Meredici: A broad in Italy

Here in Italy, true citrus season starts in winter and continues into spring. We had an unfortunate dry spell for a few weeks as there were some major transportation strikes in Sicily and they couldn’t get the citrus off the island. Where the produce section in the supermarkets should have been overrun with hills of succulent clementines, oranges, and grapefruit there were sad empty bins. Thankfully the fruit is back in abundance and better than ever. At our house we try to make fresh-squeezed juice (spremuta) every couple of days or so. While not really worth the effort in Seattle, it is well worth the work here as Italian citrus is sweet, juicy, inexpensive and incredibly delicious. This picture shows the pre-spremuta phase and includes regular oranges, blood oranges, and pink grapefruit. Delicious!

There are some changes at hand here at Meredici-a Broad in Italy.  I will not be resuming a lot of of the personal content about our daily lives in Italy (you are welcome, Family). I will instead be posting weekly recommendations for eating, sleeping, and sites. I will also include a few cultural tidbits along the way, because they are fun and keep me sane. For example:  A scarf is crucial to protect your child’s neck from moving air. Any Italian will swear to it. A seat belt to save your child’s neck in a car crash, not so much.

Baci and more soon,

Meredici

During the night was I was awakened at 2am by a very loud driving rain.  Finally fell back to sleep only to snap awake to tremendous claps of thunder an hour later.  It sounded like our house was in the eye of the storm.  Woke up this morning tired and eager to compare notes with other family members.  No one else heard anything.  Really?!  How is that possible?  Then I looked out the window to bright blue skies and sunshine.  It made me question myself for a moment until I went out to see my clean laundry (that was dry the night before, but I was too lazy to bring inside before bed) was soaking wet.  Then today was hot and sunny all day.  Che tempo (what weather)!  I have moved all drying laundry under cover in case we have a repeat tonight.

image via coolspotters.com

Happy 4th of July!!

We always miss our friends and families a ton around the holidays.  This 4th of July morning on the way to take the kids to day camp, we heard The Boss’s “Born in the USA” on the radio and it gave me chills.  We are driving 45 minutes tonight to an American BBQ and fireworks display hosted by a U.S. Army Base here in Italy. Kids are really looking forward to it.

We have also been donning our red, white, and blue to watch the U.S. Women’s soccer team play in the World Cup (on TV).  We highly recommend it.  Rapinoe even serenaded the crowd with a little “Born in the USA” after her last goal.  The U.S. squares off against Sweden, the other undefeated team in their group, on Wednesday, July 6th at 8:45pm (German time).  Go USA!!!!!

Update: Well, we really do feel at home here as the fireworks were cancelled due to cloud cover and rain — very Seattle.  So the kids and I hopped in the car and went to McD’s instead.   It was small consolation and really not something we would ever have done in Seattle on the 4th, but it was a taste of America.

First late night trip to the ER (pronto soccorso) confirms that Daughter has scarlet fever. Which brings to mind young pioneer children passing away in droves, but these days is apparently easy to cure. Scarlet fever is strep with a rash (who knew?). Antibiotics for 10 days should do the trick.

Daughter reports she still has a tummy ache but no fever. And she is tired. Yeah, I am tired too.

Upshot is that even though we went to the wrong ER at the children’s hospital (always go to the local ER first), I managed to navigate the two hours we were there quite well.

This does put a damper on our beach/pool plans this week; good thing the kids have lots of summer homework to keep themselves occupied.

Son has gone native: Italians do not have a “y” in their alphabet and they never use “th”. Happy Father’s Day!

Woo hoo!

We spent a long day in Turin yesterday so that Daughter’s soccer team could play in a tournament at the Olympic Stadium (home of Juventus and Torino soccer clubs).  We drove three hours each way, so it was work for all, but in the end this picture says it all.  Daughter is in the middle wearing the team captain arm band and holding the trophy.

We found out this week that the kids’ soccer club will be no more due to financial troubles stemming from the grown-up professional players end, so this may be Daughter’s last year with these guys.  We hope another business will take over the club and the team can stay together.  These little guys and their parents have been really accepting and supportive of Daughter and it would be hard to start over “training” new boys.  The coach of the one older all-girls team in the area would be pleased as punch if she moved to his team, but that puts her playing with and against 12 and 13 year old boys and girls, so we were hoping to wait.  Son is just along for the ride regardless.  I prefer a new team whose colors are red and black since I own a lot of required practice, game, and travel uniforms and equipment.

Needless to say, being submersed in Italian calcio (soccer) culture for a year has been quite a cultural experience.  Woo hoo, indeed.

Heads, bones, and tails. . . oh my.

Received this as part of a response to an email I sent reserving a room in a B&B in Prague:

Please note that we do not accept credit cards nor do we accept any other banking instruments. However, we do accept any reasonable currency as long as it is cash.

What, one wonders, is considered unreasonable currency in the Czech Republic?

Postal Post: In Italy, Italians handle all sorts of mysterious business besides mailing letters and packages at the post office including, but not limited to,  getting pension allowance and paying utility bills.  This morning, I was there to pay our gas bill.  This was at the big post office in town, so we waited for our number to be posted on the screen above the clerks; it was all very civilized.  At the smaller post office near our home, there are no numbers, just usually a “coda” (literally, tail) bursting out the door.   Contrary to stereotype, the line stays in formation and people keep track of whose turn it is if an elderly person needs to sit down for a while.

I did discover a trick by accident one day.  I had been waiting in line for some time watching people pay bills and such but not actually mail anything, and finally wanted to make sure that I was even in the right place to buy stamps.  I asked the woman in front of me if it was the right place and she told me that I didn’t have to wait in line at the post office to handle postal business.  I just needed to wait at the far window for that clerk to be finished and she would help me next.  This caused a debate between the queuing Italians as to whether or not this was true.  I said I had better just stay where I was in line.  A few of the Italians insisted that it wasn’t necessary.  It worked!  Now if I have any post to handle I know I can just jump the queue and I am in and out quickly.  Although, last time I tried it there were problems with the computers causing a huge line and I could see the Italians giving me dirty looks as I cut to the front.  Luckily the clerk immediately turned to me with my mailing envelope held prominently in front of me and called me forward.  I tried to keep a blank face as I left, even though I was feeling pretty darn smug as an American who actually knew something some Italians didn’t.

Address Mess: When we moved into our apartment a year-and-a-half ago, our landlord (who lived for years in our house) told us nobody knew for sure what our address was and it isn’t written outside, but to use Via “insert fun Italian Name” 3.  We have used this address for all of our official documents, licenses, school registration, packages, utilities, magazine subscriptions and have received our post with no problems.  Last month, someone in our complex actually painted the address number in nice black paint near the gate:  Via “insert fun Italian Name” 1/A.  Okaaay, we are still receiving our utility bills and such and the Italians we know think it isn’t worriesome.   But I like things, like my home address, to actually correspond with what I have filled out on every form (and there have been a lot) since arriving in Italy.  I am tempted to take my Sharpie out there and in the dark of night make a “3″ underneath as well.