Tag Archives: Rome

La Festa di Halloween: “Dolcetto o Scherzetto”!

1 Nov
Finally a chance to wear my hat and cape again! Mild evening, plenty of wine, no cars.

Finally a chance to wear my hat and cape again! Mild evening, plenty of wine, no moving cars.

Our little slice of America in Italy, the Embassy, threw a Halloween party last night.  Can I tell you how delightful it was in this mild Mediterranean climate, to be outdoors on Halloween, versus the snow-suited-trick-or-treating of my Minnesota childhood? Or those dreadfully cold Halloweens in Omaha when Derek’s class had a “haunted woods” we had to walk through in the bitter weather?

The party theme is “Trunk or Treat.” Families decorate their cars and the kids parade through the decorated parking lot doing the traditional candy-gathering while the adults drink wine and listen to a bluegrass band. The embassy cafe puts on a barbecue so no one goes hungry.

SUVs and vans work great for Trunk-or-Treat!

SUVs and vans work great for Trunk-or-Treat!

The Italian kids in particular seem to love the hot-dogs and it’s a joy to see the families of both American and Italian employees come together. Since November 1 is a holiday (Ognissanti or All Saints’ Day) no one had to worry about bedtime to school the next day. How sensible is that?

Ambassador Phillips and his wife, Linda Douglass, were good sports!

Ambassador Phillips and his wife, Linda Douglass, were good sports!

Baby lobster and family

Baby lobster and family

Our little neighbor

Our little neighbor

Tiny dancer

Tiny dancer

P1030552

Another festive vehicle

Security Officer gone rogue

Security Officer gone rogue

Little witches

Little witches

Ghostbusters

Ghostbusters

Wine in Rome

22 Aug

We drink wine at our house. A lot of wine. One of the many blessings of living in Italy is the availability of high-quality, low-cost wine.  On a

Our sommelier Maurizio opens a special bottle. Photo by Michael Horne, Dall'Uva.

Our sommelier Maurizio opens a special bottle. Photo by Michael Horne, Dall’Uva.

monthly basis, we spend a mere fraction of what we used to spend in the States. Wine and coffee: both are better here; both are cheaper here.  We used to have a $50.00/week Starbucks tab. Now that’s about what we spend on wine. Good wine. Better than Two-Buck-Chuck. But I digress….

When our friend Michael came to Rome he suggested a wine tasting and class at Vino Roma. Since Michael is a connoisseur, sommelier, and importer of Italian wines, we figured Vino Roma must be something very special. Michael has the opportunity to try a lot of wines in his business. Why would he pay for a class?

Vino Roma is special. For those confused by Italian wines, a class here may bring clarity. For those of you who are expert in Italian wines, you might just find something new to love. Or if house guests are looking for something out of the heat (or the cold in the coming months) and cannot stand another art museum or church, a class at VR will be a pleasant change of pace.

Maurizio shares wine and knowledge with two young Americans. Photo by Michael Horne.

Maurizio shares wine and knowledge with two young Americans. Photo by Michael Horne.

We arrived one hot July night a little before 17:00 and were welcomed by Maurizio into the cool, minimalist space and a table set for 10. Maurizio selected 6 wines from 6 different regions in Italy and proceeded to take us through a tasting of 3 whites and 3 reds.

The conversation with people from diverse backgrounds was delightful. Tastings are in English, by the way. There were people who knew a lot about wine and people who were just learning. Two young women from the U.S. were at their first tasting ever, and a couple from Germany knew their way around some wines. And then there was Michael, the ringer. We had a great time and learned a few things about Italian wine.

All you need to know is on the Vino Roma website. Go and enjoy!

Photo by Michael Horne.

Photo by Michael Horne.

Photo by Michael Horne.

Photo by Michael Horne.

Photo by Michael Horne.

Photo by Michael Horne.

Rome – Closed for the Holidays

15 Aug
A simple hand-lettered sign on a boutique. When will they return? Who knows!

A simple hand-lettered sign on a boutique. When will they return? Who knows!

Rome is deserted. For the past three weeks, the city has become progressively quieter: less traffic, fewer stores open. Some of the city buses are on a special schedule in August with reduced runs. Even the seagulls that frequent our neighborhood and scream at 3:00AM seem to have taken off for parts unknown. There are fewer dogs in the park, and fewer runners, too. Some mornings I can walk through Villa Borghese and see almost no one except the omnipresent vendors setting up for the day’s business.

I cannot possibly imagine this happening in the United States, but store after store is closed per ferie, the period surrounding the mid-August holiday of ferragosto.  I won’t go into the ancient roots of this holiday, or the fact that it was co-opted by “The Church.” I will tell you what it is like this month.

  • People are at the beach, whether for the day, the week or the month. Those that are not at the beach are in the mountains, but most Italians are true sun-worshipers and so they flock to the beach where they lay on a chaise lounge under an umbrella, side-by-side-by-side.
  • Businesses are shuttered with little signs that say how long they will be chiuso. Could be a week, or even the entire month.
  • You can find a place to park on almost any street, in almost any piazza. This does not happen any other time of the year. Buses run almost empty.

    A more formal sign assures  customers of this cafe that they will only be closed a week.  Everyone to the beach!

    A more formal sign assures customers of this cafe that they will only be closed a week. Everyone to the beach!

Restaurants are closed or quasi-empty. Two weeks ago, on a Saturday night, we went to a highly recommended restaurant near the Embassy and at the peak dining hour of 21:00 we were the only customers! I’d even made a reservation. A very uncomfortable situation for us and for the restaurant owner.  Luckily the quality of the food did not suffer.

An Italian friend told me that when she was a child (35-40 years ago) it was even quieter in August. It was even difficult to get groceries as supermarkets and shopping centers did not exist.

Another tradition of ferragosto is to give your portiere (building superintendent-manager-doorman-handyman all rolled into one) a gift of €25-€50 (about $33-67) in recognition of what they do for us. This is also traditional at Christmas and Easter.  The portiere is also key to security, so he remains on duty in August when many apartments are vacant and is – hopefully – a deterrent to the break-ins that increase in frequency during the mass-exodus to the beach.

This children's shop in a posh neighborhood is closed from 8 Aug to 2 Sept.

This children’s shop in a posh neighborhood is closed from 8 Aug to 2 Sept.

Today, August 15, is the actual ferragosto. The Embassy is closed, as are most businesses not in the tourist-trade. Our neighborhood is Christmas-morning quiet. No dogs, no birds, no motorini, no traffic, just one suspicious helicopter circling occasionally (never a good thing). We were able to find a nice bar (cafe) open for a holiday cornetto e cappucino fix.

While it may not be the best economic decision to close your business during the current crisis, I have to respect the tradition. People spending time with their families, having lunch with grandma, and escaping the heat if possible. For an amusing look at the holiday, seek out the movie “Mid-August Lunch” (Italian with English subtitles, available to stream on Netflix).

Waterless Weekend

14 Jul
This eroded lion head fountain is the only source of water for our while building of 14 condos. He's over 100 years old.

This eroded lion/hippo/whatever-head fountain is the only source of water for our whole building of 14 condos. He’s over 100 years old.

Living in Rome is a dream; we pinch ourselves almost daily. But for two days, it’s been a bit scomodo (inconvenient). We have had no water in the apartment. We had showers Saturday, but since about 12:30 yesterday, nothing. It seems the pump is out. Apparently the city feeds the property (a condominium building, about 110 years old), and the distribution is via an electric pump underground, accessed through a scary stairway.  The portiere (superintendent) is away for the weekend as he gets half of Saturday and all of Sunday off. And there is no one else to call. No management firm we are made aware of. Ric and I tried to reset the circuit breaker on the pump yesterday, to no avail. But thought we were just being stupid Americans not knowing what to do or who to call in an emergency.  Then today our 80-something-year-old neighbor, Signora Vyta (who may actually have lived in this building her entire life from what I understand), asked us to go with her to the pump and see if we could fix it. She was fed up. She’d called the portiere with no result, no answer, and she wanted to try and fix it. So Signora Vyta oversaw a second attempt telling Ric (in Italian) what to do to reset it and told us this happens a lot. Apparently never when we are at home. Just our luck this time!

Ric makes the umpteenth trip to fill a bucket. We have tons of bottled water on hand, too, because that's what we do in Rome.  And there's always wine.

Ric makes the umpteenth trip to fill a bucket. We have tons of bottled water on hand, too, because that’s what we do in Rome. And there’s always wine.

So how do we function with no water? We haul buckets in from the only functioning source on the property, a tiny little old-fashioned, 100-plus-year-old fountain, now controlled with a spigot. We use gravity to flush, and we went to the Embassy today to shower, a 2-hour round trip. I heated water on the stove to wash dishes, just like camping in the 1960s with my parents.

What’s worse, we had to cancel a dinner party planned for tonight! We’ve decided being without water actually sucks more than an Internet outage.  I only hope Emilio, our portiere, knows where to hit the pump with his magic hammer to get it back online tonight. 

Gravity flush. Just keep a bucket close by.

Gravity flush. Just keep a bucket close by.

American Bubble

29 Jun
Typical Roman clothier - very small store. This is the entire store, not a section. Well organized, beautifully displayed merchandise. But you have to visit a dozen stores to see a broad selection. Success is happenstance.
Typical Roman clothier – very small store. This is the entire store, not a section. Well organized, beautifully displayed merchandise. But you have to visit a dozen stores to see a broad selection. Success is happenstance.

We live in an American Bubble. Yes, it’s a lovely bubble, totally surrounded by this great Italian city, but we do not live completely on the Italian economy. We can buy peanut butter (Skippy or JIF) for a reasonable price at the Naval Exchange commissary at the embassy. In fact, we can buy many many products commonly found in the U.S. at the commissary: smoked bacon, American cheese, cleaning products, Advil, frozen dinners (yuck!), squishy white bread (double-yuck), canned baked beans, taco shells. We only buy the peanut butter, BTW. We do not buy any of the other crap items America exports and calls food. 

We can order almost anything we want from the U.S. Thanks to the wonderful U.S. Postal Service Diplomatic Post Office, customs isn’t really a problem and everything we order online is shipped to New York for forwarding. (We cannot order nail polish, perfume, or certain other combustibles.)  If we have trouble finding the right cat treats for our 17-year-old cat Janie  — and we have been unable to find “her brand” in Rome — I can order them online. Need a new dress for the Marine Corps Ball? Nordstrom is a click away. 

On June 1, Ric and I decided to embark on what we now call The Great Experiment. We are not buying anything from the U.S. for two months, June and July. No more Zappos (sniff!), Nordstrom, Talbot’s, Lands’ End, Drugstore.com. No more online shopping to speak of. Back to shopping the old-fashioned way: we hit the streets. 

We are four weeks into The Great Experiment. What’s happened so far? The constant stream of packages delivered to the DPO has stopped. It was a rare week we didn’t receive a shipment…or two…or three.  We are seldom seen in the embassy commissary anymore and I walk home “lighter” because I am no longer serving as a pack animal, ferrying stuff we ordered online. (All of our mail comes to the DPO.) On Gmail, my deleted folder is full of unopened promotional email from American clothiers. 

What we are doing is increasing our shopping time in the streets of Rome. This is time-consuming. I need some summer clothes and a new pair of hiking boots for an upcoming hiking trip. Rome is a boutique-shopping kind of city: the largest department store is not of the size seen in an American city of >3 million people. So one wanders a neighborhood, and explores new neighborhoods, checking out stores, hoping to find a place or two that can become “your” clothier. (Ric has three clothiers now; he started early in adopting Italian fashion.) But you have to look at a lot of places – a lot of very small stores. You would not believe the number of shoe stores in Rome! There are more shoe stores in Rome than Starbucks in Seattle.

The upside is that this approach to shopping makes us slow down. We may go out on a shopping mission (Laurel needs a black dress!) or we may walk to the museum a little slower, noticing what is in the windows we pass and stopping in when we see something of interest. Shopping is work — and exercise — when you don’t have a car. It is also good together-time, wandering hand-in-hand, helping each other with fashion decisions, which is very important because the culture is not one where buyer’s remorse is honored with an easy refund the next day. 

There are malls, but they are the suburban soul-less wonders one finds in the U.S., and an hour each way by bus. We’d prefer to spend that time on foot, exploring.

We have allowed ourselves a couple of exceptions. Peanut butter from the commissary is one, because although it is available in some Italian stores, it is crazily expensive. If Janie runs out of “her” cat treats we will order them online. At 17 she deserves to eat her preferred brand. Ironically, our Italian housekeeper has specifically requested some cleaning products from the store at the embassy: She loves Easy-Off oven cleaner, and she also favors a floor product from there. So we will indulge her. We still buy Kindle books from Amazon. We don’t really consider that cheating since no package hits the DPO. We still receive Netflix (can’t stop a subscription we’ve had for 15 years). But that’s about it. 

Today I finally found “the” little black dress at the store pictured above. I have to continue the search. I saldi (the sales) start in Rome on July 5, so maybe there will be some bargains to be had. If I can stand trying on clothes in 95 degree heat!