Gia-Gina Across the Pond: March 2005

Horse steaks on the stovetop.

The flesh was dark, like ostrich and had a texture kind of like uncooked liver. Luckily there was no strange smell.

Deme was delighted to find this in our local grocery store. Equino=horse

Deme is happy with his meal, his pasta was cooked al dente

Demetrio is not happy, his pasta is past al dente.

Easter 2005

Easter is a very important holiday in Italy so we decided to make a long weekend of it. On Thursday afternoon, we head to Rome in order to spend some time with Deme’s family. There was quite a bit of traffic as the city prepared for Easter festivities. The streets of Rome near the Coliseum are cordoned off as the passion of Christ is revisited. Usually the Pope walks the Via Crucis, which is the Path of the Cross, a walk that re-enacts the struggle of Christ as he walked to his crucifixion. This year someone else will have to perform the re-enactment as the Pope is still recovering from his tracheotomy.

On Saturday morning, we head to Umbria to visit a medieval town called Gubbio. The streets of Gubbio are cobbled with 800-900 year old bricks. The doorways of various homes still had their characteristic medieval arches, wrought iron knockers and horse tie-ups. As we make our way up to the Piazza Grande, we pass many small shops that sell everything from pottery to fresh black truffles. The region of Umbria is famous for its pottery, namely from the towns of Gubbio, Deruta, and Spoleto. Norcia is famous for its salami, chestnuts and black truffles. Assisi is the town that bore the Franciscan monk, St. Francis who gave his life to helping the poor. Many pilgrims come to Assisi for blessings and to visit the cathedral built by St. Francis. After a bit of exploring we had lunch, I had tagliatelle pasta with crayfish and asparagus. Typically, in Umbria, pastas are make without eggs, which make them a bit more fragile, not as elastic but equally delicious. Deme had zuppa de faro (a type of grain) and we both shared a large (20 inch) braised veal shank. After lunch and another short walk, we head for Florence.

Our friends Enzo and Claire invite us for a pre-Easter dinner and Easter lunch. Both being wonderful cooks, we knew we were in for fantastic meals. Easter is the culinary equivalent of Thanksgiving, except replace the green bean casserole with wild asparagus risotto, bread stuffing with an array of bruschetta, pearl onions with fresh baby peas, and the turkey with roasted young goat. The traditional Neapolitan cake that is eaten at Easter is called pastiera; it made with eggs, flour, and grano per pastiera (also a grain). The traditional bread is Colomba. We enjoyed an array of cheeses and 7 types of wine that totaled 150 collective years. Easter lunch began at about 2 pm and ended with naps by all. The next morning Deme admitted to feeling quite gluttonous. We had a modest breakfast and all took a little walk up to the hills above the villa in order to work off yesterday’s lunch. In our own way, we all walk a Via Crucis that morning because not only is there an amazing panoramic view to Tuscany at the top of the hill, there is also a giant cross.

The oldest wine we drank at Easter

The hill above Enzo and Claire's villa

The sophisticated country farmer

The steps that lead to the Piazza Grande

Pottery for sale

Medieval wares from Gubbio

800 year old bricks

A half-eaten Colomba loaf. This is traditional Easter bread that is shaped like a dove. It is pillowy and soft inside, slightly sweet with candied orange peel, almonds and giant sugar crystals sprinkled on top. The texture is very much like an airy brioche.

Demetrio receives a large chocolate egg and a loaf of Colomba for Easter, from Mircosoft

Milk and dark chocolate ducks and bunnies

A long morning at the Questura di Torino

In my understanding a questura is an office of the local police authority. Being an American citizen allows tourists and visitors a 90 day allowance before they have to apply for a long stay visa. But 8 days upon their arrival in Italy, they must appear before the questura in order to obtain a permesso di soggoirno, a residence permit which then legitimizes their stay in the country. Needless to say, many tourists don’t bother adding the questura to their travel itineraries.

The first week I arrived here, we tried to apply but had no idea how long the line was and so we took a number and waited, after 2 hours, Demetrio had to get to work and we left empty handed. This week we tried again. We got up early and got there by 8:30, just when they opened the doors. Upon entering the building, we saw signs and numbers of all colors, red for first time applications, blue for SMS appointed numbers, white for people seeking information, and green for permit pick-ups. We took two numbers, one for information (169) and another for the application (364).

The building itself was very large, with rows and rows of benches for waiting, a baby play area called Babylandia, a photo booth machine that produced fine quality photos for affixing to forms, vending machines, a photocopy machine with attendant, (copies were 0,15 E) and restrooms. Our goal was to get our number called for the information, retrieve the forms, fill them out and then get in line to submit our completed applications. We began by making copies of my passport, his residence/ID card, taking my photos and getting 4 copies, and filling out all forms. Finally, Deme made a written declaration about me joining him in Italy as his spouse. When we got to window #1 with our number, we were almost turned away because since he is a resident of Rome, they almost suggested we apply at the questura in Rome. After a bit of groaning and persuasion, they accepted and stamped our applications. I let out a breath and could not wait to get out of there but there was still one more step, one more number and one more line.

We went to another area of the questura that was cordoned off by metal fencing, like a holding area for stray dogs at the animal shelter. There were more benches and another numbering device. This time we were lining up so I could be finger printed. I was a bit bothered by this but thought it was a good idea. Deme asked if they had digital scanners, they do but government policy still dictates that first time applicants be finger printed manually. A black, ink laden roller was passed over the fingertips of both my hands, then pressed onto a firmly onto an official police document. I stared a bit at the man performing the finger printing and several times he had to tell me to relax my fingers. After my fingers were inked and printed, the roller passed over the entire palms of my hands, they were also printed. The 4 ½ morning excursion ended with a quick hand washing and a big kiss for my wonderfully patient husband. In 5-6 months, I should have my residence permit.

A copy of my application, that I have to keep with me at all times.

My residence application photo

My stamped and accepted application

Homesick

I am reading a book call the Tummy Trilogies. My sister Sara bought it along with three others as Christmas gifts this past year. They were on my wish list at Amazon.com. Actually I thought wish lists were personal reminders; I was going to buy the books for myself later, I didn’t know that other people could look at them and purchase items for you. So it not surprising that by the time that I received the books, I had already read two of them. In the books, the author writes about his culinary travels and mentions some really great things. Upon reading his reminiscences, I began to think of all the great things I’ve eaten and love to eat. My favorite cuisine is Chinese/Vietnamese food. Since my parents are Chinese and were both brought up in Vietnam, where my sister Judy and I were born, I think of this food often and this week has led to a bit of homesickness.

This weekend is when the feelings of general homesickness first started. I began by missing my friends, family and all of Seattle basically. The weather in the Northwest has been great, I thought of Greenlake, Alki and the Pike Place Market. I thought of taking walks with little Laura in the morning and taking Erik to his play dates at outdoor parks, I thought of walking Molly/Ruffy with Daniel/Charlie, playing baseball with Sophie and Jamie and canoeing that one magical summer in the Arboretum. The children being a part of my life for the past 12 years fills me with such happiness and keeps alive in me the spirit of youth. I care about picking dandelions (even though I know they are invasive weeds); I care about gathering leaves in the fall and looking for empty bird nests.

Thinking about the children made me think my sister, Tia. When she was first born, I flew to Guam for six weeks to help care for her. She was so tiny and fragile but strong-willed even at two months old! Almost 2 summers ago, all my sisters and I got together in Seattle and spent two weeks together. Tia is going to be 8 or 9 in May and I keep thinking I have to get over to Guam to see my family. Deme and I plan to travel this summer so he can meet his new in-law’s. Things in the city are so formal; I miss the lax and relaxed environment of the island. I miss my parents. Family is very important to me, how could I let the years fly by?

Thinking about my family led me to think about all the great food I’m used to eating with them and in Seattle (everything eventually leads back to food, always.) As a child, I used to ask my mom what was for dinner; if I did not figure it out by the aromas, the only time I was disappointed was when mom went on a peanut butter soup binge. All through my childhood, my mother had the irrefutable reputation as being the best Chinese cook amongst all my parents’ family and friends. What a reputation! I embrace Italian food thoroughly but have been longing for my dad’s salt and pepper shrimp, special dressed-up tofu (with seaweed, ginger, dried shrimp, green onion and spices, ox-tail soup with old carrots and daikon, my mom’s black bean spare ribs, phó , tomato and seafood stew with an egg mousse on top, fried lumpia and BBQ pork. I feel a bit panicky every time I think that I may have to fly to London or back to Seattle before I can get my hands on this fare again.

There are many Chinese in Italy but the food they produce is notoriously bad. There are many combination, “ristorante cinese” and “pizzerias” here. We ate at a Chinese restaurant in Rome and after we were seated, I asked our waitress (in Italian) if she spoke Chinese, she said “yes”. I asked her if spoke Cantonese and she said “yes”. I then proceeded to ask her for a pair of chop sticks and a pot of tea.
“Huh?” “Huh?” she mumbled.
She did not understand me. She looked at me strangely and said a few lines in Italian to Demetrio, Stefania (D’s mom) and Mario (D’s step-dad). The menus followed and the rest of the meal goes into the annals of disappointing cuisine. (Even the white rice was sketchy.)
I have found a few other Chinese places in Turin but like Pavlov’s dogs, I salivate but know I may be just experiencing a conditioned response with no real reward. Next to the Vespa store on the outskirts of town, I bought some great rice from Thailand, almost like the kind I use at home but without the jasmine fragrance. The shopkeeper almost smacked me on the head, when I plunged my hands into the large barrels filled with rice in order to get a big whiff, another let down. They did have black forbidden rice, now I need to find some good coconut milk. It delighted me to see mung bean thread, which was labeled, pasta di soya, soybean pasta, and Chinese vermicelli, which was labeled, pasta di riso, rice pasta. The delight turned into frustration when I realized I had no way of getting my hands on Thai or Vietnamese fish sauce to make nuoc nam, for lumpia or lemon grass grilled beef salad.

All weekend long I have been thinking about dim sum, crispy yet fatty roasted duck and BBQ pork from Kau Kau in Chinatown, long sushi rolls from the Korean store, Filipino pancit, bubble tea, mochi ice cream, Vietnamese abodo cooked with hard boiled whole eggs, basically all the food I grew up on. It has been a long time since I’ve eaten good Guamanian/Chamorro food and its taste is slowly fading out of my memory. I can’t recall the last time I made chicken kelaguen, red rice or finandene short ribs. I refrained from making the dishes while I was in Seattle, because I was afraid not many of my American friends would enjoy them. I have not tried them on my Italian husband yet but if I get homesick enough I might just have to dig out the old cookbooks and recipe cards. Plus, I know when I make a good risotto because he compliments me but how does he know how red rice is supposed to taste? Will he even like it? When my wok arrives and I can set up our kitchen, I’ll have to make up for lost time with some authentic Chinese/Vietnamese/Guamanian dishes. I might have to send a few e-mails out and ask for hard-to-come-by ingredients. Check your in-boxes sissy’s.

Re-Vamping my Wardrobe

I sometimes wonder what a cultured, well-dressed, stylish, well-traveled, intelligent man like my husband is doing with a just as intelligent, not-so-stylish, not-as-well read but great cook, like myself. After having known Deme for two weeks I thought he and I were definitely mismatched. He cared about expensive things, had expensive things, ate at expensive restaurants, notice if women wore designer bags/shoes/dresses even more than I did and pointed them out to me. He took longer to get ready than I did and what really made me question our compatibility was when I opened the third drawer of his bathroom cabinets and discovered about 80 bottles of cologne. The drawer almost fell on my foot as I struggled to get it closed again. Somehow we managed to get together.

When we go out casually on the weekends, I have to beg him to wear jeans or plain slacks. Before we go out to eat or even to look at apartments, he has often glances at what I am wearing then causally asks “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” He asks even though he knows full well, I am dressed. If I ever have a wardrobe question I can ask my Mr. Stylish. Common wardrobe questions are:
“Do all shirts have either buttons on the sleeves or cuff link holes or both?” and he answered they have either one or the other.
I have also asked him what proper tie lengths are and how to tie bowties.
Sometimes he seems amused and other times annoyed. He often about jokes about me being the wife that “swung down off the trees in Guam.”

Being from an island has definitely influenced my style. I love sand, sun, shorts; my favorite fragrances are coconut, fresh island limes/lemons, and plumeria. If I could get away with wearing shorts, flip-flops and tank tops all year around I would. Now the simplest things I wear are tennis shoes, jeans and t-shirts, long sleeve t-shirts in the winter and short ones in the summer. Also because I have worked with children for years, the fancy wardrobe was just not practical. Inadvertently, I’ve been sneezed on, vomited on, had my shoes stepped on by muddy shoes and paws, etc… Also playing at the park, doing art projects, climbing up and down trees/play structures, running after dogs and such, is much more difficult in stilettos; although I have seen some nannies and moms accomplish this.

Whenever we go on walk, I stare and stare at people all around me. One day, I saw a particularly stylishly lady and asked him he would like me to dress like that, “Sometimes it would be nice was his reply.” Women all dress so well; tall boots for winter with high heels and pointed toes, furs, beautiful sweaters, warm, cozy but stylish coats, long gloves, matching purses and stylish scarves. Right now I own a luggage full of clothes that consists of 4 pairs of pants, 2 sweaters, pajamas and not much else. I had to buy a new coat the first week I was here because of the cold snap that Europe experienced. Then I bought a new pair of boots but other than that nada. Shopping here is a national pastime. Now I’m among the masses that gaze and gaze into shop windows for a glimpse of the latest fashions. I think my husband wants me to re-vamp my wardrobe.

Deme convinced me to walk into a designer store to look at handbags. I told him I abhor most designer labels because I find them too flashy also I do not like the logos most of them stamp on their products; Tommy Hilfiger, Coach, Gucci, Louis Vuitton just to name a few. He loves designer stuff and claims you get what you pay for and believes that you pay those high prices for unmatched quality. So in we go to the handbag store, he asked me to pick out a few I liked so he could get an idea of my style/tastes. I picked out three black, simple, clean lined Prada handbags and a simple black TOD’s handbag, all devoid of giant buckles, flashy metal rings or hoops and no large logo lettering. He looked at them and said they were cute but then commented that maybe I should consider another color besides black since it was springtime. Ugh! He wanted to purchase one of the bags as a belated birthday present for me but I declined. I don’t think a Prada bag would go well with my BROOKS running shoes. (I only have three pairs of shoes here in Turin and the running shoes are the most comfortable.)

Things I have noticed about Italy-Turin Part 3 (last installment)

The date in Italy and maybe all of Europe is written differently than in the U.S. Today is March 17th 2005. In the U.S. we write 03/17/05 but here in Italy it is written 17/03/05. The month and the day are switched. This confuses me a bit but I am trying to adapt to the new format.

I have always thought of the 24 hour clock as military time but I now think it is more based of GMT. Long lunch hours are taken by most shops and offices in Turin. I did not notice this so much in Rome since I woke up late everyday and then had lunch and most of our activity in Rome was done at dinner time when everyone is open. Here in Turin, the shops open at 8:00/9:00. and close for lunch at 13:00/13:30 then re-open from 15:00/15:30 to 19:00/20:00. I have a Spanish girlfriend who told me this is how businesses are run in Spain because it is too hot to do business in the summer. I did not expect this in the winter.

No shopping on Sunday! This is something I really have to get used to. In the U.S. stores are packed on the weekends with people going to Home Depot, IKEA, REI, grocery shopping, and running errands. Here the city is dead on Sunday, if there is traffic restriction then no driving is allowed in the city and we go to the countryside or walk and take the bus. All shops, grocery stores etc. are closed. Demetrio tells me it is because of the strong workers unions. If they want employees to work on Sunday, they have to dole out 4 times the wages.

The only place in the U.S. I’ve had to pay toll fees is in California and I think you have to pay them in New York/New Jersey too. Here in Italy, you pay toll fees to use bridges, to enter the freeway, to leave the freeway, to travel from one region to another. There are lots of toll fees. From Rome to Turin, a 5 ½ hour drive, we passed about 6-8 tolls and ended up paying $40-60 in fees. We have a TelePass installed in the car; it is like an electronic credit card mounted on the front windshield. Whenever we pass a toll, we slow down and then after a beep the toll arm lifts. At the end of the month, the fees are deducted from your bank account. It is much faster than lining up and shoving coins in a slot or using your credit/debit card.

Metal and wooden window shutters are used on every window of every house and apartment here in Italy. They are handy for blocking out light but what’s strange is that people have the shutters and curtains too. I think maybe they are used to prevent break-in’s too. The metal ones are not very attractive. They remind me of the typhoon shutters and louvers we used to have on Guam.

I went to the marcelleria=butcher shop the other day to get a few veal chops. The butcher did not speak any English and neither did his wife but they took my order. He grabbed the veal rack from the meat case and proceeded to hack my three chops off with a giant medieval axe! Giant! He was tiny and old and could barely hold it up, the shock and surprise must have been evident on my face because he smiled wholeheartedly when he gave me my order.

Where is your other hand? Deme asks me this inevitable question just about every time we sit down for a meal. When we first met, he asked me this question and we looked in a book he had Etiquette for Dummies for an answer. The book stated that it was acceptable to place your free hand on your lap if you so pleased. Not in Italy, it is unacceptable. Both hands have to be on the table at all times. This is what he tells me, when in Rome right?

People travel to eat all over Italy. There are guide books to cafes, enotecas=wine bars and restaurants. Not skinny Zagat rated guide books, large volumes that list the best coffee, best chocolate drinks, best apperitivos, slow-food restaurants, and the best of all, the GamberRosso guide to restaurants. Because we are new to Turin, we travel and eat according to the various guides that we have. On the weekends, couples, large families complete with babies and grandparents all drive out of the cities, to the suburbs and country to eat. I can’t imagine driving all the way to Blaine, Washington just to eat. But I have driven from Seattle to Vancouver, B.C. for good dim sum before.

I have been watching a lot of TV commercials for exotic destinations. For the Maldives Islands, there is a cute jingle. “Everybody needs a roll in the sand; every body needs a walk hand in hand.” I don’t even know where the Maldives are. For Egypt’s Red Sea Riviera, the slogan is “Where the sun shines every day of every year.” I did not know Egypt had a Riviera. Go to Croatia to “Experience the Mediterranean as it once was.” or visit “Incredible India“, Live your Myth in Greece” and did you know that Cyprus is the “Island for all Seasons?” All these places look amazing. I better get my passport out and start saving up.

Dubbing is king here in Italy. They do not believe in subtitles. I can rent special DVD’s that have the original soundtracks though. When American movies are shown on TV they are all dubbed, ditto for American movies in the theatres too.

My Olympic Dream

One of the reasons Demetrio is insisting on me taking intensive classes to learn Italian right away, is for me to have something to look forward to in the day so I am not home alone with nothing to do. He worries about me being bored, being homesick and just plain sad.

The first week I got here, he was giddy with excitement about us exploring Turin together and in a real moment of tenderness told me, “I am so glad you are here.” I looked at him with bewilderment and understanding. The surprise came from the realization that he actually thought I might not come. After all we have been through this past summer, after packing and moving the 350 boxes, after I gave away my garden, my cars, my car, my earning power, his words really shocked me. We have discussed so many things but he never let me in on this fear/worry. After about 5 seconds, the understanding hit me like a ton of bricks; I had a real “light bulb” moment.

When Deme got his first job with Microsoft about 14 years ago, he moved along with the job to Ireland. He was either planning to marry or had just recently married his first wife Anna. To make a long story short, she never moved to Ireland to join her husband as she had promised. Was he having déjà vu with me? I gave him a tight hug and we have not talked about it since. ***Deme keeps warning me about putting personal information about him on my blog, this maybe the only time I let the public (well, my family and friends) in on the inner workings of my secretive husband.*** Remember that many people actually thought I was either hallucinating about having an Italian boyfriend or he was just an apparition.

Back to the second reason I am being pushed to start lessons; if I want to get a job I will have to learn the language. I went to a sample class today and I don’t have much trouble understanding Italian but responding in a non-delayed manner is still a problem. The class had two other women, both Germans here with their boyfriends and both boyfriends worked for BMW. One was ethnic German and the other was Vietnamese. Both spoke three languages and were on their forth, Italian. I am in no hurry to get a job. I’ve been reading, taking walks to the city center, shopping, cooking, looking at apartments and getting some much needed shut-eye. For once in my life, I feel no pressure to work and meet other peoples’ needs. This state is doing wonders for my blood pressure.

So because of my many chances to nap, rest and relax I have been having very vivid dreams about family, friends, Italy and lately the Olympics in Turin 2006. Deme’s co-worker Jonas’ girlfriend Linda found an opportunity to work with the Olympic as a volunteer. Deme thinks I may be able to find a hospitality job associated with the Olympics. He keeps putting the idea into my head and a few nights ago it sneaked into my subconscious. In my dream, I had been hired as a consultant to the Hospitality Branch of the Olympic Committee. They wanted me to roam the city of Turin and look around for ways to improve the surroundings to U.S. foreigners. It was a huge job but with the event only a year away, they wanted me to start right away. Being a resident of Turin for only three weeks and a frequent bus rider, I had immediate ideas.

1. Street signs are often hard to read because they are too small, covered with soot, and bent. All these needed to be remedied. The bus system is good with free bus maps at every tobacco store. They also have postcards, stamps and other odds and ends.
2. The most antiquated and stately buildings in Turin all have terrible graffiti all over then. I had scientists invent a new kind of paint solvent that when sprayed on existing graffiti dissolved the old paint and prevent additional spray paint from adhering. An additional additive was added to regular paint that was used to paint and restore buildings so it would be able to affix itself properly.
3. Many shops in Turin are beautiful. For the ones that were not so elegantly maintained I proposed a “Clean-Up your Doorstep” program. All doorsteps, homes, rental buildings, bars, restaurants, were to be cleaned of dog pee, bird droppings, cigarette butts, dirt, and garbage; all in the prospect of attracting more paying customers when the Olympics arrived.
4. Each family with a dog had to pick up their dogs poop along retroactive dog poop. If you had two dogs then two family members had to pitch in. I think this was the hardest part of my plan to enact but with a bit of extra money from the city, we placed bag outposts in all public parks, piazzas and large gathering places with garbage cans for poop as well as sign all over; which there are none now. Our committee encouraged the beautification of the city and when we began to see citizens finger waving at violators, we smiled. We also fined violators a minimal fee and used the money to further fund the project. In two months time, I saw the citizens of Turin, handing their neighbors a bag if they did not have one and I saw bags tied to every leash just like in Seattle. The best part of the dream was when dog poop was picked up in city parks and grassy strips, little crocus and buttercups bloomed instantaneously. This brought delight to all good doers and everyone was happy. (I maybe be stretching it here but I really dreamt it and I dream in Technicolor.)
5. One the streets and sidewalks to Turin, there are large garbage dumpers parked everywhere, like 30 meters from the front door of our hotel, on corners, in alleys, all over. My committee had covers made for all the dumpsters. People could still throw trash in them but they looked a bit nicer. When the dumpers were picked up by the garbage trucks, they either took the covers off or tightened the covers so they did not fall off and impede the collection of garbage.
6. The infrastructure and decorating committees hired an army of new but temporary workers to improve flower beds, prune trees, sweep leaves, cut grass, water the new flower baskets that now hang from light posts.
7. By the end of six months and with the Olympics fast approaching, Turin gleamed. The only thing left for the Torinese (Tor-in-nay-say) people to do was to learn how to greet their new guests and make them feel welcome. Several times a day, there were short installment programs on TV and on the radio that taught people how to say “Hello/good day/welcome to Turin/Are you lost? /Do you need help?” in a variety of languages. All that dreaming in one night and when I woke up the next morning I felt refreshed about my new life in Turin.

Apartment Hunting

We have spending several mornings a week as well as some time on the weekend looking for a decent apartment but it is really quite difficult. This was supposed to be my job but since very few rental agents speak English, we have to make a joint effort. I know how to ask the basic information, how much does the apartment cost and what are the expenses per month? How many square meters? Is there a balcony or terrace? etc…etc…etc…

Often when Demetrio contacts the agents or the homeowners he is kept on the phone for 20 minutes or more while I pace the streets and try to make out what they are discussing, mostly the conversation goes like this:

“Hello, my name is D’Ambrosi and I am calling about the apartment on Massimo D’Azeglio, or Via Po or Corso Dante.”
“Yes, good day, I was wondering what floor the apartment is on and is there a car space or elevator available in the building.”
“Oh, I am here with my wife.”
“We have just moved here from the US and I am working for Microsoft @ the MiraFiori Building on Corso Orbbassano.”
“Well, we have been here for two weeks and would like to find a place in this certain area.”
“Anyway, I work with computers and got transferred here from Seattle.”
And on and on it goes for about 20+ minutes. After he gets off the phone I ask,
“Why did you have to tell him your whole life story?”

He then explains that business is a social engagement and people are curious about you and your intentions, so the questions fly.

Our intention is to find another furnished temporary apartment to stay in for about 6 months or so until we find a place to buy or rent longer term. I want to get settled right away but closing on a home here in Italy can often take 6 months or more. We have the Microsoft apartment until April 15th or so.

The furnished apartments we have looked at have been small, 750-950 square feet; often the lease contracts are reasonable about 6 months to a year. The unfurnished places are often bigger but need a lot of work. I saw the place of my dreams the first week I was here. It was in the center of town near a small park. It was 1300 square feet, but the space was proportioned wonderfully. There were 2 balconies, one looked out onto the street and the other looked inward towards the center of the building. The ceilings were high; it had cove moldings and large double doors, wood floors, old tile everywhere. There were 2 bathrooms, closet space and 2 bedrooms with an extra space for an office or guest area. I fell in love with the apartment right away and thought it must be very old. The only 2 problems were that one, the owners wanted a 4 year lease contract and two, in Italy when they say the apartment is unfurnished then it has no stove, no fridge, no washer, no kitchen counters, no light fixtures, nothing. I was surprised; the cost was E 1200.00/month, that’s about $1596/month at the current exchange rate.

That was two weeks ago, this morning we looked a cheesily remodeled but very big 2100 square feet apartment for E 1300/month, that was absolutely luminous with wood floors and lots of space, 3 bathrooms, 2 bedrooms, a very large balcony and the best part was it faced the Parco Valentino, one of the biggest parks in Turin and is only 2 blocks from where we live now. The molding was not as nice; the kitchen was bigger but a wreck and all in all it needed a ton of work. We both looked and liked many aspects of both apartments but putting a bunch of money into a temporary place is not what we want to do right now.

Not having a place to settle in right away feels very uncomfortable to me because I want to paint, unpack boxes and have some of my own things about. I really dread moving again but if we did it would just be us and a few suitcases. We will have our container unloaded as soon as it gets to Livorno and then the contents stored in a place in Turin. It will be really inconvenient but I suppose every weekend or so, we would go and retrieve essentials.

On being a new housewife

Being a housewife is not an easy job but then it’s not a difficult one either. (I’ve only had this job for two weeks and I manage a small apartment with cleaning ladies that come every Friday. I may feel differently when I move out of the Expo Residence and into a bigger place.) About 6 months ago when I told an old friend that I was planning to move with my then boyfriend Demetrio to Italy for 6 months and have an extended vacation, she was all for it, as were most people. She told me that the one experience she had never come across in her life is having a man take care of her financially.

Having been 31 at the time she and I had this talk, I can’t say that is true for me. My dad helped me through college, paid my bills, tuition, and even encouraged me to budget in entertainment costs (eating out and movies). I’ve had my living taken care of by someone else before but not to the same extent as now.

Every other morning Demetrio asks me if I have any money. If I don’t answer because I’m still buried in the covers, sometimes he just leaves cash on the kitchen counter along with a note. I am responsible for all the grocery shopping, the cooking, the tidying up and the laundry. Since the dry-cleaning is so expensive, I have decided to wash, dry and iron all his work shirts. Last Friday, I laundered twelve shirts and ironed them all. It took me 10 minutes a shirt, so 2 hours total. This is not bad for two weeks worth of shirts and I just don’t see paying someone to do this when I do a great job and am not employed right now. He says it’s the Chinese laundering gene coming out in me, I think that was an insult but he loves his shirts and says if I want to do them then I should feel free. Part of me would love to just send them out but I am much more frugal than my husband and see it as a bad value for the money. Also I feel a bit guilty spending money. I know from talking to friends that stay home with kids that they sometimes feel guilty not working and spending. On that note, if I don’t get pregnant soon, and finalize all my papers in Italy, I will get a part time job teaching English or maybe working in hospitality associated with the Olympics in 2006.

My Italian classes begin in a week. I will take 2 intensive classes in a row. On Saturday, we did a trial run of my two bus routes. After I felt confident, we walked to a public market, then downtown. My darling husband has been encouraging me to get out and enjoy Turin, which I do on occasion but he and many other people know that I am from a big family and doing things alone is not really my cup of tea. Whenever I mention that I had a particularly uneventful day he gets a concerned look on his face and says “that’s because you did not go to the center and are not taking classes.” I tell him not to worry, my blood pressure is better and hanging out at home gives me time to blog, read and write letters.

The one thing I as a housewife or casalinga cannot seem to get a handle on is the amount of dust that accumulates from living in the city. Whenever I open a window for some “sort-of-fresh air”; dust tornados in. The partial solution to the problem is for us to get an air purifier when we move. The other solution is for Demetrio to stop smoking.

Just some of my laundering handiwork

Quality of Life?

Everyone was so excited for me when I told them I was moving to Italy, in all truthfulness, I was excited for myself. I thought of the hills, the mountains, the food, the wine and one of the most fascinating cultures on earth.

Quasi-Italian is so popular in the US, on my first trip here, Deme’s family was shocked I knew about procuitto, buffalo mozzarella, risotto, bruschetta, how to cook al dente pasta etc… I explained to them that Seattle and many major US cities are in love with the Mediterranean diet and lifestyle and are imitating it. Americans love the food, the idea of long, lingering meals at the table, espressos, cappuccinos, operas, aria, Andrea Bocelli, and one of my favorites, good Parmigiano.

Now that I am here, I do get the benefit of the great food and some gorgeous scenery in the country but there are other things amiss. The wonderful quality of life I thought I was in for is seriously in question. Life in Italy has its advantages but disadvantages also and since I am on a rant, I’ll head straight for the disadvantages:

1. Parking is a total crap shoot. Cars find their way into tiny spots that are only meant for motorcycles and leave you climbing in via the trunk or hatch back to get to your steering wheel.
2. CD’s cost $25.oo each
3. DVD rentals cost $5-7 dollars a night each.
4. Gas is $4.00 a gallon or E 1.08 a liter.
5. I think I mentioned the proliferation of dog poop all over the streets, sidewalks and any patch of grass from here to the ocean.
6. Rent in the city is high, E 850.00-E 1200.00 for a small apartment; let’s say 800-1200 square feet. And to buy is outrageous; Turin is cheaper than Rome but Rome in almost on par with some places in California and New York.
7. The phone system is not like the US whereby you pay $29.99 a month and $.08 a minute to call to some other US destination. You pay for your minutes used, no matter where you are calling, local or long distance. Also another confusing side note, the phone numbers differs from 5-11 digits depending on where you live and how long your phone service has been hooked up.
8. Cell phone service is worse; there are no calling plans here. You either buy a pre-paid card or pay by the minute. An interesting feature is that you are not billed for call you receive, only ones you make. I try to remember that when I’m on the line.
9. Dry cleaning a man's shirt costs between E 3-5, and it is cheaper to dry clean a pair of pants than a shirt. Very strange.

Right now the only one who seems to be enjoying a better quality of life is the dog. His major decisions in the day are where to lie; on the floor in the sun, on the couch in the sun, on the bed in the sun or out of the sun completely. Now he enjoys a relaxing life with long walks, attention from strangers, he gets to dine at restaurants and travel in style. I should encourage him to start a blog.

The dog lying out of the sunbeam

The dog lying in a sunbeam

The car show in Geneva

Yesterday while I was riding the bus to the mall with a fellow American girlfriend, Linda. (She is here with her boyfriend Jonas, who works with Demetrio.) Demetrio drove from Turin through a bit of France and then to Switzerland to check out the car show in Geneva. Here are a few highlight shots: