spooning

Between the appetizers and main course, the waiter in a restaurant in Castelfranco reset our place settings. He naturally provided me with a spoon to go with my pasta dish. However, while others also order pasta, he only laid forks next to their plates. This begs the question: to spoon or not to spoon one's pasta?

As it turns out, he singled me out as the American, who must have learned to eat pasta with a fork and spoon. I personally never used a spoon to eat pasta, and had mistakenly viewed myself as uncouth for doing so. When I was younger, I slurped, and as I got older, I just bit off the hanging parts that did not easily twirl around my fork.

In most of Italy though, it is considered low class to eat pasta with a spoon, and is only acceptable for children. Rarely would an Italian ask for a spoon, especially at a fine dining establishment. Another un-Italian activity is drowning one's meal with parmesan cheese. Similar to dashing a lot of salt on one's dish without tasting it first, a lot of cheese takes away the true flavor of the dish.

As I spent the last leg of my Italian journey with my friend's Italian in-laws, it also occurred to me that they eat their pasta before their salad, rather than the other way around as is the case in the US. Antipasti is usually served first with dishes like prosciutto and melon while the family gathers around the kitchen as the chef and sous-chefs are preparing the primi (first) and secondi (second) dishes. A small bowl of pasta is usually served as the first course with salad and/or meat dishes as the second.

On the last day before my flight, the family made chicken cutlets for the second dish for lunch. I soon learned that chicken (and veal) parmigiana is not Italian. While eggplant parmigiana exists, the meat variety is purely an American fabrication. Other dishes that are not authentic Italian are pepperoni pizza and spaghetti & meatballs, which are usually served separately. In fact, 'peperoni' means peppers. The only salad dressing available in Italy is olive oil and vinegar.

There must be some secret formula to how the Italians dine, as I felt that with all the pasta, risotto, pizza and cheese, I developed a 'pasta pancha'; yet, it would seem as if the weight distributed itself differently as my weight seemed to be the same before and after all the gastro culinary delights of Italy.

squatter's rights

My friends' parents split their time between Rome and Long Island now that they are retired. The father inherited an abandoned apartment in Rome that took years for the government to determine and certify the rightful heir. After putting investing in renovating the place, it is a wonderful place for them as it is conveniently located in the center of Rome within steps of Vatican City.

The apartment was in such disrepair that they had to practically gut everything and move walls and the basic layout. Squatters had used old furniture to burn on the floors of the apartment for heat. It was difficult to imagine what the place looked like prior to their renovation as its high ceilings and vintage shutters made it seem as if the apartment had such character all along.

As I traversed throughout Italy from the South to the North, I was amazed to see so many obviously abandoned homes. I have always loved houses with great bones and character, which explains why I purchased my homes in Houston and San Francisco. While I like certain modern amenities such as upgraded kitchens and bathrooms, it is rare to find high ceilings and the quality wood and materials used in the old days that withstand Mother Nature like earthquakes and hurricanes.

From the outside, I am so curious as to what resides inside these old walls as the external walls has such character that only old European homes have. Similar to California though, Italy has very liberal laws for squatters and renters. In addition, rental income is taxed at 50%. In San Francisco, many landlords may rent but do not invest in upgrade or maintenance of their properties as doing so would also increase property value and the related property taxes that would not be covered by the rental income despite the steep rental fees.

Such policies keep these properties abandoned throughout Italy as owners age and/or move but keep the property in the family rather than renovate to sell. After time, it also becomes fuzzy as to who is the true landowner as was the case with my friends' father.

As I spent more time with my friend during this trip than the entire period over the last 20+ years that I have known him, it occurred to me that like houses, we also require frequent upkeep and maintenance. While he blamed and complained about others and their effect on his confidence, the reality is that he has abandoned himself. He allowed squatters into his home. 

He justifies his negativity by complaining about people criticizing him rather than supporting and providing him advice. While I constantly had to reiterate to him that some of his friends (and family) stopped trying because he would get defensive at any advice they gave, he would try to say the words that someone (I) would want to hear rather than how he actually processed things by continuously noting that he agreed with my observations and was listening and trying to process my advice, but when asked by my 'baby sis' on his life at an attempt to get to know him, his quickly blamed me for all his problems and failures, which he later clarified upon her prompting that he should not care what others think, that everyone says the same thing about him.

At times it seems as if his reality is based on an entirely alternative universe. He oftentimes gets distracted with his phone and walks away social interactions under the guise of business. As we went to his favorite bar one night, he left us for hours as he kept himself busy playing behind the bar. The next day he comments on how it was such a great night hanging out with all my friends and the new friends we made. It left me scratching my head as everyone kept asking where he went all night.

So it came as no surprise when two men who just met him for a few hours at dinner, commented on separate occasions how he comes off as if he is hiding something. One man noted how my friend is either bored or somewhere else in his mind when the man was talking to him as his eyes were vacant to the point that it made the man uncomfortable. The other man also felt as if my friend was hiding something and not trustworthy for the man to invest significant time with him.

While he had other 'friends' coming to visit him while we were in Valdobbiadene, there were many times where I found myself entertaining his friends while he would disappear, again under the guise of business, when I knew otherwise. His alternate universe also had him believing that all his friends were having sex with all his exes as well. Although it should not have surprised me, I was amazed when he told my friends that it was because of him that one of his friends was interested in me in reclaiming the cunt (part 8), when the reality is that it was despite him.

After spending weeks trying to help a 'friend,' it occurred to me that like (wo)man in the mirror, trying to help an owner renovate an abandoned house, when the owner has chosen to abandon it himself and allow squatters to trample all over it, was a complete waste of my time and energy.

* * * * *

One of the bars in town center of Valdobbiadene is Bar Caffè Roma which probably also has the best view of the piazza and people watching festivities. I was shocked to find their restroom taking me into a time warp and for a split second, I was confused as to whether I was back in Southeast Asia. Europe, including Italy, is considered a Western and modern world. It made me wonder how much of Europe, with its old buildings, have not been upgraded and still have squat toilets in its establishments. I ended up walking out as there were no hooks or shelves to keep my personal belongings from sitting on the tiled floor. Truth be told, although it was relatively clean (compared to the ones I have experienced in Southeast Asia) (farmer's tan), I was looking for an excuse to bail as with the prosecco in my belly, it was more likely that I would have tipped over or fallen in. 😳

pimping me out

The French are generally known for being more sexually liberated (lost 'n found), especially in comparison to Americans (reclaiming the cunt (part 3)). However, it would seem as if the Italians may be more open in nudity, sexuality and variations of relationships. In the Amalfi Coast, Gennaro (with new templates...the party continues) disclosed that he never felt the need to have a girlfriend until his mid-30s, when he felt the responsibility as the only son to procreate in order to continue the family lineage. It would seem as if he was not the only one with that mindset.

In their search for happiness, some have even been able to balance family time and individual time (family ties). Although the friend from reclaiming the cunt (part 8) had stated that if he were me, he would not have been so open about my personal life - again his projection of his insecurities and fears of judgment, it did not seem to phase any of the Italians that took part in any of those discussions. In some ways, there was still the typical 'sexist' mindset when some men are practically being touchy and flirty with other women in front of their wives. Yet, in other ways, it was refreshing to not have the feel of 'creepy eyes' boring into you from the slight suggestion of cleavage or skin.

After a few attempts to spend quality time alone, a close family friend who was following on his motorcycle did not continue his way home but rather stopped at the end of the driveway. After my friend's husband went to check on him, his brother then joined in the male huddle after a few minutes. I was not really surprised when they came back in the car and declared that they basically 'pimped me out' in frustration of my perceived cluelessness. The entire exchange was comical as it seemed so archaic yet transparent.

With mild hopes of some sympathy from Luci (thelma & louise (part 2)), I was amused at her reaction after informing her that her sons were pimping me out. In typical Luci fashion, she declared that if I did not 'scopato' (what's in a name?) the family friend, she would. Then, she mused and pimped me out to her single son. Without pause, she postulated that he must be homosexual as like his father, whom she disclosed only wants to do it 3-4 times a week (it was not clear to me if she meant it as the past or present as they are in their 70s), he does not seem to want sex as much. Of course, she had us in tears of laughter.

thelma & louise (part 2)

The matriarch (Luci) of my host family in Meolo is one of eight, of which three are women. Gina, who is the oldest, has two children, whom seem to overpower their spouses. While attending a birthday party for Gina's husband and her son-in-law, her children were energy suckers, overtaking others in their braggadocios, while their spouses mostly remained silent. During the dinner, Gina oftentimes would comment on how the meat or dishes were dry or cold because of our tardiness in arrival.

Luci (middle) and Paola (youngest) are unlike the traditional and passive-aggressive Gina. Even with a relative stranger (me) in their midst, both were unabashed as they spent quality time together sunbathing in their underwear. Both had no qualms as their family members would touch their breasts and jokingly comment about sex and other perceived taboo topics.

As her youngest son noted, what you see is what you get with Luci. She is brazenly honest but has a good heart. She had a few miscarriages before her firstborn, and while a part of her always wanted a daughter, she has opened her heart to her daughter-in-law and even me during the few days I spent with her. It was with wistfulness, and not bitterness, when she relayed her childbearing stories including the names of her sons (and their related female versions with hopes of the child being a girl). In a case of opposites attracting or the ying to her yang, Franco, her husband, is a calm and patient man.

Her motto is to never leave home without either lipstick or heels on. In the case of nature vs. nurture (family ties), her sons have clearly inherited her frivolity in life. After checking out my chipped 3-week manicure, she quickly brought out nail polish remover and hot pink nail polish. After I jokingly asked if she was grooming me to pimp me out to a family friend (pimping me out), she quickly brushed it off and noted that a man is irrelevant, and it is always important to look good for one's self. She patiently sat next to me and supervised my manicure, correcting missed spots or rubbing off polish that got on my skin. As she showed my newly manicured nails to her sons, one of them jocularly noted how it looked like a puttana. Naturally, Luci took it as a compliment and a sign of her youth.

Had I not been told, I would have thought Luci was in her 50s rather than her 70s with her energy, zest for life and openness and intelligence. She was a woman with no judgments and kind heart. As I told many, including one of Gina's children who was a bit shocked as Luci is known as the crazy old woman, I would love to be Luci when I grow older. Hopefully, I resemble much of her already.

culo up

Since a spontaneous yet fateful motorcycle tour around Bangkok, I have always loved motorcycles. The irony though is although it is on my bucket list to own one, I have not quite learned how to ride one, which would require quite a bit of customization given my size.

In some countries, it is fairly common to own a scooter, motorbike or motorcycle, yet I have found that there is some common personality trait that would draw someone to owning certain types of motorcycles, and perhaps that is the trait that appeals to my adventurous side (face of the girl (part 1)).

So when offered a trip to Caorle to see the Adriatic Sea on the last weekend of summer on motorcycles to avoid the traffic, given the crowds, I was more than game. My motorcycle host though was coming from his family's country estate in the mountains, and while he owned a few motorcycles, his options were limited to what he had stored at the country house.

My friend dubs it the 'culo (ass) up' bike. It is designed as a motorcycle for racing, and not very practical for passengers although it has an option to attach a passenger seat. Given its design, the passenger is sitting higher up than the rider, which results in a very uncomfortable position that probably works for shorter rather than longer rides. With the ride being approximately 40 minutes each way, my body was definitely sore for days. Luckily, my companions offered to provide massages, including one whom I found out had studied to be a professional masseuse in his career explorations.

Caorle, known as Little Venice, is a beautiful little beach town with colorful buildings and history. The Sanctuary of the Madonna dell'angelo had its own claim to a miracle in 1727 when the entire town was flooded while the church on the sea was left unscathed. It even has its very own leaning tower, one of the few circular bell towers in Italy.

The Adriatic Sea is shallow in general, with average depth of 173 meters. However, most of the northern part of the sea is less than 100 meters, which was amazing to see and great for families with small children. It was as if everyone is walking on water for as far as the eyes could see. With shallow water comes warm water temperatures even for Northern Italy.

The fellows' idea to take motorcycles rather than a car was a great idea given the immense traffic at the end of the evening as families were taking advantage of the last days of summer. While it was great to be able to swerve in and out of traffic between the cars on the way home, I did miss the ability to hit high speeds on a racing motorcycle. My host though was kind enough to oblige when he could with a few pop-a-wheelies and slowing to a crawl in order to hit speeds of 160km/hr, even if for a short stint. Though sore and tired, we ended the day with great laughs over pizza roulette.