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16 things I will miss when we leave Italy

7 Oct
7 October 2016. I have received many comments on Facebook, here, and via email about our impending departure from Italy. Some people are shocked as we are “living the dream.” Why give it up? My next few posts will address the good and not-so-good about both the U.S. and Italy, as places to live. Living somewhere and traveling there are entirely different things. First, what I will miss about Italy, i.e., the good stuff!

1. €1.00 shots of espresso and high-quality €1.20 cappuccino served in seconds at almost any bar.

Notice the cappuccino is not a Big Gulp, but a sensible size. Not so many calories so you can have cake, too.

Notice the cappuccino is not a Big Gulp, but a sensible size. Not so many calories so you can have cake, too.

Why does it take an American barista so long to make a coffee? An Italian has it in front of you in seconds! And it is good! No funny flavors, no 20-ounce mugs, and no paper cups! Even in the tiniest mountain hamlet, in a museum, or in a castle on a hill, you can get espresso. In a real cup. I love my coffee in a ceramic cup and a small cappuccino is just the right amount. 

2. Bars on every street where you can get the aforementioned beverages and good sandwiches for under €3.00.

Fast food is a sandwich you pick up in a bar for €2.70-3.00. Many varieties on a fresh panino with the best ingredients from prosciutto and formaggio to a vegetarian’s dream combo including my favorite, cicoria, They warm it and hand it to you. Maybe you sit down if it is your neighborhood place and not a tourist zone. It’s simple, fresh, delicious, and mostly healthy.

3. Trains

The train we take most often, Italy's Frecciarossa (Red Arrow).

The train we take most often, Italy’s Frecciarossa (Red Arrow).

OMG we love to travel by train. Go to Torino for a day? Sure! Venezia overnight? Why not? We have flown on only three trips in 4.5 years. Love love love the trains and the early-purchase discounts!
See Ric. Ric is happy. Ric in on a train in a sleeper compartment, How civilized!

See Ric. Ric is happy. Ric in on a train in a sleeper compartment, How civilized!

4. The ability to go almost anywhere in Europe with little planning

Instead of mounting an expedition from the U.S., we can explore Europe so easily from Base Camp Barton in Roma. Thank you, cat sitters, for making this possible!
Luscious, tender grilled octopus.

Luscious, tender grilled octopus.

5. Seafood

I always hated anchovies until I had them fresh, marinated. A plateful is a perfect antipasto. Mixed into fresh pasta they are heaven; with mozzarella, a delight! I love pizza Napoletana for its simplicity. Then there is calamaro. Not deep fried little Os, but lovely, fresh, grilled squid. Or polpo (octopus), gently grilled or sliced paper-thin as carpaccio. How about a hearty bowl of mussels in wine sauce? Good reasons to come back to Italy.

6. Wood-fired pizza

One of our four favorite pizzerias, La Pratolina. Smoked salmon and arugula with perfect mozzarella and no "sauce." Divine crust, wood-fired oven.

One of our four favorite pizzerias, La Pratolina. Smoked salmon and arugula with perfect mozzarella and no “sauce.” Divine crust, wood-fired oven.

Yes, there are wood-fired ovens in the U.S. We will seek them out. But simple Italian pizza will be hard to replace. Especially at Italian prices. Will I seem a pig when I order my own pizza in the U.S? Here it is the norm. To not order your own pizza is boorish.

7. Fresh mozzarella available in almost every little store daily

No pre-shredded Kraft plastic, please! Fresh mozzarella, whether mozzarella di bufala or fior di latte, there is no room in our lives for anything less than fresh. Praying that Pastaworks in Portland has it!

8. Wine that does not blow the budget

We spend 75% less on wine here than we did in the U.S., and that is not because we are drinking less of it or drinking bad stuff.

9. Being greeted warmly – even with un bacio – at places we frequent. Loyal patronage is recognized and rewarded.

My buddy il Commandante, aka Marco, and me.

My buddy il Commandante (The Captain), aka Marco, and me.

Yesterday I called one of our two favorite restaurants, La Fraschetta del Pesce to make a reservation. Il Commandante (The Captain) recognized me immediately, was delighted to hear we were coming back on Saturday, and I know we will be personally welcomed as friends. From the second time we dined there, we were “regulars.” This happens at so many places: the delivery guys from DOC, the bar at Piazza Buenos Aires, the salumeria in Campo dei Fiori. You feel like you — and your business — are appreciated. 

10. Our portiere. What a wonderful tradition this is! Someone to take care of the building, help the tenants, keep things safe.

There are no doubt fancy buildings in big North American cities with doormen and building supers, but we are privileged to have a portiere in even middle-class buildings in Roma. What does he — or she — do? Takes in the mail; holds packages; lets tradespeople in; ensures security by not letting solicitors in; cleans; welcomes; takes care of (our) cats for short absences; gathers intelligence. The portiere is the go-to person for neighborhood news. The portieri in both of the buildings we’ve lived in have been true blessings. They have helped me with Italian and befriended us. We shall miss them.

11. Produce that tastes like what it is and that will spoil in a few days because it isn’t treated with chemicals.

Ths bounty in the market in autumn.

The bounty in the market in autumn.

Carrots taste like carrots, but they only last a few days, turning limp soon after purchase. Peppers are sweet and crisp and add immense flavor to anything you cook. Apples are a miracle of flavor. How can the fruit be so darn good? I bought a red pepper in San Francisco last summer. It was organic. It tasted like cardboard.

12. August in Roma

We will not miss the heat, and August is somewhat a month to be endured, but it really is fun to wander around the neighborhoods when so many people are absent. Pedestrian crossings are passable as they are not needed for parking. “Rush hour” on our main shopping street is Christmas-morning quiet. Buses are empty and we get to sit down. It is a culturally significant event, this exodus.

13. The passaggiata and the business in the street, the sociality of it all, even if you don’t talk to anyone.

Getting out for a walk every day is part of the Italian lifestyle. So smart to stroll through the neighborhood, see what is new, pick up some ingredients for dinner. Maybe have a coffee, a gelato, or un’apperitivo. See and be seen, enjoy the weather, then go home to make dinner. Eating before 20:00 is declasse.

14. So many kind people and interesting acquaintances: Our doctors, our landlords, the Embassy people. 

Especially my friend Eleonora. Ele patiently tutored me in Italian until I am finally at the point where I can have a reasonable conversation. Now we are “just” friends and that is the best! We play Scarabeo (Scrabble) together and laugh a lot. She tries to explain Italy to me. I will miss her dearly! 

15. Speaking Italian

Tiring as it is, I do like to speak Italian and I shall miss that daily possibility. My comprehension has grown by leaps and bounds in the past 18 months outside of the Embassy. 

16. Telling people “We live in Rome!”

Piazza San Pietro at Easter. We've had a marvelous time here!

Piazza San Pietro at Easter. We’ve had a marvelous time in Roma!

When fellow travelers hear our English they inevitably strike up a conversation with “Where are you folks from?” We are proud to be Americans and Oregonians, but what a joy it has been to say “We live in Rome!”

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Stuff

2 Oct
1 October 2016. What to do with our stuff? Uncle Sam is not paying for this move, although he graciously shipped what little we declared precious-to-us upon our retirement. We did not want to pay for 18 months of storage for things easily replaced so we only shipped only 1100 pounds back to Portland. (For reference, when we moved to Roma, we shipped 11,000 pounds of household goods.) We have no furniture in storage and few household goods. Stored for our return are artwork, Ric’s collectible trains, some family crystal and other memorabilia, a few books. Not much more. We sold a lot of stuff when we moved from the embassy apartment to our own place on Via Ruggero Fauro.
My guardaroba or wardrobe. Much better than a closet.

My guardaroba or wardrobe. Much better than a closet.

We took a few pieces of furniture to our mostly-furnished retirement rental, but nothing worth shipping across the ocean. As most American homes come with closets, our guardarobe (which we LOVE) are unnecessary.
We had hoped to keep a few more things and ship them back, especially two 8’x10′ carpets we love. However, shipping is a very expensive prospect. After receiving a bid on sending back the rugs, clothes, pots and pans, and this-and-that, we decided it would be far more fun to spend that much cash on buying new than sending old. It was a crazy amount of money.
This is the first pass at clearing out. The JNRC will receive it all.

This is the first pass at clearing out. The JNRC will receive it all.

Our landlady will take some furnishings that add value to the apartment for the next tenants (our European T.V., the guardarobe, a desk, lamps). Other items will go to the Joel Nafuma Refugee Center. They will take all the men’s clothes and shoes we can gather, my old and heavy sewing machine, some kitchen gear. Our Peruvian housekeeper is taking women’s clothes which her family in Peru is anxious to have. (This is a thing. Our doctor told us his mother and sister give their clothes to their foreign-born housekeepers, too.) What these sources won’t take will go to Roman recycling: the street, where the pickers will claim it in about 65 seconds. (See Changing House from May 2015.)
We are shipping things one 10-kilo box at a time through Mailboxes, Etc. The cost will be a fraction of that for shipping what we had hoped to send through the transfer company.
We will ship only clothes we love and that fit. We are not packing I-might-use-these tee-shirts or if-I-lose-five-pounds jeans. Only one pair of heels for me as I have worn heels about four times in the past 18 months. No sheets or towels (easily replaceable and pretty old anyway), no 15-year-old flatware, no toiletries except those we need for the trip home. I think Ric is down to owning three pairs of shoes instead of eight. I have a way to go on that front. Thinking about it, when we travel we pack only two pairs of shoes each, three bottoms, five-or-six tops, a couple of layering pieces, and a jacket, yet we manage for up to four weeks on the road. We don’t really need all that stuff in the wardrobe. The challenge is not getting caught up in replacing all of it. I sure could use some new pajamas, though. I haven’t bought new in about two years. I feel a Nordstrom order coming on….

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Four weeks to go!

29 Sep
29 September 2016. Four weeks from today we fly out of Roma, headed back to Portland. This was not an easy decision and throughout the next few weeks I will share some of our departure activities as well as thoughts on separating from Italy. It’s been four-and-a-half lovely years, which have passed like a nanosecond!
The path that brought us to Italy was accidental at best.
  • 2008 – Ric got his first passport in 40 years and said, “Let’s go to Europe.” I had been begging to go for years. All he ever wanted to do was go to Hawaii. He thought Europe was just full of old stuff. I said, “The U.K., France, or Italy: You pick and I’ll plan the trip.” So Italy is his fault.
  • March 2009 – I started Italian courses at Portland Community College. One night each week. Let me tell you, it was not enough.

    Atop Basilica San Marco, October 2010, where we fell in love with Italy.

    Atop Basilica San Marco, October 2010, where we fell in love with Italy.

  • October 2010 – We took a three-week trip to Italy. On Day 4, Ric famously said (while sitting in the sun in Venice drinking wine), “This is fabulous. We have to come back.”
  • We started joking about moving to Italy. If a job came up in Europe, should I try for it? Could we afford it? They’d never pick me, would they?
  • I applied for positions in Copenhagen and London and was rejected. In September 2011, I applied for Rome, never believing I’d be selected for such a big demotion.

    At Pompeii, December 2011.

    At Pompeii, December 2011.

  • December 2011 – We took a one-month trip to Italy. Yup, still loved it! On Morning 3, I woke up to an email from my boss asking “Did you want to move to Rome?” He had no idea I had applied.
  • After a winter and spring spent moving the entire organization to a newly constructed building I would never work in, in May 2012 Ric retired and we hauled the two cats to Rome. I accepted a 50% cut in pay and went from executive to secretary. I never looked back.
Libby and Janie, ready to fly to Rome, 2012!

Libby and Janie, ready to fly to Rome, 2012!

For three years we (Ric qualified for a part-time job in security) had the pleasure of working in the American Embassy in Rome. What a dream! I served with some very smart and committed people (I did in Portland, too) and had the privilege to learn how an embassy works, to meet people from many government agencies, and to make Italian friends. We went to the Marine Corps Ball and receptions at the Ambassador’s villa. We lived in a lovely apartment provided by the embassy that had no English-speaking tenants. THAT helped my Italian improve!
Settled in Rome, attending the Marine Corps Ball.

Settled in Rome, attending the Marine Corps Ball.

We loved the convenience of travel from Rome and took full advantage of any time off to see more of Italy and start to experience more of Europe. We could hop on a train and go anywhere!
At the end of my tour-of-duty, we were not ready to return to the U.S. The notion of work-as-we-knew-it was anathema. I was eligible to retire. Why not?
The 18-months since we retired have been a completely different adventure and one we would not trade for anything. My Italian is quite passable now as there are few people (mostly just Ric) that I can speak to in English. We have learned how things do and do not work without the loving embrace of the American Embassy. We have found medical services that are extraordinary and very personalized. We discovered that Poste Italiane is pretty dependable but very expensive. I ragazzi at the Via Sicilia office are particularly nice.
Here we are with our portiere, Pellegrino, who has been a friend and a blessing.

Here we are with our portiere, Pellegrino, who has been a friend and a blessing.

But it is time to go back to the U.S. It is time to re-establish a household of our own (we’ve been subletting a furnished place). We have experienced some of the frustrations Italians have with their own country and bureaucracy and while the U.S. is not perfect, things really do work quite well there. In the U.S., you can return items when you change your mind or they don’t fit and they will refund to your credit card. Not in Italy! In the U.S., you can turn on the heat in October if it is cold. Not in Italy!
Today we went to disconnect our cable and Internet service. They require 60 days notice so we have to pay through November even though we will turn in the equipment on the 27th of October. Can you imagine? Two months notice to disconnect a service? 
In the U.S., we can depend on certain services and we know how to argue when something does not work well. I’ve gotten better are standing up to service providers in Italian, but it is a strain to have to argue over everything since arguing is a national sport.
Allora, we will always come back annually to Italy as travelers for as long as we are able. Despite my sarcasm, we have a fondness for the people and the culture, but to travel here is far different than to live here. And we would never give up our passports. Never.
Stay tuned as the departure adventure unfolds. I know Janie is excited.

Il grande rientro

3 Sep
3 September 2016. The deserted streets of the past month are once again full of buses, cars, and motorini. The kids with their unmuffled  POS cars wake us periodically between 23:00-01:00 as they zoom down the hill behind our bedroom and careen around the corner giving us an extra blast of over-revved engine as they pass the front of the building. (The landlady said this was a quiet street! But then she’s Italian and sleeps with the windows closed against a possible chill when it’s still 79 degrees Fahrenheit at bedtime. If we are lucky it’s a chilly 68 when we wake up.)
There were almost no car horns to be heard for the last 4 or 5 weeks, and no double-parking. So many closed businesses. This all seems like a dream as the streets are once again clogged, the impatient drivers leaning on their horns, and an open parking spot is as rare as a Lutheran church in Rome. Stores re-opened with their “New Collections” displayed: the wools, browns, and grays of the autumn wardrobe. Newstands sprang back to life with fresh magazines in stock and the florists are once again oases of color on many street corners.
End of summer

Beaches will be empty soon. And delightful for those not into the usual cheek-by-jowl beach scene.

This, my friends, is Il Grande Rientro: The return to reality as thousands upon thousands of Romans give up their beach chairs and umbrellas and head back to work. School won’t start for another week-or-so, and that will add another layer of congestion back as each child is accompanied to the door of the nearby elementary school by a parent or nanny.
In every store and restaurant you are asked “Comè andata la Sua vacanza?” (How was your vacation?) Or perhaps “Dovè siete andati in ferie?” (Where did you go on holiday?)
So many people go away in August. SO MANY. Apartments are shuttered, entire apartment buildings have no windows lit at night, and renovation work continues day-and-night as contractors struggle to complete work while the owners are on holiday. I cannot do justice to describe what it is like to experience this thing. It is a phenomenon one has to live through to believe.
The great return even gets news coverage due to the crowded autostrada.

The great return even gets news coverage due to the crowded autostrada.

Then on Monday it was like a switch was thrown and the city was refilled from a firehose full of cars and people. And apparently this rientro is quite traumatic for the Italian who have been away for four weeks. There are articles about how to make it less stressful, what to eat (digestion being top-of-mind) to ensure a healthy return. Some sources offer practical and pragmatic tips. Others, like the Corriere della Sera, offer a lighthearted approach in 10 dishes to console yourself with at the end of vacation, including gelato, pizza, chocolate cake, and a Mumbai burger. It’s a funny piece.
Soon this will all seem normal. It’s the sudden onset that is so shocking. Just as things are heating up even more next week with schools coming online, we will escape to the U.K. for our next adventure. I’ll write to you from the road. Until then ben rientro!

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End of the World? No, it’s just August in Roma

24 Aug
20 August 2016.   Imagine a street, deserted of humans, cars parked dusty and unused, dead leaves skittering along in the evening breeze. There is an eerie, end-of-the-world-movie, ghost town quality. Think of the film “On the Beach” where New York City is deserted. Like that, but with the occasional bus or car passing. The trams are empty, too.
Usually this street, our neighborhood's main street, is chock-a-block with cars. Lots of horns would be sounding because everyone is in a hurry, and the lanes are often blocked by narcissitic double-parkers. Tonight you could park on the center line and not bother anyone.

Usually this street, our neighborhood’s main street, is chock-a-block with cars. Lots of horns would be sounding because everyone is in a hurry, and the lanes are often blocked by narcissistic double-parkers. Tonight you could park on the center line and not bother anyone.

That describes our “high street” as the Brits would say, Viale dei Parioli on this August Saturday night. The sidewalk markets (le bancarelle) have even disappeared by early evening since there are no prospective clients. We are the only people on foot at 19:30. There is finally shade and relief from the heat. We seek to stretch our legs after self-imposed confinement since 11:00, and we are searching for dinner.
This street merchant closed up super early. No customers walking by. Usually this area is full of merchant tables.

This street merchant closed up super early. No customers walking by. Usually this area is full of merchant tables.

A couple of days prior I made a reservation, as is my practice, but this morning while we walked before the heat came on, the restaurant called. They had made a mistake. Actually, their on-line reservation system had made the mistake, but most likely because they did not bother to update the calendar. They are closed for ferie. Throughout the hours surrounding Italian lunchtime I called three more restaurants whose websites and GoogleMaps purported they were open. I called again between 17:00 and 18:00. No answer. Maybe they did not open for lunch. Perhaps they are too busy to answer the phone. It’s possible that no one answers before 18:00 when they are readying for the evening.
We decided to walk 40 minutes to an area with several good restaurants we have patronized. Surely on this hot August night one will have a table. We pass the place we ate at recently. It was fine, but has a small menu and we do not care to repeat so soon. Then as we approach each familiar restaurant, going farther and farther from home, they are all shuttered. Chiuso per Ferie. 
This is usually an attrative little aperitivo bar with umbrellas and vute tables, candles, etc. Not this month!

This is usually an attractive little aperitivo bar with umbrellas and cute tables, candles, etc. Not this month!

By now we are past the British Embassy and almost to the American Embassy in Via Veneto. Seeing a lively corner we stop to peruse the menu. Looks fine. Nonno (grandpa) is outside asking to seat us. Is there a table within? Air conditioning seems like a good idea after an hour’s walk in 80-degree Fahrenheit temps.
A memorable meal for the wrong reasons. Fish previously frozen, an over-priced wine list, and an 80-year-old-guitar-playing-singer who went from table to table. He skipped us. Might have been the look on Ric’s face.
I pity the tourists lured into such a place that might think this is great food.
We did enjoy the goings-on around us. A couple from South Carolina that could not shake the minstrel as he sang them song-after-song. Three (southern) American women who wanted iced tea (eyss-TAY). The waiter, who could not understand their request, confirming they want te caldo, which is NOT cold tea but hot. A priest seated nearby piping up to correct the waiter. Across the restaurant, a little girl is enchanted by the singing grandpa.
We headed for home in moderating temperatures, luckily finding a bus just when we needed it most. This week, Rome begins to re-awaken. More stores re-open the 29th, and by September 5th we will be in full rientro mode as even the wealthiest people with case al mare (homes by the sea) will need to get back to reality.
And the motorini will once again scream past on the street past our bedroom making sleep difficult.
Before you go, over at Our Weekly Pizza we are on a pizza-eating hiatus and reviewing some of the restaurants we’ve enjoyed lately. Not the unnamed tavern above.

 

Every year the same thing: One, two, three, even four weeks closed.

Every year the same thing: One, two, three, even four weeks closed.

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