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| Natalie and Francesca (both Fulbrighters in Rome) |
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| Turkey...Italian Style: Turkey leg stuffed with guanciale, pecorino cheese, and sage |
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| Natalie trying to do the metric math |
Last Friday my friend Natalie (another Fulbrighter here in Rome) came over and we did the prep work for an extravagant, very American Thanksgiving that we celebrated the following day. We had spent a good two hours in a small supermarket that you would think was the size of a warehouse due to our persistence on finding things that don’t exist here (i.e. canned creamed corn and brown sugar). On our way home we stopped for a panino and as we ate outside on a bench we laughed hysterically over our latest experiences as expats in Rome. Once home and in the kitchen we uncorked a bottle of wine, put on the Christmas music, and got to cookin’! We faced quite the challenge trying to convert our American recipes into the metric system…how many grams in a pound?...how many ounces in a cup?...what about tablespoons and teaspoons? Ahhhh! After some time we abandoned the math and the scale and added ingredients as they seemed fit. All of the food was even better than home. It turns out that you don’t need your mom to make the best traditional Thanksgiving dishes…all you need are Italian products and everything will be guaranteed delicious (no offense mom). We shared the feast with my host family and the occasion was definitely fulfilling the Fulbright mission of "linking minds across cultures."
Cultural Notes: 1. I feel like I’m beating a dead horse in expressing for the millionth time how flavorful the food is, but I think everyone can appreciate this note. Back home clementines are a total hit-or-miss type of fruit. Sometimes they’re juicy and sweet, but other times they are hard, or sour, or too seedy, or bitter, or just downright gross. It doesn’t even depend on the batch. You can have a single carton with this whole range of clementine consistencies and flavors. In America I hastily reach for a clementine. In Rome I dig my hand into that bag knowing that every one is sweet, juicy, and the type I hope for.
2. The traffic and the drivers: Rome is known to have horrible traffic. Being from Long Island and spending a lot of time in Manhattan, it is definitely not worse. As for driving/the drivers: if you can drive in Rome, you can drive anywhere. There are no lines in the streets. They follow the free-for-all, create-your-own-lane approach. Motorini and Vespas whiz around as their names imply (Vespa means whasp), and I still sometimes guess if the bus driver is going to crash into the driver in front of him. In terms of pedestrian friendliness, the driver does stop…just a little closer than what the typical American is used to.
Highlight of My Evening: My cooperating teacher was taking one of our year 5 classes to see a movie because it was parallel to what they were learning in class. The students had asked her if she could invite me to join them in seeing the movie, and of course, I accepted. It was so nice. I didn’t understand most of it, but it was nice to have that experience. I enjoyed watching them all drive away on their motorini at the end of the night.
Ultimate Sound: When I was walking in Trastevere the other day I was looking down at the cobblestone streets taking calculated steps in an effort to not twist my ankle. From above I heard a familiar Italian aria streaming out from one of the windows. At first I just stopped to listen and then I looked up to try and identify the window it was coming from. I followed my senses, which lead me to a rusty orange palazzo with brown shutters. The sun was shining right into the window and in that moment, I literally felt as if I were living out a scene in a movie.
Impara con me! Jetlag- fuso orario
