was no crazy Black Friday experience here in Italy.  Not too many holiday commercials on the tv, displaying consumerism to its fullest.  No one even had Christmas lights out until this week.  Well, this week the real Christmas feelings started to arrive, and I feel ready for Christmas now.  This week I found Francesco had a fake tree in his basement, so Ava and I acted as Santas Elves and set up his tree while he was at work one evening.  What a fun surprise!  We also set up his "presepio" that night (not sure of that spelling, but it is a nativity) complete with "carte stelle" (shiny blue paper with silver stars as a background), and a big glittery gold star pointing to the baby Jesus.  He even added moss around their feet and made sure the Magi were not too close to arriving to the baby Jesus.  Apparently the Magi arrive on January 6th and this is another day that Italians have a national holiday and give presents to children!  It is fun seeing and hearing how they celebrate Christmas a little differently than we do.  More people are putting up Christmas lights now, and driving around the city at night is absolutely beautiful, particularly in the old center where strings of lights hang between many buildings, covering the streets with canopies of light.  With the Christmas feelings more subdued around here, I really get the impression that the focus of the holiday is a little less "uncluttered" and it doesnt give the impression of excess like I have often felt in the States.  But who knows...it is just my outsider impression so far!

So onto the not-so-happy evaluation of this time period:  I can not believe it is already our last week here in Firenze.  The three months leading up to our arrival in September seemed to drag on, day after day, making weeks feel like years.  And now that we have been here almost 3 months now, I can not think of where the time went!  To be perfectly honest, I am rather upset that the time has seemed to fly by so quickly.  Why are there moments in our lives that we want to pass so quickly, and the days drag on just to spite us?  This is how I felt when I was pregnant with Ava.  Each day, each month, never seemed to end.  I just wanted to hold her in my arms (and allow my body to feel normal again!) and see my little girls face for the first time.  But noooo...the 9 months were an eternity for me.  And boom, three years later here we are in a foreign country.  I wanted nothing more than for these three months to go slowly.  I hoped the time would feel like those pregnant months where I could count the hours until the end of the day....yet be completely happy that time had slowed, instead of feeling anxious and frustrated that Father time decided to slow his clock for us. 

Well, I have to admit I am proud of being able to do practically nothing for three months, and yet feel so contented and happy with how we spent our time.  We allowed our days to be leisurely...we had many, many evenings with friends and food....and if we did not get to do something one day, we always had the next day or the day after to do it (weather permitting, of course!).  These last three months I have slept more, and more peacefully, than I have in the last 3 year.  I have read a total of 5 classic books here.  I have sat for multiple hours, on multiple days, playing with my little girl without feeling like I had something else I just HAD to do instead!  After 3 long years I was able to sit down and finally finish sewing Ava's needlepoint stocking so she can use it this Christmas!!!  Heck, I was even able to hold some small conversations with Italians since I have learned to understand so many more nuances of the Italian language simply by watching TV in English with Italian subtitles! 

Some could say we came here to waste time, have fun, and have a vacation.  That's true.  But we also did so much that enriched our lives, and made the bond between me and Ava grow in a different way.  Some days all we had was eachother as companions.  Other days we were surrounded by people who came to love us, and we learned how to love them.  We both had days that we cried because we couldn't speak Italian.  We both had days where we just wanted a good dose of American food, so we went to McDonalds!  We both loved to look at the beauty in this country and practically every day Ava would point out some lovely hillside or a funny dog, or a great gelateria!  We have kept our eyes open these three months as well as our hearts.  Firenze entered into both, and will stay with us forever through photos and friendships!  Now, we come back to the beginning...figuring how to pack 3 months worth of things back into our suitcases...but we'll get to that tomorrow...weather permitting, of course.

Going to School

From the eyes of Ava, interpreted by her mommy...

Some mornings my mom comes into my room, opens up the windows and sings our morning song.  She says it is time to wake up so I can go to school.  Some mornings I do not really wanna wake up.  But my mom pulls my legs out from my blankets, and starts putting on my socks.  My clothes are always chilly in the morning and I do not like it.  Most days I do not really like the clothes my mom puts on.  I want to wear my ballerina dresses and jelly shoes to school every day.  But mom always says it is too cold to wear my dresses.  Ugh.  Then my mom asks me what I want my hair to do today...lately I always want two braids.  Sometimes I like a high bun.  I do not like her to brush my long hair...it always hurts to get the knots out.  But mom says she will cut off all my long hair if I do not let her brush it.

Then we go into the kitchen and I ask to have chocolate for breakfast.  It never works.  Mom gives me cereal, but all I want to do is drink the milk.  Mom goes to get her clothes on, and I sit in the kitchen and play (even though I should be eating my cereal).  Sometimes the cats come into the kitchen and want food.  Sometimes they want to go outside.  It is hard to open the door to the garden, but I try to turn the key so the cats can go outside.  Gordi is the fat cat.  Trillo is the skinny cat.  Bella Trilly is the mommy cat.  Junior is the crying cat who lives outside.  I really like all of our cats.

Mom comes to tell me it is time for shoes and jackets.  She gets out my stroller and I make her get me a sippy cup of juice and my blankie for the ride to school.  She tells me to hold my sleeves to put on my sweater and fuzzy vest.  I hate when my sleeves get all bunched up in my sweater!  I ask for my scarf my Auntie Laura made me and I put on my bear gloves and my fingers always go in the wrong holes.  Ugh.  Then mommy buckles me in the stroller and we are ready to walk to school.

Most mornings there are lots and lots of cars on our street.  I yell at them when they get too close.  I like to say the Italian names of the colors for all the cars parked on the street.  Sometimes I forget the color green, so I have to ask my mom.  There are a lot of blu cars...and a lot of rosso cars...and I like to say their colors.  We go on the really bumpy sidewalk.  Sometimes there is lots of dog poo on the sidewalk, and one time my mom rolled over it with my stroller.  That was really stinky.  I like to put my hands out and touch the light poles when we go close to them.  Sometimes I try to pull the tall plants by the sidewalk that get in my face and I yell at them "Vai!" and "Basta!"

We go by the big bus stop.  Sometimes there is a bus sitting there, sometimes there is not.  But then I know the big dog is coming.  At the gas station by the bus stop, the big black dog is there with the lady.  Sometimes other grown ups are there talking with the lady, but I just like to see the big black dog.  I yell when I see the black dog, and he always looks at me!  Mommy pushes the stroller past the big dog, but always slows down.  One time he tried to sniff my hand.  We always say "Buongiorno!  Ciao cane!" and the lady says "Buongiorno" too.

After the big dog, I look for the two green bottles of water.  For some reason people leave two big plastic bottles of water outside their door of their house.  I always ask my mom why they do that.  She does not know, she says.  I think it is funny to keep water outside in those two green bottles.  Then we keep walking and I drink my juice from my sippy.  Mom only lets me use sippys when I am going to school.  Then we see the old lady standing in her door way.  I am not sure if she likes me.  She always stands by her door, looking for someone.  I do not know who she is waiting for.  But my mom says "Buongiorno" to her, and she looks at me and says something in Italian.  My mom says she told me I was beautiful.  But I do not know if I like her. 

We keep going on the bumpy sidewalk.  Sometimes there are old ladies who are still in their pajamas who are walking too slow on the sidewalk.  They have bags of trash in their hands.  Mom goes around them.  Then we go by the car shop.  Sometimes it is really loud, and mom says they are fixing cars there.  Lots of guys are standing on the sidewalk and move out of the way when they see me.  Mom pushes me faster.  Then we come to the really small road.  Sometimes the cars drive on the sidewalk, and I yell at them to move!  We go by the store with the computers and look for the brown dog.  I think sometimes he stands in the doorway, and sometimes he is sleeping in the store.  I say "Ciao cane!" to him too.  He always looks tired. 

There is a lady who walks by me every day.  She looks serious, and does not smile at me.  Then we see the old man with a green bag.  He has legs like the old man in the bank at the end of Mary Poppins.  He stops so we can go around him...and I think he smiles at me.  I do not like the old man in Mary Poppins, but I like this old man with the green bag.  When we are almost to my school, my mom crosses the street with lots of cars.  We get to my school and I take one more sip of juice.  My mom takes me out of the stroller, and rings the bell for the door.  I like to hop up the 8 steps and the old lady in the office always says "Ciao bellissima!"  She wears a funny black dress and a big black hat that goes over her shoulders. 

Then my mom takes me to my classroom.  We go to my cubby and take off my coat, gloves, scarf and sweater.  I go into my classroom and my teachers say "Good morning, Ava!"  I give my mom a big hug and a kiss on both her cheeks.  I ask if I can stay with the kids for lunch.  Most of the time my mom says yes.  I give her another big hug and say "Ciao mama, I will be a good girl to stay at school with my teachers!" and then my mom says she loves me and goes away.  I do not know how to speak Italian, but my mom says I am learning.  All the other kids speak Italian.  My teachers speak a little English.  But I like going to school.  I will ask my mom if I can go to school tomorrow.

Tacchino, per favore?

 So for those who have not seen all my bragging on my Facebook page, here I can gloat again about my fantastic attempt at making a Thanksgiving meal in Italy, with only 4 days to organize, prepare, and cook it all!  At first, I thought of inviting maybe 4 to 6 of our closest friends to the little get-together.  I nice sit-down dinner for 6 to 8 people seemed manageable, considering this would be a first attempt, and who knows what ingredients I would be able to find.  But of course, when in this country, nothing can be small, quiet, and simple.  So before I knew it, we had at least 9 people to invite, with 2 others on the waiting list!  First, I thought of the "table-scape", as Sandra Lee calls it, because at least if the food didn't taste good, we could all be sitting around a lovely table with some good wine and conversation!  I found a great little craft from the Family Fun magazine online and made Indian head dresses and Pilgrim hats as napkin rings to add a little bit of whimsy to the table.  Thankfully I had been saving old cereal boxes, knowing at some point I would use them for something!  Ava helped by coloring some cardboard for the feathers and giving me encouragement by saying "ooooh, ahhh...good job, mommy" while I made 10 total!  They also had some great little print outs for place settings, and some Thanksgiving themed leaves, pumpkins, etc that I placed on the table to make sure everyone knew it was Thanksgiving!

I found some good, simple recipes online, and made sure that the ingredients included would be easily accessible here in Italy.  Or that I could at least find something similar in the markets here.  Most of the morning on Tuesday and Wednesday I was in the supermarket, searching for just the right ingredients.  One good thing about making a Thanksgiving meal here in Italy, is that there isn't all the crazy-mad-pre-Thanksgiving rush that you get in the States.  By Wednesday we decided to go on the "turkey hunt" and if we found one, we'd try to cook a real, honest-to-goodness American turkey.  If we couldn't find one, we would buy a little turkey roll to serve as the "honorary turkey" and then make some roast beef, etc.  Well, after searching several machellerias in the area, we figured we would only find a turkey at the Mercato Centrale...the main, big, fresh food market of Firenze.  But passing by our neighborhood mercatino (a small open air market in a little square near the house), we stopped to ask a butcher if he could give us any leads on a place selling whole turkeys.  He promptly replied that he had one!  In fact, believe it or not, "some American woman ordered 2 turkeys, picked one up yesterday, and will pick up the other one on Thursday...you can have her extra one today, and we'll order another one for that lady for tomorrow!"  I couldn't believe our luck.  What made it even more unbelievable was that it was the perfect, 15lb (almost 8kg) turkey we needed to serve about 10 people!  Coming from a girl who doesn't handle raw poulty except to put a boneless, skinless chickenbreast in the pan, I surprised myself when I found I was admiring and loving that huge turkey with more pride and excitement than I have ever felt for a piece of food!  I literally was beaming as they chopped off the ends of the legs and part of the wings so the big bird could fit in our tiny oven!

With the turkey found, we went on to find sweet potatoes (patate americana, I think they are called here) at Mercato Centrale for a ridiculous price, and I even found some cranberry preserves (mirtilli rossi) at the Esselunga near the jelly section!  So, after much planning, organizing, and preparing, I set to work cooking my first big meal!  Wednesday night I made the stuffing (completely from scratch!), the artichoke dip appetizer, and chopped all the veggies I would be using the next day.  Thursday afternoon I picked up my pie and was so grateful that all the stores were open on Thanksgiving for those last minute purchases I needed to make.  I promptly prepared my beautiful turkey and had it in the oven at 4:30pm.  Ava eventually went down for a nap around that time because I knew we would be up late with our friends, since dinner was scheduled for 8:30pm.  In a mad rush we were able to borrow a lovely tablecloth from our neighbor, and I finished setting the table.  At 7pm I started the side dishes of fresh greenbeans with onions, sweet potato cubes with honey, reheated the stuffing, and kept an eye on my turkey!  Our friends began arriving at 8:00, the turkey was browned and ready to sit at 8:30 and we enjoyed snacks and drinks until pictures were taken of my pride and joy, as well as all our other guests at the table!

 

So, amazingly with the help of our neighbor's oven, all my careful planning with timing, and my close attention to the recipes I was following, the dinner was ready for us to eat!  I loved how American my table looked, with my familiar foods and silly historical refrences to the first Thanksgiving...yet it was still Italian, too.  There were at least 4 bottles of wine on the table.  There was a beautiful mixture of Italian and English being spoken around the table.  And a friend of mine asked as we were ready to dig in, "What do you eat first?" since in Italy there always seems to be a "first" and "second" to a meal...and I just replied "You just eat it all!" like a typical American.  I sat with anticipation to see if people were actually eating the food I prepared.  I tasted everything on my plate quickly to make sure all the dishes were somewhat edible.  The carved turkey arrived, and everyone was so excited to use the "Alaskan Smoked Salt" that my mother had sent to me.

Well, at this point I'm not sure if my friends were just being kind, but they all said it was good eating. Some even went as far to say I'm a natural cook, since this was my first dinner I ever really prepared all by myself!  I think several had tasted other versions of Thanksgiving meals in their past, but said my interpretation was rather good!  Regardless of all the work I did, the saving grace to the evening was the moist turkey, the pre-bought pumpkin pie that was perfection, and the wonderful company who have made me so thankful to be here in Italy!