BASTA LA PASTA!!

Two weeks in Italy  = 8 pounds of weight gain from pasta and vino!   But, when in Rome!!!!

My time in Italy was  already met with contorted faces ‘round the dinner table when “Sono vegetariano” was proclaimed.  Seems that no one in Italy could understand why the heck you’d want to order a meal “senza carne”.  I could hardly then say I’d also prefer not to eat pasta.  Alas, since the Italians tend to eat obscene amounts of food with 4 courses or more, there was always at least one course that was meat-free for me to choose from.  And, eat we did!  I feel like we did a restaurant tour of the North of Italy to be honest.  This was the first time in my life I felt true jetlag, with super groggy mornings and a need to sleep in every day (okay, that may have been the late night meals and wine).  So, our days usually got started around 10 am, with us being on the road never once before noon.  This leaves only half a day to eat ALL of the things Italy has to offer.  Good thing dinnertime doesn’t typically end before 10:30 at night (often midnight, and sometimes even later for us).  Gluten fog, gluten fog, gluten fog.  Dating an Italian boy who’s been away from his Mamma’s cooking and the comfort foods of his homeland definitely put eating at the centre of our itinerary day in, day out.  While I typically try to avoid gluten because it slows me down, makes me feel tired, and generally is fairly devoid of nutrients and high in allergens, I gluten-gluttoned it up with pasta nearly twice daily for two weeks.  Mamma’s homemade pasta was handsdown the best!  My ultimate favourite being homemade spaghetti, as twirling pasta really is such a comfort behaviour.   Closely rivalling Mamma’s spaghetti was homemade spaghetti in a narrow and steep alley of Siena.  Eating at tables that have the legs severed at different lengths to accommodate the steep incline of the road is an experience.  Too much vino and you feel terribly wobbly!  But, at least comfort can be taken in that cutlery is sliding off the table, so surely there is a gravitational pull.  Another glass of wine then! 

I could write a few pages about the food of Italy, but suppose I should include other highlights.

We spent our first week in Torino, Roberto’s home.  Many visits with friends and family were to be had, as Roby hadn’t been home in nearly 2.5 years.  We were welcomed on the second night with a surprise party with all of Roby’s friends in a restaurant owned by a few of his closest.  I’ve never seen my face on a cake before, yet there it was in Italy welcoming us with “Benvenuti in Italia”.  The Italian sentimentality and openness with affection and expression is very endearing.  I felt very welcomed and very loved by so many people even if I couldn’t keep straight who they all were – my cheeks and forehead have never been so adorned with kisses by strangers.  Speaking Italian at Mamma & Papa’s house was priceless.  Truly priceless.  Roby’s parents do not speak or understand a word of English, yet alone this strange accent coming from this blond thing.  It seems they took on strategies to “help me understand”, that –bless them – may have missed the mark.  Roby’s Mum resorted to yelling at me 90% of the time, since the louder the volume the less the language barrier (?!).  The other 10% of the time was reserved for whispering to me about things like washing my underwear or toting around feminine products for me in case I may need them and not know how to take care of myself.  An Italian Mamma is an experience like none other.  Roby’s Dad spoke very softly to me most of the time, but with a speed of one word per second as though I was more than just a little bit slow.  To this day I’m unsure as to whether he’s mistaken language differences as developmental delay, as at the football match we attended he asked Roby “Does she understand what just happened?” when the first goal was scored.  Fantastic! After two weeks, I think my language made huge gains.  Mamma and Papa could understand me more without needing to shout “ROBERTO” to help with translation every few words.  I still struggle with verb conjugation, not having formerly studied, and speak almost solely in first person present, but I can make most of my thoughts, needs, and wants understood – and that’s an accomplishment in itself at this point.  Upon waking one morning, the first words to come out of my mouth were Italian, not English.  I surprised myself, but take that as a good sign.  To continue with the language progression now back in Cayman will be difficult, as I am not forced to use it.

When we got all of our important visits in, we were a bit more free to tour about.  Our first travels were to Lago Maggiore and Lago Orta with another couple.  We had cold, rainy weather and Roby and I were not prepared.  I donned Toms shoes with knee-high wool socks.  Fashion fail!  Especially in Italy, where it seems everyone is busy looking each other up and down to evaluate their outfits.  Never one to care, and always one to rock my own fashion ideals anyway, I trotted about happily until I purchased a pair of bright yellow boots to keep my tootsies a bit warmer.  The lakes were stunning, with the ancient and untouched buildings and cobblestone roadways.  We spent a few hours touring around, taking photos, and drinking wine after a sturdy lunch of… PASTA.  I have become the master of “scarpetta”.  Italians actually have a word for wiping the sauce left in your plate with bread…  Scarpetta, I sure did! 

After our first week in Torino and surrounding areas, Roby and I packed up the car for a 4-hour journey south to Tuscany.  Patchwork olive tree and grape farms in sloping hills set the landscape, and what a beautiful site it was.  The weather was finally warmer just slightly south, and we were thrilled to be able to actually wear one layer of our Caribbean clothes! We stayed at an Agritourismo (sustainable farm and eco-hotel) with it’s own vineyard and olive tree farm.  Our experience getting there was nothing short of a coronation street tale with our booking being placed by a friend (we hadn’t met) of the optometrist neighbour of Roby’s after making his purchase for new glasses.  Paoloni (an affectionate way of saying fat Paolo) met us once we made it to a random roundabout in Tuscany and lead us to our old farm building turned hotel situated smack in the middle of Pisa and Florence.  I wasn’t sure about the whole ordeal, but arrived to find giant potters of lemon trees surrounded the entrance… okay…. We can stay!  Tuscany was the highlight of my trip.  We spent 4 days touring about the never ending hills, driving for meals and sightseeing to Florence, San Gimignano, and Siena – with plenty of stops in random towns to find the best foccacia, the best sustainable restaurant, and the best gelato.  By this point, I was struggling with a few pants buttons.  Thankfully, we got in a decent amount of walking as I was in pursuit of the perfect borsa (purse) as it was the one purchase I wanted to make for myself in Italy. 

After Tuscany, we re-packed the car and headed for the Adriatic Sea.  Roby wanted to show me the town he vacationed in every summer with his family.  Since he doesn’t read this blog, I can say – it was sadly a bit of a lost day and vacation fail, as he neglected to consider the rainy weather and season wasn’t ideal and after driving over 2 hours we arrived to a ghost town – totally closed with a long stretch of empty beach and closed tourist stalls and umbrellas.  Rather than waste time in the cold and rain, we ate a quick piadina (sort of an Italian quesadilla) with nutella (gross… roby’s choice as he ate it as a child.  Always nostalgic, these Italians), and headed to the opposite coast to Porto Venire where we would spend the night before exploring the UNESCO site of Cinque Terre the following day.  While touristy and a bit overscheduled for my liking with boat schedules to follow to bring us to the 5 towns and back again before dark, Cinque Terre was visually the most amazing place so far.   It’s classic multi-coloured tall homes and buildings built into steep and jutting coastline directly over the sea were something I’d never seen before.  Many pictures were to be taken, and of course pasta was to be eaten.  Cinque Terre was home to my third favourite pasta dish of homemade vegetable gnocchi with a creamy nut sauce.  By  the time we’d ordered our meal, our boat time was fast approaching, so it’s a jolly good thing we’d learned to down a litre of wine as though it was water by this point.  Nothing remained on our plates or in our glasses after a mere 30 minutes after arriving.  A record, I’m sure!  Even had time for a scarpetta of course!  I was sad to leave Cinque Terre to return “home” to Torino as it meant the end of the trip was upon us. 

My last day in Torino was spent with 75% of  the day staying at the dinner table – and until well after 1am despite my early departure time the next morning.  We first had lunch with one half of Roby’s siblings and nephews.  Allowing for just enough time to run out to purchase some last minute presents and have a slice of pizza (Roby insisted) and a happy hour drink before returning home for dinner.  Roby’s Mum had made the meal of all meals for us, with all of the things I most loved, including many fresh greens from Roby’s Dad’s garden that I had been devouring every chance I got to try to combat the wine , gelato, and pasta.  My favourite expression by trip end was BASTA la PASTA (Stop the Pasta... or NO MORE PASTA, roughly translated).  A half dozen of Roby’s friends turned up near midnight to say goodbye and share a drink of one of the many homemade liquors Roby’s Mum had made for our arrival. 
I had yet to pack my suitcase, and was feeling more than overwhelmed by this point, but I suppose we could barely kick out people who came to say goodbye.  So after some shared laughs and memories, I finally packed my bag and hit the pillow with less than 4 hours before wake-up call for the two hour drive to the airport in Milan.   A rushed morning of teary goodbyes and Roby’s Mamma trying to sneak cheese and wine into my suitcase, and I was off.  I clearly needed a detox after the indulgence of Italy, as I actually turned down the complimentary wine with dinner on the flight home!

In the end, two weeks wasn’t nearly enough time (is any amount of time ever enough for vacation) for the amount of things we tried to do.  I didn’t get to Venice (my top choice along with Tuscany), nor did we go to any of the more famed classics – Rome, or Milan.  They’ll be there next time!  However, I’d love a trip to the south next time, as their famed for the best food and strongest culture all around.  Who knows when the next trip to Italy will be.  Next up on our agenda is Havana, in 9 days!

Life is beautiful, and I’m certainly grateful.  

BACIO per TUTTI!  

xx   m