Just a Bowler Cherries: Crunchy Clothes and Memi's

We made it. Survived. Endured. Persevered. Flourished, even! Our first two weeks in Italy are drawing to a close and I am pleased to announce that we are adjusting quickly to our new life here, and pinching ourselves on a daily basis. The bedtime tears ended on about day four. Anna, especially, still misses home occasionally. However, in a complete 180 degree turn, she announced before bed a few nights ago, “I think we will definitely be coming back. I just love our apartment and how we know everybody in it, and just all of the stuff about Italy. I love it here.” Whaaaaat? Is this the same child who I thought was going to require serious psychological intervention for the trauma inflicted upon her by her wanderlust-filled parents?

You bet. My little old soul and her brother beg to be taken to the hours-long five to seven course dinners (aside from the first one where Grant fell asleep). They silently absorb the adventures and tales recounted by other professors about the years when they brought their children. They soak up the Italian and Slovenian and French and English accents of the other faculty and staff. They greeted the jet-lagged college students with an understanding of the shock and potential homesickness these young people are experiencing in their first days here.

Grant snoozed through his first five course dinner

Then there is the matter of food. The English language simply does not possess the words to describe the food here. La dolce vita, indeed. The sweet life. We have cooked dinner at home exactly one time thus far. Sad, but true. With handmade gnocchi, freshly picked radicchio, melt-in-your-mouth cheeses, savory mushrooms, and sweet oranges from Naples at every meal, it’s hard not to take in all that Italy has to offer, usually at very affordable prices. We were going to cook our pasta at home tonight, but we were invited to yet another dinner of pizza with friends. Every slice of pizza eaten by Grant these past two weeks has been declared, “The best pizza I have ever eaten.” Some of the pizza menus have consisted of no less than 5-6 pages of gourmet pizzas (served with wine, of course, which is often less expensive than the soda). Unbelievable. Grant finally tried the pizza with French fries. Our apartment kitchen consists of a small refrigerator and freezer, a gas stove, and a small oven-type mechanism that is slightly larger than a toaster oven. Speaking of toaster ovens, Matt exchanged our toaster oven (yes, we had one of those, too) for the microwave in the apartment next door. Our neighbor was here briefly to teach an MBA class and asked us to return her keys since she had an early flight. We are learning that the items within the apartments differ, and are constantly being switched around. Thus, there was a microwave switcheroo before returning the keys. As we have a LOT of leftovers, this will be likely get much more use than the oven contraption. Our dishwasher is named Matt, Carrie, Anna, and Grant. J

Gnocchi with Radicchio and Walnuts in Cortina

We also have a moka pot. I learned that a bialetti is a moka (not mocha) pot. This explains my confusion over where the chocolate goes in this fancy, yet simple, little coffee pot. It makes a very strong pot of coffee, and we will likely be bringing one home in the spring.

Agriturismos are perhaps one of my favorite finds thus far. Agriturismos are restaurants that must produce a minimum of 60 percent of their ingredients on site. They are small farms with their own vineyards, pigs, cows, chickens… you get the idea. The food is fresh and the atmosphere is family friendly. We ate at Memi’s, and it felt like we were eating in Memi’s farmhouse. He even pulled up a chair to pour us a variety of very strong liquors. I wasn’t a fan of these, but his Prosecco? Divine. I could write an entire blog entry on this experience alone. In case you decide to pay Memi a visit, be forewarned: he is very affectionate guy, kisses on both cheeks for everyone.

Memi pouring limoncello, blueberry, and walnut licquor

Gnocchi with Smoked Ricotto

Memi's Agriturismo

We do not have a dryer or wifi in our apartment. Out of all of possible amenities to miss in America, these are the two that I miss the most. There is no surfing the internet in the comfort of our bed to plan out our next adventure. We must walk to campus with all of our cables and such, find an empty classroom, and pray that the wifi is having a good day. We thought we were living in the lap of luxury when we had (spotty) wifi in our hotel in Cortina. And crunchy clothes and towels? Not exactly my cup of tea. “Wrinkle-free” and “wrinkle resistant” shirts are activated by the heat of a dryer, and skinny jeans? Once they stretch out, getting them “skinny” again without a dryer is one of our great challenges. That said, these little inconveniences are a small price to pay for our once-in-a-lifetime experiences here.

Matt has a very unusual teaching schedule these first few weeks. It is very Italian in that he wasn’t informed of his exact schedule until we arrived. We then discovered that although he had meetings, etc., he had several lengthy breaks before his regular MWF schedule begins (which then changes to a Tuesday/Thursday schedule later in the spring). Thus, we have already been to Venice once and skied in the Alps of Cortina d’Ampezzo for two days. We almost made it to the top of Monte Grappa in our little Fiat Punto (nicknamed “Spot”), but were stopped just short due to the whiteout conditions. We have learned about the World War I battle on Monte Grappa that served as a turning point in the war, and the plague doctor’s masks in Venice. We saw the copper horses inside Saint Mark’s Basilica and the ski jump from the 1956 Olympics in Cortina. We took photos in Bassano del Grappa on the breathtaking Ponte degli Alpini bridge, designed by Palladio in 1569. We are living by the motto, “If we have a break, take it.” There are plenty of sights to see in the small villages surrounding Paderno del Grappa, so there is always something new to see on a lazy afternoon.

Speaking of lazy… The shops and restaurants in the small villages around here still close every afternoon from 12:30-3:30, and are closed on Sundays. Most restaurants are closed on Mondays. In our first jet-lagged days, we would barely have pulled ourselves together by the time the shops were closing. Although it can be frustrating at times, I love that the Italians still value family time and long, restful afternoons together before returning to work.

I think we just might make it here! With olive groves and vineyards around every corner, inexpensive wine with every meal, mountain tops glazed with snow, and a backyard brimming with history, we’re going to be just fine in Italy and the rest of Europe. Probably better than fine… even if we are wearing crunchy clothes.