Be My Italian Valentine: “Viva l’amore – abbasso i sedili”

This month, in honor of Valentine’s Day, our COSI‘ blogging troupe couldn’t wait to share their experiences with amore all’italiana (love Italian style).  That means that – FINALMENTE – my blog is living up to its name with an article about some SEX!  Proceed with caution (and mom, go ahead and close this page now).

So, today, I pay homage to the most quintessential form of modern Italian romance: bumpin’ and grindin’ in a tiny-ass vehicle.  Ah, l’amore.  Nothing more romantic than that!

 

viva l'amore 2

“Long live love. I’ll put the seats down.” (Actual Fiat ad!)

 

In all my days in Italy, I experienced and saw many a strange thing.  But the timeless escapade of boy chases girl (or vice versa) takes on a special meaning as a young American expat in Italy.  You get gawked at, whistled at, flirted at, mocked at, stalked at and adored – and all on the same street block.  It’s almost overwhelming, at first.

My most favorite, overtly inappropriate pickup line of all time:  I once stepped onto a public bus and took a seat within view of the driver’s rear view mirror.  Without missing a beat, in front of everyone turned around and said: Complementi alla mamma – ha fatto una meraviglia” (My compliments to the mother – she produced a wonder).  Volevo morire (I wanted to die).

As a wise, informed American trying to fit in you realize Italian men make sweeping generalizations about American girls that are often unfair and untrue.  But then you remember the drunken scenes in the middle of Campo dei Fiori after midnight and realize maybe they have a point.  Sometimes you’re flattered, other times you’re disgusted.  And you find yourself thinking, “How do the Italian girls get so much respect from their men?” (10 years later, I can say the answer is amanti [multiple lovers] – but that’s for another post!)

At twenty-three years old, it’s easy for anyone to give the wrong impression – but in Italy, it’s a given.  In the minds of Italian men that age, American girls are absolutely certain to give it up immediately, like giving candy to a bambino.  In their defense, someone must be proving them right for them to keep up their shenanigans, right?  It’s as if they feel they can behave and say anything that they never would to the Italian girls they grew up with.

As a young woman actually attempting to date and have a relationship, it takes a long time to break through that stereotype and create a barrier of respect.  Their directness is a jolt to the system, especially compared to their American counterparts.  It really is a part of the Italian DNA to romance, flatter, and floor you into seduction.

However, one aspect of Italian culture I’ll never understand is the fixation with doing it in cars.  And I’m not just talking about horny teenagers – I’m talking about grown thirty year olds.  One of my funniest memories of those early days was being on a double date and deciding to pile four people into a Smart car to ride to the other side of the historical center and “park.”  When we finally got there, no one knew what to do since one couple inevitably had to vacate the vehicle.  Don’t remember who won that one…

But anyway, why the fetish with getting freaky in a Fiat?  Someone, dimmi perche’ (tell me why)!  

Ah ha!  Here we go again.  The answer to this is the same the explains so much about Italian issues: no jobs and/or bad salaries.  What does that have to do with anything, you say?  Everything.  If you can’t work or earn decent money in your twenties, you can’t afford to rent your own shag pad.  And, of course, you can’t get busy at mom and dad’s house – so where else can you go for some private time?  Buckle up – beep, beep!

Let me tell you: you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a street lined with tiny cars, bumper to bumper, with newspapers plastered against all the windows, bouncing around like no tomorrow.  I seriously could not believe my eyes.  And I can now attest that the scene is common weekend practice throughout most of Italy (especially in the South).

And you’d think perhaps they’re all a bit embarrassed to be out in the open, all near each other, with no shame.  There’s a reason for that, too: they actually all band together for safety, since apparently distracted lone lovers have been targets of thefts in the past.

So, some parting words of wisdom from one hopeless Italian romantic to the next: If the Peugeot’s a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’!

Buon San Valentino a tutti!

Baci,

SL&N

Check out the other COSI‘ romantics have to say about amore in Italia (links to be added as their posts are published).  And if you’d like to join the conversation, use our hashtag #COSItaly to publicize it!

Advertisements

Italy Magazine 2014 Blogger Awards – SL&N needs your votes!

italy-blogger-square-2

Ciao amici!  Bella notizia (great news) to share: Sex, Lies, & Nutella has been selected as a finalist in Italy Magazine’s 2014 Blogger Awards in two categories.  What an honor.  Evviva!

So, it looks like my little hobby has just turned competitive!  If you love you some SL&N (as I know you do), I ask you to per favore spread the Nutella love and help bring those awards home.  All you have to do is click on each of the two links below, find my blog, and vote.  Basta, that’s all!

Best Living in Italy Blog: http://www.italymagazine.com/blog-awards/2014?field_blog_category_tid=44500

Best Living in Italy Single Post: http://www.italymagazine.com/blog-awards/2014?field_blog_category_tid=44501

If you haven’t checked out Italy Magazine, you should.  They have a staggering amount of interesting information, pictures, and everything any Italophile could ask for on their website.

Lastly, congratulations to my fellow C.O.S.I. bloggers who are also finalists in various categories.  Forza, C.O.S.I.!

  • Rick of Rick’s Rome has been nominated for Best Overall Blog for Lovers of Italy
  • Misty of Surviving in Italy with her post: Dog Boarding, Adoption, And Dog Parks In Florence, Italy
  • Rick again with his post: The Definitive Guide for the Permesso di Soggiorno
  • Maria from Married To Italy for Best Living in Italy Blog

9 New Year’s Resolutions for Expats in Rome

1. Never trick yourself into thinking that purchasing a Smart car will somehow increase your odds of finding parking – it will actually only encourage you to park even more illegally and absurdly than before.

2. Make life interesting and try to order something other than a Spritz at your next aperitivo. Martini Royale, anyone?

3. Realize that you will never fully make sense of the Italian political system, or the university one, for that matter (wait, you’re 28 and have how many exams to pass before you graduate?).

4. Embrace the insanity. Rome is a chaotic, frenzied place that sometimes seems out of control. Keep your cool and go with the flow when things don’t go the way you’d expect (or the way any reasonable human being would expect).

5. If you don’t already have one, find a friend with a Vespa who’ll regularly take you on a “tour di Roma” on late summer nights. There is nothing better.

6. Never ignore the call of the occasional street food schifezza (junk food). Screw calorie counting – eat that massive piece of fried baccala’ in Piazza Santa Barbara. Like, right now.

7. In fact, eat whatever you see in front of you right now. Don’t worry, you’ll walk it off.

8. Keep your amici Romani close, but the gelato closer.

9. When all else is lost and you’re feeling desperate, just remember you’re on a journey that so many yearn to experience, and one that may not last forever. Enjoy it, and don’t let the setbacks frustrate and derail you. Sorridi (smile), you live in Italia!

Check out what my COSI friends are up to for New Year’s as well:

http://marriedtoitaly.com/2015/01/01/capo-danno/
http://theflorencediaries.wordpress.com/2014/12/30/new-years-eve-in-florence-or-as-i-like-to-call-it-the-italian-hunger-games/
http://rickzullo.com/new-year-in-italy/
http://unwillingexpat.wordpress.com/2014/12/26/an-expats-resolution/

Plus more posts to come from the rest of the COSI group; check out their home pages for updates:

Surviving in Italy
Girl in Florence
Englishman in Italy

Buon 2015 a tutti!
Baci,
SL&N

Operation: Italian Thanksgiving – “La Festa della Gallina”

Ciao amici!  This is my first collaborative post with the C.O.S.I. (Crazy Observations by Stranieri (Foreigners) in Italy) blogger roundtable team.  A fun, talented group of expats taking on Italy one day at a time. We all post once a month on a common theme with different points of view. You can connect to the other members’ fantastic blogs here.  Also, if you would like to share your own experience in Italy about our monthly subject (this time it’s regional foods with a Thanksgiving spin), just use the hashtag #COSI when posting.

For as long as I can remember, in my house Thanksgiving had another name: “La Festa della Gallina” (The Feast of the Chicken).  This term was coined by my immigrant grandfather, Papa Guy.  Every year we would joke about it and ask him to explain the significance of Thanksgiving; he would just shrug his shoulders and ask to pass the stuffing.  It was a holiday all about food – an exorbitant amount of food – and that was good enough for him.

The Italians don’t have much of a clue about how or why this unique holiday is celebrated (then again, neither do some Americans) – but they are quite intrigued by it (Ma quanto pesa ‘sta tacchino?! How much does this turkey weigh?!).  The only saving grace is the fact it’s essentially all about food, as most of their holidays are, which they can certainly relate to and appreciate.

Celebrating Thanksgiving as an expat, as with many other things, has been an adventure and an evolution.  I like to think I’ve mastered it over the course of passing six of them in a country where it doesn’t exist.  But it hasn’t been easy.

My first year here, I’m pretty sure I had either inadvertently forgotten about it, or ignored it all together for the sake of assimilation.  The second year, my husband (then-boyfriend at the time) knew I really missed being at home that day.  I called him from work, glued to my computer screen watching the live streaming Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade ridden with nostalgia, tears rolling down my cheeks.  So he very sweetly surprised me with an evening out at the Hard Rock Café Rome, where they have a special menu every year.

The third year, I was motivated to see if I could remotely pull off a mini-Thanksgiving for two.  I quickly realized though, since Italians don’t eat a lot of turkey in general, at a last-minute glance the bird was no where to be found.  So, I asked myself: what looks like a turkey and tastes like a turkey, enough to pass off as a turkey?  The biggest chicken I could find, that’s what!  And it was then, during that first attempt at a Thanksgiving re-creation abroad, that I finally understood and celebrated the true meaning of Papa Guy’s “Festa della Gallina.”  I whipped up some mashed potatoes and peas and called it a day.  Gimmi was mildly impressed.

By the fourth year, I finally got my act together and was ready to attempt a true reproduction.  I successfully formed a troupe of brave Italians to share my table with whom, incidentally, were way more excited about it all than they should have been.  Hey, it’s not every day un’americana invites you to Thanksgiving dinner.  But little did I know the search for proper ingredients would be una vera rogna (a royal pain in the…), and they would cost a small fortune when I finally tracked them down.

One of my most enthusiastic friends directed me to her favorite macellaio in Parioli (a wealthy area of Rome).  Never had I seen a more glamorous meat market; it looked like a film set of handsome actors making jokes and suave glances between their choice cuts.  They could get us a turkey, but it would take a month and cost €75.  “Were they going to have to go on a group hunting trip to the Tuscan countryside and shoot it themselves?”  I wondered.  The famous specialty foods chain in Rome, Castroni,  turned out to be the best resource for all the rest of the accompanying delicacies – but at what cost?  A can of Ocean Spray cranberry jelly was €8?!  Porca troia!  I’d have to sacrifice next month’s rent to put this meal on.  But I was committed; there was no turning back on Operation: Italian Thanksgiving.  And it was a grand success.

Last year,our group reunited again and had a fantastic time cooking and enjoying together.  I had created a new tradition in my new home, and it felt great.  Oh, but I did wise up and ordered the turkey from my local butcher.  He only wanted €30.  Had a great laugh when I went to pick it up though.  The conversation went something like this:

Macellaio: That’ll be 60 euro.
Me: Seems like a lot – the guy I ordered from said it would be around 30…
Macellaio: 30 euro, for a 35-pound turkey?
Me: 35 pounds?? I asked for a 10 to 12-pound turkey!
Macellaio: Ooooh, wait a second – you ordered the female turkey… You must be the other American (good to know there were only two of us in town, and she had the bigger oven).

Pulling off a stellar Thanksgiving in Italy means adapting to what’s available and unifying it with as much tradition as possible.  Trust me, your average peas are much better with a little pancetta added in for good measure anyway.  Italy makes everything taste better, so of course, Thanksgiving does, too.

Happy Feast of the Chicken to all!

November… davvero??

A friend just sent me this beautiful scene from the Amalfi Coast, starring incredible weather and sea views accompanied by Neopolitan dessert favorites delizia al limone, babà, and limoncello. Che spettacolo!

IMG_0911.JPG