Pa-Pa-Pa-Pa Parmigiano

I'm doing everything I can to absorb this language. I listen to songs on the radio, read the local METRO newspaper on the bus (in which I found a hilarious Dear Abby-type letter about "What to do if you are dating a mamma's boy") and have the TV on while I'm getting ready for work in the morning.

While I may not yet be exercizing the subtleties of this beautiful language, I can recite Italian commercial jingles like it's my job! I get the biggest kick out of this one, to the tune of the Beach Boy's Babara Ann.



Pa-Pa-Pa Parmigiano
Re-Re-Re-Re-Re-Reggiano


Yes, that's right. It's a commercial dedicated to everyone's favorite cheese, Parmigiano Reggiano. Not only is the jingle annoyingly catchy, but the commercial is a spin-off of the dancing Fruit of the Loom guys...think middle aged men wearing tights and assorted fruit costumes. Of course, the featured star of the commercial is a man dressed as a block of Parmesean cheese.


Only in Italy!


I think this is a YouTube video of the spot...I can't watch it on this computer but I hope you can!

An Italian Dinner Party

I have never experienced a dinner quite like Saturday's. It was an intimate gathering of 55 close friends at an agriturismo (a working farm that doubles as a hotel and restaurant) just outside the center of Roncade. I was graciously invited to the bi-annual festa by my friend Patrick who was also a tutor this summer. His host parents, Riccardo and Maria were the masterminds of what was one of the most hilarious and festive evenings I've ever had in Italy, and certainly one of the most memorable.









It began like any other Italian dinner - baskets of freshly baked bread placed on long rustic tables, and jugs of red wine poured into decievingly small glasses. Then came the antipasti - plates of polenta smothered in cheese, sopressa and warm marinated mushrooms. But it was not the food that took center stage this night. Before I could even finish my second bite of polenta, Riccardo had switched on the microphone and began the show. It began with jokes and greetings, all in Italian and all sending the audience into roaring laughter.

Then came the guitar and singing, followed by a request for all guest to swing our napkins round and round in the air, followed by an impromptu strip tease (down to boxer briefs) by the two males hosts of the affair. By this point I was in tears.


After a frenzied sing-a-long of YNCA (as the Italians say), and Macho Man, I thought I had seen it all...but then came Riccardo and Carlos freestyle rap. I will not do this video any justice by describing it with words. You just need to watch.

Now the party is out of control...a perfect time for a conga line. Mind you, there are other diners in the restaurant (or "victims" as Maria called them) who were not part of our party but had no other choice but to jump on the line. Riccardo was the leader of my particular conga line and guided us into and out of the restaurant's kitchen several times until about the 4th time when the owner of the restaurant stood there shaking his head, "NO".

More sing-a-longs and then it was time for the gift presentation. One by one, each woman at the party including the waitress, was handed a bag with sexy lace panties. Some of the more overserved gals even tried their new lingerie on over their clothes!


By 1am the espressos had been served, and everyone happily stumbled out of the restaurant thanking their hosts and anxiously awaiting the spring when they will do it all over again.

Ringraziamento!

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone back home!

It's a rainy one here in Treviso but that shouldn't put a damper on the festivities. The plan is to finish school at about 4:30, do some private lessons near my house and then race home to prepare my grandmother's peas & onions (my contribution to the Thanksgiving feast).

I already have the recipie ready to prepare, sent to me via text message (thanks Mom)! It's the perfect side dish for a juicy oven roasted turkey...or a few grilled turkey patties...or some sliced turkey meat from the deli...really it will be whatever we can find in Treviso. As I've learned, turkeys are not top sellers at Italian butcher shops.

I will then bus it over to Stephanie's house. She's the other American who has set up shop in Treviso! We met over the weekend and she was gracious enough to invite me to tonight's dinner. The guests will be a mix of Americans, Brits, and Italians which always makes for lively conversation.

Of course nothing can compare to my family's Thanksgiving table, but maybe they will save me some turkey. Do you think it'll keep until Christmas?? ;)

Monday Madness

There's nothing like oversleeping on you first day of a new job in a foreign country.

My cell phone alarm just didn't ring this morning, or maybe it did and I pulled one of my infamous semi-comatose moves where I turn the alarm off without realizing it, which is probably more the case. I can't really be blamed though. I tossed and turned for almost 3 hours last night as a two-year-old ran around the apartment above me and screamed "Mamma" like a broken record. And I had Thanksgiving lesson plans dancing around my head. I couldn't stop humming the tune of:

The turkey ran away, before Thanksgiving day...said she, "You'll make a roast of me if I should stay..."

So I woke up an hour late, which meant I had to skip my caffè and race down Via Vittorio Veneto on my bicycle (which lacks breaks). I got to the historical center at 7:15 and rattled through the just awakening cobblestone village, barely remembering the way to the stazione. Thankfully I made no wrong turns and locked my bici on a rack across from the bus stop.

I thought I was in the clear...I purchased my bus ticket at the Tabachi yesterday and knew I needed the #6 line at 7:45 to Quinto. But of course, the 6 line was the only one not listed on the bus stop signs. I found every other line, from 1-11, but not the 6. I asked a few students but received no clear answer. They seemed much more interested in smoking their cigarettes and gossiping about the boys on the corner.

Then I saw it, the #6 bus. I made a mad dash and was the last person on, but I made it. I franked my ticket and stuck my hands in my pockets only to realize that one leather glove was missing. It must have fallen out as I darted across the street.

The bottom line --no matter where you go in the world, Monday mornings will always have you asking, "Is it Friday yet?"

Details of Day 1

I'm in Italy! I flew in yesterday evening just when the sun was setting behind Venezia. I caught an ariel view of San Marco as we descended. It was surreal.

Now I am in my home away from home, the internet cafe. I found one near Piazza dei Signori which is in the historical center of Treviso. I'll pick up a map of Treviso while I'm here so I don't have to look like the lost dog from Annie anymore.

My apartment is good for now. I have a 44-year-old roommate named Lisa and a 23-year-old girl named Francesa. We shared two pizzas last night and chatted about our travels, the weather and the food. They both made sure I had every convenience and left cute notes for me this morning.

I'm now off to explore and get something to eat. I'm starving!

24 Hours to Italia

This time tomorrow I'll be in the airport, reading Eat, Pray, Love as I wait anxiously for the boarding call.

Wow, I'm really leaving. (Gulp)

Packing has proven to be nearly as torturous as I predicted. My clothes are like those Magic Grow bath toys I used to play with. The kind that blow up 10 times their size when put in water! Somehow all of my stuff seemed smaller before it got in the suitcase, so now it has become abundantly clear that I will need two suitcases, not one. Double the luggage, double the chance of it getting lost. Uff...

In that case I plan to head straight to Padua (only 1 hour away from Treviso) and pray to St. Anthony, the Patron Saint of lost things:

St. Anthony, St. Anthony
Please come down
Something is lost
And can't be found

Wish me luck!

A Real Treasure Hunt

A visit to my 99-year-old Aunt Ann's attic is like stepping into a time machine and soaring back to my Italian ancestors' days. It's exactly how you would picture an attic to be; creaky floor boards, dusty particles flittering in the window's light, and hundreds of treasures.

As a small child, the attic excited my imagination. I went on fantastical exploration and searched tirelessly through trunks and boxes for gold. Much to my 6-year-old dismay, I never found the gold. Instead I remember finding stacks of newspaper articles about men named Hitler and Kennedy.

"Hmm, these guys be important," I thought.

I remember finding sepia portraits of strangers and letters in a foreign language.

I frustratingly wondered, "What's the point of writing a letter if others can't read it?"


Twenty years later, the significance of these relics is vastly different. I realize now that the treasures were always right under my nose.

When I dusted off The Tragic End of John F. Kennedy cover article on Sunday, I was struck by its historical relevance. When I unfolded the same letter I had once found incomprehensible, I translated the beautifully written Italian calligraphy into English and recounted a hundred-year-old tale of my Sicilian cousin. When I looked into the occhi scuri of my ancestors' faded portraits I saw a familiar reflection my own dark eyes.

Here is one of my favorite finds. It's a photograph of my great-grandfather's, Union Square barber shop dating back to the early 1900's. I can imagine the Italian barbers reminiscing with patrons about life back in Italy, swapping stories about friends and family who had not yet made it through Ellis Island. I can hear them sharing tips on where to find the best salumi and caffè in town or how to pick up an American girl...

I'll save my insights on the latter for a future post.

22''w x 27''h

These are the dimensions of my Swiss Army suitcase. It's been jeeringly watching as I try to squeeze 6 months of my life into a small rectangle. It seems to be taunting me in a low whisper, "You're never gonna fit it all, never gonna fit it all..."

Well that certainly may be the case, but is it my fault that stacked-heel knee-high boots are so alla moda this year? And all those thick knit tights really don't shrink much! Throw in a few chunky sweaters and my essential Bullwinkle hat and it's full.

So how exactly does one downsize their life? Well, "function over fashion" seems to be key, although I don't know if that rule holds water when you're moving to one of the most fashionable countries in the world? In any case, here are the paramaters I've set for myself:

1. Coordinate outfits that are versatile for day and night and select colors that all blend.

2. Keep accessories to a minimum.

3. Toiletries and cosmetics can be purchased abroad so only shop for things that cannot be found in Italy and seal EVERYTHING in plastic. There's nothing worse than opening a bag after 10 hours to find your wool blazer covered in toothpaste.

4. Don't forget to pack teaching tools! Board games, magazines, newspaper clippings, post cards, dice, puzzles - they all come in handy when planning English lessons. The kids went crazy this summer for Scattegories and loved reading the mags I brought.

5. Pack a collapsible duffle bag for the return journey so I can bring back extra virgin olive oil in abundance.

Wish me luck!

Where in the World Is...

I just caught myself singing the jingle of that old PBS series, Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?, a rendition made famous by none other than Rockapella. I can't imagine why they never went mainstream. Their multi-colored suspenders and supreme scatting talent were unmatched! The bass was my favorite. He'd pop through the window and bellow, [Where in the world is] "Carmen Sandiego"!

OK, I digress, but perhaps my childhood fascination of globetrotting Carmen was the beginning of my travel bug? In any case I thought I'd post my own version of "Where in the World." Where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going!




June 2007:
-Left my marketing career at Vh1 in New York City on a one-way ticket to Sanremo, Italy. I spent one week with other 20-30 somethings participating in an intensive T.E.F.L. introductory language course.
-Shipped off to Sorrento to start teaching at my first A.C.L.E. English immersion camp. Weekends excursions to Capri and Positano helped my love affair with Italy take shape.










July:
- Boarded Air One flight to Torino for a one-week camp in the mountain village of Cuneo. Lived with a musical family in a house surrounded by corn fields.
- Spent weekend in Torino where I attended the most beautiful outdoor (free) concerts by Italian composer, Franco Battiato.
- Headed east to Milan and began another week-long camp in the sweltering city heat. Lived in a flat with others where I learned how to cook risotto and how to ride the bus for free.
- Went south to Moncucco, a minuscule village one hour outside Milan. Lived in a school classroom with another tutor.
- Went back Sanremo at the flat of A.C.L.E.'s "host with the most", Vince.


August:
- Spent the weekend in magical city in the south of France, Menton. Riding along the Ligurian coastline took my breath away.
- Backpacked through Cambodia & Thailand for three weeks. Non ci sono parole! Fantastico!!
- Returned to Italy for my final camp in Ciriè (Piemonte). A city small in stature, but huge in heart.





September:
- Mission "Surprise Sister" began with a covert flight back to New York, followed by the wrapping of a large box, which I jumped out of at her birthday party. (watch the video!)
- Nursed my grandfather back to health for a month after a full knee replacement. Spent my days at a care center, nights perfecting my Italian cooking style with nonna. Frittate seem to be my specialty but I've got a long way to go!



October:
- Accepted a six month teaching position in the north of Italy in a small city called Treviso. I will teach English through drama and conversation by day, and take Italian courses by night!

November:
- I leave for Venice (20 minutes from Treviso) in ONE WEEK!

Everything's Better In Bici

Bloggers meet Bici. Bici, bloggers. Can you believe this beaut was collecting dust in my garage for 40 years? The first day I returned from Italy I treated it to some new tires and a lovely oversized wicker basket and have since taken it to the streets of my hometown, Northport.

Each time my foot hits the pedal I'm reminded of my last day in Piemonte. My host mother had let me borrow her bicycle so I could say some farewells in the historical center of Ciriè. Her bike, circa 1960, was perfectly rusted, with failing breaks and a squishy banana seat. I adored this bike for its quirky charm. It screamed, "Ride me along a cobblestoned street in a little Italian village!!" And so I did.

I had the route memorized by now - left at the roundabout, right at the ospedale, past the little stream and you're there! The sun's low light cast gorgeous shadows along the rose-colored stucco and beneath Cirie's many porticos. "It's a perfect evening," I noted.

I slalomed leisurely through the cobblestoned streets of this little Italian village, enjoying the feeling of my bohemian skirt fluttering in the breeze. I was early to meet my friend so I pedaled over to the main park - it was magnificent. Two rows of grand birch trees leaned into each other creating a blanket of soft leaves above, and twinkling specks of light on the ground. A group of old men played cards on one bench, two teenagers were eating gelato on another, and I parked my bici next to a third bench where I sat and sighed aloud. It all felt surreal, like the director was going to yell, "CUT" at any moment. My bici and I waited for the lights and cameras to appear, but they never did. There wasn't anything to do but savor the moment.



iPOD Bici Playlist:

1. "Take me to Aruanda" - Astrud Gilberto
2. "Penny Lane" - The Beatles
3. "Diana" - Paul Anka (try to find Italian version ;)
4. "Andrea" - Fabrizio De Andrè
5. "Crash" - Dave Matthews Band
6. "Sweetest Thing" - U2
7. "Sous Le Soleil (Cuba Acoustic Mix)" - Major Boys Feat. Amelia
8. "Cinema Paradiso: Nostalgia" - Yo-Yo Ma Play Ennio Morricone

Dear Nicola,

Dear Nicola,

The year was 1994. I was in Mr. Gentile's 8th grade Italian class. Sure we probably practiced grammatical structures and irregular verbs, but the two things I remember most from that year were Cinema Paradiso and my Italian pen pal.

Last night while packing my luggage for Italy I discovered this letter from you in an old chest. I sat quietly and read it, as fascinated by the words now as I was when I first received the barbershop-striped envelope thirteen years ago. In 8th grade, Tuscany seemed a place of dreams, a far off paradise that only the privileged could visit. Thirteen years ago, names like Fabrizio and Nicola were beautiful but very foreign. Thirteen years ago, I could never have imagined that I would now be living in such a radiant country as yours.

I will be setting up a pen pal program with my students in Treviso so that they can practice their English. It will be the old fashioned way - a pen, a piece of paper and a pal.

I hope you are going in the direction of your dreams!


Warmest Regards,

Courtney

P.S. - I am sure that I replied to your letter with glee, but in case it got lost in the mail, I thought I should tell you...Yes, I do have a pet, a dog, she is also brown and her name is Dixie!

L'ora Del Caffè: Coffee Break!

The frothy charm of this Italian cappuccino put a major smile on my face, and a sudsy moustache on my upper lip! It was the inspiration for my blog's new color scheme too!

But tourists beware - drinking cappuccino for any meal other than breakfast will make Italians cringe in disgust and shake their head in wonderment. Instead, I favor caffè espresso. In fact, I am happy to report that Starbucks has no longer been robbing me of $5 a day with their tempting iced delights and "grande Chai tea, no water, no foam" lattes.

My new weapon of choice is this little guy, a gift and fond memory of Marina, my Italian host mother in Ciriè. Coupled with some powerful Calabrian coffee, also a gift from my extended host family, this little caffettiera brews an aromatic jolt of goodness in less than 7 minutes. Just listen for the bubbles and you'll have a perfect tazzina every time.

Shopping for Caffettiere: and Caffè:

Williams-Sonoma
Price: 34.95

Bialetti

Guglielmo Coffee
$4.50 - Espresso Classico 250g Ground