Riots, Weapons, and Romance

That's a gun.

The student protests continue as tweens make a concerted effort to use Facebook as a means of organizing ditch days under the guise of revolution. Trains stations and major roadways have been blocked all over the country by students clamoring for the government to... we're still not exactly sure what they want. With no major train stations or roadways to speak of, Palermo's students sat on to the runway of the airport. It is already notorious for its terrain-induced bumpy landings without a group of smoking teens burning the minister of education in effigy.  

In other political news, Slick Silvio Berlusconi survived a vote of confidence last week by 3 votes (314-311), ensuring that he can continue to cavort and gallivant with underage women without losing power. Bill Clinton is expected to apply for Italian citizenship in the near future.

WikiLeaks revealed a bromance between Berlusconi and Vladimir Putin (they often exchange lavish gifts and energy contracts), which left Bush II feeling slighted after "getting a sense of Putin's soul" when he gazed into his eyes over vodka and caviar.  

Palermo celebrated the Feast of San Lucia last Monday, in which the entire city only eats arancini (deep fried risotto, butter, cheese, and proscuitto) for an entire day. I am trying to think of an American equivalent for this holiday, but I think we would have to celebrate President Taft's birthday (September 15) by only eating award winning fair food, which would leave us with a menu of fried butter, fried Oreos, fried cookie dough, fried, bacon, and sausage stuffed zucchini corn dogs.  We should avoid bathtubs on this day.  

While trolling the apartment's various nooks and crannies, we discovered a slightly depleted box of 12-gauge shot gun shells in the back of a closet. We are uncertain of how to square this archaeological find with the purported grandmother that occupied the premises for the 75 years prior to our arrival, so we're sticking with the image of her eradicating the neighborhood pigeon population from her perch on the balcony. With a cigarette and a moo moo, of course.  

The holidays are alive and well in our apartment after Blake and I dragged an 8-foot Douglas Fur across 3 lanes of traffic and 6 blocks before stuffing it into an elevator for the last stretch. 

  

We're looking forward to imminent landing of the Perry family in Rome(!), as well as scattered showers Christmas morning with temperatures in the mid-60s.

In describing to one of the Jesuit priests how excited she was for her family to arrive, Meredith invoked a version of excitement traditionally reserved for the bedroom rather than the type of excitement associated with one's enthusiasm.  Merry Christmas Padre Alesandro!

Holiday pictures and stories to follow before the New Year. Have an incredible holiday season, we love and miss everyone that reads this!

Cefalu

A fortunate break in the weather and the incredible generosity of our friend Davide allowed for a day trip to the seaside village of Cefalu last weekend. We expected a cool ocean breeze but were pleasantly surprised to find that we had overdressed by about 3 layers. Other than the triathlon's 7 participants, the streets were quite stoic.

Cefalu's Cathedral, established in 1131

Nuns entering a bar closed for the Sabbath. 

Claims have been made that I am wearing a shade of purple.  Please refudiate. 

Yes, we should absolutely keep going.

Following our expedition, we were treated to a feast with the most incredible view that we are likely to enjoy in the course of a meal. Davide's family has a quaint home in the country overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Davide also took us on a tour of some of Palermo's most beautiful churches. The images certainly don't do justice to the ornate intricacy of the structures, but they offer an impression of the art and architecture's magnificence.

Digressions

Currency Manipulation: There have been many efforts to eliminate the penny in the US, but the people of Illinois, seeking the preserve our familiarity with the likeness of Abe Lincoln, somehow prevail whenever the retirement of the penny is considered.  I cannot think of anything more useless than a 1 cent piece. Luckily, the European Union thought of both the 1 cent piece AND the 2 cent piece, so the penny doesn't look so bad, relatively.  

The coins were initially introduced into circulation to prevent retailers from using the transition to the Euro to dramatically round-up prices. One side of the coins shares a common design depicting an image of EU states and 12 stars, representing the 12 states that initially adopted the Euro. The other side of the coins varies between nations, each choosing its own design. Italy put its design options to an American Idol style vote that had callers vote during a television broadcast. Finland and the Netherlands, perpetuating their brilliance, round to the nearest 5 cents and put the money saved from not printing 1 and 2 cent pieces into a PR campaign advertising their perfection in all things.  

Riding Dirty: We have been too slow with our shutter speed to capture some impressive feats accomplished on scooters (women riding side saddle, families of 4 scooter-pooling to school, and grandma straddling the seat adorned in her Sunday bests and orthopedic shoes), but by far the most impressive act came from a gentleman transporting a Christmas tree on the rear of his Vespa.

Revolution: There have been several days of protests that have prevented Meredith from teaching because the students occupy the school, choose not to come to class, or barricade the entrance. Although the expressed reason for their dissent is a cut in education funding, I imagine their outrage being greatly influenced by the prospect of a day off school.  

New guy: Meet Ivy's boyfriend Blake. He is a writer that fancies bourbon, disagreement, and David Mamet, especially in conjunction with one another.

Blake is a new face that usually looks more pleasant.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Our first club experience since the hazy nights of Las Vegas was memorable for what didn't happen: I was not the guy dancing on the table, we didn't end up at In-N-Out, and Lil' Jon was nowhere to be heard on the DJ's playlist (WHAT? OK! LET'S GO NOW! Whooo). On the plus side, I realized that my previous desire to button the top three buttons of a shirt was unwarranted, Melissa Ethridge has a surprising second life in European house music, and bottle service universally equates to a good time.  

We've been quite busy handing over our civil liberties to the local authorities. Legally getting settled has required birth certificates, financial records, fingerprints, and stem cell contributions. Eat, Pray, Love made no mention of such sacrifices. However, in the course of our roommate surrendering her privacy she was served homemade sweets by the Italian postal service, so I guess it all evens out. The USPS should double the price of postage as a means of stimulating post office morale via baked goods for customers with the added benefit of eradicating junk mail.

Elsewhere on the food racketeering front, Tuesday was Free Cannoli Day at the gym. Seriously. Despite our confusion (Seriously?), protests (No!), and pleas (We come to the gym to cope with the bodily impact of your pastries), it was impossible for us to leave without two cannolis rivaling the size of the Subway sandwiches that made Jared so skinny. It was like an AA meeting serving Manhattans (up) instead of coffee. Rush Limbaugh, an ardent supporter of the Twinkie-diet, would have been impressed.

Though I was without my camera, the scene was oddly similar to this image:

“Thanks for working out with us this afternoon! Now eat this, feel guilty, and come back in an hour.”

After sampling liberally seasoned cow intestines (stigghioli), we are one step closer to the fried spleen sandwich (panne con la milza). The texture was on par chewing gum with the flavor profile of blackened steak. Though we won't be attempting to reproduce the dish at home, our Sicilian street cred got a boost.  In the course of doing so, we witnessed the smartest street performance that we have seen thus far: a mobile DJ.  He had a bike with a rickshaw-like attachment that housed his laptop and speakers.  On a street crowded with outdoor restaurants, all he had to do was blow his whistle to announce that the party was about to begin.  Then he'd wander through the tables dancing with his hat in hand for donations.  

Cow intestines consumed to the right

Speaking of food, there has been some speculation as to our Thanksgiving plans. Oddly enough, the Italians are not celebrating this most American of holidays, so our celebration will be delayed until Friday. After pondering the potential of a Thanksgiving pizza (inspired by the “Bobby” from Capriotti's in Las Vegas: Ciabatta crust topped with cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted turkey) we settled on the following cross-cultural feast:

Butternut squash lasagna

Ciabatta stuffing with Italian sausage, chestnuts, and pancetta

Chestnut gnocchi

Roasted, potentially mashed, potatoes

Lemon turkey tenderloins

Poached pears in honey, ginger, cinnamon syrup, and brandy (thanks, Martin!)

Cranberry sauce with a hint of Campari

Have a wonderful time shaking your head at the tragedy of the Detroit Lions, stimulating the dollar on Black Friday, and taking a tryptophan induced nap. We are especially missing home today, but we are incredibly thankful for the love of our family and friends.

Teatro Massimo

Siclian Hands: Tutorial

The extent of my language mastery thus far, and an explanation of SicilianHands.blogspot:

 

Source: My Modern Met

Briefly: 

• Italians have a difficult time pronouncing the -th sound, so Meredith's name usually sounds like Mere-DEET.  Seeking to distance herself from the insect reppellent that protects humans from West Nile Virus, dengue fever, and malaria, she began introducing herself simply as Mere (MERE-ay), which quickly turned into Mary for some listeners.  Now she answers to Meredith, Mere, Mere-ay, and Mary.  Kris is pretty universal, but it sounds more like KREE-s.
• In an effort to compensate for the generous amount of carbohydrates that the Sicilian diet yields, I have taken up spin classes at a local gym.  While I have heard these excruciating S&M efforts from afar in US gyms, I never realized that instructions were being given beneath the deafening sound of Kelly Clarkson/Pink/Jock Jams Vol. 14.  I do not recommend taking your first spin class in a foreign language.  My speed, posture, and hand placement were usually incorrect, and I'm pretty sure the instructor gave up on me.  In my second effort a few days later, I was assigned a tutor that spoke English.  Consider me humbled.  

Pictures > Words

Mondello

Seeking an escape from the city last weekend, we braved the spotty bus service en route to Mondello. Following a brief ride spent standing pressed against the front window, we were so overwhelmed by the splendor and peace of the community that we spent an hour napping on a sheet in the sand. Save for a few Nordic girls giggling (perhaps at the European male swimwear), the beach was comprised entirely of people sleeping off the previous week's activities. Other than the windsurfing team and a few snorkelers, the water was pristine and surprisingly warm for the end of October. A case of Corona would have put the afternoon over the top.

Learning the language

As the only programming broadcast in English with Italian subtitles, MTV is an appreciated means of developing our language skills. Unfortunately, we are typically relying on Snooky and the Situation  to expand our grammar and vocabulary, so you can imagine why this method has its limits. We were, however, blessed with an episode of 'Hoods featuring Katy Perry returning to her so-called'hood of Santa Barbara to get reconnected with her roots, which oddly began as a Christian singer before she began enthusiastically kissing girls and waking up in Vegas.  

Along the language front, I have come to appreciate the Italian pronunciation of every letter in a word because of the following experience. Following a generous family lunch with Antonella and Marzia in Altavilla, I tried to ask them how old their brother was, “Quante anni ha tuo fratello?” (How many years does your brother have?). However, I failed to pronounce both n's in anni, so I essentially asked them how many anuses (ani) their brother had. I knew something was wrong when they answered 1 in a burst of laughter, then asked me how many ani I had.

Elsewhere, our spartan apartment is without scissors, so Meredith has resorted to cutting classroom materials with a 11 inch chef's knife that probably won't shed it's garlic scent until we depart. “Signora Kohl, this activity smells like stuffed mushrooms.” For the Teach For America crowd, it was reminiscent of week 1 at Institute.

Passagiata : a stroll in the street

In the course of countless hours spent wandering the streets in search of nothing in particular, we have come across some magnificent sights. But what we have enjoyed most is that the city's busiest streets are closed on weekends to allow for families to take a passagiata. 

The city has yet to rebuild structures damaged during World War II, so we expect Spielberg and Tom Hanks to collaborate on something here soon

Quatro Canti 

The Four Corners consist of fountains with statues of the four seasons, the four Spanish kings of Sicily, and of the patronesses of Palermo (Cristina, Ninfa, Olivia, and Agata). At the time the piazza was built 400 years ago, it was one of the first major examples of town planning in Europe.  Now it is considered the finest example of Baroque intersection architecture in the world.  

Palermo's best pictures: Ivy's Benvenuti al Sud.
Scenes from Palermo's nightlife: Francesco's Palermo e Dintorni.

Francesco and Antonella

Introductions

Altavilla, where we had lunch with Marzia and Antonella's family on Friday. 15 minutes outside of Palermo.

We are feeling particularly at home in Palermo because of the incredible generosity and hospitality offered by everyone that we have met. Beginning with the purple-pantsed gentleman on our shuttle from the airport who turned out to be a language professor at the local university, we have been incredibly spoiled by kindness ever since.  

• A teacher at Meredith's school arranged for us to stay with the Jesuits during our overwhelming first week, then she took us to a Sicilian party in the country on our first night. We were fed heavy portions of authentic dishes, all of which were lauded as the region's finest, then we washed it down with 80s pop and choreographed dances corresponding to music from around the world. Given the age range of participants, the dance moves are likely genetic.
• The hours for government offices, banks and post offices are less consistent than Tony Romo, but the customer service is a welcomed respite from the DMV.
• We are regularly invited to family meals, which bare a strong resemblance to Thanksgiving in terms of preparation, quantity, and quality.  
• Trips to summer homes on the coast or in the country have been offered by five different individuals within the two weeks that we have been settled.
• Two recreational soccer teams will allow me to make a fool of myself on the pitch after I purchase cleats and parastinchi (shinguards).
• In addition to his flexibility regarding our 1^st month's rent and security deposit, our landlord sat us down with a map and pointed out the best of everything in the city. He followed up the next week with a flatscreen television and brand new washing machine. No one has dryers, so I'm mastering the clothespin.
• Our roommate Ivy, who deserves much of the credit for the stellar pictures, has brightened our experience by sharing in the incredible highs and mild frustrations associated with getting settled. She fancies dirty martinis, dark beers, and telephoto lenses.  
• Two of Meredith's language partners, Marzia and Antonella, double as our personal shoppers. Upon mentioning that she was looking for shoes, Meredith was taken to several shops, introduced to all the owners, and given generous discounts. When I mentioned in passing that I might need a jacket in the winter, a tour of the best shops was provided, along with style commentary that drifted into social commentary: “We Italians do good food and fashion. You Americans do good music and military.” I guess that settles the guns vs. butter debate.
• Davide, another language partner, has taken us to a soccer game, introduced us to the city's unique flavors, and utilized his expertise in finance to help us get our bank account opened. He was unable, however, to protect us from a brutal exchange rate.  Federico, a friend of Ivy's from the hospital, has provided incredible civics and history lessons regarding the city which will be detailed in subsequent posts.    

All in all, we are feeling incredibly comfortable in our new home. We have a guestroom with a balcony, so start booking your tickets!

Davide on the right, his brother in the middle

Meredith, Ivy, Marzia  

Antonella, Meredith, and Marzia: my Italian teachers.

Yes, they are twins.  Yes, they have boyfriends.

Secondi

We took in our first European League soccer match last week. Palermo plays in Serie A, composed of teams from around Italy, as well as the European League, which is pretty self-explanatory. While Palmero's crowd can be likened to respectful college football fans (co-ed, appreciative of the game, pride in their team, disdain for foes), CKSA Moscow's followers are like Raiders fans: rowdy, shirtless, overweight men with an odd assortment of props that bare no relation to the team. 

One merry fellow had a bright red fireman's helmet that he had taken the time to bedazzle (see above). Their section of the stadium looked like Moscow's steel mill had rewarded its loyalest (heaviest) workers with a topless Mediterranean cruise. They were confined to a steel cage, so with the exception of our eyes we were plenty safe.  

Hips to be thrust soon.

After going up 3-1, the Soviets began chanting, “Ciao! Ciao! Ciao!” at the Italian fans. Naturally, the host fans took umbrage.  The Sicilian dialect masked much of the derogatory language that was volleyed in return, but there is something unmistakably vulgar about an older Italian man retorting, “Ciao! Ciao! Ciao!” while thrusting his hips and gesturing with both hands towards his pelvis. He was either asking the Russians to appreciate the intricacy of his button fly, or offering his procreational services.

Latest food discoveries: the local delicacy here with years of history is the spleen sandwich—panino con la milza. Going back to the earliest days of industrialization, factory workers needed something quick and hearty to eat in the middle of the day. Street vendors fry thin slices of spleen in animal fat before throwing it on a baguette with a bit of parmesan and garlic. I am imagining the texture of a Philly Cheesesteak, the flavor of pate, and the post-consumption remorse of KFC's Double Down. We are working up the courage to give it a try, but I predict that our first taste comes at the end of a long night out where burritos/hamburgers don't exist and pizza is cliché.

 

Another noteworthy favorite that we sampled outside the soccer stadium was panelle crocche. I am understating its culinary genius when I describe it as a tater tot sandwich, but that's essentially what it is. Instead of your soggy lunchroom tots that share the same consistency as an aged pear, these fried potatoes have a golden, crisp outer layer that protects the fluffy, almost mashed potato-y interior. Puts the hot dog to shame.

In the course of our wanderings about town last weekend, we discovered a magnificent place that is literally a hole in a wall, but it turned out to be much more than that. Drilled inconspicuously into one of the city's walls is a bar that doubles as a bookstore. There is an enormous fireplace and vaulted ceilings that rise 30-40 ft. Oddly enough, the bar features an area for kids to read while their parents drink. It is also noteworthy because it is an exception to the 85% of local businesses that pay the pizzo (protection money) to the mafia. More on the movement against the mafia soon...

Cultural appreciations:

• When greeting men: a kiss on each cheek. When greeting women: one kiss on one cheek.
• Fireworks have no discernible reason for being set off, especially from rooftops on random weekdays. And we are not talking about the safe and sane kind that are sold as a fundraiser by Girl Scouts and Little League. We're talking about the ones that can only be found, purchased, and detonated outside of the beef jerky shops on Native American Indian reservations.
• When navigating traffic, horns are honked in lieu of turn signals and brakes. If you are slowing down and I am behind you, I just honk my horn to let you known that you can't slow down anymore. If I want to move into a lane with other vehicles, I just honk my horn and go for it. There are 4 way intersections everywhere, but the ones that don't have a signal are also missing stop signs. When approaching a blind intersection, everyone just lays on the horn to let cross-traffic know that they're not planning on slowing down, let alone stopping. I was astounded that it took us 10 days to see our first accident.
• Forming lines is a bit ambiguous here. I had my cart of items on the counter at a grocery store and two women just walked right in front of me and tried to pay for their goods. The first lady's card was rejected by karmic gods, so she was brushed to the end of the line. The second lady had a tough case to plead when my stack was so far in front of hers. There was the shaking of hands and elevated volumes of speech, so I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled, “No Italiano.”
• Meredith's favorite part of our neighborhood/something I have to put up with: