First things first: Happy Birthday ma. Yesterday was ma's birthday and I wanted to put that out there.
Onto the other, less important topic from yesterday: Thanksgiving. Even though I still don't know why we have this holiday, I enjoy it very much. This time around, I wouldn't be spending it back home with the fam or Central Massachusetts with the Winters' but rather in Bologna, Italy.
Do they celebrate Thanksgiving over here you might ask? Well, no they don't. You won't see anyone glued to the television watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade nor will you see turkeys hanging in windows of stores. But, given the fact that my program pulls out all the stops and takes care of the students, we had a great feast.
The dinner was to be held at this house of my cooking instructor. I have been meaning to write about these classes but have yet to do so. The woman is names Rita and she is a chef and a nutritionist and overall, just one hell of a woman. Her house is very nice and her kitchen is extremely impressive. When the sign up sheet was posted for cooking shifts, I signed up for the first one in the morning.
When I arrived at Rita's house I was informed that I would have to wait until she returned from grocery shopping. (For the record, I was late and she decided to do some more shopping until I showed up) When she came back she asked if I wanted to go get cheese with her and I responded with a "certo" (of course in Italian).
It was a short walk to her cheese spot. Literally, as soon as I opened the door I was hit with a one heck of a scent: fresh, delicious, cheese. It was everywhere. Cheese behind the counter, cheese on the counter, cheese in the refrigerator, cheese hanging from the ceiling, cheese hanging from the wall. Everywhere. I wouldn't be surprised if there was cheesse underneath the floor or on the roof.
I was looking around like a kid in a candy store but more like a Oakland cat with a beard in a cheese shop in Italy. While we were waited on, Rita was pointing to different cheeses and explaining where they come from, what you eat it with, what type of wine to drink it with, and all kinds of good information. She then, after getting a hefty amount of cheese, asked the man working their to give me a taste of Parmesan cheese that was aged 24 months and 30 month. I couldn't really taste a difference but they were both excellent.
Once we finished with the cheese, we headed back to her place to begin cooking for the 27 people she was having over for Thanksgiving.
I, along with 2 other girls from my program were there for the morning shifts and we were going to work on the dessert. There were in total: apple pie, pumpkin pie, and a special dessert of Rita's recipe. She assigned me to her special recipe and I was all for it.
Her recipe was sweet potatoes and white chocolate in a sort of pie/cake. I was to peel and cut white sweet potatoes, put the potatoes in warm boiling milk, melt white chocolate with milk and then put it all together. It took a while to prepare and cook all of it but it turned out well. And the smell of it while cooking was incredible. Made me want to just start biting the air.
Once the second group, who were cooking the entrees showed up, I headed back to my spot to finish some homework and relax a bit.
All the food we ate last night for dinner was great. Turkey, mashed potatoes, cabbage, stuffing, pumpkin soup, roasted potatoes. The turkey was absolutely huge. 27 people ate from it and not until the end of the night, when we were asked if we wanted doggy bags, did I know there was a second turkey that wasn't touched. Yes, these were your standard American Thanksgiving dishes but this was from an Italian kitchen so it was better. Naturally.
The desserts all tasted good and I was happy to see my final product. It is a whole different take on the day when you are one of the people that help cook. There is more that goes into the meal than meets the eye. Plus, if you ever go into the kitchen during the meal it is like a behind the scenes of a DVD. Everyone is busy working, cutting, pouring, etc. while the others are calmly eating away in the dining room.
Once the night seemed to be dying down, Rita shocked everyone by putting on sum tunes over here big speakers. She encouraged everyone to dance and although it was to Marvin Gaye's 'Sexual Healing' I was jammin'. (It's not like I don't like the song but rather I was not to sure how to rock out to it) After a few songs, we called it a night and bid are farewells.
So here is to Rita and a great Thanksgiving.
And here is to my ma: Happy Birthday
Friday, November 23, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Slovenia- You're paying right?
Every so often, I receive emails from a group here in Bologna that organizes trips for students. Some have been to Tuscany, some to Genoa, and some to go wine tasting in the city. A few weeks ago, I received an email with information about a trip to Slovenia. After conversing with ma, I signed up.
This trips are usually very cheap because the European Union pays for most of it. This Slovenia trip was no different. For transportation to and from Slovenia, a hostel, and 3 meals it was a total of 50 Euro or about $70. How can you say no to that? Even if it is Slove...wait, what's the country called again?
My boy Jake was going on the trip as well and seeing as how we had to be at the bus at 6,and we live in the same complex, we met up and walked together. Being the responsible chap I am, I figured we were on the same bus and did not read the email sent out the day before. I'd just go where Jake was going. Once we got there, I learned there were three total buses and Jake and I were not on the same one. Fortunately, the location of my bus was not too far off.
As I was standing with a bunch of students I did not know as well as rolling solo, I noticed a tall girl who appeared to be in the same situation. As I had Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince on my Ipod, a fantastically self-packed lunch (ma, you taught me well), and it was a 6 hour bus ride, I was not looking to commit to a seating partner whom I did not know. I therefore turned my head as quickly as possible as to eliminate any possibility of striking up a convo that would result in a seating arrangement.
Once on the bus, it payed off not knowing anyone. I took an isle seat and put my backpack on the window seat. I then did a little role play and acted like those mean kids on the bus in Forest Gump. You remember, when little Forest is on the bus and he has the leg braces. There is more than ample seating but nobody wants to sit next to him. Yeah, I was one of the mean kids. I wouldn't have said no to anyone if they asked to sit next to me but I was by no means going to seem welcoming. (Come on, its a 6 hours bus ride. You would do the same if you could. Don't try to act like you enjoy having people next to you on the airplane)
I slept for most of the way but once we arrived, I still couldn't really believe I was there. Slovenia? I mean sh*t. Slovenia. I probably would have put Nebraska on my list of places to see before Slovenia. Actually, I take that back.
This trips are usually very cheap because the European Union pays for most of it. This Slovenia trip was no different. For transportation to and from Slovenia, a hostel, and 3 meals it was a total of 50 Euro or about $70. How can you say no to that? Even if it is Slove...wait, what's the country called again?
My boy Jake was going on the trip as well and seeing as how we had to be at the bus at 6,and we live in the same complex, we met up and walked together. Being the responsible chap I am, I figured we were on the same bus and did not read the email sent out the day before. I'd just go where Jake was going. Once we got there, I learned there were three total buses and Jake and I were not on the same one. Fortunately, the location of my bus was not too far off.
As I was standing with a bunch of students I did not know as well as rolling solo, I noticed a tall girl who appeared to be in the same situation. As I had Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince on my Ipod, a fantastically self-packed lunch (ma, you taught me well), and it was a 6 hour bus ride, I was not looking to commit to a seating partner whom I did not know. I therefore turned my head as quickly as possible as to eliminate any possibility of striking up a convo that would result in a seating arrangement.
Once on the bus, it payed off not knowing anyone. I took an isle seat and put my backpack on the window seat. I then did a little role play and acted like those mean kids on the bus in Forest Gump. You remember, when little Forest is on the bus and he has the leg braces. There is more than ample seating but nobody wants to sit next to him. Yeah, I was one of the mean kids. I wouldn't have said no to anyone if they asked to sit next to me but I was by no means going to seem welcoming. (Come on, its a 6 hours bus ride. You would do the same if you could. Don't try to act like you enjoy having people next to you on the airplane)
I slept for most of the way but once we arrived, I still couldn't really believe I was there. Slovenia? I mean sh*t. Slovenia. I probably would have put Nebraska on my list of places to see before Slovenia. Actually, I take that back.
The hostel was okay. Nothing like the one in Rome. Sufficient bathrooms and fairly okay beds. After everyone dropped off their bags, we got the tour of the capital city we were in: Ljubljana (pronounced Lul-bin-yawn-ah) It was pretty whatever. "Here is this building that was built on this date, here is the park...etc." The highlight throughout the whole tour was seeing this German guy. He was in my group and every time I saw him, he was drinking beer. When we had our breakfast in Bologna before we left, he was drinking beer and then in Slovenia, he was drinking some more.
Every time he saw me looking at him, I gave the 'cheers' gesture as if I had an imaginary beer and was about to drink myself. This cat is about 6'6". He is from a small town in Germany and is studying in Bologna for the year. As the tour ended and we had free time, I walked over to him and struck up a convo. We talked about American & German politics, soccer, and food. As Jake and I wanted to go out to some bars, we knew this guy was down and he came with us.
This guy's name is David and while in the bar, he informed me that he had been drinking since 7 that morning. Mind you, this guy isn't a typical frat bro or something. He wasn't drinking to get 'hammered' but rather because, well, he really likes beer. After we left the first bar looking for the second one, we stumbled upon two Native Slovenians.
As Jake and I were talking about the directions we just received, one of the Slovenian guys stopped walking and asked:
Slovenian-"You speak English. Where you from?"
Jake- "New Jersey"
Me -"California"
Slovenian" Wow. Come with me. We go to bar"
As we were rolling three gentleman deep, we saw no problem with this and decided to join these two Slovs at the bar. Boy howdy, it turned out to be a great choice.
After two minutes of sitting down at a table, the guy who spoke English (the other one spoke zero English and would just mumble and gurgle sort of like Jabba the Hut) told us that he did the art work on two of the walls in the bar. I turned around to look at it and it was entirely of caricatures. You know, those goofy, overly exaggerated drawings of people. Well, this man did about 50 of them on two walls of this bar. Does anyone know what that means? It means he drinks for free. And that means anyone with him drinks for free, too.
We didn't really know whether or not to believe this guy. After all, we are in Slovenia, we just met this guy on the street, and who really does caricatures in a bar? Oh, and he looked like Nick Nolte's mug shot.
(If you haven't seen it, copy and paste this address immediately: http://z.about.com/d/crime/1/0/l/7/noltenick.jpg)
The server told us that it was indeed true that this man did the caricatures and does drink for free. From that point on, everything was cool. This guy spoke great English in addition to Italian, German, and Russian. At one point, Sittin on the Dock of the Bay by Otis Redding came on. I started singing along thinking that nobody else would know it but sure enough, this caricature drawing Slovenian dude was right there with me. I'm not sure if he had drank before and was tipsy or he was like this in general but he proceeded to tell me he was "all about Black power" from that point on.
He told me, amongst other artists, that he liked Al Green, Otis Redding, and Marvin Gaye. He also told me these guys as well as other Black musicians had been there in Ljubljana and performed "multiple times". At this point, I thought he was yanking my chain and wanted to see if he was telling the truth. But, as I was ordering my second Jameson, and it was free, I kept my mouth closed and just responded with a lot of "Oh yea?" and "Wow".
The night continued with mass helpings to rather tasteless olives and plain potato chips. He would lecture me about Black musicians and White musicians and continued to state he was "all about Black power". It soon became time to part and we graciously thanked this mystery man. Once out of earshot, I turned to Jake and asked:
"Did that really just happen?"
Jake-"Sure did, man"
Sure did, indeed.
Every time he saw me looking at him, I gave the 'cheers' gesture as if I had an imaginary beer and was about to drink myself. This cat is about 6'6". He is from a small town in Germany and is studying in Bologna for the year. As the tour ended and we had free time, I walked over to him and struck up a convo. We talked about American & German politics, soccer, and food. As Jake and I wanted to go out to some bars, we knew this guy was down and he came with us.
This guy's name is David and while in the bar, he informed me that he had been drinking since 7 that morning. Mind you, this guy isn't a typical frat bro or something. He wasn't drinking to get 'hammered' but rather because, well, he really likes beer. After we left the first bar looking for the second one, we stumbled upon two Native Slovenians.
As Jake and I were talking about the directions we just received, one of the Slovenian guys stopped walking and asked:
Slovenian-"You speak English. Where you from?"
Jake- "New Jersey"
Me -"California"
Slovenian" Wow. Come with me. We go to bar"
As we were rolling three gentleman deep, we saw no problem with this and decided to join these two Slovs at the bar. Boy howdy, it turned out to be a great choice.
After two minutes of sitting down at a table, the guy who spoke English (the other one spoke zero English and would just mumble and gurgle sort of like Jabba the Hut) told us that he did the art work on two of the walls in the bar. I turned around to look at it and it was entirely of caricatures. You know, those goofy, overly exaggerated drawings of people. Well, this man did about 50 of them on two walls of this bar. Does anyone know what that means? It means he drinks for free. And that means anyone with him drinks for free, too.
We didn't really know whether or not to believe this guy. After all, we are in Slovenia, we just met this guy on the street, and who really does caricatures in a bar? Oh, and he looked like Nick Nolte's mug shot.
(If you haven't seen it, copy and paste this address immediately: http://z.about.com/d/crime/1/0/l/7/noltenick.jpg)
The server told us that it was indeed true that this man did the caricatures and does drink for free. From that point on, everything was cool. This guy spoke great English in addition to Italian, German, and Russian. At one point, Sittin on the Dock of the Bay by Otis Redding came on. I started singing along thinking that nobody else would know it but sure enough, this caricature drawing Slovenian dude was right there with me. I'm not sure if he had drank before and was tipsy or he was like this in general but he proceeded to tell me he was "all about Black power" from that point on.
He told me, amongst other artists, that he liked Al Green, Otis Redding, and Marvin Gaye. He also told me these guys as well as other Black musicians had been there in Ljubljana and performed "multiple times". At this point, I thought he was yanking my chain and wanted to see if he was telling the truth. But, as I was ordering my second Jameson, and it was free, I kept my mouth closed and just responded with a lot of "Oh yea?" and "Wow".
The night continued with mass helpings to rather tasteless olives and plain potato chips. He would lecture me about Black musicians and White musicians and continued to state he was "all about Black power". It soon became time to part and we graciously thanked this mystery man. Once out of earshot, I turned to Jake and asked:
"Did that really just happen?"
Jake-"Sure did, man"
Sure did, indeed.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Venice-Ready to Rumble Pt. 2
(Note to reader: Please read 'Venice-Ready to Rumble Pt.1 before reading this post)
I don't recall if he said it in English or Italian but either way my ma understood. 'Oh no!' she said. 'No'. As she began speaking she walked from the public side of the bar to the bartender side. She was saying that the bartender said that he could change the drink. She was under the impression that she was only going to pay for one drink.
At this point, the woman bartender who was not in the mix until now, was speaking in English as well. 'You ordered two drinks. Two drinks. You will have to come back and speak to the manager about it tomorrow' HA! Come back tomorrow? Speak to the manager? Surely you jest. Do you know who you are dealing with?
If you were to look at the picture at this point you would see two bartenders, one male, one female on their rightful side of the bar. In addition, you have my ma who is feet away from them ready to, how do they say it, 'take this outside'. I'm on the public side of the bar with a 10 euro bill and the bill itself in one hand standing next to 3 Italians who picked one hell of a night to go out.
My ma, at no point was going to go on the retreat. She would either maintain her ground or continue to go on the offensive. We could have been posted there all night if need be.
As the male bartender sees my ma is not going anywhere he goes over to the cash register in a hurry. The woman bartender realizes she underestimated this woman and continues to argue but without really looking up from the drinks she had probably stirred over 57 times. Next thing I know, the male bartender is handing me a 5 Euro bill and takes the 10 while saying 'Ok. No problem. Its over'
I look at the bill, realize this jackass finally did the right thing and conceded. I yell to ma that everything is cool now and taken care of. (Up until this point, I never motioned or asked my mom to stop. Sure I had myself positioned to jump over the bar and break some faces but when my ma is on a roll, you just sit back and enjoy the show. Can't stop her, you just hope to contain her. Sort of like guarding Michael Jordan) Ma was startled but accepted my invitation to leave after I told her it was alright.
Once we got outside, I informed her that we paid 5 Euros instead of the 15 that was originally printed on the receipt. 'How'd that happen?' she asked. 'That guy just handed me the 5 and took the 10.' She said 'OK' and we continued our walk through the streets of Venice.
Moral of the story: Don't f*ck with my ma
I don't recall if he said it in English or Italian but either way my ma understood. 'Oh no!' she said. 'No'. As she began speaking she walked from the public side of the bar to the bartender side. She was saying that the bartender said that he could change the drink. She was under the impression that she was only going to pay for one drink.
At this point, the woman bartender who was not in the mix until now, was speaking in English as well. 'You ordered two drinks. Two drinks. You will have to come back and speak to the manager about it tomorrow' HA! Come back tomorrow? Speak to the manager? Surely you jest. Do you know who you are dealing with?
If you were to look at the picture at this point you would see two bartenders, one male, one female on their rightful side of the bar. In addition, you have my ma who is feet away from them ready to, how do they say it, 'take this outside'. I'm on the public side of the bar with a 10 euro bill and the bill itself in one hand standing next to 3 Italians who picked one hell of a night to go out.
My ma, at no point was going to go on the retreat. She would either maintain her ground or continue to go on the offensive. We could have been posted there all night if need be.
As the male bartender sees my ma is not going anywhere he goes over to the cash register in a hurry. The woman bartender realizes she underestimated this woman and continues to argue but without really looking up from the drinks she had probably stirred over 57 times. Next thing I know, the male bartender is handing me a 5 Euro bill and takes the 10 while saying 'Ok. No problem. Its over'
I look at the bill, realize this jackass finally did the right thing and conceded. I yell to ma that everything is cool now and taken care of. (Up until this point, I never motioned or asked my mom to stop. Sure I had myself positioned to jump over the bar and break some faces but when my ma is on a roll, you just sit back and enjoy the show. Can't stop her, you just hope to contain her. Sort of like guarding Michael Jordan) Ma was startled but accepted my invitation to leave after I told her it was alright.
Once we got outside, I informed her that we paid 5 Euros instead of the 15 that was originally printed on the receipt. 'How'd that happen?' she asked. 'That guy just handed me the 5 and took the 10.' She said 'OK' and we continued our walk through the streets of Venice.
Moral of the story: Don't f*ck with my ma
Venice-Ready to Rumble Pt. 1
To tell of what went down while my ma and I were in Venice is truly a treat. Sure, walking through the unbelievably unique city was great, seeing the numerous canals was cool, and even visiting a nearby, less touristy island was peaceful. But none of that compares to what occurred at a bar we went to.
As most, if not all of you know, walking around a lot can be tiring. Especially when you are in a new city and stop to look at everything. When one gets tired, they get thirsty and/or cranky. This usually results in the need for a drink. As my ma and I were on the third leg of our tour (Lake Como and Florence was blessed with the Dynamic Duo before Venice) we had reached several 'let's take a break points' including this one on the first night in Venice.
As we headed out of St. Marco's square, we found a comfortable bar with nice chairs and couches that made it appear more like Sherlock Holmes' study. As I was in no mood to sit on a stool and have my back ache, I was happy to be there. My mom had been talking about ordering a 'Bellini' which is supposedly a tasty traditional Venetian drink. Although we were not at the famous Harry Bar where they are apparently delicious, she decided to get one anyway. I, on the other hand, was not feeling adventurous and decided to play it safe: I ordered a Proseco.
When the drinks arrived, my ma's Bellini looked like a orange dream machine or mango madness (or whatever the hell they are called) smoothie from Jamba juice. I had a funny feeling she was not going to be satisfied. As she took her first sip, her words of complaint were already out of her mouth before she even swallowed.
'Can't taste the alcohol. I'm going to get something else. I don't want this'
Oh boy.
I knew I was going to be asked to convey this message to the bartender who was also the server.My mom was on a mission. She watched him like a bald eagle scans the terrain for prey waiting for the right time to gesture him over to re-order. When he did come, ma jumped right in and spoke English.She informed him that it didn't taste right, and would like something else. He said 'Sure, we can change that for you ma'am'. Problem solved. Dude spoke English, ma is getting new drink, and the ass grove in my seat is starting to form.
After about 30 minutes of sipping our Proseco's (ma got one, too) and relaxing, we decided it was time to leave. As I went up to the bar to pay, there was a second bartender there, a woman. When he gave me the bill, I looked at it and saw there was 3 drinks listed. Mom was a few steps behind me because we were talking in Italian, and she was looking at the paintings. I asked why there was a 3rd drink and he said 'she ordered it' and pointed at ma.
Wrong move my man. Wrong move
As most, if not all of you know, walking around a lot can be tiring. Especially when you are in a new city and stop to look at everything. When one gets tired, they get thirsty and/or cranky. This usually results in the need for a drink. As my ma and I were on the third leg of our tour (Lake Como and Florence was blessed with the Dynamic Duo before Venice) we had reached several 'let's take a break points' including this one on the first night in Venice.
As we headed out of St. Marco's square, we found a comfortable bar with nice chairs and couches that made it appear more like Sherlock Holmes' study. As I was in no mood to sit on a stool and have my back ache, I was happy to be there. My mom had been talking about ordering a 'Bellini' which is supposedly a tasty traditional Venetian drink. Although we were not at the famous Harry Bar where they are apparently delicious, she decided to get one anyway. I, on the other hand, was not feeling adventurous and decided to play it safe: I ordered a Proseco.
When the drinks arrived, my ma's Bellini looked like a orange dream machine or mango madness (or whatever the hell they are called) smoothie from Jamba juice. I had a funny feeling she was not going to be satisfied. As she took her first sip, her words of complaint were already out of her mouth before she even swallowed.
'Can't taste the alcohol. I'm going to get something else. I don't want this'
Oh boy.
I knew I was going to be asked to convey this message to the bartender who was also the server.My mom was on a mission. She watched him like a bald eagle scans the terrain for prey waiting for the right time to gesture him over to re-order. When he did come, ma jumped right in and spoke English.She informed him that it didn't taste right, and would like something else. He said 'Sure, we can change that for you ma'am'. Problem solved. Dude spoke English, ma is getting new drink, and the ass grove in my seat is starting to form.
After about 30 minutes of sipping our Proseco's (ma got one, too) and relaxing, we decided it was time to leave. As I went up to the bar to pay, there was a second bartender there, a woman. When he gave me the bill, I looked at it and saw there was 3 drinks listed. Mom was a few steps behind me because we were talking in Italian, and she was looking at the paintings. I asked why there was a 3rd drink and he said 'she ordered it' and pointed at ma.
Wrong move my man. Wrong move
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