Italian Bathrooms: The Good, The Bad, and The Squatty

There isn't alot to be said about the public bathrooms here in Italy. Some don't even have toilets, but rather a hole with two indications where you position your feet. Trust me when I say, this contraption takes squatting to a new, unpleasent level. There should be a warning sign above the hole: PEE AT YOUR OWN RISK!

And it's not only dive bars and petrol stations that fashion the squat-a-rific bathrooms. I've even seen discos and restaurants with the same technology (or lack thereof)!

All potty talk aside, Italy does have one fantastic bathroom invention, which I came across last week at a local Trevigiana hotspot, Amami. It's a pay-per-use hair dryer and straightener!

Finally, someone is thinking clearly. The invention costs up to 2 Euro per use and I assume you'd get just enough minutes of power to sexy up your doo (or dry your pant legs).

Mission: American Breakfast

Rumblings of an American Breakfast party have been happening for weeks at my apartment, so I finally put the plan into action and made it official. An invitation was sent to my roommates and friends, tempting them with foreign delights like Aunt Jemima and exotic delicacies like chocolate chip panckakes (made from Bisquick of course).

But here in Italy, the land of a million dietary rules, eating fried bacon, eggs, hashbrowns and pancakes at first rise is considered an absurdity. So to appease my roommates' apprehension, I decided to cook our American Breakfast for dinner.

When 7pm came around, Stephanie rolled up our sleeves and got back to our roots for a good ol' fashioned American shmorgasboard.

Our American Breakfast (dinner)

• 15 eggs, scrambled and mixed with American cheese




• A dozen sausages, grilled to perfection
  
• Strips of pancetta (as close as I could find to bacon) fried to a crisp




• Hashbrowns: an entire bag of potatoes, shreaded and mixed with onions, and olive oil
  
• French toast: slices of whole wheat bread dipped in a mixture of egg, cocoa (substitute for cinnamon) and milk, an grilled to a golden brown
  
• Bisquick Shake n' Pour pancake mix (with chocolate chips)

The Italian stovetop in my kitchen didn't know what hit it. All 4 burners were firing at once, butter was splattering, the sausages were spitting and we were dripping pancake mix everywhere! I felt like a kid again.

One hour later we threw on some American tunes and had ourselves a real feast. Stephanie and I received complimenti for our eggs, hashbrowns and sausages but I'm not sure our dinner guests really warmed up to the idea of pancakes with syrup and butter.

They didn't know how to eat them either. Instinctually they picked up the pancakes with their hands and ate them dry, like you would Italian bread. They also at the french toast like it was plain toast (like an egg sandwhich). Steph and I giggled and galdly lent some important American Breakfast tips as we drenched our plates with Aunt Jemima.

Our guests called our American breakfast a bomba (bomb) and I don't disagree. It heavenly heavy and gloriously greasy. I felt, though, that it was my duty to broaden my roommates' horizons. They needed to know that there's more to breakfast than Mulino Bianco biscotti, a brioche and a pint-sized cup of caffè.

Mission Accomplished.

Peek-A-Boo & Olive Cake

In the midst of Italy's current political turmoil and corruption accusations, you can always turn to children for a dose of pure and simple innocence.

Take for example, Fillipo. He's 5 years old, half Swedish and one of the most curious cuties in my class. I noticed him spying on me when I was preparing my lesson in the classroom so I quickly grabbed my camera. I imagine he gets away with everything at home...I mean, how can you scold a child when he gives you this smile? It gets me every time.



Then there's, Matia, one of my 5-year-olds. In today's English lesson he was hard at work crafting the perfect birthday cake. First he drew 5 candles, and then he decided on the flavors of his three-layered delicacy. He thought for a second and then said, "Mia torta è olive, miele e cioccolata." My cake is olives, honey and chocolate. Totally oblivious to the clashing tastes, he spent several minutes designing green and brown olives on top of the cake and proudly rushed over to show me once he had finished. It was a masterpiece fit for Gourmet.

Happy Weekend!

At the end of a difficult work week, everyone needs to release a little stress.

 
 Some serious hot chocolate preparation

 Big guy in a little hat...

Dani proudly sporting his new I Love NY t-shirt, direct from Times Square.

Me and mini-me (to the right hanging on the fridge). I couldn't wait until Carnevale to go incognito.
 

"Porca Miseria"

That's what I said to myself today, seconds after I fell off my new bike. It's one of my favorite Italian slang phrases that literally translates to dirty pig misery, but from what I gather it's a cross between "Oh crap" and "This sucks." I find it much more satisfying, though, to scream about dirty pigs.

So back to the fall...

Everything was going along smoothly, until my long and dangling shoe lace began to loop around the right pedal. One, two, three times it looped and then the tugging began. I tried to slow to a stop but seeing as my foot was now attached to the pedal, I couldn't use it to break my fall. Instead my right palm and butt cheek took on the job.  Porca Misera. Ouch.

The most embarrassing part was when I couldn't untangle myself from the wreckage because the darn pedal was out of my reach. So there I sat as the rush hour of Treviso passed me by. Oh it was just fantastic. As I was willing my go go Gadget arm to extend just a few extra inches, a nice Italian woman stopped to help.

She untangled me and then demanded that I tie both of my shoes. She held my bike as I wiped the mud off my jeans and then sent me on my way.

Karmic retribution for the man I ran over a few weeks ago? Perhaps.  

Sunday, Lazy Sunday

It's 5 o'clock and I'm still in my slippers. I love Sunday.

It's very mellow at the house today. Dani is watching Ice Age, which he just downloaded from eMULE. From what I can grasp it's a cross between Napster and iTunes but it's completely free (and presumably illegal?)

Santi went back to Spain for a week. Erica just got home from a run, Gianni took a stroll into town and I am taking a break from lesson planning so I can do some blogging.

My first week back to Italy was busy but exciting. I had new students, got a new bike and made some new girlfriends from Amsterdam who are also working in Treviso.  Slowly but surely, life here is becoming more social and less solitary!

In other good news, my Italian is rapidly improving!  I haven't had the time to attend many of my evening classes but I actually find it equally as effective to talk with my roommates and Italians I meet out.   My confidence is growing which seems to be half the battle when it comes to speaking a foreign language.  And after two glasses of wine, forget about it, all of my Italian words and phrases come spewing out...talk, talk, talk, talk.  All of my talking this week has done a numer on my throat.  Yesterday I couldn't speak at all.   Today, after a few cups of tea and lemon I'm starting to sound less like female escort and more like myself (nasal and high-pitched). 

Here's a photo I took on my first night back in Treviso.  The town was still glowing with holiday lights.  Che bella!  

Cellulite in the City: Travelers Guide to Workouts

The intense burning I feel in my quads from yesterday's walk around Venice inspired me to write this post for Lonely Planet's writing competition. Check it out and if you have the time (or are bored at work) rate me/leave a comment!

Cellulite in the City: Travelers Guide to Workouts

Happy Trails!

Love or Hate: Work on Saturday

We've all had those mornings - you wake up groggy and cranky, look at the clock and panic that you're already 20 minutes late. You rush around, try to find matching socks and then, in a moment of sheer bliss, you realize, "Wait a minute...it's Saturday!" Then you throw the covers over your head and drift into several more dreamy hours of sleep.

Actually it's a typical Saturday morning for me, well, minus the moment of sheer bliss and dreamy hours of sleep. Instead, after the matching socks part, I'm usually glugging down a double espresso whilst throwing on some half-assed makeup and racing out the door to catch the 7:30 bus. I hate to even put these words into print, but, I WORK ON SATURDAY. It defies any logic my body knows and makes me grouchy to be writing about it.

Ok, enough whining. I may be singing the Saturday Morning Blues but in reality there is a plus side to the Italian school schedule. The reason there is school on Saturday is because during the week there isn't school in the afternoon. That means I'm one of the lucky few who actually gets to choose how I spend my afternoon! Sightseeing in Venice, blogging, private English lessons, cycling, shopping (at the 1 Euro Store) or chit chatting with the local merchants to buff up on my Italian.

This afternoon the weather was perfect so, of course, I went straight to Venice and toted my new camera, a generous birthday gift from my family. To avoid another tragic incident like this summer's, I proudly dangled my new hardware around my neck for that extra touristy (and geeky) look. I forgot what a joy it is to have a functional camera. Yippy!! Here are the first snaps with my new toy. Enjoy...

What a year...

In just a few hours I will be getting on a plane back to Venice and I must say, I'm curious as ever to see what Italy '08 has to offer. It's hard to put into words how monumental 2007 was. It was a year that brought out the best and worst in me, as big change usually does.

I got to know myself real well this year...my limits, my insecurities, my strengths, and my taste for fine wine and cheese. In '07 I said goodbye to my family, friends, a highly regarded job, a big city address, and the familiarity of life as I knew it. Some were temporary goodbyes, some were permanent. But when I stripped down I discovered something important. Myself.

Hey, I'm only 26, which gives me a few more years to figure this whole "myself" business out. But here's what I've got so far.

In 2007 I learned how to...


Make changes, instead of just talking about them
God, it feels good.

Hold on to love, and how to let it go
Although I'll still be working on the latter in '08 so if you have any advice I'm all ears.

Eat pasta without gaining weight
Yes, you heard it here. In Italy it's all about portion control, walking after you eat it, and fresh ingredients, a.k.a. not Alfredo Sauce from a jar.

Use Skype
It's my favorite invention, and my connection to all of my friends and family back home. I love Skype. It's genius. Three cheers for technology!!!


Speak Italian
I can finally say that I speak Italian. Maybe not like a pro, but I understand, speak and even think the language. Six years of Italian classes in school don't come close to the type of education I got in only a few months in Italy.


Cook risotto the proper way
And you'll be happy to know it's not as time-consuming or tedious as we all think. A few tips from my Italian friends:
1. Toast the rice for a few seconds before adding any liquid
2. Make sure you heat up your broth in a separate pot before adding to risotto
3. If you add cheese it should be at the very last minute, otherwise your risotto becomes a sticky mess

Trust my gut
Well, this is still a work in progress but I've made strides. Every so often, though, my gut is dancing in front of me in a neon green thong and a gorilla mask holding a sign saying, "Trust Me" and I'm still oblivious. Oh well, maybe when I'm 27.

New Year's in New York

New York City was bubbling with anticipation when I arrived at Penn Station only 45 minutes before the clock struck midnight. Young girls paraded around in mini skirts and patent leather pumps braving the brutal wind of midtown, while the boys donned tuxes and wool coats with popped collars. The hot dog stands were working overtime and a new slew of vendors had set up shop next to the hot dogs, selling 2008 eye glasses and top hats.

For the first time in recent memory I wasn't on my way to an over-priced club where, for a mere $200, you can wait 2 hours for 1 glass of free champagne, eat stale hors d'oeuvres, and elbow your way through a sea of drunkards to get to the bathroom, only to wait another hour on line.

Instead, I joined one of my best friends Kelli for a private gathering on Park Ave that turned out to be the PERFECT New Year's Eve event.

The party had all the necessary ingredients and everything just seemed to come together: a beautiful venue with flattering lighting and festive balloons, a DJ who spun 5 hours of hip hop, house and 80's, an easily accessible bar with FREE drinks all night, and just the right amount of guests who were all up for a good time.

Especially the door hostess, who was hired at the last minute from Craigslist. Her party started long before midnight and in a nod of real professionalism she showed up wasted. This class act continued her sloppy rampage for hours, swing dancing with unfortunate bystanders and spewing slurred conversation at anyone she could corner, including me.

At about 2am I noticed her slumped over the podium at the front of the restaurant with the straps of her dress falling off and an empty glass of champagne in her hand.

More drama developed towards the end of the evening when a girl's purse was stolen while she was passed out on the couch. When she arose from her stupor she realized the grim reality and maniacally threw all of the beautiful white pillows on the floor in search of the purse. The proprietor of the restaurant tried stopping her but the girl screamed obscenities and began clawing at his face. She never found her purse.

But amidst all of the drama was a non-stop dance party and numerous toasts to 2008. It was a party to remember but a hangover I'd like to soon forget! Happy New Year!