Northern Enlightenment

I was following the big snowstorm of the Mid-Atlantic states that recently hit the U.S., but not really from a meteorology standpoint, but rather an etymology one.   As a geographically-challenged American (you know, the ones that end up in last place against even the Albanians, who did not even know up until 1999 that there was a world outside their borders), I started thinking about the mid-Atlantic and where, that was exactly.

Taken literally, it would appear they’d been squawking about Bermuda – it’s in the middle of the Atlantic…isn’t it?  Now, that would have been news.  But, I wonder, to pass your weatherman test, do they give you a list of impossible terms that only you and your brethren are supposed to know?  I think it’s the closest thing to Dan Brown’s secret societies truly in our midst.

In Italy, I was okay with orientale and occidentale to mean East and West.  When back in the States, of course, you gotta learn real quick to zip up that ‘oriental’ bit real fast when speaking of those who hail from the Far East.  

But, then, I turned on the weather.

And I heard there was a big snowstorm in Italia settentrionale.  First time I heard that, I thought for sure it was one of those missing little regions you can never name, like Molise or Basilicata. 

And, of course, you always hear about the meridionale (often disparagingly), meaning, southern.  But then again, it’s also called the ‘mezzogiorno’.  Twelve noon?  You start thinking, High noon – like the Far West because of the Camorra, but then again, it’d be occidentale, no?  So, you think meridians – as in those lines that in your fourth grade geography class you kind of remember lining the globe.  Are we truly that near the equator?

Back to settentrionale, you finally infer that it means the North.  But, what does that have to do with seven?  And is that some bad thing like in the movie ‘Seven’?  As if you’re not confused enough by this time, you look it up – and boy, what you find really sheds light on the subject:

Turns out, it’s derived from the Latin, “septemtriones" meaning "seven oxes".  From here, we stay in the Animal Kingdom to find those seven oxen are stars in the heavens that make up Ursa Maggiore – and in there, the North Star.  And, while you rejoice in your leap of logic, you still are left to ponder over what the oxen have to do with the bear.

If someone would just let me in the secret society I, too, can be one of the enlightened few…

Food Fight

Just when we thought it was safe to enjoy ethnic cuisine…It wasn’t so long ago that you couldn’t find a thai eggroll or a piece of anago anywhere in the boot.  The Italians with their fine gastronomic sense, liked it so much, they even ate Italian whenever they were abroad – complaining between courses that it just wasn’t ‘buono’ like home. 
And so it comes as no surprise that in this age of intolerance for things ethnic (think: economic immigrants), that the battle would rage right in one’s pasta plate.  Not long ago, the fascists decided to purify the Italian language, using propaganda and posters in order to convince the population to follow suit (much like they do in France and Quebèc today).  Today, the poster child for this new intolerance is a McDonald’s burger no less.  But, hang on -- that’s American! 

Yes, but the burger pictured – just in case you didn’t read the writing – has the map of Italy seared right onto it.  Telling us that the meat at mickey d’s is red white and green (which, after that fine meat is added to all the mixings – well, there might be some truth in advertising after all).

Next thing you know, falafel and kebab (think: gyro) shops are being banned from city centers.  With all the flack about how they are ‘un-Italian’, people forgot that those juicy Italian burgers have been banned from many a centro storico for a long time.  Mostly, for the bright fluorescent lights, ubiquitous advertising but, even more so, the odours. Although I’m all for it, frankly, I think it’s more for the fact that they take away business from the panini shops nearby.

What Italians have forgotten altogether is that back in the day, Italy was a very diverse country with people flocking here from all ends of the empire.  You would probably have seen a falafel guy cooking right next to the burger dude – kind of like a New York City street corner.  Spices, meats, heck, even people were traded all over the empire.  And, where did those traders stop when they got a bit peckish?  At one of the many ‘take away’ stands lining the streets. 

So maybe someone needs to spin this story the right way.  It was Ancient Rome who brought us ethnic food and take away service.  And in a country that loves its traditions, what can be more traditional than that?

Francesca Maggi's Strange but True!

Some of this is a bit old, but I loved the 'news' so much, I thought I'd share with you some stories from far and wide...

Il piccolo mondo...A St. Louis family posted their photos on the web.  Their friend, on vacation last June in Prague, happened upon their mugs posted on huge outdoor advertisements for a store there.
But...notice who's advertising...although those kids look anything but Italian, it's an Italian grocery store.

While in the UK, those Brits love to talk about the weather. But now, they have a whole lot more to talk about!  The snow?  Well, kinda.
Turns out, the BBC got so mad at the weather "forecasters" (quotes totally intentional), when they didn't predict the huge snowfall - they put at risk the fishermen who depend upon some measure of accuracy.  As a result, they want to shut down the office and replace them all.  There's talk of using the Swedes instead. 
I guess from Lapland, they know a snowstorm when they see one.

And, back in Italy, Rome continues its march to turn the once-prized 'Most Green City in Europe' to the 'Most Green City near the Sahara'.  Instead of bothering to spray the tall palms in the EUR region, they decided to simply do away with them instead.  And again, along the once-beautifully tree-lined via Trieste, we now can have uninhibited views of the graffiti and smog.
And yet, the city continues to wring their hands over what to do about the small particle pollution and relative high incidence of asthma and other costly maladies.  Couldn't we get the pollution guy in the same room as the parks guy?  I sometimes feel it's like Arafat & Sharon...

Tante Belle Cose - A new decade dawns in Italy

January may have just ended, but the New Year is ushering in all kinds of new & wonderful happenings here in Italy:

I returned to Rome to find a new building had gone up within the shopping center they’re building in my neighborhood.  Generally, I’m against such constructions (especially since…do we really need another shopping mall in Rome??), but I was nonetheless impressed.  The shopping center itself has taken years to erect, and so, to find a whole spanking new building (nicely designed, I might add) where a huge pit had been just two months previously, well, I thought was pretty cool.

After all, given the recession, it could have gone the other way and ended up as yet one more eco-mostro cement skeleton littering the landscape.

Then, I saw they had roped off the nearby thoroughfare – presumably to cut down the rest of the trees City Officials seem to find so offensive.  Instead, there they were, bulldozers.  Ripping out the patchwork of tree trunks from those they felled the year before.   

And, miracles of miracles, actually replacing those stumps with new trees!

Too bad these trees will not reach the heights of their predecessors (the city is sick of paying for damages when branches fall), but they’re a definite improvement to the mini-forum of 3 ft columns lining the roads.

But why they did not turn the corner and replace a few of the nearly petrified forest of tall stumps (they've been that way some 20-odd years) on every other nearby street is beyond me…

And, to top it all off, the ciliegio sulla torta...(drum roll, please)...While at a dinner party, I discovered that Minister Bersani (a while back) had succeeded in passing a law whereby the banks are no longer allowed to charge 80 or 100 euro or more for you to close your bank account!!! 

For every expat on earth who ever fled Italy, refusing to close your accounts -- you can come out of hiding!!  Close them with relish and never see another mountain of bills – errr, I mean bank statements – from Cassa di or Banca del ever again. 

Yes, the decade is off to quite a nice start.

Cleaning Casa

Hillary Clinton asserted (somewhat unsuccessfully) during her bid for America’s top job, that “Perhaps it takes a woman to clean up all the messes that the men have gotten us into.”  And from natural disasters to war zones and through economic crises, she is right on.  Traditionally, it’s been the women to pick up the scattered pieces, raise the children, and grow communities. 

Coming back to Italy, it would appear that things have gotten so out of hand that even the Italians are looking at an A-list of women running in elections across the country.  After seeing so many women in the USA as on talk shows, talking business, the economy and politics, I thought for a moment all of the posters were like hazy mirages from my jet lag.  Turns out, I was wrong.

Running for the Region of Lazio's governorship (or Presidency, I haven’t quite worked it out) of Rome & environs, are two welcome faces:  Emma Bonino and Renata Polverini.  It seems they battled to the top against a few others, like Loretta Napoleoni and Paola Binetti.  I’m not sure if this is some weird fad, or if in Italy, women finally are going to have their say.  But either way, I just hope that the ladies are here to stay. 

And although Polverini is half Bonino’s age (and experience), do I dare say it, we may have Berlusconi to thank for this unlikely turn of events? 

In the worst case, at least party officials can rest a bit easy in the knowledge that they won’t be muddying the party name – being found out cavorting with transvestite prostitutes or underaged call girls around town.

The Roman Calendar

Now that it’s a new year, and everyone is hanging up every version of their calendars, I came to the realization that I really didn’t need one.  Living in Italy, you can practically set your clock to the food cycle. And I don’t mean just the in-season fruits and vegetables:  I’m thinking desserts.

It’s January and nary a Panettone can be found far and wide.  All windows and grocery aisles are filled with the wonderful sights of Castagnole (donut holes, by any other name still smell as sweet) and Chiacchiere or Frappe (in Rome) baked or fried, in preparation for February’s carneval festivities.

By March, we’re treated to the Easter dove of peace, in the form of a sort of panettone without the raisins—if it weren’t for the great care in making these Colomba, you’d have thought they just took the leftover Pandoros and kind of squished them down just so.  They’re so delicious, though, they bring you right into April licking your lips from that chocolate frosted or cream filled treat you bought for dinner, but eat for breakfast instead. 

The Colomba cake has a curious history:  they showed up in medieval times just after the Barbarians tried to take Pavia.  I don’t know what this means.  Did the locals resist by living off of yeast-type bread?  Did they make and throw large versions at their would-be conquerors?  Did they offer them up as a sign of peace? No matter, the rest, as they say, is history.

Starting in May/June, you have to start hoarding all of the Mars Bars and little Lindt chocolates like a squirrel readying for winter.  When that sun starts to melt sidewalks, well, no retailer will be carrying black gold.

Summertime of course means only one thing:  gelato to your heart’s content.  You have come to see it as both a life-saving remedy for its cooling down factor, as well as something dietetic; It surely must have fewer calories than Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough or Haagen-Dazs’ dulce de leche.  Every day I cop a gelato cup, I thank my lucky stars they haven’t started posting calorie counters like in New York City Starbucks.

Come September, you can meet your favorite chocolate again in its every manifestation.  You buy double just in case there’s ever another run on chocolate again; you consider making a makeshift chocolate-filled bomb shelter pantry. You just never know when the shelves will go barren again.

In November we find the first Marrons Glacé, which, they’ve now decided to wrap in cute little one-mouthful mini-packs.  Again, you believe that if you only eat a few mini-packs a day, it surely cannot be like eating a king-sized Butterfinger!  After all, aren’t chestnuts fruit?

Which brings us into December, when Panettone and Pandoro have free reign.  Not good enough to simply eat as is (with the powdered sugar ritual poured over top), Americans have come up with “Italian” French Toast (wouldn’t eat be easier to just rename it ‘Italian Toast’?  Like French fries, I doubt either group truly eats their eponymous treats).   

So slice the pieces, dip in egg batter, and fry up those cakes before dousing them with maple syrup – making sure not to forget the powdered sugar over top - it's tradition.  Other serving suggestions are, swimming in chocolate fondue, or smothered in zabajione sauce. I swear it’s the Italian equivalent of Krispy Kremes.  And nothing gets better than that.

So, now that you have your calendar, you might as well start considering the New Years’ resolutions -- Now how is it that Italians stay so fit and trim?

* recipes posted on many of the hyperlinks

It's a Dog's Life

There is one person* who is truly grateful to be back home in Rome and that’s Trevor-the-dog. Sure, what to the rest of us would appear (justifiably so) as mini-obstacle courses as you walk down the sidewalk, and pock-marked palazzi stained by jet streams of spray, for a dog, it’s pure heaven.

After spending 2 months in the USA, Trevor is determined to make sure his scent is left on every curb, car tire, tree and tree stump far and wide. America may have a love affair with dogs, but you’d never know it – canines are truly to be seen and not smelled.

In the USA, there are approximately 77.5 million dogs; that’s nearly 30% of the population and with 39% of U.S. households owning at least one dog.
But, you’d never know it. People walk their dogs, but, the dogs are not allowed off a leash, so they can’t roam the huge park – it’s like inviting a dehydrated person to a pool and then not letting them jump right in. 

In the city, every tree is fenced in so no peeing allowed.  While in the suburbs, dogs can’t pee on trees or in yards, even if said yard contains a hydrant. People would rap on the windows if they so much saw my dog sniffing the grass on their lawn. I personally think Trevor spent two whole months ‘holding it’. Not only that, I still cannot tell how it is that large dogs in the suburbs get to run – it’s simply not permitted. We are probably modifying their genetic makeup with this practice; soon we’ll have the dog equivalent of penguins.

Trevor’s elation of his newfound freedom of being allowed into restaurants, bars and stores is truly palpable. What a treat! He gets to eat the crumbs left by the croissant & cappuccino eaters and beg for more. Many people may find this practice barbaric, but I still attest that dogs are as dirty as the bottom of your shoes; although that’s not to say that I’d want an Olde English Sheepdog drooling on my dining table.

And so, you’d pass people – in cities or in the burbs – talk about your dogs, admire them, but never allowing them to leave their mark, so to speak, even if it was on the trunk of an old oak tree. It was like a fashion runway of pets; dogs here and there, making their turn and taking off; not a single one stopping to smell the newly baptized roses.
They couldn't: they were as dry as a dog bone.

*term used loosely