You don't put cheese on your fish...

And a few other cultural oddities for Americans:

1. It's not THAT strange to drink coffee with milk after breakfast. Italians don't make a habit of cappuccino in the evening, but thats what a caffe macchiato is for - coffee "stained" with a little spot of hot milk. Just make sure you're saying it right.

2. Marinara sauce is not used to dip your calamari in here. Nor is it a tomato sauce in Liguria. For example, muscoli marinara is mussels in white wine, garlic and oil. Calamari with tomato sauce is, A) strange and B) calamari with salsa pomodori

3. At the beach, Italian children are not allowed to hang out in wet bathing suits. Same goes for some adults. They change suits several times. And naked kids on the beach is not at all weird.

4. The following foods are considered "heavy": Eggplant, tomatoes, red peppers. Who knew?

5. Modifying your dish is considered rude and a little odd. That penne pasta with tomato sauce and clams? Oh, you want it with no clams, octopus instead with no tentacles and no garlic in the tomato sauce and with linguini instead of penne? No problem. But unlike in the U.S., where diners frequently feel they can order imaginary dishes at restaurants, it's not so polite here.

6. Eggs don't need to be put in the fridge. Neither does juice, water, or fruits and vegetables. Or leftovers from lunch. They can hang out in pots on the stove til dinner.

7. Italians DO eat leftovers. Some things are even better the next day.

8. "Salve" (Sal-Vay) is more appropriate then "Ciao".

9. Yes, they like their luxury goods and high end designers here, but it's more important that you look presentable. All the time. A trip to the market and the butcher means no "half stages" of dress here, and no pajamas at all. Your whole outfit can be from Target, but just put it together well. They love accessories and scarves here.

10. Italian people yell. It doesn't necessarily mean a fist fight is about to break out. It could be over something as simple as haggling over the price of chestnuts (exhibit A, the market yesterday in Chiavari)

11. When someone lifts their hand up and wiggles their index finger in your face, it simply means "No". It isn't a chastising, "you did this wrong" hand gesture like in the U.S. It's just a "no". This one is super hard for me to adjust to. I constantly feel like a 3 year old being scolded.

12. The bidet is not for sock washing, vegetable cleaning or any other non-bidet like activity.

13. Italians are just as passionate about beer and cocktails as you think they are about wine. A bar isn't "touristy" cause it offers mojitos - they're not catering to a tourist crowd. Italians love mojitos. Especially on the beach in the summer.

14. Breakfast here is coffee and maybe a pastry of some sort. And that's it. Eggs are for lunch or dinner, preferably in a frittata or for a picky eater.

15. Pasta with just oil and cheese ("white" pasta) is for eating when your stomach hurts. It's considered "lighter".

She was a daytripper...

In keeping with my theme of discovering more of the region I'm calling home, I've been prying myself out of bed pretty early and strolling around some of the little villages that dot the Riviera, many of which get ignored by tourists running blindly towards the Cinque Terre. Not that I at all blame them. The sunset I watched from the statue of St. Francis of Assisi, above the town, is more of a normality then an exceptional view. It's constantly breathtaking here. But seeing more of Liguria makes me realize how special the Cinque Terre is, but I do feel a sort of protective feeling towards the other towns as well, even the ones I don't even bother putting on my exploration checklist. Like poor Zamogli. The train station might as well have a tumbleweed rolling lazily down the tracks. I didn't even see a ticket machine.
The weather has turned cold, for here, especially in the shade, so I've found that in my little trips I'm the only one around. This made towns like Levanto seem lonely. Though I've been to Levanto tons of times, I never really explored it in the daylight hours. It's a lovely little town with a long stretch of grey, rocky beach and the same crystal water we have in Monterosso, just a few minutes east. Levanto also has a ton of shops and a pretty serious surfing scene, which left me more then a little sticker shocked at the 95 euro price for a Roxy hoodie. It's also remarkably proud of it's distinction as a "Slow City". The Slow Food movement (www.slowfood.org) was started in Italy in the late 1990's as a response to the opening of a McDonalds by the Spanish Steps in Rome. Italians were aghast and struck back, starting an organization that emphasizes the farmer - what is local, artisenal and home grown. It's sensible in Italy, and almost seems redundant to appoint cities as "Slow Cities" as 80% of what I buy is from farmers or small businesses, but that's not the point. It's spread to hundreds of countries around the world, and is an incredibly important way for people to really increase awareness of what we are consuming. Levanto, host to tons of small farm stores and little pesto shops and pastry makers, is proud of that. And who knows - maybe their ratio of artisenal shops to people is higher then it is here. I've never counted.
Yesterday I took a 40 minute train to Chiavari, and then planned to take the cablecar in Rapallo up to the mountain-top sanctuary. In my brilliance, I thought, "Ok, I can go to cute little Chiavari first, do some shopping (as I heard they had a ton of stores there) then when everything closes at 12:30, I'll go to Rapallo and take the cable car up, come back down, stroll around and come back to Monterosso by 4".

Error #1: Chiavari is not cute, nor is it little. It's about 30,000 people, which makes it New York City compared to Monterosso. It IS a beautiful little metropolis, full of winding side streets and palm trees shading white marble churches. It feels like a city - like an old, Italian city full of that sort of 50's Riviera charm. What was nice was that the shops (and there were, in fact, a ton of shops) were located on one long street covered by beautiful old arches. What wasn't nice was that nothing was open. Nothing. As I learned upon my return, in Genoa and the surrounding areas, many stores also close Monday morning, in addition to Sunday.
And people wonder why the economy here is struggling.
So, with nothing to show for it, I trudged through a beautiful market full of scary old Italian women haggling over the price of chestnuts, back to the train. My funivia was waiting.

Error #2: The funivia, like Italians, needs a "nap" in the afternoon. As I arrived to Rapallo, only 10 minutes north of Chiavari, I followed the incredibly poorly labeled signs to the cable car. I arrived at 12:47. It closed at 12:30-2:30.
Sigh.
I strolled around Rapallo, which is beautiful and old - church bells ringing, and a old castle towering on the shore, a centuries old defense from those pesky pirates that really loved the Riviera. I dodged cruise ship tourists on the boardwalk promenade, confused why they hadn't been anywhere else and also as to why they were all so blindingly pale. I was then greeted with the familiar sound of windows slamming shut and doors creaking closed. It was lunch time in Italy. The funivia, the awesome Sri Lankan store I found, full of promises of cilantro and coconut milk, and Rapallo itself was closed for a few hours.
Even though Rapallo felt smaller, but as I looked at the stats, it was actually bigger then Chiavari. Maybe it's because when I saw it, everyone was eating in their homes, but it will not be my last trip there (especially after I saw the signs for a yoga studio).

Back to Monterosso it was. And as I arrived, I stumbled onto another piece of knowledge that significantly hampers my exploration plans this weekend.

Sciopero.

Sigh. Oh, Italy.

Pancakes Italian Style

Pancakes with Nutella and fresh strawberries...we are having our water heater replaced, and I made a batch of pancakes for Manuel and I this morning. We're not breakfast eaters, so the 7 pancakes were too much. The men working on the water heater were the happy recipients of the leftovers.

The conversation went like this (in Italian):

Manu: Guys, here, try these "pancakes", it's a type of bread with Nutella.

Guys: Oh, no, we couldn't we're working...etc, etc, etc

Manuel leaves pancakes. Silence ensues from bathroom.

After a few minutes...

Guys from the bathroom: Manu, excuse me, you made these?

Manu: No, Cri did.

Guys: Marry her.

End of story, and more proof that in the absence of maple syrup, Nutella makes everything taste better.

Una "Piccola" Gita

We have been discussing, more and more, what we are going to do next year at the Cantina without Andrea and Silvia, who are leaving to open their own restaurant in their hometown of Levanto (about a 4min train ride north of us on the Italian Riviera). Though I'm glad to see them achieve their life-longdream,it's going to beimpossible to replace such great employees. All of this means, in a nutshell, that next summer Manuel and I will be working some pretty long hours. In the face of this realization, I decided now was as good a time as any to begin to explore a little more of the region I'm now calling home. Manuel needed to work in the morning, so with my day free until 7 pm, it was more then enough time to begin my exploration. Liguria isn't just the Cinque Terre, and the Italian Riviera is a beautiful stretch of coastline that covers this tiny region (Italy's 3rd smallest). Since it's a unique shape - long and thin, like a boomerang - it ensures that no where in Liguria istoo far from the sea, and the mountains creep along the middle. The same dramatic views that are seen from the Cinque Terre stretch into other parts of Liguria, and after having consulted some train schedules, I figured out some easy day trips to take this week, since the weather is still sunny and warm.Yesterday I pried myself out of bed and got on an early train to Santa Margherita Ligure - about 40 minutes from Monterosso. Santa Margherita Ligure (or, SML) is a beautiful harbor town of about 10,000 people which makes it more of a city compared to my little Monterosso, which hovers around about 1,000 residents. It feels like much less here since

I'm almost positive 2/3 of the Monterossini are over the age of 125 and can't leave their homes, but that is another story.

SML is home to a huge harbor and, like many Ligurian towns, a 16th century castle that was built to defend the Santa Margheritesi from Northern African pirates plundering the long stretch of coast. There is also a beautiful basilica, hotels, shops and tons of yachts. A decades old resort town for well-to-do Italians, it's a great base for tourists who want more of a city feel, and parts of the comune are included in the parco nazionale of nearby Portofino. During the high season, boats run directly here from Monterosso,

but this time of year I had to take the train. As I walked down into the town, full of fresh baking foccacia smells and free of hoards of tourists this late in the season, I followed the shore til I saw a ferry. Just in time, I hopped on and took a short 10 minute ride to Portofino.

Portofino is a quintessential Italian Riviera town - for some, perhaps it's THE Italian Riviera town. In the 50's

it was a world famous destination for the rich and famous and those pretending to be either, and not much has changed today. The town is tiny - shockingly so - only a little bigger then Monterosso's picturesque neighbor, Vernazza. The streets are littered with Dior, Louis V, Prada, Cartier, and other high end shops of the same pedigree, with bored looking saleswomen who can appraise you in a few seconds and decide you're not

worth their time. Portofino is where celebrities stay, and at these prices, they are the only ones who can afford it.

It is beautiful however. A small, half moon harbor full of mega-yachts and vintage sailboats, full of outdoor cafes perfect for people watching while sipping a 6 euro cappucino. I decided to forgo all that and walk up to the lighthouse for some beautiful shots of the Riviera. The walk is about 20 minutes up a windy road that is the "street" for some breathtaking villas belonging to those rich and famous, judging by the video cameras and not-so-hidden security features along this walk. On my way back, I was subjected to some curious heckling as I walked by the call boxes for entry to the villas "Sei bellisima" called one, and "Sei proprio bella", another, as I walked quickly by,

realizing that these people could see me through the camera system, and feeling remarkably uncomfortable as I coudn't see them. Back in town, that feeling of being "watched" didn't leave.I know people watching is an Italian past time, but it was a light tourist day and the only other people in town were old British couples on a cruise daytrip.

As everyone sat, silently observing me, I realized it wasn't just the obvious display of wealth that made me feel uncomfortable in Portofino.

I found a trail and began to walk back to SML. Ema, my coworker, assured me it was only about 30 minutes, but with pictures and a coffee stop, it took me an hour and 10 minutes. It was,

all in all, about 4 miles of breathtakingly beautiful coastline weaving the shore back to SML. As I squinted into the sun and looked into the crystal water, I thought, "Just when you think you've seen all the shades of blue in the world..."

Every day here, Liguria surprises me. It's not just the Cinque Terre, but seeing more of my new "home state" helps me appreciate how special my small little corner of the country is. Liguria might not be a name rolling off the tongue of every tourist, but there is no reason it shouldn't. Granted, the soft sand of Monterosso is, in most other places, replaced by large rocks softened by years of sea and sun, still viable for sunbathing, snorkling, and swimming, spending the same lazy days at the beach. Liguria, and this whole Riviera I'm so fortunate to live in, is a tourist's dream. It's a scrappy little region with more beauty then I could imagine - I'm just glad I've started trying to see it all.

Thanks to Nicole, sono famosa in Philly

http://www.wlmagazine.com/fx/webkit/index.php?bp=%2Fnxtbooks%2Fhelpsos%2Fwl_201110&pg=11

Adaptability in terms of muffins and falling stars

Another note on the weather: though my friends here have some incredibly bizarre ways of forecasting the weather, it seems to be working much better then the actual weathermen in Italy, who have yet to be right. About one thing. This weekend I was gearing up for fall - googling rain boots and unpacking the 4 sweaters I brought from the U.S.A., but today I'm sitting onthe balcony under a cloudless blue sky squinting at the glare of the silver sun off the still ocean. There is a wedding reception at Restaurant Miky, which we are some 147 steps and 20 feet above, so I'm also treated to some Italian wedding music. Many songs are traditional Italian ones that are now famous in American pasta commercials, but there is also Vasco Rossi, etc. I'm holding out for the national anthem, however, which is fantastic. I'm not sure if it's wedding appropriate, but it's now beat out "Oh, Canada" for catchiest anthem in my book. Weather-wise, though I'm thankful for their error, it's a little difficult to know what to expect. It IS cooler now, I'll say that, and fortunately, though their meteorology skills might not be top notch, their astrology is on point.Last night, for reasons unknown to me, was a "night of the falling stars" - the stelle cadente. At about 10 pm, right on time (unheard of here), Manuel and I made our way out to the chilly and deserted beach and saw 5 falling stars in 10 minutes. And yes, we did time it. However, the wind was strong and the sand was cold, so 10 minutes was the limit we gave it, considering our "beach towel" was a tablecloth from the restaurant. I wrapped another tablecloth around myself, cursing the weathermen for reporting rain and not frigid cold (exaggeration, it was probably like mid-40's F). I never saw a shooting star before. I'm that girl who looks at the sky eagerly and the second I turn my head, hear, "Oh my god, a shooting star, did you see that???". Story of my life. Until last night.

Everyone then asked me if I made a wish, and as I was responding that yes, I did, they hurriedly "shhhhhhh-d" me, afraid that I didn't understand I can't actually tell them my wish, as if this "wish rule" was different in America. When I assured them, that, "Sì, lo so, non posso dirti il mio desidero" - Yes, I know I can't tell you my wish, they nodded satisfied, as thou

gh something was done correctly in the U.S.

After an eventful night at the Cantina which was, absolutely positively full of Americans (and 3 tables from New Jersey), I woke up this morning to sun, wedding tunes, and my second muffin experiment of the week. Now, baking wise, I've run into a few hurdles here. There i

s no brown sugar, no chocolate chips, no vanilla extract, and that pesky metric system and degrees C oven. Having overcome most of them with a laugh, a smile, and a conversion table, I was suprised (as was my tasting panel) by my latest discovery. Salt in Italy is, well, saltier. When my recipe for chocolate chip muffins, which I jazzed up with Nutella, called for a 1/4 tsp. of salt, I measured and baked, thinking nothing of it. I brought my muffins to the Cantina, and was treated, one at a time, to Andrea, Silvia, Leo, Henri and Manuel, saying in succession, "Cri, they are good...but are they supposed to be salato?"

So, learning from my mistakes, I'm doing batch number 2 with 3 salt specks, and playing around with carmelized apples now. It's apple season in the Northern part of Italy, and Trentino-Alto Adige is known for their apples. I found a huge array at the market yesterday and sauteed them with some butter, sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg before whipping them

into my muffin mix. When life gives you apples, make apple muffins, I suppose. And when you wish upon a star, bring a jacket.

Chocolate Chip Nutella Muffins and Carmelized Apple Muffins

To the following recipe, I added less butter (about 1/4 stick less), about 1/4 c more flour and rounded the sugar to a full cup. For nutella muffins, reserve a small portion of the batter and mix 1/2 cup of nutella into it. After you fill the muffin tin with the plain batter, then take the batter/Nutella mixture and swirl in. This prevents the heavy Nutella from sinking to the bottom of your muffin.

For apple muffins, I used the plain batter without chocolate chips and modified as above, adding one apple, chopped and sauteed with 2 tbsp of sugar, a dash of cinnamon, nutmeg and 1/4 stick of butter. I mixed into the batter and baked as usual, and didn't use the "topping" for either recipe.

Another note: this batter is really "liquid-y" as opposed to most muffin batter's I've used, but makes a great, fluffy muffin. And it's easy to make by hand, too, which is great for me since I don't have a dishwasher OR an adaptor for my American mixer. Enjoy!

Chocolate Chip Muffins: Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Position rack in center of oven. Butter, or line with paper liners, 12 - 2 3/4 x 1 1/2 inch muffin cups. In a large measuring cup or bowl whisk together the eggs, milk, and vanilla extract. In another large bowl whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the chocolate chips. With a rubber spatula fold the wet ingredients, along with the melted butter, into the dry ingredients and stir only until the ingredients are combined. Do not over mix the batter or tough muffins will result. Evenly fill the muffin cups with the batter, using two spoons or an ice cream scoop. In a small bowl combine the topping ingredients and then sprinkle a little topping on each muffin. Place in the oven and bake until a toothpick inserted in the center of a muffin comes out clean, about 18 - 20 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool for about 5 minutes before removing from pan. Makes 12 regular sized muffins. Source: Spaull, Susan & Burrell, Fiona. 'Leith's Baking Bible'. Bloomsbury Publishing. London: 2006. Rombauer, Irma S., Rombauer Becker, Marion, & Becker, Ethan. The All New All Purpose Joy of Cooking. Simon & Schuster Inc. New York: 1997.

Chocolate Chip Muffins:

1/2 cup (113 grams) unsalted butter, melted and cooled

2 large eggs

1 cup (240 ml) milk or cream

1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

2 cups (260 grams) all-purpose flour

2/3 cups (135 grams) granulated whitesugar

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup (170 grams) milk chocolate or semisweet chocolate chips

Topping:

1 tablespoon (15 grams) granulated white sugar

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Read more:http://www.joyofbaking.com/muffins/ChocolateChipMuffins.html#ixzz1aHVCIPig

Snookie is my italian teacher

The sun is a little spotty today, meaning that the normal blue sky is dotted with clouds with even more in the distance. The weather reports have ominously been predicting the long-overdue-but-still-sad end of summer for a few days now. This weekend, I'm afraid, is it. The weather drops from 82 and sunny to 68 and cloudy, and the bargain traveling tourists who got a cheap flight and great room rates for coming to Italy in October will find that their weather luck has run out.

I, alas, have nothing interesting to report from my peaceful little corner of the world save for the winding down of the season and the weather. Unfortunately, though I lament that there is nothing to do here for the next few weeks, it's not for a lack of trying. Since Italian restaurant workers are paid much differently then American restaurant employees (the main difference being that they are, in fact, PAID), they have signed contracts agreeing to work a certain amount of hours for a certain amount of time that are paid ahead of time. The Cantina is expectedly slowing down since it's almost the second week of October, but workers are still obliged to work the same hours they've signed up for. This means that restaurants still stay open just as late, save for now I can spread out my Italian homework in the corner of the restaurant with no one to bother me, save for the occasional drunk tourist stumbling in to disturb the bartenders.

For me, it can be a welcome diversion as I am now teaching myself Lezione 15, which covers the non-stop excitement of the past conditional tense. As fun as it is in English, phrases like, "I would have gone to the party if he had had it on a Sunday", imagine it in this cobweb of grammar they call the Italian language.

I can speak, a little more every day, now, and though I'm still firmly denying to my boyfriend that I "speak" Italian, as we sat last night discussing what to order at dinner, in Italian, he stops, gives me a LOOK and comments, "For someone who claims not to speak Italian, I want to know what you'd call the language you're speaking right now."

Point, Manuel.

It's actually coming along more then I thought, and though I have these days where I can't even remember how to conjugate a regular "-ire" verb, I think my Italian is about where it should be. Silvia commented that maybe I'm learning too much, and I agree that may be the case, but learning a language doesn't work like that. Certo, it's probably better to sit in a room and practice the present tense of every verb until it's burned into your brain, then go on to the past tense (tensES in this language), future (S) and so forth, but when you live here and have to communicate with people it doesn't work like that. When I need to know how to say something and it's an answer I don't understand, I trudge home and look it up, then do some workbook exercises on how to use that verb, phrase, etc. When someone asks me "Potrebbe portarmi un menu?" I might get the gist, but you can bet on the fact that as soon as I get home I"m going to figure out what in God's name "potrebbe" means. All of this adds up to something of a unique way of learning the language, and a confusing one at that.

The irony of all this is that we still don't have TV, but I can get MTVItalia on demand on my computer. Watching Italian TV with subtitles is great for me, as I can read, listen and understand all at once. Here's what's funny - the only show they have is Jersey Shore. As an American from New Jersey, I never watched it. Not even once. Here, I'm glued to the screen. A learning tool, albeit a ridiculous one. I bet Snookie has no idea how useful she is, academically speaking. GTL in Italian is PLB, by the way.

But all things considered, I'm doing pretty good. My spelling in English, however, is drastically declining, as is my grammar, since I'm surrounded by fantastic people struggling to speak MY language in THEIR country, so I can't expect too much. It must be hilarious to listen to a conversation between Ema and I, which might take 5 minutes for me to get out 2 complete phrases in Italian, then her try and string together something in English.

My grammar in Italian might not be exemplary either, but I can make myself understood, which is no small feat. An e-mail to a yoga studio about classes was answered promptly, with no issues understanding the Italian I rapidly typed out - it might even have been correct. More then that, as Manuel and I ate last night in Sestri Levante (another town on the Ligurian Riviera, about 40 minutes to the west of Monterosso, towards France) the waitress explained the specials in Italian, and I understood. I ordered on my own, and was able to answer her questions on my preferences on my entree. I'm not exactly ready to give a speech to Parliament, but I did finish a riveting page turner written for 5 year old Italian kids about a little boy named Uri with a lisp, who can't make himself understood to adults around him. As Manuel's aunt keeps telling me, in her rapid fire of Italian, "piano piano". Step by step.

And even though it feels like an ending to the summer, it feels something like a beginning too...especially now that I can say it.