I'm just a bit j-j-jaded.
After years of catching flack for how "America starts wars for business interests," I read an
article today the European Edition of the Wall Street Journal on Italy's business dealings with Iran:
...
"Despite international sanctions against Iran, Italian exports to the Islamic Republic rose almost 17% in 2008 to €2.17 billion, according to the Italian statistical office. During that same year, overall trade also rose almost 17% to €7 billion, representing more than a quarter of the European Union's total trade with Iran. For the past three years, Italy has been Iran's No. 1 European trading partner. "
...
"The Italian-Iranian political-industrial complex was on full display at a 2008 Tehran military parade, where slogans such as "Israel Must be Wiped off the Map" were written on Shihab-3 missiles that can reach the Jewish state. Unlike other European Union countries who avoid sending emissaries to such hate-filled rallies, Vittorio Maria Boccia, Italy's military attaché in Tehran, was seated right among the assorted ayatollahs and generals."
Two days ago an Italian soldier returning from Afghanistan told a friend of mine that the Italian soldiers don't die there because they pay off the right people as soon as they come into a village. Of course he was a bit remorseful that they then use that money to buy weapons to kill the Americans, but at least HE'S still alive.
Back in the States, the New York Times discusses the battles Harry Reid has had in meeting Obama's agenda even while Nevada opposed the health care bill he was courting. Oh, and throw in the millions of dollars of Medicaid Americans will pay to Nebraska in order to get their senator's vote.
I don't care what you think of the health care bill. Can someone PLEASE tell me how we've come so far that the role of the senators is no longer advocating the desires of the people but executing the president's agenda? Let's just can all of Congress and start over with people who do what we actually want.
I'm so sick of the current state of things. People need to stop being evil.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Real Quicklike...
So I have grandiose plans to recommence the blogging. So far they're just that, BUT...
I finally have internet at my house again. We changed our service and it took them almost a month and a half to finally get the line working properly. Ahhh Italy. At least you can't say it isn't beautiful.
So some of you may know that I helped with the opening of a new office in Trastevere back in December. It's our Customer Service/New Product Development office which I co-manage with a couple other great guys. But this has nothing to do with the story, other than setting the location.
It's in Via dei Riari, just down the street from the Regina Coeli dal Gianicolo Prison. You're probably not thinking sprawling lawns and wildflowers, but it's just that. It's right next to the botanical gardens, and it's fantastic. The prison sets at the foot of a large hill (the Gianicolo) which is one of the seven great hills of Rome and furnishes one of the most beautiful views of the city below.
But the thing particularly interesting about this setup is not what you see, but what you hear. At various periods throughout the day, it's very common to hear the cry of a heartsick mother or girlfriend searching for the voice of the one she loves. The men's bathrooms of the prison face towards the hill, and when all is quiet outside, voices carry for miles. In this manner, the unwillingly separated can communicate across the distance.
It's the same today as it was 50 years ago. In fact, some of the early black & white Italian films feature the same conversations you can hear taking place across the valley at this very moment.
I finally have internet at my house again. We changed our service and it took them almost a month and a half to finally get the line working properly. Ahhh Italy. At least you can't say it isn't beautiful.
So some of you may know that I helped with the opening of a new office in Trastevere back in December. It's our Customer Service/New Product Development office which I co-manage with a couple other great guys. But this has nothing to do with the story, other than setting the location.
It's in Via dei Riari, just down the street from the Regina Coeli dal Gianicolo Prison. You're probably not thinking sprawling lawns and wildflowers, but it's just that. It's right next to the botanical gardens, and it's fantastic. The prison sets at the foot of a large hill (the Gianicolo) which is one of the seven great hills of Rome and furnishes one of the most beautiful views of the city below.
But the thing particularly interesting about this setup is not what you see, but what you hear. At various periods throughout the day, it's very common to hear the cry of a heartsick mother or girlfriend searching for the voice of the one she loves. The men's bathrooms of the prison face towards the hill, and when all is quiet outside, voices carry for miles. In this manner, the unwillingly separated can communicate across the distance.
It's the same today as it was 50 years ago. In fact, some of the early black & white Italian films feature the same conversations you can hear taking place across the valley at this very moment.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Making Some Changes
I've been making some changes on my blog (and my life) which is why everyone got blocked. It's long and complicated, but it should be sorted out now. It wasn't personal!
I should have some new posts and photos soon. Love you guys!
I should have some new posts and photos soon. Love you guys!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Yeah, yeah, I know.
I'm really lame at this whole blog thing. It was so much easier when I was unemployed and had no friends. Maybe I should work on getting back to that point...
Anyway, I found one of the first blogs I wrote way back when in a file on my computer and it made me laugh. I think I only posted part of it, because the rest I sent to all my CELTA (teaching English as a foreign language) classmates. So I think, in the interest of being lazy, I'm just going to post the complete version. Think of it as a re-run of Seinfeld that never gets old, but without the commercials, celebrities, humor, and... well just think of it as something completely different than a Seinfeld re-run that probably gets old pretty quick.
I'll edit it a bit since I actually know a bit of Italian now. Here goes!
Ciao, everyone! Sorry it’s taken me so long to respond. I’ve been pretty busy finding the right corner for my cardboard box. All this time I’ve been wondering around the city, and there’s a perfect place right near Termini on Via Merulana! It’s pretty nice. I got one of those extra, large boxes for refrigerators. Sometimes the other guys let me use their blankets for a night in trade for some hang-out time in my box. It’s great!
I make decent money pilfering from the tourists around Termini, so I’m hoping to move into a van down by the river soon. I don’t have an Italian girlfriend yet, but the girl that sleeps at the next sewer grate down from me is pretty hot. When she smiles, she has most of her teeth, so I dig that.
Other than that, not much going on. Drink, sleep… drink, drink, sleep. I’m trying to find some more time for drinking, but how do you fit it all into your schedule? Life throws us difficult choices sometimes. I’ve just had to buck it up and get less sleep, but I’ve found the extra drinking just makes me tired. Sigh…
So yeah, I’ve been teaching business English 1-to-1 to business managers and executives for Linguarama (which I like to call the “language circus,” which is what Linguarama sounds like to me). It’s actually a pretty fly job. One of my students is a high-powered banker that races sailboats in his spare time, and another is an HR manager. She works with most of the head-hunters in Italia, so she says she’s going to help me get my resume (or CV for you crazy Brits) out to applicable employers. Whoohoo!
I’m taking Italian lessons and harassing the people in the street with what I’ve learned so far. That keeps me fairly well entertained. I’ve met a lot of amazingly beautiful girls, but they’re all evil (not really… on both accounts). Actually, I’ve met a lot of really great people and I’m enjoying myself right now.
Anyway, it was good hearing from you… uh… two. I hope the rest of you get off your bums and write soon! Me, I’m just going to join the bums back in my cardboard box.
Much love,
Michael
PS
If you’re curious, here’s a little taste of how I spend my free time. (I apologize in advance Linda. I plead ignorance and swear am just amusing myself. I’m sure your husband does very important and fantastic things!)
So far I have identified five government entities (six if you count hospitals/ambulances) that drive what I would classify as emergency vehicles: those with flashing lights that make your heart jump when they pull in behind you while you’re driving. These are the Polizia, Polizia Municipale, Carabinieri, Guardi di Finanza, and the Vigili di Fuoco. There are also the Emergenzia Sanitaria (for after Two-for-One Tuesday’s Margarita Night at La Huerta?) and the Emergenza Infanzia (when you need an extra child to get the group discount?), but I’ve never seen either of these so they don’t count. I think it’s fairly obvious what the “Vigilant of the Fire” (Vigili del Fuoco) do (although I hope they do more than just watch the fire), so they don’t count either.
Nevertheless, you see the others out in force, doing… well I don’t really know. That’s the point of this rambling. I spend most of my time waiting at bus stops trying to figure out what these people do, and here’s what I’ve discovered so far:
Mystery #1: The Carabinieri: Psuedo-Solved
I had heard that these are the guys you call when something has gone awry and you need a detective – say your purse (or European man-bag) has been swiped, or some drunk bozo drove his motorino into your cardboard box, destroying some of your fake Gucci bags (okay, maybe you wouldn’t call them then, but you get the point).
The phonebook lists them as “pronto intervento,” or “quick intervention,” leading us to believe that these are the people you would turn to when yelling,
“HELP! That guy stole my man-bag!”
“Your purse?”
…pause…
“YES!!! He stole my purse!!!”
This, however, doesn’t really seem quite accurate. A while back, my friend Margaretta was walking to her apartment in Piazza del Popolo when two men drove up, yanked her purse through the car window, and sped off. She happened to be standing in front of two carabinieri when this happened, so she ran to them and frantically, in Italian, asked them to chase the two men who had stolen her purse. Instead of chasing the purse-snatchers, the carabinieri offered to take her to a café and buy her an espresso so she could relax and calm down.
Role of the Carabinieri: offer free emotional support and coffee when something bad has happened.
(Editor's note: after two years of watching these guys in action, I'm still pretty sure my first impression was accurate.)
Mystery #2: The Polizia Municipale: Psuedo-Solved
I don’t know about you, but I guessed that the municipal police would have something to do with local traffic laws. I always see them standing around street corners with ticket books, so at first I thought they gave tickets for jaywalking. I’ve since determined that there IS no such thing as jaywalking in Italy. People just walk out into the street at random. After seeing this in action, I began crossing the street at a diagonal in front of the polizia municipale every day. They never batted an eye, so I’m pretty sure that’s not what they do.
Fortunately, the other day I had to get up really early for work, and I got to see them in action. Two women were standing together at a street-corner in their municipale garb, and when the stoplight turned green, they both waved for the cars to go! Brilliant! Why in the world would you rely on a stoplight to tell you when to go when you can have the police watch the lights for you and tell you when they’re green!
Role of the Polizia Municipale: wave at drivers when the traffic lights turn green.
(Editor's note: after two years of watching these guys, I have to admit they DO do a bit more. For instance, they're the jerks that give you parking tickets for parking your car on the sidewalk. Where else are you supposed to park in this dang city?!? One point of curiosity, however. I've learned that it takes at least two people to write a parking ticket, and three are preferable.)
The Ongoing Search
Well, that’s all I’ve got so far. I plan to spend another six hours or so waiting for buses this week, so I’ll let you know if there are any other discoveries.
In case you’re curious, my hypotheses are as follows:
Polizia – These guys have always thought uniforms were pretty, and they really like having flashing lights on top of their car. Their specialty is giving directions to tourists, and sometimes shuffling around a predetermined meeting point.
(Editor's note: my opinion has not changed on this.)
Guardi di Finanza – I think this means “watchers of finance” or “you watch the finance,” which is my preferred translation. I have a feeling that their morning meetings go something like this:
Paolo: “You watch the finances today.”
Giovanni: “No YOU watch the finances. I watched them yesterday!”
Paolo: “Let’s go get coffee.”
Giovanni: “Let’s!”
(Editor's note: my opinion has not changed on this. I've never seen these guys do anything other than drive and eat. Maybe that's a good thing though considering my status!)
I’m sure these people have real jobs, but it’s amusing for me to think otherwise…
That's all folks. I've been putting off writing about Siena and the Palio for two months now, but I plan on getting to it in... the next two months.
Much love.
-Michael
Anyway, I found one of the first blogs I wrote way back when in a file on my computer and it made me laugh. I think I only posted part of it, because the rest I sent to all my CELTA (teaching English as a foreign language) classmates. So I think, in the interest of being lazy, I'm just going to post the complete version. Think of it as a re-run of Seinfeld that never gets old, but without the commercials, celebrities, humor, and... well just think of it as something completely different than a Seinfeld re-run that probably gets old pretty quick.
I'll edit it a bit since I actually know a bit of Italian now. Here goes!
Ciao, everyone! Sorry it’s taken me so long to respond. I’ve been pretty busy finding the right corner for my cardboard box. All this time I’ve been wondering around the city, and there’s a perfect place right near Termini on Via Merulana! It’s pretty nice. I got one of those extra, large boxes for refrigerators. Sometimes the other guys let me use their blankets for a night in trade for some hang-out time in my box. It’s great!
I make decent money pilfering from the tourists around Termini, so I’m hoping to move into a van down by the river soon. I don’t have an Italian girlfriend yet, but the girl that sleeps at the next sewer grate down from me is pretty hot. When she smiles, she has most of her teeth, so I dig that.
Other than that, not much going on. Drink, sleep… drink, drink, sleep. I’m trying to find some more time for drinking, but how do you fit it all into your schedule? Life throws us difficult choices sometimes. I’ve just had to buck it up and get less sleep, but I’ve found the extra drinking just makes me tired. Sigh…
So yeah, I’ve been teaching business English 1-to-1 to business managers and executives for Linguarama (which I like to call the “language circus,” which is what Linguarama sounds like to me). It’s actually a pretty fly job. One of my students is a high-powered banker that races sailboats in his spare time, and another is an HR manager. She works with most of the head-hunters in Italia, so she says she’s going to help me get my resume (or CV for you crazy Brits) out to applicable employers. Whoohoo!
I’m taking Italian lessons and harassing the people in the street with what I’ve learned so far. That keeps me fairly well entertained. I’ve met a lot of amazingly beautiful girls, but they’re all evil (not really… on both accounts). Actually, I’ve met a lot of really great people and I’m enjoying myself right now.
Anyway, it was good hearing from you… uh… two. I hope the rest of you get off your bums and write soon! Me, I’m just going to join the bums back in my cardboard box.
Much love,
Michael
PS
If you’re curious, here’s a little taste of how I spend my free time. (I apologize in advance Linda. I plead ignorance and swear am just amusing myself. I’m sure your husband does very important and fantastic things!)
So far I have identified five government entities (six if you count hospitals/ambulances) that drive what I would classify as emergency vehicles: those with flashing lights that make your heart jump when they pull in behind you while you’re driving. These are the Polizia, Polizia Municipale, Carabinieri, Guardi di Finanza, and the Vigili di Fuoco. There are also the Emergenzia Sanitaria (for after Two-for-One Tuesday’s Margarita Night at La Huerta?) and the Emergenza Infanzia (when you need an extra child to get the group discount?), but I’ve never seen either of these so they don’t count. I think it’s fairly obvious what the “Vigilant of the Fire” (Vigili del Fuoco) do (although I hope they do more than just watch the fire), so they don’t count either.
Nevertheless, you see the others out in force, doing… well I don’t really know. That’s the point of this rambling. I spend most of my time waiting at bus stops trying to figure out what these people do, and here’s what I’ve discovered so far:
Mystery #1: The Carabinieri: Psuedo-Solved
I had heard that these are the guys you call when something has gone awry and you need a detective – say your purse (or European man-bag) has been swiped, or some drunk bozo drove his motorino into your cardboard box, destroying some of your fake Gucci bags (okay, maybe you wouldn’t call them then, but you get the point).
The phonebook lists them as “pronto intervento,” or “quick intervention,” leading us to believe that these are the people you would turn to when yelling,
“HELP! That guy stole my man-bag!”
“Your purse?”
…pause…
“YES!!! He stole my purse!!!”
This, however, doesn’t really seem quite accurate. A while back, my friend Margaretta was walking to her apartment in Piazza del Popolo when two men drove up, yanked her purse through the car window, and sped off. She happened to be standing in front of two carabinieri when this happened, so she ran to them and frantically, in Italian, asked them to chase the two men who had stolen her purse. Instead of chasing the purse-snatchers, the carabinieri offered to take her to a café and buy her an espresso so she could relax and calm down.
Role of the Carabinieri: offer free emotional support and coffee when something bad has happened.
(Editor's note: after two years of watching these guys in action, I'm still pretty sure my first impression was accurate.)
Mystery #2: The Polizia Municipale: Psuedo-Solved
I don’t know about you, but I guessed that the municipal police would have something to do with local traffic laws. I always see them standing around street corners with ticket books, so at first I thought they gave tickets for jaywalking. I’ve since determined that there IS no such thing as jaywalking in Italy. People just walk out into the street at random. After seeing this in action, I began crossing the street at a diagonal in front of the polizia municipale every day. They never batted an eye, so I’m pretty sure that’s not what they do.
Fortunately, the other day I had to get up really early for work, and I got to see them in action. Two women were standing together at a street-corner in their municipale garb, and when the stoplight turned green, they both waved for the cars to go! Brilliant! Why in the world would you rely on a stoplight to tell you when to go when you can have the police watch the lights for you and tell you when they’re green!
Role of the Polizia Municipale: wave at drivers when the traffic lights turn green.
(Editor's note: after two years of watching these guys, I have to admit they DO do a bit more. For instance, they're the jerks that give you parking tickets for parking your car on the sidewalk. Where else are you supposed to park in this dang city?!? One point of curiosity, however. I've learned that it takes at least two people to write a parking ticket, and three are preferable.)
The Ongoing Search
Well, that’s all I’ve got so far. I plan to spend another six hours or so waiting for buses this week, so I’ll let you know if there are any other discoveries.
In case you’re curious, my hypotheses are as follows:
Polizia – These guys have always thought uniforms were pretty, and they really like having flashing lights on top of their car. Their specialty is giving directions to tourists, and sometimes shuffling around a predetermined meeting point.
(Editor's note: my opinion has not changed on this.)
Guardi di Finanza – I think this means “watchers of finance” or “you watch the finance,” which is my preferred translation. I have a feeling that their morning meetings go something like this:
Paolo: “You watch the finances today.”
Giovanni: “No YOU watch the finances. I watched them yesterday!”
Paolo: “Let’s go get coffee.”
Giovanni: “Let’s!”
(Editor's note: my opinion has not changed on this. I've never seen these guys do anything other than drive and eat. Maybe that's a good thing though considering my status!)
I’m sure these people have real jobs, but it’s amusing for me to think otherwise…
That's all folks. I've been putting off writing about Siena and the Palio for two months now, but I plan on getting to it in... the next two months.
Much love.
-Michael
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Getting used to salt water.
I wrote this a couple weeks ago, but I was too lazy to download the photos from my camera so I never posted it. This past weekend I was in Siena for the Palio, but I'll tell you about that later!
I basically used this entire blog to brag "alla grande", but there are plenty of days that suck. So... I guess just remember this is one half of the story and forgive me for it!
Growing up in the Midwest, I never actually got to see the ocean in person until I was eight years old. We were in Daytona Beach in the middle of a storm, and I wasn’t allowed to get out of the car. I think the next time was in Hawaii when I was sixteen, and suffice it to say that was a bit more climactic. Hawaii has to be one of the best places in the world to learn to surf. It feels as if the ocean is literally beckoning you, and once in it doesn’t disappoint.
Except for the dang salt in it. Photos and TV delude us with all these fabulous images of profound blue and magical waves, but no public works truck comes crashing through your front door, slurrying you in a wake of deicer. Now THAT would be a real experience. Instead, after the initial feeling of total relaxation in the warm waves, I was faced with the brutal reality of burning eyes and a maximized afro. I guess that’s just a by-product of having grown up where every water activity involved a lake or river. There I was inhaling algae when I face planted off a wakeboard, not a canister of Morton’s.
Italians often ask me what the heck I’m doing in Italy. See the Italian dream is caught up in TV shows like Sex and the City and the OC. It’s every 20-30 something’s dream to go to New York and sip a cosmopolitan in a classy bar (and no, it's not a sissy drink to Italians), or lounge by the pool under the palm trees in an LA mansion. They want to see the Simpson’s houses we all live in, and they want to be their own Kerouac and hitchhike to the Grand Canyon. I mean, it’s the US. What in the world could an American possibly want in Italy?
Umm…
This is Ponza. It’s an island off the coast of Italy not too far from Naples. Maria’s sister’s boyfriend’s family owns a villa in San Felice Circeo about 30 minutes away from the island by way of their 50-foot yacht. (I wanted to add another possessive to that sentence, but it seemed silly to say that their dogs owned anything.) Two weekends ago they were entertaining a notary (A very powerful intermediary figure here, nothing like our notaries! They are kind of a mega lawyer that authorizes business relationships between the state and the public [from what I understood anyway. Regardless, it's a pretty big deal]). Of course, since I’m basically family (you know, by way of son’s girlfriend’s sister’s boyfriend [isn’t Italy great?!?]), I was invited too.
I’m just in awe here. Even when work just sucks, the weekend makes you forget in an instant. Parmigian bruschette, fresh mozzarella, little sausages, octopus sandwiches (I cannot begin to tell you how amazing these were), something like pork jerky… I just… don’t know what to say. It seems weird to write these things because they just don't sound that appetizing. But I'm telling you, they were all fantastic! The food here is just incredible. We drank glasses of wine and dined as the waves next to the cliffs of Ponza gently rocked the boat.
Later we took the mini service boat attached to the back of the boat to the beach for mojitos. The dj at the beachfront club was fantastic, so we couldn’t help but dance for a while before returning to the yacht.
And then there’s Raffo’s beach house (Raffaelo is Maria’s sister Ele’s (Eleonora’s) boyfriend). It’s got three main buildings – the main house, a building housing two suites and kitchens, and the pool house, which has a fully equipped professional kitchen, wood-fired pizza oven, grill, dining room, billiard table, and two more suites. Besides the pool there’s a tennis court and a calcetto field, calcetto being five-on-five soccer, Italians’ favorite pastime.
There is a cleaning and cooking staff on hand, and that night they made the most amazing fish-soup I’ve ever had. (Come to think of it, I don’t know that I’ve ever had fish soup before, but this stuff was awesome). They cooked a fantastic sea bass as well. I tell you what, Italians have a way of making things that sound disgusting on paper absolutely fabulous. And I think that’s because everything is so fresh – seafood, vegetables, fruit – it’s all freshly harvested (as long as you avoid the supermarkets). You know the image we have of the round Italian mamma making pasta in the kitchen or the rotund Italian pizza maker sliding the pizza into the oven? There’s a reason for that. Even all the scurrying around town to find the best ingredients can’t stop all that great food from catching up to you later in life!
This past weekend we hit the beach in Marina di Cerveteri, which is the beach where I sometimes swim on my lunch-break. They have coffee bars and showers there, so it’s easy to take a swim, grab a quick bite to eat, and head back to the office for the afternoon. Sunday afternoon it was off to Torvajanica, another beach town south down the coast. We relaxed on the beach for a while before grabbing a gelato and hitting up the local butcher for steak-burgers and fresh buffalo mozzarella.
I realize I’m totally bragging, but you guys have been harassing me for updates and I can’t help myself.
So anyway, I’m getting used to salt water.
I basically used this entire blog to brag "alla grande", but there are plenty of days that suck. So... I guess just remember this is one half of the story and forgive me for it!
Growing up in the Midwest, I never actually got to see the ocean in person until I was eight years old. We were in Daytona Beach in the middle of a storm, and I wasn’t allowed to get out of the car. I think the next time was in Hawaii when I was sixteen, and suffice it to say that was a bit more climactic. Hawaii has to be one of the best places in the world to learn to surf. It feels as if the ocean is literally beckoning you, and once in it doesn’t disappoint.
Except for the dang salt in it. Photos and TV delude us with all these fabulous images of profound blue and magical waves, but no public works truck comes crashing through your front door, slurrying you in a wake of deicer. Now THAT would be a real experience. Instead, after the initial feeling of total relaxation in the warm waves, I was faced with the brutal reality of burning eyes and a maximized afro. I guess that’s just a by-product of having grown up where every water activity involved a lake or river. There I was inhaling algae when I face planted off a wakeboard, not a canister of Morton’s.
Italians often ask me what the heck I’m doing in Italy. See the Italian dream is caught up in TV shows like Sex and the City and the OC. It’s every 20-30 something’s dream to go to New York and sip a cosmopolitan in a classy bar (and no, it's not a sissy drink to Italians), or lounge by the pool under the palm trees in an LA mansion. They want to see the Simpson’s houses we all live in, and they want to be their own Kerouac and hitchhike to the Grand Canyon. I mean, it’s the US. What in the world could an American possibly want in Italy?
Umm…
This is Ponza. It’s an island off the coast of Italy not too far from Naples. Maria’s sister’s boyfriend’s family owns a villa in San Felice Circeo about 30 minutes away from the island by way of their 50-foot yacht. (I wanted to add another possessive to that sentence, but it seemed silly to say that their dogs owned anything.) Two weekends ago they were entertaining a notary (A very powerful intermediary figure here, nothing like our notaries! They are kind of a mega lawyer that authorizes business relationships between the state and the public [from what I understood anyway. Regardless, it's a pretty big deal]). Of course, since I’m basically family (you know, by way of son’s girlfriend’s sister’s boyfriend [isn’t Italy great?!?]), I was invited too.
I’m just in awe here. Even when work just sucks, the weekend makes you forget in an instant. Parmigian bruschette, fresh mozzarella, little sausages, octopus sandwiches (I cannot begin to tell you how amazing these were), something like pork jerky… I just… don’t know what to say. It seems weird to write these things because they just don't sound that appetizing. But I'm telling you, they were all fantastic! The food here is just incredible. We drank glasses of wine and dined as the waves next to the cliffs of Ponza gently rocked the boat.
Later we took the mini service boat attached to the back of the boat to the beach for mojitos. The dj at the beachfront club was fantastic, so we couldn’t help but dance for a while before returning to the yacht.
And then there’s Raffo’s beach house (Raffaelo is Maria’s sister Ele’s (Eleonora’s) boyfriend). It’s got three main buildings – the main house, a building housing two suites and kitchens, and the pool house, which has a fully equipped professional kitchen, wood-fired pizza oven, grill, dining room, billiard table, and two more suites. Besides the pool there’s a tennis court and a calcetto field, calcetto being five-on-five soccer, Italians’ favorite pastime.
There is a cleaning and cooking staff on hand, and that night they made the most amazing fish-soup I’ve ever had. (Come to think of it, I don’t know that I’ve ever had fish soup before, but this stuff was awesome). They cooked a fantastic sea bass as well. I tell you what, Italians have a way of making things that sound disgusting on paper absolutely fabulous. And I think that’s because everything is so fresh – seafood, vegetables, fruit – it’s all freshly harvested (as long as you avoid the supermarkets). You know the image we have of the round Italian mamma making pasta in the kitchen or the rotund Italian pizza maker sliding the pizza into the oven? There’s a reason for that. Even all the scurrying around town to find the best ingredients can’t stop all that great food from catching up to you later in life!
This past weekend we hit the beach in Marina di Cerveteri, which is the beach where I sometimes swim on my lunch-break. They have coffee bars and showers there, so it’s easy to take a swim, grab a quick bite to eat, and head back to the office for the afternoon. Sunday afternoon it was off to Torvajanica, another beach town south down the coast. We relaxed on the beach for a while before grabbing a gelato and hitting up the local butcher for steak-burgers and fresh buffalo mozzarella.
I realize I’m totally bragging, but you guys have been harassing me for updates and I can’t help myself.
So anyway, I’m getting used to salt water.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
My bizarre life (keeps me from getting bored).
Life isn't anything if it isn’t a series of unexpected events. Last night I found myself at dinner with a Roman political candidate. He thanked me for coming and for my continued support, even though we all know that he knew that there won’t be any Kansas Citians voting at this election. I thought it was going to be a grand banquet affair, and it turned out to be a private affair of about 15. I still don’t understand how I end up in these places. Ah well.
Romans find it “cute” that I’m from Kansas City because the city has been immortalized in the minds of all Italians as the place Alberto Sordi should have been born in the film Americano a Roma – American in Rome. (Useless information for the day: Sordi was given honorary citizenship in Kansas City in 1967. Kansas City is #2 in the world for number of fountains. It’s second only to… Rome.) Having a family from Kansas City seems to be my free ticket to any place I don’t really belong.
This morning I went to a lab to get my hypoglycemia checked. It’s been a real pain in the butt lately, and it’s about time I did something about it. It’s more annoying than anything. I feel like I’m on a paranoid caffeine excess all the time, which just sucks. Anyway, hassling with something minor like this makes me appreciate much more all the garbage people with real illnesses have to deal with. We should all be grateful every day for our health.
I would venture to say that spring is finally here… to stay. Since February we’ve been flirting with good weather – a gorgeous week here, a brutal resurgence of winter at the weekend. Notice I said gorgeous during the week and brutal at the weekend – the one time I’m not actually working. Curses. Ah well. I think all that is past. It’s good weather from here on out, so says Michael.
Roma lost again last night to Manchester United. Granted we were missing our captain Francesco Totti for both the 2-0 and 1-0 losses, but it’s really irritating. At least they didn’t repeat the 7-1 loss of last year. At least they ran out of tickets before our 210 Euro order for tickets at the Stadio Olimpico went through. Nothing worse than a tragic loss than throwing away a pretty penny to see it live.
Summer prospects:
Napoli and Pompeii for the April 25 and May 1 holidays.
Amalfi Coast sometime in summer.
Three week’s vacation in August to???
Romans find it “cute” that I’m from Kansas City because the city has been immortalized in the minds of all Italians as the place Alberto Sordi should have been born in the film Americano a Roma – American in Rome. (Useless information for the day: Sordi was given honorary citizenship in Kansas City in 1967. Kansas City is #2 in the world for number of fountains. It’s second only to… Rome.) Having a family from Kansas City seems to be my free ticket to any place I don’t really belong.
This morning I went to a lab to get my hypoglycemia checked. It’s been a real pain in the butt lately, and it’s about time I did something about it. It’s more annoying than anything. I feel like I’m on a paranoid caffeine excess all the time, which just sucks. Anyway, hassling with something minor like this makes me appreciate much more all the garbage people with real illnesses have to deal with. We should all be grateful every day for our health.
I would venture to say that spring is finally here… to stay. Since February we’ve been flirting with good weather – a gorgeous week here, a brutal resurgence of winter at the weekend. Notice I said gorgeous during the week and brutal at the weekend – the one time I’m not actually working. Curses. Ah well. I think all that is past. It’s good weather from here on out, so says Michael.
Roma lost again last night to Manchester United. Granted we were missing our captain Francesco Totti for both the 2-0 and 1-0 losses, but it’s really irritating. At least they didn’t repeat the 7-1 loss of last year. At least they ran out of tickets before our 210 Euro order for tickets at the Stadio Olimpico went through. Nothing worse than a tragic loss than throwing away a pretty penny to see it live.
Summer prospects:
Napoli and Pompeii for the April 25 and May 1 holidays.
Amalfi Coast sometime in summer.
Three week’s vacation in August to???
Thursday, April 03, 2008
The Local Pizzerias Give Me a Discount...
I guess that means "I belong."
Life is good. The sun is shining and the past is all behind. The future is bright, and I'm feeling content.
Just a quick update because it's been ages since I've written.
Life changed alot since November 2007. It's a new beginning.
Work can be frustrating, but my co-workers are cool and the days pass quickly. Maria's fantastic. Despite working for the Dr. House of Attorneys (but worse) she manages to keep learning and moving forward. She's basically holding the studio together since Remo, the Sr. Attorney is in the late stages of his terminal cancer. That presents a significant challenge as he's basically the antithesis of Don Valencia when it comes to dying. He keeps asking "why me" and lashes out at the world for everything that isn't its fault. But enough about that.
Here's a photo of us at the Terme dei Papi, the thermal baths created for the Popes of times past, with our doctor friend Luigi (great Neapolitan guy).
I can't wait for the summer and days at the beach. I spend a lot of time these days whipping around the city in Maria's SMART car. It will be fun to take it down the coast to Amalfi, but I'm also excited for these next few days when the weather becomes nice enough to break out the motorino (scooter). Cruising by the Colosseum at night in the open air is something you shouldn't miss. Maria's brother took me to the Lazio/Inter soccer match on his motorino last weekend, and that guy drives like a banshee to a Jim Jones reunion. What a rush!
It makes me dream of the day when I can buy my Ducati Monster and cruise the hills of the Chianti region. (Sorry, Mom. I'll be careful, I promise!)
Still studying Italian - doing a lot more writing and translations, so I'm feeling pretty strong with the language. What a great feeling. I've gone from the awkwardness of struggling through a conversation on the phone with our apartment owners to laughing with them over cultural references. Laughter is what wanes when you're not at home, and you get sick when you don't get your medicine.
Love you guys! Miss you dearly. Please come visit. The weather's fine!
Life is good. The sun is shining and the past is all behind. The future is bright, and I'm feeling content.
Just a quick update because it's been ages since I've written.
Life changed alot since November 2007. It's a new beginning.
Work can be frustrating, but my co-workers are cool and the days pass quickly. Maria's fantastic. Despite working for the Dr. House of Attorneys (but worse) she manages to keep learning and moving forward. She's basically holding the studio together since Remo, the Sr. Attorney is in the late stages of his terminal cancer. That presents a significant challenge as he's basically the antithesis of Don Valencia when it comes to dying. He keeps asking "why me" and lashes out at the world for everything that isn't its fault. But enough about that.
Here's a photo of us at the Terme dei Papi, the thermal baths created for the Popes of times past, with our doctor friend Luigi (great Neapolitan guy).
I can't wait for the summer and days at the beach. I spend a lot of time these days whipping around the city in Maria's SMART car. It will be fun to take it down the coast to Amalfi, but I'm also excited for these next few days when the weather becomes nice enough to break out the motorino (scooter). Cruising by the Colosseum at night in the open air is something you shouldn't miss. Maria's brother took me to the Lazio/Inter soccer match on his motorino last weekend, and that guy drives like a banshee to a Jim Jones reunion. What a rush!
It makes me dream of the day when I can buy my Ducati Monster and cruise the hills of the Chianti region. (Sorry, Mom. I'll be careful, I promise!)
Still studying Italian - doing a lot more writing and translations, so I'm feeling pretty strong with the language. What a great feeling. I've gone from the awkwardness of struggling through a conversation on the phone with our apartment owners to laughing with them over cultural references. Laughter is what wanes when you're not at home, and you get sick when you don't get your medicine.
Love you guys! Miss you dearly. Please come visit. The weather's fine!
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