Livin la Vita Bella

Arranged by topic.

The Need to Feed (and cook):

Three o-clock in the afternoon. Jess is half lying in bed, magazine in hand, studying I think. In a pair of below-the-knee stockings and jeans I find myself floating along the cracked white marble floor towards our kitchen. Within minutes I am mixing up a sweet crepe batter, smushing up fresh bananas with Nutella and milk, pinching nutmeg between my thumb and pointer, flicking it outward onto a tin of thinly sliced apples, over the soft brown mix of cinnamon and sugar already coating them. Heavily. The oven is preheating. My flatmate Eddie passes by the kitchen and watches me with amusement. My fork is still working the bananas as I slowly explain my sudden urges to cook and bake. I feel like I’m possessed by the spirit of some crazed mamma italiana. My pasta is always al dente and visions of olive oil dance in my head.

What is going on here?

One of my favorite critiques of my own self is my lack of “domestic” (in specific—culinary) skills. But here I am cracking eggs with one hand and measuring out flour and sugar by pure intuition. And, lo and behold the end product is edible. More than edible. I churned out all the side dishes for a Thanksgiving dinner for 7 and was left with clean plates and only a morning’s worth of leftovers.

This is good. Maybe I’ll be more marriageable now. Too bad I’ve never liked Italian men. They really appreciate this sort of thing.

And to eat? Oh eating is such sweet sorrow. That I shall be eating all night till it be morrow. Jess has a favorite image of me now, sitting on my bed in my underwear at 4AM after a particularly wine-bountiful night, a huge jar of nutella in my lap out of much I am consuming heaping spoonfuls—the chocolate all over my mouth and smiling like a goofy infant. I’ll never live it down.

But it seems there’s always something to eat around here. Someone is always cooking, there is always a bit extra pasta, a crepe batter ready to go in, a jar of Nutella and a spoon for those sporadic cravings.

We’ve consumed the Italian penchant for food, and damn-- it’s yummy.


The Cast of Characters:

We were, and are, an interesting smattering of housemates. There’s Jess and I—rightly christened as “The Odd Couple” for our constant kitchen and bedroom bickering. There’s Eddie who has a baby Taylor guitar, which ups his already very high cool factor. He’s from Boston and was the chef alla Tacchino (Chef of the Turkey) for our Thanksgiving feast. Then there are the Germans who left just a few days ago—but are worth honorable mention, Christoph and Julia. I don’t think Julia liked us very much. She carried her toilet paper with her back and forth to the bathroom and aside from the random “Ciao, come stai?” we didn’t hear much from her. They were both serious about their studies and are here studying Tropical Medicine on the Erasmus program (Europe’s version of study abroad). The day before they left we all went out to “Gelaton” our local, famed Gelateria for ice-cream Italian-style. Haven’t heard from them since. We use their old bedroom as a laundry-drying room now and dread the possibility of new flatmates. Eddie, Jess and I get along famously—and with random visits from the Australians (Jason, Chris, Steve, Damn and Nick) we’re a regular bunch of Brady’s. Just to give you an idea of the banter that goes on:

“I don’t like you. At all.”– Some of my first words to Steve, upon meeting him. He now takes the name “Stevil”.

“But going out would require showering!” - Jessica responding in the negative to proposed plans to head to a nearby pub—during a particularly cold-water period in the Palazzo.

“Where is that flippamajiggy thing?”– Me, enquiring as to the whereabouts of the spatula during one of my many “I dunnta speekah da ingleeeesh innymore” phases.

“La luce rossa! AGH!” – In reference to the little red light that switches on after our water heater stops functioning.

“Oh my God, you are disgusting.” – Jessica and I, to each other, at least 10 times per day.

“Make crepes.” –Jessica, to me. At least once per day.

“Oooooonnnnnnooooo. Oh, noooo. Oh, I mean--- Oh yes!” --- Me, making fun of Jessica’s “Italian stallion” Onofrio, oh so conveniently nicknamed “Ono”.

“Don’t use the oven and the washing machine at the same time! You’ll trip the circuit.” Eddie’s infamous words of advice.

“Is there any nutella left?” All of us, at random, frequent intervals.

“Piu vino?” All of us, at all hours. The response? Always, “YES”.

“No. We’re just friends.” - Me. All too frequently. (Many thanks to Eddie for pointing this one out. Stronso!)

“This is the Coliseum which was like a beehive for the ancient Romans. You see the holes where they used to fly in and out? They used to fly back then. Don’t know if you knew that. And inside, they make honey. And maple syrup.” – Jessica, upon my request that she give us an extemporaneous history of the Coliseum.


***As a side note, these quotes as said with or without the aid of the only functioning blowhorn in the house (there are two) which is sitting on the kitchen table. Seriously.

Soon to come:

1. The Paradox of Being Italian American
2. Italian Bureaucracy: A Complaint
3. Living With Jessica
4. Yellow Hostel
5. Cast of Character's, continued....


But for a small update? Current situation: we've decided to remain in the Palazzo for another few months. We're in love with the place and the location, so the lack of hot water or landlord attention are mere incidentals. On December 15th we have a technician coming in to see if we can hook up to the internet on a 24/7 basis. One day, probably a long time from now, a technician will come in and fix the water heater. In four hours I have a job interview to be a tour guide in Rome. On December 13th I have an interview to be a full-time tour guide with another company, for which I have to organise a 15 minute presentation on Caravaggio. Christmas will be spent in Fregene with Valentina and her family. December 9th Jess and I are going to a club with Valentina, for a night we've been waiting for since we arrived last month. Tix were expensive and apparently some great DJ will be spinning. It will be good to see Valentina anyway--- we haven't seen her since we moved to Rome. Jess works at a strange pub, on which I will write when I find a moment.


This is life, la vita, e la vita e bella.... Stay tuned.