World Cup!

One of the early games at Villa Borghese:



Watching the World Cup games in Italy has been a blast. They would have been even more of a blast if Italy, the reigning champs, hadn't sucked this year and failed to qualify for the second round. But, even still, it was a good time and I was sad to see the World Cup end. It became a community event here in Rome and it left me thinking "now what am I going to do for fun?" when it was over.

In Italy you had to have a special TV channel to watch the game (one that we didn't have) so we often went out for games. Our favorite place: Villa Borghese, a big park on the northwest side of the city. They had a big FIFA Fan Fest TV in Borghese's Piazza Siena surrounded by trees and usually accompanied by a gorgeous sunset where we watched the majority of the games. This was also a great place to meet friends, camp out, and watch the game. It was usually better than a bar because you didn't have to buy a drink. Of course, there were drink and food vendors everywhere selling stuff for ridiculously high price. So, we often brought our own food and drinks to the game. It was also a really great place to meet new people as well. Here's Erich eating some Pasta con Salsiccia:

Occasionally we would go to a pub to watch the games just for a change of pace and a little bit of luxury. The USA v. England game, however; was pretty far from luxurious. We went to a bar right near the city center and I have NEVER seen so many people packed into such a small space before. It was like one big soccer mosh pit. There were people from wall to wall and yet, somehow there was a clear distinction between the fans. England fans had all found each other on the left side of the bar while the US ended up on the right. Ending with a draw was the best thing that could have happened at the end everyone walked away unscathed and thoroughly soaked in beer and sweat. Yum!

This was not the end of packed games. Especially the few times that Italy played; the crowd at Villa Borghese was massive. But once Italy was out of the running, the crowd didn't dwindle as much as I thought it would. Argentina soon became the favorite for many Italians. This is mostly because their coach, Diego Maradona, used to play for the Napoli team so he still holds many people's allegiance (despite the fact that he was one of soccer's most unethical players and coke-head to boot, known for his Hand of God move that allowed his team to win the 1986 world cup game). Even so, he is a glorified hero the world over. So, when Argentina had an incredibly disappointing loss no one knew who to root for next. Most chose Spain :).

A group of Spaniards gather at the Spanish steps after qualifying for the final game:
Although I was rooting for Spain in the end, I was really rooting for all of the African nations first and foremost, mostly because it was an African World Cup and also because I'd like to see someone other than the major soccer super powers in the last rounds of the competition. I also developed a mad crush on the Ivory Coast player Didier Drogba, but that's neither here nor there. Otherwise, I thought that Germany looked great this year, so well-organized and efficient in their games. I thought they were going all the way, but am glad they got 3rd.

The last world cup game at Villa Borghese was packed to the brim:

Overall, I've loved watching the games here in Europe where soccer, or football, is insanely popular. I can't wait for the next world cup in Brazil 2014...maybe I'll even try to be there for it!

Finding Nemi

A few weeks ago we decided to take a day trip to a little town just outside of Rome called Nemi for their annual strawberry festival. We heard about it from Erich's English student and couldn't resist after learning about the many delicious strawberry treats and the dishing out of free strawberries. So Erich, one of my co-workers, and I set out armed with detailed directions by bus, and ready for some sweet treats. Although it was a Sunday, the directions took us step by step to our destination, easy right? WRONG. OF COURSE NOT! This is still Italy after all. So, even though the strawberry festival is a highly anticipated yearly event for people all over Rome and its neighboring cities since the 1920s, it doesn't mean that buses or even taxis will actually transport people there. No, we reached the town of Genzano without problem, but once there found that the only way there was by foot. Up hill. The whole way. In the heat.

Once found, Nemi was well worth the trek. I can't even complain as we picked up a friend, Stefania, on the way who was pushing 70 years old. She was the real trooper. When we got there we found that getting back to Rome would be even more difficult. We inquired after buses that might be coming near, and found that there were none. We even called a cab, and they said that they didn't want to come up there because there would be too much traffic (ha ha!). So right when we arrived we had to make a decision to leave early (and miss the dishing out of the free strawberries) but find more reliable transportation home, or stay and chance it. So chance it we did.
Overlooking a beautiful lake, Nemi is a quaint but lively town made even more so with their signature small, sweet-sour strawberries. The very sight of Lake Nemi made me miss Michigan, especially Torch Lake, all the more. Lake Nemi is not only beautiful, but packed with history. Before leaving I read that Caligula built huge, extravagant ships to sail on the lake UNTIL they were destroyed after his death. BUT WAIT! They were recovered when Mussolini drained the lake in order to retrieve the large vessels and restore them safely in a museum in Nemi. BUT NO! The ships were too soon blown up by the Nazis during WWII leaving no trace of these amazing pieces of history. Oh the suspense! Lost, found, lost.

The strawberries were just as delicious as we anticipated, and as I left town I noticed I had a bit of a stomach ache, or as I like to call it, sugar belly (the feeling one gets after eating WAY too much sugar). This was the goal, the mark of a truly successful day. There was strawberry everything; strawberry pizza, milkshakes, tarts, liquor, ice cream sundaes, sandwiches, cake...everything strawberry under the sun.

The community strawberries were the highlight of the day. They brought in truck loads of strawberries and after much applause and rallying, they emptied the crates into a large vat and topped it with champagne and sugar before handing them out plate by plate to everyone who wanted them. I advocate for more fruit related festivals, it was a great time.

Adventures in Public Transportation (aka learning to chill)

Today I got home from work in 40 minutes, record time! This was a major feat considering just last week it took me two long hours in the grueling heat to get home. So far, catching the bus in Rome is like finding a $5 bill in your winter jacket; you always find it when you don't need it, and it's never there when you do. Three times last week I waited for my bus for just short of an hour. When I complain about the buses being late or entirely absent to my students, co-workers, or friends that have lived here for awhile, their response is always "that's Italy." Everyone is always late, in fact 15 minutes is not considered late, rather it is right on time.

Last week after a particularly tough day of work I saw my bus leaving the stop right as I was approaching. Since I didn't want to wait an hour for the next one I did what any normal person would do; I chased it with all I had in me. I caught up with it long enough to bang on its side a few times and when it still didn't stop I proceeded to trail it waving my arms wildly over my head. Finally, it seemed to take pity on me and stopped. Thank goodness the bus was empty so that no one saw my shameless attempt to catch the bus. The bus driver, however, saw it all and continued to sit with the bus in park laughing at me and reenacting what I looked like chasing the bus for longer than I'd like to remember. He was making the motions and everything (hand slapping bus, arms flailing above my head). Thanks man, glad I could entertain.

This is not my only public transit blunder so far in Rome, not by far. I could probably write a blog based solely on the stupid crap I do day to day. About a month ago I got stuck in the metro doors and had to fish myself out before the metro carried me sandwiched between the thick automatic portals to my certain death. This was the first and last time I tried to listen to music in transit. I totally dazed out while listening to "The Apples" and when I looked up the doors at my metro stop were closing, so instead of a.) pressing the "open" button next to the doors or b.) just relaxing and getting off at the next stop, I decided to lodge myself between the doors and squeeze my body out in sections (chest, arms, legs). Oh to be a fly on the wall at that moment.

Despite these frequent public embarrassments, I'm finally learning the best way to get places. And now that I know it will never be fully reliable, the transit system is teaching me to chill a little bit. Italian culture is very relaxed about time, a characteristic I'm trying to adopt. I now bring my book everywhere I go, so if there is a wait at least I'm enjoying myself. I've also met some of the kindest people at the bus stops. People who have volunteered advice to me not only about the buses or trains, but also about life in Rome. I'm learning the concept that I will get there when I get there, and no amount of worrying is going to help get me there any faster. I'm trying to carry this over to other aspects of my life as well, hoping that I will learn to let go a bit more. So far so good.

ROOTS! parte due

Just a couple more tidbits from my trip to Villa Latina.

This is Gabriele:

He is, among many other things, a multi-instrumentalist and each Sunday goes out with two other guys to play music at various places. He plays the Italian bagpipe (which we were informed is very different from Scottish bagpipes), the accordion, and this little pipe-like instrument the name of which I can't remember. The lady kissing his cheek is his girlfriend, Rosetta.

Erich gave it a try and they dressed him up in the traditional zampognaro garb. Everyone got a kick out of it.

This is where my Dad was baptized, right next to it was the municipal building where I picked up his birth records:

This is the Cantina where my Papa's family lived and worked. It's been vacant much longer than Nonna and Papa's house:

More family! Me with Gabriele's brother Vittorio, Gabriele, and their cousin (my 3rd cousin) Antonino. Below that is cousin Maria and her daughter and grandson (they own a bar called Artu in Atina):

We plan on heading back to Villa Latina in the next couple of weeks to start cleaning up the house and visit more people. Currently, life in Rome is treating us well. It is starting to get really hot and more tourists are coming into the city, but ultimately for us this just means sticking closer to our apartment steering clear of the metro, and eating more gelato to keep cool (rough life, I know). We know how lucky we are to be here.

ROOTS!

In traveling to Villa Latina, we were able to see the long-awaited house that belonged my Nonna and Papa. When we first heard about it still being vacant two years ago, we were like “hell yeah we’re going to go to Italy and stay in this house!” After perpetual warnings that it was “unlivable” we finally started to listen up and when we visited we found that it is indeed in shambles. I am still, however, enchanted with the idea of fixing it up one day. After talking a bit to Gabriele, he seemed to think that fixing it up little by little just enough to be lived in while visiting would be a great idea. So, here is the house!

The house is kind of like a condo as part of a larger building in this small courtyard. When you enter in the front door to the left you find a little sitting room with a fireplace and a stairway that takes you up stairs.  Directly in front of you when entering the doorway is a narrow hallway that leads to the backyard. The backyard is small and over grown with weeds and grass and right in the middle of the backyard is another small house without a roof. And next to the roof-less house is an outhouse (now, I'm an outdoor-sy girl, but you could not have paid me to go in there). Standing in the backyard you also find a large room that is separated by a wall from the rest of the house.

  

Upstairs there are 3 bedrooms one small one and two bigger ones with balconies. The room to the back of the house has a very nice view of the mountains and of the roofless house in the back. There is also what I imagine is a very spacious attic, but I couldn’t get up there as the ladder was rotten and it looked like there could be rodents up there.

 

There are cobwebs everywhere you turn and since many of the balcony doors are broken and rotten, there are a couple bird nests in the house with little bird families living within. Truly, they were flying in and out as we toured the place. Even from the photos you can see the house is in great need of a good cleaning and some minor renovations (i.e. new doors and windows) before anything else would be conceived. 

I'm sure these photos look like a raggedy old shack at first glance, but in it, I can see nothing but evidence of my family, and its potential. Gabriele was, as usual, very helpful in telling us all we needed to know. He does a bit of real estate in the area, and assured us that the structure and foundation are very stable. He also told us the government came and put new roofs on all of the houses after a pretty significant earthquake about 20 years ago. Suffice it to say, although I know that any renovations will be distant and time/money consuming and although this may just be a pipe dream; I want to keep the roots that this house holds in the ground.


As we were leaving the house, Gabriele began talking to an elderly woman just a few doors down. He told her that I was the granddaughter of Mesquite and Palma and she instantly remembered them. She had been wondering why she hadn't seen them, and was hoping they were doing well. Gabriele explained that they have since passed away, and she said that her husband had recently died as well, and that she was very sorry to hear they were no longer with us. As I heard her speak with Gabriele, my eyes instantly welled up with tears and I got a bit of a chill. I can't even express how much I wish they were here with me on this trip, showing me around, introducing me to people, and telling me stories about growing up in the village. I would give anything to have come here with them before. But, since we can only go forward and we can't go back, I feel very lucky to have Gabriele and my family in Italy to fill in the gaps as well as my amazing Aunt Cec who seems to be the glue that holds our family together. My Dad's no slouch either, when you can get him to talk life in the old country :).

What I've Been Waiting For

 

Papa and Nonna (in my locket)

One of the main reasons we decided to take this trip is to meet and get to know my family in Italy. My Italian heritage played a part in my upbringing (especially where my Nonna and Papa were concerned), but not as big an influence as I would have liked now that I’m older. I feel like I’ve missed out on something that I’m entitled to, that I’ve missed out on something that is intrinsic to who I am. It’s taken me 26 years to get to this point, and I wouldn’t give up this opportunity for anything. So I guess, part of the reason I am here is to gain something back that might have otherwise died with my grandparents; our connection to Italy.

Meeting my family was all I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been in contact with my cousin, Gabriele, for the past couple of months, trying to coordinate our visit to Villa Latina. When he picked Erich and me up from the train station in Cassino with two big kisses and a classic pinch of my cheek (just like my Nonna used to do), I knew we would get along splendidly.  He promptly had us over for a big Italian meal cooked for us by his lovely and lively girlfriend, Rosetta. Gabriele became our guide for everything in Villa Latina and neighboring Atina, and became our most helpful link to the past. Gabriele and his family lived in Scotland for 17 years and when he speaks English he has a thick but adorable Scottish accent with an Italian twist. After World War II when Italy was in a state of great poverty and economic hardship, he and his side of the family were part of a big immigration to Scotland, while my grandparents were part of the immigration to Michigan. Gabriele and his family moved back to Italy some time ago and Gabriele kept in close touch with my Nonna and Papa and looked after their property.

The view from Atina (near Villa Latina)

Gabriele took us to Nonna and Papa’s old house (I’ll get to that more later) and to my Papa’s family’s cantina where the whole family used to work and live. I can’t even describe how amazing it was to see where they lived and worked, and hear stories about each family member. For example, I always knew my Papa’s nickname, Mesquite Papalone (I don't even know how to translate this...mesquite because he was small, and papalone is like big papa, don't ask me), but I never knew that he was known to so many people as such. Gabriele would introduce me to the older people of the village as the granddaughter of Mesquite and they would instantly make a connection. My Papa was a small framed man with a big personality, and he made friends with everyone so I shouldn't be surprised that his reputation spanned throughout the village despite the fact that he hadn't actually lived there in many years. I also learned that my Dad was called Gerarducho, a nickname I’ve been using to its full potential since I learned of it! His family here still knows him as Gerarduch.

Villa Latina and Atina were beautiful. Situated in a valley surrounded by mountains, the area was a quiet and peaceful break from the city with some great hiking and beautiful River Melfa. With such a pretty landscape all around it was impossible not to find a buona vista in every direction. This place is packed with history all its own, and on one of the trails just up from Atina's Centro Storico, we found a little stone hut in the forest, that we first thought might have been a well, but after using our brilliant archeological skills (for us, also known as common sense), we deduced that it was likely part of an old house (because it has a doorway). We're pretty smart cookies. Anyway, there are tons of cool old structures and artifacts (and little lizards) around every corner.

I have so much more to say on my time in Atina and Villa Latina. Much more than I have the time or patience to write about on this blog, but suffice it to say if the rest of this trip goes to hell in a hand basket, after visiting my family here, seeing where my Dad was born and where my Grandparents and their families lived for many years, it all will have already been worth it. Next up: Nonna and Papa's House!