To Dust or Not to Dust?

A few posts back I wrote about the noise pollution that I am subject to living in Torino. There is however something that bothers me a bit more and that thing is dust. I love to leave the windows open for fresh air but hate the dust that comes in with them. The worst dusting job of all time is the dusting of the shutters of the windows and doors.

Italy truly is the dustiest place I have ever lived, and it's not just me with that opinion. A few other expats feel the same way. You can dust one day, then miraculously that same surface is dusty in less than 24 hours. Living in the city, I think it must come from a variety of sources. Pollution from cars/heating, lint from the clothes that dry outside, dust and dirt debris from plants and soil on almost every terrace, balcony and rooftop, dust from everyone whacking their rugs all over the city, construction dust and more.

I dust all the time and can't escape the feeling that my home is dirty, dirty, dirty. Over the past year, I have given up and only dust about once a week or when guests arrive, in between dustings I have decided to turn a blind eye.

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Noise Pollution

Living in a city has its benefits. The magazine/newspaper stand is minutes away, so is the self-service video machine, as well as the little grocery store around the corner. Most of the time, all I have to do is cross the street in order to access the pharmacy, tobacco store (for stamps), things are close and things are convenient.

The noise of the city however is beginning to really get on my nerves. We have chosen to live on a busy street in a nice neighborhood, but then all of Torino is busy and there is no escaping the noise. As I write this I am listening to a jackhammer that began at 8 am. Everyone at one time or another, is having major reconstruction done on their homes. I should also mention that many Italians, mainly my neighbors, like to watch television with the volume turned up very loud.

I was awoken my the recycling truck as it dumped a load of glass bottles into its hold. Women whack their rugs early in the morning, horns go off at all hours of the night, but when a big soccer game takes place the horns go off continuously. Dogs are left on terraces and balconies all day and they bark when the wind blows. I have been in some quiet apartments, usually the outside noise is reduced by the addition of double pane glass. If we were to buy an apartment in Italy, I would opt for this solution. For now, with summer approaching, I sit in the house with a few windows open so I can catch a cool breeze. The noise permeates everything. You would think that after a year I would have gotten used to it but I still haven't.

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Not A Secret

After 4 months, we are ready to let the cat out of the bag, spill the beans and divulge our secret. We are expecting a BABY!

There were tests to get out of the way, nausea to conquer and fingers to be crossed but not everything seems to be in the clear and we are official going to start buying baby clothes. We opted not to find out the sex of the baby but will be tracking my pregnancy through our other blog. I want to leave this one for food posts and content about Italy senza the baby. We are excited!

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Man Pants

When I first arrived in Italy, there were many things I had to get used to. ORANGE pants on men is still something that catches my eye, along with white jeans, (Don Johnston of Miami Vice called and he wants his jeans back), RED pants, and LIME green pants. These colors seem to really be stylish right now. In fact after a year of looking for the right pair, Deme succumb and got two pairs of his own, a BRICK pair and a TANGERINE pair. I must say they look nice on him but they are BRIGHT!

Another thing, these ORANGE pants are almost always paired with a light blue short of some sort.

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Scaredy Cat

 The cat scared ME half to death when I found him sleeping like THIS. He really enjoys sleeping on the chair next to me as I work and surf the internet. Although I think he is happy, sadly his tumor has grown back and he may not have much time left. 

The Italian Phonetic Alphabet

I used to have an ex-boyfriend who was never in the military but admired those who've served and were serving our country. He used to love watching old war movies and enjoyed history quite a bit. Through him I learned the American Phonetic or Military Alphabet; which is used quite frequently in military movies and spy films. It is also useful in all kinds of situations like reciting your drivers lic.#, an airline reservation, anything that has a mix of letters. I find myself using it quite a bit.

Here it is:

Alpha Bravo Charlie Delta Echo Foxtrot Golf Hotel India
Juliet Kilo Lima Mike November Oscar Papa Quebec Romeo
Sierra Tango Uniform Victor Whiskey X-ray Yankee Zulu

What I did not know what that the Italians have a similar thing. Last week, I heard Deme talking to a postal customer service representative. A package that my sister in the States mailed to me just never arrived and I wanted to file a complaint. The USPS website says it arrived in Italy but it stuck in limbo somewhere. As he rattled off my name, my sisters’ name and her address; I heard him using the Italian Phonetic alphabet. (Most of the words are derived from Italian cities)

My name (using this alphabet) is:

Genova, Imola, Ancona (GIA)

Padova, Ancona, Roma, Savona, Otranto, Napoli, Savona (PARSONS)

Both alphabets are quite useful as Italians have a difficult time spelling American words, for example Nashville and Americans can't even fathom Corso Vittorio Emmanuele. Ha! Ha! I better learn the Italian one, pronta!

Here it is:

Ancona, Bologna, Como, Domodossola, Empoli, Firenze, Genova,
Hacca, Imola, Jolly, Kappa, Livorno, Milano, Napoli,
Otranto, Pisa/Palermo, Quartomiglio, Roma, Savona/Siena,
Torino, Udine, Venezia, Wagner, Xilofono, York, Zara

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Good Cop? Bad Cop?

Today as Deme and I weaseled our way through traffic running errands on the moped/motorino, we noticed some traffic cops hassling a man who had parked his bike in the ambulance zone of a hospital. (We were also on our way to the hospital as I was in need of having a blood test done.) As we drove around in circles looking for a place to park the moto, Deme took it upon himself to berate the traffic guys for giving the man, (not an Italian) a hard time. I was helpless to do anything about it as I watched and listened to Deme hash it out with both traffic guys. My DH saw it as an abuse of power of a public official and wanted to let them know that they were being unfair. The conversation went something like this:

Deme: “You guys should be ashamed of yourselves. Why don’t you give tickets to the guys who have doubled parked on a one way street 3 feet away instead of hassling this guy.”

Traffic Guy: “Why do you care, mind your own business, he is parked in the ambulance zone and that is illegal.”

D: “Don’t you have anything better to do than to hassle people? You are such a buffoon.”

TG: “You cannot call a public official that, I take offense to that. I am going to give you a ticket right now.”

D: “Go ahead, write me a ticket, if you are a public official, give me your name and ranking.” They guy does not give him the info. and they proceed to go back and forth, arguing. We did not get a ticket, yet…

TG: “Why don’t you come and meet me here at 2 pm after my shift and we can settle it then.” I did not think this was a good plan on either part. At this point I was signaling to Demetrio that I wanted to leave and just get out of there.

Eventually, a bystander came up to Deme, patted him in the arm and said “Let it go, let it go, you were right.”

We left without further incident but I got nervous as both men were face to face for some time. I did not catch all the details of the conversation but could not help but feel sorry for the guy who was harassed. Were the traffic guys singling him out? I am not sure and I did not appear on the scene from the onset so I can’t say definitively. I often wonder about the prevalence of racism in Italy, all I know is that I have been a victim once or twice. Maybe the DH should have been a lawyer.

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Brodo Anyone?

Brodo in Italian is a broth. Usually a broth in which meat and water have been cooked together to produce what we in America call a stock. Of course there are vegetable stocks too, like mushroom brodo, used to make mushroom risotto. A very common dish I like very much is simple meat tortelloni or tortellini in a clear and rich meat brodo.

I have been making and craving authentic Chinese soups and made a few this week. One of my favorites is my dad's oxtail soup. It's clear, slow simmered and dotted with thick pieces of old carrots (by old I mean not baby carrots, ones that are thicker and larger then the ones you usually see in supermarkets), Chinese radish, and potatoes. As the soup was simmering, the dog kept sniffing the air; he knew something good was coming. The husband was however, not too enthused. You see although my husband likes minestra, he does not however like brodo.

Minestra and zuppa are Italian words for soup, usually thick, with beans, vegetables, pasta and/or meat. This he will gobble up in a second but with brodo; he eats what bits there are and leaves the precious broth. He just does not appreciate how great a nice broth is with hot rice. My family loves soups and both my parents make the best soups I have ever tasted.


A Chinese yam/potato, great in soups and mashed or cooked then made into a dessert with a bit of sugar and coconut milk.


A Chinese "super radish" this one was about 2 feet long and 3-4 inches in diameter.


My finished soup. Cilantro and a dash of soy are wonderful condiments.

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Jaw Dropping Produce

Today I went to the market with Laura. Lately, I have been craving Asian foods and wanted to make some soups. Before I went to the big "meat house" (where there are no less than 100 different butchers) I stopped by the Vietnamese store and my jaw dropped. See photos below.

This is a juicy, super ripe piece of a Philippine mango. There is not much else on earth that compares to it and it runs circles around the mangos that I usually buy. I have never seen them in Torino before and had to have one. In the states they are often called champagne mangos.

This is a fruit of my childhood, my eyes popped when I saw them nestled gently in a crate with packing paper wrapped around each one. They were ripe and sweet but not perfectly tree ripened like I used to eat on Guam. Back at home, if the fruits were not 100 percent ripe we placed them in a large vat of rice to ripen them further. Here I just placed them in paper bag and am hoping for the best. This is a very popular fruit in tropical climates. Read more about them
here, here and here.


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Carta d'Indentita'

After over a year and 3 months, I have finally received my residence card. I am now a resident of Torino and entitled to all resident benefits. The main reason I wanted to get my residence card was so that I did not have to carry my passport around with me as a valid form of identification. Once in a while I would get nightmares about my purse being stolen or more likely, me misplacing it and having to go through all the red tape that comes with getting it replaced. I also don’t have to carry my permesso around with me anymore, although I have copies of both my passport and my permesso with me at all times. Those Italians sure love paper!

The nest step is for me to use my residence card to apply for a drivers’ license. I have heard quite a few hairy stories about the written test but I think I will be fine during the driven part. Funny but the drivers’ licenses here in Italy are NOT a valid form of identification and only get renewed something like every 10 years or so. Wish me luck!

Strange that Italian government expects you to keep this piece of paper on you at all times but they will not let you laminate it. The old cartas used regular staples to affix the photo and this was easily falsified. Nowadays they use a more secure system to fasten your photo.

So glad this bit of red tape is out of the way. When and if we move to Rome I get to start all over again.

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My First Visit to a Hospital in Italy

A friend of mine, Sharon, recently gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl here in Torino. I went to the hospital several times to see both proud parents and the little one. The visits were eye opening experiences for me as this was my first experience in an Italian maternity ward. The hospital was small, old but nicely equipped. Sharon and her husband had done many hospital tours and this one won out among them all, because it was small, more personal and best of all had a birthing pool.

In America, an expectant mother can get a private room in a birthing center. Here in Italy these are rare and in most public hospitals there are 4 beds in a room. (Some private hospitals and clinics give you 2 beds in a room or ever your own suite but I have yet to see this.) At first I thought the idea of having more than one person in the room with you was a bit crowded but Sharon liked the camaraderie. I say that all the moms chatted with each other, gushed over one another’s’ babies and this made passing the time much more pleasant as visiting hours were only 1:00-2:30 and 6:00-7:00 daily. The beds were hand cranked vintage ones; one of the other dad’s or guests was always willing to lend a hand if you needed one.

I walked around the small maternity wing and made my way to the small neo-natal room. Outside there were photos of tiny babies, that were born at that hospital. The tiniest one was born at 670 grams, that’s about 1.5 pounds. There were others born at 700, 800 and 1 kilo. There was a dining room for moms, showers in the bathrooms, a kitchen, and little amenities here and there. Most moms kept their babies with them in their rooms but if they wanted to sleep, to eat or to just take a break, they could wheel the babies to the nursery where a nurse kept and eye on them. All in all, Sharon is happy with her experience and I hope I have a great one too if we decided to have a child in Italy.

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Kitchen Sink Rice Salad

Why am I calling this recipe "Kitchen Sink Rice Salad"? Because it is so easy to make and I put everything I have in the kitchen into the recipe with the exception of the kitchen sink.

Rice salad is a popular dish in Italy. It starts to show up around spring time here in Torino when spring peas and super fresh and tender veggies pop up at the market. I had a friend over for lunch yesterday and decided to clean out the fridge and make something very tasty at the same time. Rice salad was a natural choice.

Rice Salad
(this amount serves 4 as a side dish)

1 C. uncooked arborio/carnaroli rice

To cook the rice:

Cook rice with 1.5 C. water and pinch of salt until al dente and not mushy, leave the lid off during the cooking so the rice does not absorb too much water. You can whole intact grains of rice so don't stir too much. When the rice is done let cool. Alternatively, you can saute rice in a bit of olive oil before cooking.

Assembly of the salad:

Note: All these ingredients are merely suggestions

Add the following ingredients to the cooled rice:

1 T. chopped capers
2 T. chopped olives, green or black or both
1/2 C. fresh/frozen peas and carrots, both blanched and cooled
1/2-1 C. cubed ham, turkey or mortadella
1/2 C. or more, quartered cherry tomatoes
1/4 C. diced cucumber or fennel
1/4 C. diced red or white onion
2-4 T. chopped herbs, dill, parsley, mint or combinations of all
1/2 C. cubed hard cheese, such as Swiss, Provolone, Parmigiano, or a combination
hard boiled egg is a common garnish

Combine all of the ingredients and dress with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Serve room temp. or chilled a bit.



I can eat mounds of this salad.


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Chiara's English Improves Weekly

Video Hosting - Upload Video - Photo Sharing

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How to Meet an Italian

After reading Cyndi’s post on how she met her “Italian”, I decided to piggyback on her idea and chronicle how I met mine. If you go back to my December 2004 archives you’ll be able to read about how we were married in Las Vegas but not about how we met. I guess it’s time to fill in the blanks.

I had separated from my fiancé Michael and was feeling super depressed. We tried for months to work out our differences but to no avail. A wonderful friend of mine, Miriam, decided to take on the job of cheering me up and invited me to a BBQ, she and her friends were having on Alki Beach in Seattle. It was early August and the weather was gorgeous, warm and breezy. Part of me just did not feel like mingling but to appease Miriam, I went anyway. We stopped off at a gourmet grocery store and picked up some cheese, bread, fruit and olives to nibble on as we sat out looking at Puget Sound. Not long after we began snacking, several of her friends and a few acquaintances came over, planted themselves on our beach towel and began chatting with us. One of these acquaintances was Demetrio.

According to my DH (dear husband), he and his friend Marco saw me coming to join the group.

Marco says “She looks nice; I am going to go over and talk to her.”

Deme replies “No, no you stay here and I will go over, talk to her and get her phone number for you.”

Long story short, Deme gets my vitals and reveals nothing to Marco.

At the time, I like Cyndi was planning a trip to Italy. After Deme sat down on my beach towel and revealed he was Italian, at first I thought he was Greek or Russian and that his name was Dimitrio, we began to talk about books, movies, and his time in Ireland, my childhood on Guam. He surprised me when he knew where Guam was, how deep the Marianas Trench was and so on and so forth. I knew he was going to be an interesting conversational partner and for the first time in months I was really enjoying the company of another man. He offered me his sweater as the sun began to set; I think he wanted to have a reason to see me again and to retrieve the sweater.

“Would you like to borrow my sweater” he asks.

“Keep it for as long as you like but if I get cold, I might have to ask for it back.” He adds jokingly.

I being a total brick at the time; did not get the fact this was joke. I had taken the sweater, put it around my shoulders, but when I hear him say he might want it back, I innocently replied,

“Oh don’t worry about it, I don’t want you getting cold. Maybe you should just keep it.” (Can you think of a more idiotic thing to say?)

Soon the sun set, I started shivering and we decided to go home. Before I left I gave Deme my email address and the very next day I received a note, saying that he wanted to see me again and would be in touch right after a short business trip. The rest they say is history.


A funny after note: On our first date, dinner and a movie, I almost re-thought the whole thing as I saw him strolling towards me. Gold chain around his neck and wrist, Prada loafers, paisley pants and rolling his own cigarette, I questioned myself. “What have I gotten into?”

A second funny after note: Two months after we met, I asked Deme to help me with a Labor Day BBQ I was having for friends at my house. He came over apron in hand was ready to tear up my kitchen. We planed an Italian menu and set out to feed about 8 people, as he began to prepare the basil, I glanced over his shoulder and said

“Oh that is a beautiful chiffonade".

Deme then stopped what he was doing, put down this knife, took the towel off this shoulder, turned to me wide-eyed and said incredulously,

“It’s been a long time since a girl has said “chiffonade” to me.”

I think this is the moment that we knew; we could work together in the kitchen and in life.


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Patente=Drivers License

When I finally get my residence card, I will have to take my Italian drivers license test. It is given in Italian and it is a written and a driving exam. I have the option to take it orally since I am a foreigner but I have not decided yet. There are many, many driving schools out there. You sign up for a class, take the practice exams, study the book, get a tutor, practice in a car with a tutor and then go in for your exam. All this can cost from either 250-600 Euros depending on how much instruction you choose.

Driving schools really don't exist in the U.S., or do they? I know a lot of kids take drivers education in highschool though. When I was 15 I got my drivers permit, which meant I could drive with a licensed adult in the car with me. Then at 16, after a year of on the road practice, I took the written exam and the driving exam and got my license. It was all a piece of cake. When I arrived in Seattle from Guam, I only had to take another written exam before I was given a spiffy new Washington State driving license.

Here in Italy, things a a bit trickier. I know the patente has a reputation to be a very long process. First the driving classes take several months to complete, then you sign up for a written exam, if you fail you have to retake it until you pass, then about a month later you will be able to take the driving exam. It is not a one-shot deal like in the States where in a one afternoon you can walk out of the D.M.V. (Dept.of Motor Vehicles) with a drivers license. In fact, in Italy your driving license is not a valid form of identification.

I am studying the examination book now in the hopes that I won't fail too many times. This book is very long and full of a million rules that no one seems to follow, or no one seems to enforce.

Some examples:

1. Do not park on islands, in front of rubbish containers, in bus zones, in handicapped zones, in back of other cars, blocking entrances to driveways etc...

2. You and your passenger(s) must wear seatbelts at all times. The one page later it says, children under 12 must be restrained by the approved child restraint for their age and height but children under l3 can be in vehicles not fitted with the proper restraints if they sit in the back and are accompanied by someone over 16 years old! Huh????

3. You may not use cell phones while you are driving. I once got a warning for this but not a ticket.

4. You are required to wear a helmet on a moped, motorcycle and/or sidecar.

I have no idea if I will pass or not on the first try but it's something I can't avoid any longer.


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Air Conditioning This Summer?

This might be our last summer in Torino. Last summer it was hot, hot, hot and to cool myself down I took 2-3 cold showers a day. I don’t remember exactly but the temps must have been around 90+F. It was hard to sleep at night and the month of August was the worst. We live on the 4th floor and I don’t think that helps either.

This year we hope to get an air conditioner. There have been a few warm days so far but nothing that an open window could not fix. The main problems with getting an air conditioner is where to put it and the cost. So we put in our bedroom only, they we’ll be sweating while watching movies in the living room and or nephew who plans to stay a month with us in July won’t get much cool air. Hmmm dilemmas. Other obstacle is the price of electricity. Not many people have clothes dryers for this reason alone.

The way the electricity is billed in Italy is by estimation. They estimate that a family of 2, 3 or 4+ members will used “X” amount of electricity and they bill you for that “X” amount. I have never had someone come to read our electric meter in the year or so I have lived here, although someone has come to red the gas meter. So as we don’t use much electricity we have “guestiamated” that we have a 600 Euro credit with the electric company which they are supposed to credit us when we move and close our account with them. Part of me feels like using that credit on the electricity consumption of an air conditioner and part of me feels like saving it for when we move out.

Deme’s apartment in Seattle had central air and I had a cool basement I could retreat too when it got too warm in Seattle, which it does not too that often. I am not so worried about the heat of the day, but when it comes to sleeping, I like it cool.

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