Food

The schedule of the daily market happens to exactly coincide with my work schedule: Monday through Saturday, 8am-1pm. For me, this is very sad, as farmers' markets are my one truest urban passion. This Saturday, however, Axel was sick and couldn't go to school, so I got the opportunity to go. I went the first few days I was here, of course, before we started school, and I've been missing it since. I find this particular market more intimidating than any of the other markets I've been to in Italy, so it is a good fun challenge.

The vendors, who are mostly older folks, are very assertive and insistent that you need to buy this or that from them. I'm still having trouble getting my ears to hear italian well, and it seems particularly difficult with this crowd. So I have to say "non ho capito" (I didn't understand) a lot. Right now, they have mostly leafy green type things, but there are also eggs, cheese, sausages, flowers, and fruit. I get the feeling that these could be people from the surrounding hills coming down with their garden spoils. I've been running up the winding roads that go up into the hills, along which the houses are strung sparsely, and there are large garden plots all along the way. There are also lots of olive trees. All of the veggies I have bought so far have been particularly flavorful and delicious.

It is a rather small little market- most days there are only a small handful of vendors, but on Saturday there are more- maybe 12-15. They all mostly have the same stuff- veggies, some hand-gathered and unwashed (love it) eggs (which have beautiful golden yolks), and sometimes cheese or dried beans or home-cured olives. My favorite is a young woman who sells cheese, sausage, and sometimes veggies, all labeled "BIO," which I'm beginning to think is their version of organic. Her stuff is particularly artisan looking, and delicious. Here is a photo of the Saturday market and another of some of my market loot, including onions, potatoes, broccoli, sausage (cured and uncured), dried olives, and pecorino cheese. Buon appetito!

First Day of School

The first day of school. Well, I know this much so far: the culture and dynamic of the classroom is very different than in the U.S. Yet, the kids are just the same somehow. School started at 8am. It was so strange to see dozens of kids walking to school on a Saturday morning. It takes me a little over 20 minutes to walk to school, and for most of the time, I walked opposite a current of what appeared to be high-schoolers. They could have been high-schoolers anywhere in America.

For the first two hours of school, we had mathematics. After the excitement of our arrival cooled off (a bit), they started in on their work. One by one they went to the front of the room to perform a division problem on the board, while the rest of the kids talked, worked, or more or less did their own thing. Organized chaos. It was a bit of a circus, yet there was a flow to it, an order. The kids pay attention to each other and the teacher, and the play off of one another. But there was a lot going on, and several times I was caught unaware that I was being addressed, because there was so much going on that I couldn't attend to it all.

They are all totally fascinated by Axel, which I expected (blonde hair, blue eyes, from California). They realized quickly that he couldn't understand italian, so they began chattering excitedly at me, asking me questions about him, asking me to tell him things, etc. This while a math lesson was going on. They are absolutely adorably precious. They made such an effort to welcome and help Axel. They got a little competitive, fighting over who got to sit next to him, who got to lend him their colored pencils, who got to be on his team. One would start to tell me something, and before he got more than 5 words into the sentence, another one was there, pushing him to the side, talking over him, saying that he wanted to tell me.

In PE class they played this crazy game called pala prigioniero (prisoner ball), kind of like dodgeball, where the object is to catch the ball, capture and free prisoners. Axel did a great job catching on, and they were all so cool about helping him out. There are only 2 girls in the class, all the rest boys, 13 of them. Axel and I joked that it was just like kickball back in SLO- all the boys arguing over every other play.

Next they had science class. I don't think I am so fond of this teacher (different from math). She was very intense. The kids were assigned to memorize a poem about the pope (yes, you read correctly, this is science class), and one by one they recited. For the kids that hadn't found time to memorize it, she gave a stare that made me shiver. Yikes. She asked me if we were catholic. When I responded, no, she asked what religion we followed, in a tone that made me hesitant to say none. Ooops. I should have said Buddhist. Or pagan. Or Hollywood. Oh well.

Can't wait to see what Monday will bring...

Basta cosi.

The italians are trying to make me fat. I've realized that I need to say "basta cosi" (that's enough, or stop there), at least one handful/spoonful before I actually want them to stop serving out food. I have more broccoli in my fridge than I could eat in a week if I were to eat it at every meal, because after I said, "basta cosi," the market vendor grabbed another handful (larger than any of the preceding handfuls) right after she looked at me, asking "basta?". At dinner with my italian parents, it is the same. "Prendi, prendi," (take, take), they tell me after I've already had seconds of everything. Again, that sneaky additional ultra-large spoonful. The father told me, in so many words, that it is not believable that I actually like the food unless I eat more. So I had to have another spoonful. Mama mia.

On another note, what is it with the italians and litter? Honestly, everywhere there is so much trash. On the college campus! I just don't understand how people can drop trash on the ground and not think twice.

After dinner last night, my mama italiana showed me where to dump my biodegradables. Ascoli must have some kind of municipal composting system, because there are standardized containers for this everywhere. I haven't been able to find more info about it, but it's cool that they are doing something like that. She exclaimed in annoyance at the sight of garbage bags dumped carelessly near the dumpsters (but not in), pronouncing these people "incivili" (uncivilized), and went on to grumble about their ignorance and her inability to understand this behavior. Amen, sister. I just don't get it. In America, she remarked, they are civilized, in Italy, uncivilized. Eh, I responded doubtfully, and we laughed at the mystery of thoughtless people. I suppose every place has its vices.

Photo: The river bank strewn with litter.

Eco! Saimo qui...

Today it is raining in Ascoli Piceno, so I've decided to start my blog. We arrived two days ago after a long journey of driving and flying. And boy, what a welcome! I've settled into my apartment, which belongs to the architecture professoressa that Sandy is doing a teaching exchange with. When we met in SLO over Thai food, she warned me that it wasn't much, very small. I was picturing a little nook, something like what I had in Rome. Well, what a surprise! Not only quite sizable, but totally chic. That's what I get for living in an architect's apartment!

My new italian mama (the architecture professoressa's mother lives in the same apartment building) provided a thorough lesson on the workings of all the appliances and storage compartments. This was quite appreciated as an italian lesson- she repeated words like spegni (turn off) about a million times. She is absolutely the stereotypical italian mama, it's great! She had stocked my kitchen with food, much of which she made herself.

In the morning she gave me a tour of the neighborhood. "Dove vai (where are you going)?" she asked me jokingly as I took a wrong turn after instructed to bring her back home. After each destination she made me find the way back home so I could learn where each stop was in relation to home. She said hello to almost every single person we saw along the way, calling them by name, and informing them that I am from California and don't understand italian molto bello (very beautifully). When I chuckled as she said this the first time, the grocery store clerk protested, chastising her for not giving me enough credit.

People do not speak english here like in Rome. In Rome, people often began speaking english to you as soon as they detected that you were foreign. Here they keep right on in italian, it's great.

Last night my italian mama had us all over for dinner. It was great fun piecing together a conversation. Sandy speaks the most italian, but her and I are both struggling to get back into italian mode. The parents speak only italian, and Jonathan and Axel only english. But we did a great job, I absolutely adore them.

This morning I went to the main produce market and bought potatoes, sausage, onion, cheese, and other things. The culinary adventure begins! Tomorrow is the 150 year celebration, so everything is closed, and there are supposedly festivities. So we are still not sure when we will start school... maybe Monday? Can't wait to meet the kiddos!