Man, that's a lot of Cabbage!

One of the more striking things that I have noticed now that we have been in Italy for three months is how much more "in touch" I am (literally and figuratively) with how much cash we go through on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis.  Italy is a cash economy.  You pay the rent in cash.  You pay the gardener in cash.  You pay the veterinarian in cash.  In most markets, they really only want cash.  It is utterly horrifying to watch the constant hemorrhaging of cash!  Now, that is not to say that this same outflow of money didn't occur while we were in the states- because it did.  But we were insulated from it, cozy in our nest of Mastercard, debit card, autopay and checks.  It wasn't like real money.  But this stuff is real.  It is so real that the normal vigilance that I have for keeping an eye on my wallet has become super-vigilance...you just are ALWAYS carrying cash!  There are two things that I ponder when I count out yet another pile of Euro in order to pay for the groceries... #1.  Thank goodness we are in a position that I can count out Euro and buy my groceries.  There are a lot of people that cannot.  #2.  What condition would the American economy be in if the populace could only buy what they could actually afford to buy in cash?  Sets a mind to thinking.  Just saying.
     On an entirely different cabbage related note:  Boy Elder has finally started preschool  I hemmed and hawed and toured different schools and finally committed to a great preschool for him where he is amongst Italian children and NATO forces children and taught in both English and Italian.  I think it is a great experience for him to be immersed in the culture and the language and I am dearly hoping he will learn quickly enough to do all my translation for me. 
Because I am simply NOT getting it. 
     But this is not the point of my story.  The point of my story is that schools in Italy serve your children lunch.  This isn't lunch of the cold microwaved hamburger and day-old tater tots variety.  This is primi piatti (pasta dish of some kind) followed by secondi piatti (meat and vegetables) + bread or dessert.  Boy Elder is not much of an eater, but I am paying for the food and they do pack it up to take home (in little "to go" containers) when he doesn't eat it, so I like to get a preview of what myself and Boy Younger (aka The Garbage Truck) are going to have for lunch the next day.  The menu reads like a darn good date night.  Pasta Fagioli followed by grilled chicken, mashed potatoes and chard.  Pasta with potatoes followed by sauteed steak bites and spinach.  Um, yum!  Can I go back to school?!? 
     So last week I sashayed past the posted menu to check out what I was going to be enjoying for lunch this week, and I see the following dish:  Pasta con Cavolo.  Pasta with HORSE?!?  WHAT?!  Now, I have seen the little baby food jars of horse in the grocery store (and been appropriately disgusted), but I would have expected an international school to understand that HORSE is not "on the menu" in many places.  I stood in trepidation trying to decide whether I would just look the other way and call it part of the cultural experience or skip school that day or ask that Jack be excused for lunch that day or...I went home to contemplate my options.  Thank God for Google Translate.  Turns out Cavalo is Cabbage.  Cavallo is Horse.  Not Horse for lunch, Cabbage for lunch.  "Ugly American" incident avoided at school.
    Turns out pasta with Cabbage is delicious!  The picture above is of a cabbage I purchased at a local market.  I see them all the time and had no idea which variety they are, but figured- Hey, it's a cabbage.  I'll figure something out.  Turns out when you peel back the gloriously green outer leaves- It's a Savoy Cabbage.  I used these all the time (when I could find them) in the states-- but we only ever saw them in their "domesticated" state-- all the outer leaves removed, leaving a paler, smaller version of the same. I see this kind of thing all the time here...vegetables I am completely familiar with in their "produce aisle" format look VERY different when left in their unadulterated form coming from the fields.  And I would have told you that I knew my veggies.

     Just for kicks- here is the recipe I used with my glorious little Savoy.  Enjoy.
A big handful of cubed pancetta (It comes here packaged like that....so awesome)
A good glug of olive oil
1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
A palmful of dried thyme
1 large Savoy cabbage, chopped coarsely
1 handful of grated Parmesan cheese
Pasta of your shape of choice - I used these great mini lasagna shape noodles called Mafalda Corta
salt and black pepper
1/4 cup or so of grated dry provolone ( You could use mozzarella or similar)
2 handfuls of pine nuts, lighly toasted

Saute the pancetta in olive oil.  Add thyme and garlic.  Add cabbage and cover.  When cabbage has softened (add a little chicken broth to get some steam going if you need), then add the cooked pasta and provolone.  Turn off the heat.  Give another generous swirl of olive oil, salt, pepper.  Top with parmesan cheese and pine nuts.  Serve hot. 

The meaning of trash

You may be aware that Naples had a trash problem back in 2008.  It was all over the international news at the time.  The closure of local landfills led to the streets being filled for huge stretches of time with rotting, stinking and sometimes enormously hazardous trash.  What you may not realize is that this same trash problem still exists today.  Naples has a complicated relationship with trash. Years of poor management, mafioso influence, corruption, and apathy has led to a situation in which all existing landfills are full to capacity (often with trash from as far away as Northern Italy, and often with incredibly TOXIC materials.) and "temporary" landfills are opened, filled, and closed before the trucks can deliver their loads.  Any additional trash then has to wait until a new landfill is authorized and opened.  Naples government has looked into building an incinerator to burn the excess trash, but the populace has been highly opposed-- to a great degree because of fears of lack of oversight leading to hazardous material being burned and greatly contributing to what is already a noxious cloud of haze that burdens the city.  As a result, trash struggles continue, and the city and the roads and the skies and the agriculture and the people suffer.

On an entirely different and not nearly so morose a note, Naples also suffers from a trash problem of a different sort.  The music that I have discovered so far is awful.  There are some sappy Italian love songs, yes, but the VAST majority of music on Italian radio in Naples is either A)  Really bad American music, or B) Really bad house mix music with the never ending thrumming base that makes the juice in your eyeballs jiggle and eventually causes a migraine.  OH, and then there is the ONLY SONG IN THE WORLD.  Here it is.

Michel Telo-Ai Se Eu Te Pego

Catchy?  Yes.  BUT IT IS THE ONLY SONG THEY PLAY.  And it has been since I arrived in November.  Sigh. I guess I should figure out what they are saying, but it isn't even Italian.

La Befana and La Bufala

Pazzo (Crazy) Italian Lession #1:  La Befana and La Bufala
One is a witch, and the other is delicious.  Well, It itself may not be delicious, but what it produces certainly is.

La Befana is a big part of Italian Christmas tradition, which typically lasts through January 6th, The Feast of the Epiphany. (The Twelfth day of Christmas, and yet another Italian National Holiday).  The tale goes as follows:  On the evening of January 5th, the wise men were traveling to the manger and stop at an old womans' house to ask directions.  They then invite her to join them, but she refuses.  Later that night she sees a bright light in the sky and decides that she wants to join them, bearing gifts for the baby Jesus from her own child who had died.  She gets lost, however, and never finds the manger.  Now, La Bufana flies around on her broomstick on the 11th night of Christmas, bearing gifts (fruit and toys for good children and coal for bad) in the hope of finding baby Jesus.

La Bufala is where Buffalo Mozzerella comes from.  Long a fan of Buffalo Mozzerella, I never had stopped to think about what exactly was producing this lovely cheese.  Turns out, it isn't a Buffalo.  At least, not in the American West, herds of thundering sense.  This Buffalo, as you come to find out, is actually a Water Buffalo-- much more like an Asian Yak.  Naples turns out to be is ground zero for la Bufala in Italy.  Small herds of these animals are kept in muddy pastures under the freeways.  Sounds not so romantic, but despite that, the cheese is to die for.

New Years Eve

After we tucked both boys into bed and began our movie marathon leading up to the New Year, we should have known that Italy would do things differently.  As midnight approached, bottle rockets and whistling Petes began going off prematurely.  It sounded interesting, but not interesting enough to drive a wedge between our behinds and the comfy leather couch.  As soon as the clock struck midnight, however, we knew that we needed to haul our tails up the freaky spiral staircase and onto the rooftop terrace.  And was it EVER worthwhile.

This video is a 1.5 minute clip of the nearly 25 minutes of continuous 360 degree madness that surrounded us for the arrival of the new year.  Naples apparently isn't satisfied with benign city displays timed to classical music, instead choosing to shoot off enormous fireworks from every backyard and rooftop.  I felt the need to duck twice when our next door neighbors launch sequences went awry.  The noise was deafening, and inside the house (with our single pane, drafty windowpanes) it sounded like the entire neighborhood was under siege.  The grunions, amazingly, slept like little lambs through the entire thing.  The dog, however, may need Prozac.

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the villa
The whole place was rocking, it must be Godzilla
So J in his boxers and I in my socks
Arose from the bed- to check all the locks.

Outside the window there was so much racket
We each grabbed a broom with the hopes we could "whack" it.
A watchdog next door with "alarm" set on "bark"
Competed with sirens on the road in the dark.

We took to our bed with hopes we might sleep
When from under the blanket a stealth feline did creep
Each moving foot he considered a critter
Pounced on it then left to scratch his cat litter.

And scratch it he did, and spread it around
And just when we thought there could be no more sound
Boy One and Boy Two arose for the day
Bright eyed and chipper and ready to play

The stockings were ransacked, the presents soon gone
And it was still early- not much after dawn!
 Boy Two is now wailing, Boy One is to blame
Turns out "squash the younger" is NOT a fun game.

After the older returns from "Time Out,"
Says that he's sorry, and wipes off the pout
Turns down Christmas goodies cuz what he wants most
is for Mommy (NOT DADDY!!) to make him some toast.


Some balls have gone missing under a chair...
The elder is hoarding his toys and can't share...
We can't find the batteries, the sausage is burned...
The dog ate her squeak toy, the milk might have turned...

And just when the madness hits a new high
J and I choose to just sit back and sigh.
Life abroad with two boys can leave you quite "fried."
Unless you remember to savor the ride. 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Years to you and yours.
:)

A real post

Alright, so that WAS a copout, I know.  But a shower when you have two toddlers is nearly the most important event of the entire week...so you really would like for it to be a nice experience.  But I am sure you are more interested in musings on Naples than in musings on my hygiene, so I guess I will move on.  Let's start at the beginning.  I have heard it said that Naples is a "beautiful woman with dirty feet," and I agree with the characterization.  Let's just say I am glad that I arrived in the city at night, so that I didn't have to confront the culture change in broad daylight.  Apart from the burning sensation in my eyes and throat (which I would come to learn is a constant state due to the burning trash until you !YIKES! adjust to it) and the heart palpitations from the pachinko game they call driving here, my first impression of the broader Naples (in the dark) was that it was not nearly as "urban" as I had expected.  Upon first light Husband took me and the boys and dog on our first drive in daylight to get a feel for the area.  The area, I came to realize, is an amazing juxtaposition of all things ancient and modern.  Beneath the shadow of the volcano, modern highrise apartment homes and clean high speed tollways are tightly woven with potted two lane roads filled with rotting trash and stray dogs.  Slick black mercedes stream past tractors traveling to and from the apricot and citrus orchards that pepper the landscape.  Enormous billboards advertising mobile phones and house furnishings are pasted on the sides of crumbling buildings  which would have received historical note if we had been in the states.  But we're not.  We are definitely in Italy.

Where to start?

Well, for the fact that it is the most recent and therefore most prominent musing, lets start with the banal.  My shower is an incredible nuisance.  For one thing, it is as big around as my behind.  And, imho, I have no more than a medium sized behind, as behinds go.  So there is that.  Then there is the placement of the faucet- elbow height- which ensures that every attempt to say, lift your arms to apply shampoo or soap, or revolve in the shower to obtain said shampoo or soap, results in the shower being turned off.  This would not be such a crisis except that, once turned off, the shower requires 90 additional seconds of cold water generation prior to producing hot again.  Each shower I have taken thus far has included at least two of these "surprise shower restarts" which, though invigorating, does not make for a delightful experience.