It's great to go from one world to another with such ease. Because we live in such a "globalized" world with such easy connections--travel anywhere is easy if you can afford the ticket. We are more and more connected electornically. We can chose to buy and use products from virtually any place on the planet. Places like Italy and other highly developed countries seem mainstream in our society. Who hasn't been to Italy? Menion it at a party or business meeting and everyone has their story of their favorite restaurant in Florence, or will recount their last trip to Sicily, or tell you how they had a wonderful driving tour through Tuscany!
But you can't tell me that it's not different because it is. Even at the terminal at Atlanta Hartsfield airport, waiting for my connection to Milan, surrounded by Italians, speaking Italian, wearing Italian clothes--whether dressed to the hilt, or in very casual clothing--Italians look unmistakably Italian. The men with the impossibly dark, thick, wavy hair. Women perfectly but casually put together. I was already feeling a bit dowdy and very American in my JJill jeans and running shoes. Though I did wear a nicely looped scarf around my neck, there is no way I would pass for anything but American. But that's all right, because I am.
Landing in Milan at 8:00 was a breeze. I am glad that I have the experience gained from many trips to allow for a calm transition. I was without euros, so found a bankomat and quickly got €250 (roughly $350 at €1=$1.39). There is a train into central Milano but it only goes every 20 to 30 minutes, but the busses leave constantly. Paid the €7.50 for a coach from Milano Malpensa (the airport) to Milano Centrale (the central train station). I had printed out the train schedule for the entire morning and into the afternoon in case my flight was late, and just made the 10:15 to Monselice, via Bologna.
As I walked through the airport I had the feeling I should just go, make a dash, and try to get the first train I could out of Milan, but passing a wonderful bar was torture--the aroma of the cafe' and brioche almost lured me in... so far I had eaten niente on Italian soil and was feeling deprived--especially after the cruddy food and drink on the Delta flight.
A note about the trains... there is such a difference in the Eurostar and the regional trains... The Eurostar went nonstop from Milan to Bologna, and though I was in second class the seats are comfy with 4 facing a central table on each side of the aisle. Seats are reserved, so there is no jostling to find one. I was next to the bar/cafe car where I bought a passable cappuccino, a broiche (not so great--ate half) and water. The next car was the dining car where the porter was laying fresh cotton cloths on the tables... and the bathrooms were excellent... if you have ridden a regional train, you know exactly what I mean. The regional trains get you where you want to go with no muss, no fuss, and bathrooms that sometimes work, sometimes don't, with running water in the sinks with the same level of dependability. On regional trains, bring a packet of tissues and hand wipes! But I digress...
My sweet friend was in Monselice to pick me up in the rain--it rained the whole day from Milan. Coming from the desert, this is such a change. I tried to describe to her the weather difference, but it's not so much a language thing as a geograpical thing... how do you imagine 80 degree weather, 15% humidity, and about 4 days of rain the entire winter? Impossible. May as well look up the great Sahara desert and point to that... with golf courses.
The house is in Valle S. Giorgio, near the towns of Este and Arqua Petrarcha. It is on about a 1/3 acre lot on a quiet street. There is a church and campanile on the hill behind the house, and le campane (the bells) ring frequently--a sound of which I could never tire. Antonia had wonderful minestone and fresh bread waiting at home. We went straght to the kitchen and sat and had a wonderful pranzo. A little cheese from a "malga" or dairy farm in the Dolomites where she had recently visited. Of course she offered me a slice of a torta she calls a crostini--topped with a homemade custard with bits of chocolate mixed in. I didn't have a piece, but did after dinner and it was to die for. I will get the recipe, as it is a different topping for the same torta crust she taught me to make last summer, and that I made numerous times with fruit and/or marmalade.
Michele had spent the last two months in Lima, Peru, as a volunteer rebuilding and doing other work for a school and community center. Last time i was here he showed me the location on the internet of a school in Africa (I forget where) where he had volunteered in the past. So, last night he arrived from his trip to Lima at Venice's Marco Polo airport. Antonia left to pick him up around 5 and they returned around 7:30. It cracked me up--they walked in, he put his suitcase on the floor, and he walked straght into the kitchen to make pastascuitta.
Earlier, Antonia made some thin-sliced local beef in a pan with olive oil, whole garlic cloves, and a sprig of rosemary from the garden, and left it so sit on the stove. When they returned Michele took out a slab of pancetta and chopped a bit into little cubes. Antonia said it was un po affumicato--a little smoked--and cut me a small slice to try. This is one of those cultural food things that I have only done in Italy--eaten raw, smoked or cured pork products like pancetta and lardo. It was just delicious, and you can taste the earthiness of the pork and the light smoky taste in the fat. Michele made pasta carbonara (pancetta, parmesan, eggs, olive oil) which we ate as the primo (yum!!) followed by the thin sliced beef and some halved cherry tomatoes. A bit of vino rosso. A sliver of the crostini with custard and chocolate. I declined cafe, since I was so ready to sleep. Their daughter Marta and her husband Damiano came over and had cafe and torta, and we had a nice visit. I brought some little gifts from the US (handmade soaps and purses from the Phoenix Farmers Market, some beans and spice mix, also from the market, with beans grown on the Navajo Nation, and Arizona Diamondbacks caps in black for all the guys). Michele showed a slideshow from Peru--he is really talented with PPT, and he does these really neat slide shows with his photos and a little text--very nice. Then I hit the wall and slept from 10:30 to... believe it or not... 10:30 this morning! yow, but I guess I needed it!
No photos with this posting, but I will post some next time.
ciao tutti!
But you can't tell me that it's not different because it is. Even at the terminal at Atlanta Hartsfield airport, waiting for my connection to Milan, surrounded by Italians, speaking Italian, wearing Italian clothes--whether dressed to the hilt, or in very casual clothing--Italians look unmistakably Italian. The men with the impossibly dark, thick, wavy hair. Women perfectly but casually put together. I was already feeling a bit dowdy and very American in my JJill jeans and running shoes. Though I did wear a nicely looped scarf around my neck, there is no way I would pass for anything but American. But that's all right, because I am.
Landing in Milan at 8:00 was a breeze. I am glad that I have the experience gained from many trips to allow for a calm transition. I was without euros, so found a bankomat and quickly got €250 (roughly $350 at €1=$1.39). There is a train into central Milano but it only goes every 20 to 30 minutes, but the busses leave constantly. Paid the €7.50 for a coach from Milano Malpensa (the airport) to Milano Centrale (the central train station). I had printed out the train schedule for the entire morning and into the afternoon in case my flight was late, and just made the 10:15 to Monselice, via Bologna.
As I walked through the airport I had the feeling I should just go, make a dash, and try to get the first train I could out of Milan, but passing a wonderful bar was torture--the aroma of the cafe' and brioche almost lured me in... so far I had eaten niente on Italian soil and was feeling deprived--especially after the cruddy food and drink on the Delta flight.
A note about the trains... there is such a difference in the Eurostar and the regional trains... The Eurostar went nonstop from Milan to Bologna, and though I was in second class the seats are comfy with 4 facing a central table on each side of the aisle. Seats are reserved, so there is no jostling to find one. I was next to the bar/cafe car where I bought a passable cappuccino, a broiche (not so great--ate half) and water. The next car was the dining car where the porter was laying fresh cotton cloths on the tables... and the bathrooms were excellent... if you have ridden a regional train, you know exactly what I mean. The regional trains get you where you want to go with no muss, no fuss, and bathrooms that sometimes work, sometimes don't, with running water in the sinks with the same level of dependability. On regional trains, bring a packet of tissues and hand wipes! But I digress...
My sweet friend was in Monselice to pick me up in the rain--it rained the whole day from Milan. Coming from the desert, this is such a change. I tried to describe to her the weather difference, but it's not so much a language thing as a geograpical thing... how do you imagine 80 degree weather, 15% humidity, and about 4 days of rain the entire winter? Impossible. May as well look up the great Sahara desert and point to that... with golf courses.
The house is in Valle S. Giorgio, near the towns of Este and Arqua Petrarcha. It is on about a 1/3 acre lot on a quiet street. There is a church and campanile on the hill behind the house, and le campane (the bells) ring frequently--a sound of which I could never tire. Antonia had wonderful minestone and fresh bread waiting at home. We went straght to the kitchen and sat and had a wonderful pranzo. A little cheese from a "malga" or dairy farm in the Dolomites where she had recently visited. Of course she offered me a slice of a torta she calls a crostini--topped with a homemade custard with bits of chocolate mixed in. I didn't have a piece, but did after dinner and it was to die for. I will get the recipe, as it is a different topping for the same torta crust she taught me to make last summer, and that I made numerous times with fruit and/or marmalade.
Michele had spent the last two months in Lima, Peru, as a volunteer rebuilding and doing other work for a school and community center. Last time i was here he showed me the location on the internet of a school in Africa (I forget where) where he had volunteered in the past. So, last night he arrived from his trip to Lima at Venice's Marco Polo airport. Antonia left to pick him up around 5 and they returned around 7:30. It cracked me up--they walked in, he put his suitcase on the floor, and he walked straght into the kitchen to make pastascuitta.
Earlier, Antonia made some thin-sliced local beef in a pan with olive oil, whole garlic cloves, and a sprig of rosemary from the garden, and left it so sit on the stove. When they returned Michele took out a slab of pancetta and chopped a bit into little cubes. Antonia said it was un po affumicato--a little smoked--and cut me a small slice to try. This is one of those cultural food things that I have only done in Italy--eaten raw, smoked or cured pork products like pancetta and lardo. It was just delicious, and you can taste the earthiness of the pork and the light smoky taste in the fat. Michele made pasta carbonara (pancetta, parmesan, eggs, olive oil) which we ate as the primo (yum!!) followed by the thin sliced beef and some halved cherry tomatoes. A bit of vino rosso. A sliver of the crostini with custard and chocolate. I declined cafe, since I was so ready to sleep. Their daughter Marta and her husband Damiano came over and had cafe and torta, and we had a nice visit. I brought some little gifts from the US (handmade soaps and purses from the Phoenix Farmers Market, some beans and spice mix, also from the market, with beans grown on the Navajo Nation, and Arizona Diamondbacks caps in black for all the guys). Michele showed a slideshow from Peru--he is really talented with PPT, and he does these really neat slide shows with his photos and a little text--very nice. Then I hit the wall and slept from 10:30 to... believe it or not... 10:30 this morning! yow, but I guess I needed it!
No photos with this posting, but I will post some next time.
ciao tutti!
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