my big fat italian weekend.

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You are probably asking yourself how it is possible for someone to write so many blog entries when his track record proves to be less than consistent. Of course three isn’t a huge number but its almost to the point of every other day. I am worried that my loyal readers might find this too stressful and too much to read. Well, will tell you the reason for my overload of blog entries and maybe the explanation will also help you to read through all of the sudden madness. One word: espresso. Taking shots of espresso was never something I was jumping at the bit to do or to try. But then again, that is why I travel. To say corny phrases like, “when in Rome.” And to do exactly as the Romans do. So I will continue to drink shots of espresso and I will continue to write frantic, somewhat random/hard to follow blog entries.

My first weekend in Italy was far from usual. So they say. I had a birthday party in the center of Torino1 in a square called Piazza Vittorio Veneto (be sure to follow that weak attempt at a superscript and view that link). A coworker of Laura was celebrating in rather trendy fashion by having a private party at one of the trendiest little spots in all of Torino and one of Italy’s best DJ’s (apparently a friend of a friend) was on hand to supply the beats. Great atmosphere and a great time.

The following night we went to a family friend’s house for a two-year old birthday party. If I could convince myself I was not in Italy to that point, I was about to lose the battle in a major way. After we arrived as the first guests it took about an hour for me to find myself in the middle of a scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I am sure that may be offensive since no one was Greek but that was the closest I could come to wrapping my head around the madness that is a traditional Italian meal with 20 people. Be sure to stay tuned to an up-to-date food journal. That night we had wild boar of all things, Razorback if you will. You know how in America we sorta all get quiet when we are eating? Yeah not in Italy. I was sitting in the midst of about 100 different conversations going on all at once. It was madness. It was almost a type of experience I have never been apart of before. I never went to a family dinner in South Africa or in Korea and if I had it would have been a lot closer to what I was used to. There were people yelling (I was assured it was normal and no one was really fighting), there was food being constantly passed, there were babies screaming, there was futbol (a completely different blog entry for that) and there was me. I didn’t understand a word anyone was saying but I couldn’t help but sit back and smile, taking it all in. It really was a lifetime moment. I felt like it was the closest I have ever been to another culture. Not me being in another country but in another culture. I had penetrated the depths of their most sacred past time: eating dinner with friends and family. I’ll never forget that night.

Then there was football. Juventus football to be exact. Everyone there were supporters, thank God. I can’t imagine it getting any crazier but I assume if there had been an Inter-Milan fan there things might have been a bit more hostile. This was my first taste of Italian calcio. Just when I thought no more culture could be squeezed into my brain. Long story short, Max was unable to speak by halftime and the shouting had made several babies burst into tears. I didn’t think it could get louder than dinner. It did. Several times. Juventus beat their rival 1-2.

The very next night was Laura’s grandfathers 96th birthday party. Again, not an average weekend. So they say. Laura’s mother has built a pretty solid reputation as a cook and the feast that we ate was incredible. She took some of the worst sounding and looking foods and turned them into candy. Octopus, artichoke and cheek fat to name a few. Here in Italy there are three courses eaten at a traditional dinner. They all have particular names and objectives. Of course I don’t remember the names but the first course was octopus and another fish dish. Incredible. Never have I had such a soft and tender octopus before. I thought all octopus tasted like boot leather. Especially those that are still moving. The second course is usually made up of pasta, rice and/or soup. We had three types of lasagna. Pesto lasagna jumped up to maybe a top 5 favorite. The third course is always the meat. A few different cuts of roast beef along with the cheek meat (looked like pure fat with hair on it – tasted far better). The cake was pretty good too.

Another, “I’m in Italy moment” occurred on Saturday morning in a little square2 in downtown Torino. Another was my first bike ride, that was today. I’ll never get over that. I assume every ride in Italy will be that wonderful but the first has to be special. Best hour I have ever spent on a bike. Unfortunately I got a late start and the sun was setting on my lost ass, so I cut my ride short. Tomorrow my lost ass will stay lost for at least 2 hours. This is all pretty damn crazy.


1 http://www.360cities.net/image/historical-cafe-elena-piazza-vittorio-veneto-turin-italy#-8.11,2.92,70.0

2 http://www.360cities.net/image/san-carlo-square-turin-italy-east-side#0.00,0.00,70.0

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Comments

[Mom]

Thanks for sharing your adventures! I love every word!! Razorback?? How could you?? Haha!! This is one fan that can\'t get enough!! Great to see you today as well!! ILYMTLIS!!

[em]

loving the blog - keep \'em coming! i can\'t wait \'til there are people around me who can compete with my volume - hooray! i love you so much and am so glad you are having a wonderful experience so far. get some pictures out soon!