Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Il Principio

To initiate the uninformed: Meredith was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship to Italy back in May. Seeking to combine her classroom experience in Las Vegas with her passion for Italian language and culture, she began the strenuous application process in August 2009. 14 months, 3 recommendations, 1 interview, 47 phones calls, and 6,000 miles later, we find ourselves living in Palermo, Sicily. With an average temperature of 65 and annual rainfall near 24 in, Palermo's weather is comparable to that of Santa Barbara. There are beautiful beaches close by and plenty of places to explore throughout Sicily that ought to keep us busy for months. While Meredith exchanges culture in the classroom, I am working with the Center for Teaching Quality via the internet and awkwardly timed conference calls.  

Thus begins the adventure... 

Palermo from our Jesuit dorm.

After a brief stay with the incredibly hospitable Jesuits at one of Meredith's schools, we located a quaint 3 bedroom apartment in a peaceful, residential area of town. Our landlord speaks English, lived in New Jersey for 17 years, and has a villa on olive farm in the country that we are welcome to rent. We are living with another Fulbright Scholar from Encintas, CA by way of Connecticut College. There are plenty of bars, restaurants, markets, and shops in the near vicinity, so we are never far from anything that we could possibly need, including the stadium that houses Serie A's Palermo FC. We can actually hear the fans chanting and cheering!

Mt. Pellegrino from our balcony.
Although everything is close, it is less than convenient. Beyond everything being closed on Sundays, there is a siesta-type break in the day wherein everything closes down so that families can enjoy lunch together. The problem is that each shop, government office, and entity-that-we need-to-be-open-right-now has its own interpretation of lunch time. Some are closed between 11 and 2, others from 1 to 4, and every other combination of random 3 hour intervals throughout the day. Or in the case of schools, banks, hospitals, etc. everyone goes home for lunch before 2pm, they just don't come back afterward.

Cooking at home.
Palermo's distance from Vegas is never more obvious than when we are looking for dinner before 9pm. The ristorantes don't begin seating until 8:30, and even then only for the elderly. Food purgatory seems to last from 4-9pm. One is expected to meet and drink with friends during this time, so we have had little difficulty adjusting to this aspect of culinary culture.

Which brings us to the food. Put simply: we have not had anything to eat that has been less than fantastic. We spent our first 2 weeks in Italy without a kitchen, which required that we eat a steady stream of pizza, pasta, and panini. Meredith's preferred snacks include roasted almonds dipped in Nutella, chocolate filled brioche, croissants, and cannoli, as well as a million little splendors available daily at the pasticceria. I am reconnecting with my inner longing for foods enriched with calories derived from butter and sugar.  

Cous cous and arancini.
Our favorite authentic dishes so far include a magical cous-cous (yes, cous cous can be spruced up) that is mixed with roasted zucchini, eggplant, bell pepper, tomato, peas, carrots, and whatever other vegetables are available. There exists a flavor that we have yet to identify, but we are already striving to recreate it. Our most significantly caloric guilty pleasure is probably arancini – basically rice, cheese, and a blend of Italian meat that is rolled into a ball and then fried. The closest thing that I could imagine in the states would be the best flavors from Thanksgiving rolled into a ball and fried. Better yet, let's put it on a stick and dip it in cranberry sauce.  

A few noteworthy observations and anecdotes that I shared previously are worth repeating:
  • of the 3 gentlemen wearing purple pants on our flight from Rome to Palermo, 2 befriended Meredith and 3 ignored me.
  • Shorts, top-siders, flip flops, and lighter shades of jeans offend the sensibilities of the locals, so I have pretty much been limited to a single pair of slacks and shoes with a predictable rotation of the 3 collared shirts that I brought.
  • The cancer risks of cigarettes have yet to be translated into Italian; trash is thought to enrich soil and asphalt; and the pedestrian right of way does not exist.

Arrivederci!