by Maureen | Jan 1, 2010 | Featured Articles, Incredible Locations, Journal, Paris, People, Photos
New Year’s Eve. “Capodanno” they call it here. Fireworks are going off in the distance.
Having just come back from the energy of Paris, I don’t feel compelled to go downtown tonight, but will follow my tradition of spending the evening writing. Part of that act is the reflection on the past year, and for 2009 the novelty is in the last 6 months, since I moved here to Milano in June.
When I decided to move here, I very consciously wanted to have relationships. I wanted to form friendships and know people. I didn’t want to remain on the outside surface, as tourists do, but rather touch hearts and have mine touched. I left behind my treasured communities in Seattle, and came here where I had none.
Reaching this 6-month mark, I started to think about all the people I’ve gotten to know in big ways and small. I see people at school. At some of the stores I frequent. I’ve met some while traveling. And now, even see familiar faces while just out walking in the neighborhood. I’m creating what I wanted!
Allow me to introduce you to some of the many people I’ve either enjoyed a single, rich conversation with, or have had the pleasure to create a friendship with:
JUSTINE – Kenyan. I met Justine soon after I arrived and now I shop at that store a mile away just so I can say “hello” to her. Here she is cutting prosciutto for me.
EVELINA, BRUNELLO & GLENDA – Italian. These are the three I work most closely with at NABA.
PIOTR & EWA – Polish-German and Polish. We met in the summer when our tables were an inch apart and I was eating octopus. We’ve been getting together once a week or so ever since! Eva is a Pharmacist and Piotr is a retired conductor from Teatro alla Scala.
NARIN – Thai. Architectural faculty member from Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok.
PETE & ERIN – Australian. We met on the bike trail in the morning, and they slept on my fold-out bed that night! They were biking around Europe for 6 months and relying on the kindness of strangers.
ORIETTA – Italian. Concept researcher and trend forecaster in fashion and accessories. An instructor at NABA.
LYDIA – Swedish. Lydia makes the way smooth for NABA’s agents.
DOMENICA & PAOLO – Italian. They have the Spezia Pasticceria that creates those incredible pastries I’ve shown. They’re two blocks away from me, and we met when he did a search on the pastry shop and found my blog. They make the best pastries in town.
ANASTASIA, EMANUELE & ENCARNA – Greek and Spanish. Emanuale is the Consulate General of Greece. We shared a table and the dance floor at the Thanksgiving Dinner.
ENZA – Italian. Born in Sicily, raised back-and-forth between there and Australia. She and her husband own the corner grocery where I buy my water, and we chat.
TOMA – French, but has lived in Italy for years. He’s established in fashion and teaches at NABA.
BARBARA – President of the Benvenuto Club.
BRUNELLO – Italian. Vice President of NABA.
LILY & TOM – Irish. My cousins from my family’s historic homeland in Fermanagh County, Northern Ireland.
LEE – British, but she’s been in Italy a long time. Lee’s been working in fashion for about 30 years. She was my Fashion Design instructor in 2008 at NABA.
CIRO – Italian. A One-man Chamber of Commerce for the town of Casamicciola on the Island of Ischia.
SAM, PATRICK & MOMO – French and ? These three are fishmongers down the street from my hotel in Paris. Patrick, in the middle, speaks some Spanish, so between that and sign-language, we all had some laughs.
DAN – American. From Ohio University, working with NABA. Executive Director and Professor of Geography.
EVELINA & GLENDA – Italian, though Glenda lived in the U.S. for 8 years. These two coordinate the myriad details of the NABA summer and semester programs.
LUCA – Italian. We’ve discussed “Italian Design Methodology” and the differences in teaching methods between Italian schools and U.S. schools. Luca is NABA’s Design Program Coordinator.
DIMITRI & VERA – Russian. Architects, instructors at NABA.
ENIEL – Cuban. Moved to Paris 5 years ago and speaks some of 5 or 6 languages. Loves history and was my personal tour guide in Paris.
MADALENA & EMILY – Italian and Australian. Madalena lives in the mountains near Milano, and teaches Italian language courses. Emily is a student in my class.
AHMAD – Pakistani. Living in Venice and assisting his brother with his restaurant, “Noemi”.
FRANCESCO – Italian. Architect and instructor at NABA. He’s engaging and involved with the students.
GISELLA – Italian from Sicily. She has a Siciliano bakery just down the street. Sometimes I’ll buy little regional specialties from her.
HASSAN & SEBASTIAN – Iranian and German. We’ve been in Italian language classes together.
IDA – Italian. We met at the Benvenuto Club Christmas Bazaar, which is a fund-raiser for several local charities.
JAMES – British. He’s opened up a shop here selling textiles and is taking Italian language classes, too.
ROLANDO – Italian. We met on the train to the airport. I was on my way to Seattle. He was on his way to an EU gathering of parachutists from 10 different countries. He was in the Army in the mid-60s. He pulled B&W photos of his father out of his suitcase to show me.
MARZIA & FRIENDS – Italian (Sicily), Russian and ? Marzia’s on the right and after we had gone out for “apperitivi”, we met up with her friends at another restaurant. Marzia is also with NABA.
REMO – Italian (from the south). A Materials Engineer. We’ve had some good conversations and I sat in on some of his design classes at NABA and accompanied them on field trips.
OZDAN, SEBASTIAN & EMILY – Turkish, German & Australian. In this photo, they were doing a skit in our Italian language class.
NORM & JOE – Irish. My Guinness drinkin’ buddies in the far northern reaches of Ireland.
JAN – Norwegian. He got talked into wearing a “Babbo Natale” hat at the Scuola Leonardo language school’s Christmas party.
by Maureen | Dec 22, 2009 | Featured Articles, Food!, Journal, Meals, Paris
After walking in a cold rain for several hours on my first evening in Paris, I wanted something HOT in my belly. I wanted a hearty soup or stew. I walked into the Brasserie Balzar, about 3 blocks from my hotel. Quite brightly lit and full of people. When greeted at the door, I said to the man, “do you speak English?” “No.” “Italian?” “No.” “Spanish?” “Mexican!” “Great. We’ll speak ‘Mexican’!” (Even though my “Mexican” is out the door since I’ve been speaking Italian.)
He showed me to a tiny little table in the corner next to the window. Perfect. I told him I wanted a nice hot meal and his menu suggestion seemed to have been some combination of Spanish and French and I really didn’t understand much of it at all. I told him it sounded great, got out my journal and waited.
My actual, “designated” waiter came to the table and HE spoke English. He recommended the French Onion Soup, to be followed by pepper steak with some sparkling mineral water and a nice red wine. (Chateau de Brague 2006, Grand Vin de Bordeaux, Bordeaux Superieur).
He and I ended up chatting here and there in between his serving the other patrons on a busy night. I had the perfect, cozy spot tucked away from the bustle and could just eat, drink, write, eat, drink, write for three hours. Ahh. Bliss on all counts.
Here’s a note from my journal: “The French Onion Soup was perfect after hours walking through rainy and cold Paris. That, and the lovely Bordeaux, have added a rose tint to my cheeks. The Pepper Steak, with its lovely sauce was fabulous and cooked ’til divine. I mopped up the sauce with the steak fries.”
The sauce on the Pepper Steak (after asking the waiter): Juice from the steak, pepper, cream, mustard, tomato (hardly a hint) and cognac.
I finished my first dinner in Paris with Creme Caramel. (Why not?) I was full and sated.
Brasserie Balzar (Ask for Jean)
49 Rue des Ecoles
75005 Paris, Latin Quarter
www.BrasserieBalzar.com
Tel: 01-43-54-13-67
While nestled in eating and writing, I also noted this: “I’ve been eating bread in Milan for 6 months and haven’t found any I like (except the Austrian-influenced bread from Trentino-Aldo Adige). I’ve been in France half a day and I already think the French make better bread than the Italians! (What I’ve found here in Paris) is dense, moist, varied, full of texture and flavor. THAT is bread that makes itself worth eating.” (I don’t mean to insult my Italian friends, but…)
by Maureen | Nov 29, 2009 | Discoveries, Introspection, Journal, People, Quips
One of my cousins just wrote to me and asked, “What are the highlights of your time in Milan… so far?”
I’ve been mulling it over all day. Hard one to answer. I think the highlights have been mostly little things, little bright moments or little challenges surmounted. Many a gorgeous sight and delicious meal, yes. But also the small communications, triumphant in my limited, but growing, Italian.
A week or so after arriving in June, I was given only an address and told to go apply for a “codice fiscale“, an official financial code. I googled the location, took the metro, arose out of the subway and walked 20 blocks or so to a huge, government building. I entered and somehow figured out where to go, which long line to stand in, what to ask for, what to do with the papers the guy gave me, where to wait, how to know when it was my turn and what desk to approach when my number came up. I answered her questions, in Italian, thanked the woman and walked out with my stamped paper. I could now get a bank account.
After having been here for one hot month, I wandered off to find the Antiques Market in the art district, Brera. I browsed for a bit and in a while it was time for lunch. The restaurants in the very narrow lane had their chalkboard menus posted. The octopus kept enticing me, so I stopped at the restaurant offering it and was seated outside. The neighboring table was one inch away. How can one not talk to people that are sitting just one inch away? Ewa and Piotr are Polish and Polish/German and have been in Milan for 30 years. We talked for 2 hours in a blend of English and Italian; I lost track of what language was being spoken at any given moment in our conversation. Four months later, we are still getting together at their home once a week for practice of both English and Italian. Ewa feeds me well each time and our friendship is deepening. Last week we spoke of women, relationships, work and independence… all in Italian.
Two months ago, while out riding my bike along the canal, I stopped to shoot a picture. At my feet in the grass was an empty coin purse (save for a personal note from 2004) and a ring of keys: apartment, office, mailbox, coffee machine, bike lock and others. Fortunately, one of the “keys” was a digital fob for a bank account; press the button and it generates a new, random number for bank account access. I took the keys home and they sat while I wondered what to do with them. The likelihood of finding the owner?! Slim, but I couldn’t bear to just throw the keys away. Friends couldn’t suggest much. One night, I approached a young, local policeman at the street corner, but I didn’t have the keys with me. He said to bring them to the station or give them to any officer I saw in town. Days later, I had the keys and was glad to see another policeman; when I told him the story, in Italian, he said there was nothing that could be done. I was disappointed, but had one last idea. I took the keys to my own bank, because I, too, have a digital key fob. If they could tell me which bank used the particular fob that was on the lost key ring, perhaps that bank could look up the ID number on the back of the fob. “Of Course!”, my bank teller said, “It’s Banca Monte dei Paschi di Siena“. He looked up the address of the nearest bank office, and I set off walking. I waited for the bank assistant to finish his phone conversation. I explained about the keys, he punched numbers into the computer and called the manager over. They talked, checked various screens on the computer, and picked up the phone. Both the manager and assistant shook my hand as the call connected. After who knows how many months, the guy was getting his keys back, and I was elated.
Like I said, the real highlights have been the little things that amounted to big triumphs. The difference between being a tourist and being a resident is interaction and relationships, and the key to that is language. It pleases me to have built my Italian up enough so that I could HAVE these interactions. I can actually get to know people. THAT is my greatest highlight!
by Maureen | Nov 28, 2009 | Introspection, Journal
The other night, lying wide awake at 4:00 a.m., I realized I heard nothing except my own breathing. The relentlessness and menu of sounds around here, makes silence rare and startling. It’s been almost 25 years since I’ve lived in an apartment, and I’ve never lived in such a city environment. This has been an adjustment.
When I first arrived in June, jetlagged and wanting to nap, it was impossible to sleep because of the almost-rhythmic machine moan that I couldn’t identify. It made me climb the walls, exasperated. What in the world?! I thought maybe someone above me had a commercial sewing machine. That sound was a constant intrusion and seemed to run all day, all night. I finally asked the building porter, and he told me it’s the water pump. …Sometime in the course of these last 5 months, I noticed that it’s about 7:00 in the morning when the water pump comes on, (and, yes, it does run ALL day but not at night).
My first floor apartment is directly above the same concrete, dungeon room that houses the water pump. This is where all the building residents sort and dump their garbage and recycling. The glass and metal door has its own, particular sound. Bottles falling on bottles, however, make a sound that is nothing unique but it sure carries into my apartment.
And the couple above me! I hear their lunch preparations and their daytime, Italian soaps on TV. I hear the rush of water through the pipes when they shower, turn on the faucet or do laundry. I hear their heated voices and the creak of what must be a spiral staircase that matches my own. The worst is the sound of her shoes. If she doesn’t have railroad spikes for heels I’d be surprised. Her footfall has an insistent, forceful impact, and when she leaves her apartment and comes pounding down the stairs, she echoes throughout the building. (They do not, however, seem to have any sort of a love life.)
There’s the chatter of people standing just outside my bedroom window having a ceaseless smoke. There are motor scooters and the electric courtyard gates opening to allow cars entrance. There’s the buzz of someone unlocking the main door. Just four buildings away is a berm-elevated train track; surprisingly, the train’s infrequent passage is a mere whir. Now and then, European sirens approach and then fade.
This is the audio backdrop within my Milanese apartment. I’m accustomed to my long-time home in Seattle in very quiet surroundings, where silence is the standard. I’m used to being awakened by birds, not water pumps and spike heels. What’s surprising to me is how I’ve adapted …and that I have! I stopped “hearing” the moaning pump and I can even nap right through it now.
by Maureen | Jul 18, 2009 | Cheese, Discoveries, Featured Articles, Food!, Journal, Shopping & Markets
Sweet or Savory? Based on appearances, these little cracker/cookies could have gone either way. Unfortunately, I was in the mood for a little, sweet cookie, so my stomach overruled my mind.
Wandering around the grocery store, of course all the labels and packages are in Italian. How do I know what I’m looking at and am about to buy? Word derivations and synonyms! Every trip to the grocery store requires “pattern recognition” and a willingness to be exploratory with language.
Take this label for instance… (I should have read it more closely at the store, but like I said, I WANTED these to be sweet!)
The following is a reenactment of the mental hoops I jumped through when reading the ingredient list on this cracker label:
Fette – I had just learned that word so I could order bresaola. It means SLICES.
Pane – Like pan, in Spanish, it means BREAD.
Croccante – Kinda sounds like CRACKER, doesn’t it?
Semi – Semilla, in Spanish, means SEED
Zucca – Like zucchini… must mean some sort of squash, and I see PUMPKIN SEEDS.
Farina – Isn’t that what “Cream of Wheat” is called? OK. Ground grain. FLOUR.
Frumento – Who knows. Skip that one.
Formaggio – I know that one well: CHEESE
Emmental – Hey, it’s EMMENTALER CHEESE, with milk, salt and something, something.
Semi di Zucca – There’re the pumpkin seeds again, 8%.
Semi di Girasole – Sole is sun, and I see SUNFLOWER SEEDS.
Semi di Lino – Lino is linen. Linen comes from flax. Ahh! FLAX SEEDS!
Sesamo – Whew. An easy one. SESAME SEEDS.
Sale Marino – Sale is salt. Marino is marine. Easy. SEA SALT.
Agente Lievintante – Looks like “levitating” to me. OK. LEAVENING AGENT.
Bicarbonato di Sodio – Easy again. BICARBONATE OF SODA (BAKING SODA)
Estratto di Malto d’orzo – EXTRACT OF ORZO MALT (Whatever that is.)
Pasta Acica (Farina di Segala) – More flour of some sort, but it’s so far down the list that it’s a minor ingredient.
No where did I read the ingredient Zucchero – SUGAR! Like I said, I was trying to convince myself that these were sweet and ignored all evidence to the contrary. Upon getting these home, I was surprised to taste a snappy, stout, seeded cracker with a hard toasted cheese layer on top. Likely one of my new favorites, but NOT when I’m looking for dessert!
by Maureen | Jun 24, 2009 | Journal, Shopping & Markets
There’s nothing like buying a new cell phone, in Italy. Just shopping for one was hard enough without a language in common with the sales person. Now I’ve bought one and the manual is in Italian and the phone is in Italian! Setting it up is a trick. My reading comprehension is pretty good, but this is a very specific vocabulary.
… so I just downloaded the manual in English. Some things I just don’t want to challenge me!
It was bad enough when, for “fun” I switched my iPhone to Italian and THAT phone I know!
Now and then I do need a break from the challenge. Maybe the intensity has added to my sleepiness. Maybe it’s not all jet lag!
(So, I didn’t go back to Mr. Impatient. I went to a bigger store. They actually let me handle the phones AND pick my phone number! I got a quad-band so I can use it in the States or anywhere else, when traveling.)
by Maureen | Jun 23, 2009 | Discoveries, Featured Articles, Journal, Shopping & Markets
The most complicated thing I’ve (tried to) shop for is an Italian cell phone. It’d be easy to simply get any old cheap phone, just something that’ll make and take calls, and do SMS… But I’m a tech junkie. I want a nice interface and good design. I want bluetooth. If it’s going to have a camera, it might as well be higher-res than low. How big are the numbers? Can I read them without my glasses? All of those things are easy to decide on without speaking, and by just looking at the tech summary posted, but asking the young, impatient, non-enunciating guy about the pros and cons of dual-band vs. tri-band and its potential use in the U.S…. Ha! Do I pay the higher price so I can use it when I’m back in Seattle for short visits? Hmm. He wouldn’t let me handle the phone much to check out it’s product design. And asking him about the rechargeability and interchangeablity of the SIM card in my very limited Italian and his non-existent English made me just cut the visit short. I bought a SIM card to get started with a borrowed phone, and I’ll figure the rest out later. At least now, back at home, I can review the tech specs online, then go back forearmed with information. (And besides, it’s hard to shop when I’m hot, tired and feeling stretched!)
Ferramenta
I also needed to buy a few screws so I can repair the hinge on my kitchen cabinet door. I removed the old ones, put them in with my coins and carried them around with me. When at the student bookstore at NABA, I said to Paolo, in Italian “where can I buy some of these?” I didn’t even have to know what screws are called in Italian! He told me to look for the Ferramenta on San Gottardo. Shopping on San Gottardo today, I couldn’t remember the term “ferramenta”, so I tried the same trick after walking into a little store that sells clocks. The Ferramenta was just a block away. Very cool! Floor to ceiling bins of fixtures, attachments, handles, screws, small hand tools, and other metal hardware. That’s all the guy sells. Again, I just pulled the screws out of my coinpurse and showed them to him. A little crude Italian spoken by me, a flurry of Italian from him. He pulled 8 screws out of a bin, tore a page out of a magazine and wrapped the screws then taped the little package closed. Cost: 30 centessimi, about 45 cents, and he allowed me to shoot a couple of pictures of him and his many bins.
Electrical Components
Or there’s the question of power and electrical plugs. Some things are dual-voltage and just need different prongs. Some need voltage conversion. Others should have both of the above plus a surge protector, like my laptop. Figure all that out, and get recommendations when you don’t speak the language! The guys in the Mac department at the big store near the duomo were moderately helpful, and I checked out what kind of surge protector they use on their display machines. But the simple plug converters like I had ordered last year from a company in the U.S. were tough to find… Until, also on San Gottardo, I walked past a little hole-in-the-wall store that just sells electrical components. He had exactly what I needed and I bought 3 of them for about 1,50 Euro each.
I like these little, highly specialized shops! And the proprietors know exactly what they’re selling.
Gisella
Gisella, from Sicily, is a pleasure to be greeted by. I stepped into her bakery yesterday, then went back today. She’s more than happy to tell me about her different breads and foods. And one, her food was good. Two, her friendly warmth will make her a pleasant part of my regular community within the neighborhood around my home. She was very patient and accommodating with my limited Italian and I want a good bakery. She’s got bread loaves, sweets and some lunch/dinner items prepared by her Mom.
Permesso
I went to the post office yesterday to gather up the paperwork for my “Permesso di Soggiorno”, “Permit to Stay”. The women in the office at NABA were invaluable for giving me pointers for filling out the paperwork and telling me where to get the pieces I needed. All those things in hand, I returned to the post office today to submit my formal application. I was there for about 20 minutes, and they clarified a few things here and there, but in the end, they gave a quite forceful stamp on all my papers and handed me the infamous “receipt”, which shows that I’ve jumped through that hoop. Now I wait for final papers.
All of these things I’m doing without carrying around and Italian-English dictionary. My stumbling Italian, for the most part has been enough to get me by. I generally walk out the door with what I need.
