On Vacation in Italy...

So we're on vacation. And we're in Italy.
It's hard to reconcile the two and not feel guilty all the time.
Yes, we could be spending every possible minute seeing the amazing country and visiting amazing works of art.
But even all of that can get old very quickly - especially when you are 5. Or 13.
So we are spending some days doing what we do when we are on vacation: nothing.
And I have to believe that this is OK. I try and think of it as re-charging our batteries for the ultra-tourist mode we go into on the weekends. How much time do the kids -not to mention moi - really want to spend in the car? {sometimes synchronistically lurching forward everytime mom shifts gear... but I swear I'm getting better....except for today when I nearly came to a complete stop on the highway rather than get squashed between 2 mack trucks}

So our days have been filled: with what, it's hard to say.
We go shopping for groceries more often than at home, given the size of the fridge and the propensity of the Italians to eat things fresh. I go to the local bar/cafe each morning to have my cappucino. This week, I was struck in another (frustrating for me) conversation in Italian when the older gentlemen in the bar found out I was American. It seems that the one bar I go to for convenience (close to home) is frequented by an older population than the one across the street. During my encounter with an animated gentleman, perhaps in his 70's?, I finally got the message that he wanted me to go outside and meet his wife - who was sitting in the car waiting for him while he was in socializing and having his morning coffee! (Ah, Italia....) He introduced me to her; she was very kind and with my limited Italian I was able to tell her that I lived here and that my husband was working here for the summer. We then parted and she gave me my first (and only) true Italian farewell/greeting with the air kissing on both cheeks. I found that some things go beyond language: the relationship and communication of a husband and wife long married is easily recognized no matter what language they are speaking. She was finishing his sentences, and he hers, all the while nodding, gesturing and rolling their eyes at each other. Hysterical. I could just imagine her thinking: "Oh there he goes again, picking up someone else for me to meet...." They were very sweet.

We cook our meals at home, and I try and make things that the kids are used to while improvising where I have to. Pork chops, sausages and ground beef are easy to cook up. Turkey breast is sometimes available and chicken is also, but chicken is *very* expensive. Pasta is what we eat when we go out, but I do make some pasta at home too. And the sauce. From scratch. Because bottled sauce is apparantly against the law here. So is bottled salad dressing and peanut butter. It has been requested that I must bring back peanut butter and ranch dressing when I go home next week (more on that later...) So no sauce, no ranch, no peanut butter, but 2 grocery store aisles of packaged toast. Toast. In. A. Package. To Buy. Because owning a toaster and making your own would be WAY too difficult, as opposed to whipping up a pasta sauce that really needs to simmer for hours...
Not judging... just commentating...

Sometimes we head down the street to get pizza from a local pizzeria (where the owners speak some English! because his wife is British and coincidentally teaches English courses to the workers at the Baxter plant! and the 20 something daughter is bilingual and speaks English with a thick cockney accent) Today we were having our lunch and another English speaking couple walked in. They knew the owners very well and we were introduced to the couple. It turns out that the woman lives here for part of the year in the Sabina hills (between here and Roma) and is a photographer. At one time she used to photograph corporate events for... Baxter! - and the world keeps getting smaller... - and now she shoots... ballroom dance competitions and events. HOW COOL IS THAT?????? I asked her, wide-eyed, if she knew Tony Dovolani and when she replied, "yes, of course, his number is in my cell phone do you want it?" I just about fell off my chair. She knows all the people I watch on my dance shows - and in fact has had a few come and visit her here this summer. Christian Perry and Nick... something, can't remember his last name. He was on "Dancing with the Stars" She let me know that Jonathan Roberts is the nicest of people and he just won the American Smooth championship in New York with his new partner. I was surprised to hear that he doesn't dance with his wife Anna. She has known Julianne Hough and Derek and Mark since they were all about 6 or 7. Of course I asked about my Maks - stating that I really did think he was the most beautiful man alive - and she said that she knew him and that the cocky arrogant thing is NOT an act. I didn't think it was. She says Jonathan is the nicest and that Tony was nicer a few years ago but that fame has gotten to him a bit. You can probably tell how excited I was about the conversation given how much I've written about it. It's a bit of an obsession of mine, that ballroom world, and to actually be able to have 1) a conversation in English today about 2) ballroom dance with 3) someone who personally knows some of the biggest names in "TV" ballroom, well, it was just too cool. Ironically, she said she's never met any other Americans in Rieti before, and that this was the first time. She has lived here on and off for years. She gave me her card, but leaves for the states on Tuesday, so I'm sad we probably won't connect here again. I will be looking her up online though...
Partway through our conversation, a gentleman noticed us speaking English and came up to us to tell us he was a singer and then launched into singing for us. I was a bit perplexed, but she handled the situation with ease, thanking him, but asking him to wait until we had finished our conversation please (all in italian, which I caught a bit of.) I had persuaded Julia to stay with me while I sent the boys home with the keys to the apartment during one of the man's songs (Ok, so maybe it was more like "bribed" than "persuaded" but Julia did end up staying with me to the end.) After leaving our new friends, we walked home via our local "bar" and she was able to pick up a 10 cent piece of gum. While waiting to pay, another older gentelman who had been having his afternoon coffee turned to Julia and with a big smile started playing the "let me see if I can guess your name game" It was very sweet. After Maria, Francesca, and Teresa, he said something close to the J sound, and we encouraged him on until he got Giulia (the spelling is different here.) Big
smiles followed all around. I have noticed that other than the most obvious attention we get for the *number* of children we have, we get the attention when I'm one on one with them or with just Julia and Edwin for the mere fact that they are children. The people here seem to delight in the children more than the strangers at home.

So we stay at home and lounge:
We read books (Aidan has almost completed the first 2 books in the Twilight series in less than 3 days. I was unsure if he would like them, and held off giving them to him for a few weeks while I read and then re-read them. I am totally hooked as is, apparantly, Aidan. Edward and Bella 4ever!)
Play on the Gameboy - a true lesson in sharing and taking turns.
Watch movies and fight over which ones to watch.
Watch Italian MTV (the only channel that has any English on it - all other American shows on other TV channels are dubbed in Italian. The variety is amazing: Charlie's Angels, Murder She Wrote, Roswell, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Meredith Baxter Birney made for TV movies...)
Listen to music on the ipods.
Wash laundry - an extraordinary amount of laundry and the time it takes to do it.
Play Uno.
Put puzzles together.
Cook.
Play outside with the friends.
And sometimes we venture out in the heat to find some of the best pizza in the world and some Gelatto.
THAT is what we do to fill our time when we are on vacation. In Italy.
Basta così,
joelle