Inquiring Minds Want To Know, Volume I

We've been in Rome for 3 months, as of today! We're all doing well and looking forward to experiencing Natale (Christmas) in Italia. I've received really good questions from family and friends (everyone is concerned about my finding pecans), so thought it efficient to answer all of the questions with this post.

1. We haven’t yet found a dedicated farmer/provider of organic meat. Our local grocery store, Di Per Di, carries organic chicken, which we’re very thankful for!

2. Yes, we found pecans at Castroni. The largest Castroni store is about a half mile away on Via Cola di Rienzo. We love that store! It carries a lot of international items (not a lot of American items) not found in Italian grocery stores/markets.

3. We did find sweet potatoes! On our way to Castroni, there is a single fruit and vegetable purveyor, who carries sweet potatoes. Whenever we go to Castroni, we stop and buy some. We don’t even have to say a word, we just hand the potatoes to the purveyor and they immediately speak English to us, because only Americans buy sweet potatoes.

4. No, we’re not doing as much volunteer work here as we do at home. We volunteer at the kid’s school (family picnic, teacher appreciation and Mayfair in the spring) and we are volunteering at our church’s annual charity auction next month. No, I’m not taking a lead role in the auction, but I am assisting with decorations and set up.

5. We’re not worried about security, but we are cautious. We live on the third floor of our building, which is secured – no one enters without a key. Our apartment has double doors, which are reinforced with metal and four metal deadbolts. We also have a huge safe (I can fit into it!) to store our passports, jewelry, etc. Rome is a very safe city. Violent crime is very rare. Children are prized in Italy, so we don’t worry about the safety of our kids, however, we do escort them to and from their bus stops, and there is another set of parents at our bus stop as well. Yes, we’ve allowed our son to have a Facebook, as all of the kids over here have it. When you live internationally, it is the most efficient and economic way for family and friends to keep in touch. All of the security settings are in place on FB for our kids, and we are friends with our kids, so we can monitor their friends and activity. They Gypsy population has decreased from previous visits, but the old women still beg and Termini can be sketchy, but overall, no issues.

6. Thankfully, the kid’s school hasn’t had issues with H1N1! The virus is in Italy, a handful of people have died, but it’s almost a non-issue over here. Maybe because our weather is still so warm? None of us have been vaccinated.

7. Yes, we had friends visit us for 10 days in October. My husband’s cousin and his wife (who live in Germany) will be with us for Christmas. Mid-March my mom and her bestie will visit for a few weeks. We’ve also had dinner with a few friends who have traveled into Rome, which has been a lot of fun!

8. We don’t plan to go to Africa. We may go to Morocco this spring, but are still firming up our spring travel schedule. On our list: Normandy beaches next week for Thanksgiving, Paris (no kids!) the week following Christmas, continued weekend trips in Italy, and hopefully, Greece and Spain before June. We hope there will be additional school trips for the kids!

9. We are not planning on staying another year, contrary to our daughter’s writing on her Facebook page. She wishes she could stay another year, as does my husband, but the kid’s father wouldn’t allow another year, and I’m very sensitive to their long separation.

10. At this point, our son is not playing sports with any of the local clubs. Baseball starts in October and goes until June. That was too large of a commitment for us (practice twice a week, games on weekends). His soccer skill level is improving, but when he arrived, he would have struggled playing with a local club. In Rome, the city doesn’t organize sports teams. Neighborhoods organize a club, you pay their dues (500 euro or more), pay for your equipment (sports equipment is very expensive over here!), pay for the travel and you’re a member of their club. We haven’t heard about a club basketball team in our neighborhood yet. He plays sports at school on his lunch break and will join after school sports after the winter break, which he’s satisfied with, although he misses his teammates back home!

11. We knew before moving over here, we’d make few friends. We’ve been honest and told people we will be in Rome until June, so most families don’t want to get too close. Also, many families are embassy (American and many other countries!) families, which can be disrupting for them. We have a new American Ambassador to Italy, so there’s been a lot of change. With the kid’s school, our language school and our church, we have ample opportunities to socialize.

12. The buying power of the U.S. becomes very apparent in Italy. Prices for everything are much better in the U.S. than over here - clothing, household items, shoes, jewelry, etc. The dollar to euro ratio isn’t great, however, we’ve experienced worse. Knowing we were coming over here, we bought large amounts of euro, when the ratio was better. The changing markets don’t adversely affect us.

13. Lastly, thank you for all of the offers, but please don’t ship us anything. The receiving of shipped items is a nightmare! We have everything we need and are perfectly content. Thanks so much for the generous offers! And for those who have sent us mail – a HUGE Thank You!

The Greatest Show on Earth

When I strolled my first summer Roman passegiatta (long walk after dinner), over three years ago, I couldn’t believe my eyes! I was completely taken by the circus act displayed before me.

There were all of these women, strutting their stuff. They dripped with gold jewelry. Their hair was perfectly styled and many had a pair of designer sunglasses expertly propped. Dramatic eyes and lips were drawn onto each face. Every manicure was fierce and flawless.

Each woman adorned herself in the tightest, flashiest clothing - splashed with rhinestones, gold studs and/or metallic lame. And I had to give these women credit; they could care less if their stomach was flat, their asses were round, or their breasts were large - they proudly displayed their womanly curves to all.

These performers teetered along in their highest of heels, walking tip-toe, to ensure their stiletto heels weren't caught between the ruthless jaws of the cobblestones. Bejeweled handbags were carefully positioned and the scent of intermingled perfumes filled the entire strada.

And there I was in my short-sleeve, stretch jersey knit dress (no ironing, washable in the sink and dried overnight!), flat sandals, wearing a trace of make-up and I thought, “Are they filming an Italian Candid Camera?”

Nope. They were doing what every Italian does every night when on their passegiatta: proving bella figura to anyone who cares to notice (and they had better notice!) The passegiatta isn’t a daily ritual for every Italian, but is a ritual for every Italian who goes out to dinner. I like to refer to the passegiatta as People Watching, On Steroids. It’s quite entertaining and definitely, something you’ll never experience in the U.S.

Bella figura is a way of life in Italy. Basically, it's how the Italians project their image. Italians like others to think they are well educated, enjoy a harmonious family life, dress better than every other culture, are properly informed in all matters of current events (national and international) and perfectly mannered when any social situation arises.

It’s an admirable goal, no?

If bella figura keeps the fantastic circus, that is Italy, playing - fresh pasta on our plates, rich wines bottled, olive oil pressed, gelato churned, glass blown, ceramics fired and gorgeous fashions in the store windows - then I’m all for it!

Via del Babuino

We are very, very fortunate to have found @ Home! Sabrina and Katia, are in the know when it comes to finding a home in Rome. They hooked us up with a gorgeous, fully furnished, renovated (honestly, the most important detail!) apartment on Via del Babuino. And it has an elevator – another important detail!

For those who don’t know Babuino – it’s THE fashionable address to have in Rome. In fact, Babuino’s sister street is Madison Avenue in New York. (Babuino received its name from a statue on a water fountain, which the local residents thought resembled a baboon.) ALTHOUGH, there are many, many fashionable addresses in Rome.

On Babuino, you’ll find the big design houses of Valentino, Giuseppe Zanotti (who also makes Balmain’s shoes), Miu Miu, and Etro – just to name drop a few. A man asked me if there were any local businesses on Babuino, as all he could see were name brands on the buildings. Tongue in cheek, I asked him his definition of a local business, because Valentino is as local as it gets…

However, if you look beyond Chanel, Babuino contains absolute gems of premium negozi that specialize in items other than fashion.

Kitty-corner to our apartment is HB Profumerie, which has become one of my favorite shops in Rome. Where I come from in the U.S., people are very scent sensitive. In fact, many theaters, restaurants and other public places post notices for women not to wear perfume. I’ve been wearing the same perfume for over 20 years (Calyx), so it hasn’t hurt my feelings to miss a spray or two.

Anyhoo, in light of the fact that I live in Rome, with no scent restrictions, and my perfume of over 20 years may end production, it is high time for me to branch out and embrace new scents! When I float into HB, I enter a dream world. The women only speak a few English phrases, and on a good day - I speak like a 2-year old in the Italian language department, so we smile and point and spray paper strips and say, “Bella!” a lot to one another. They carry wonderful brands of scents, candles, bath and beauty products from all over the world. I had no idea most of these items even existed!

I have so much fun in Fabriano, an Italian stationary store, which carries more than just stationary. They have their own line of handmade leather goods (briefcases, travel wallets, planners, key chains, etc.), create really cool paper jewelry (necklaces, pins, cufflinks, etc.), and there’s lots of fun calendars, cards, notepads, notebooks, unique office goods and of course, stationary to peruse. I touch everything. I’m dying to try out their chunky colored pencils, but I don’t think they’d be amused.

There is a shop that our friends were quite enchanted with, Decorarte Fratelli Pinci. I want to touch everything in there too! Decorarte is defined as a maniglie, which translates, literally, to handles. Simply, Decorarte creates gorgeous, bronze accent pieces used in historic, architectural restoration/renovation projects. If you’re looking for elaborate doorknockers, or majestic fire irons, or intricate wall hooks, or decorative floral accent swags, or beautiful bells, or classic lighting – this is the place. It’s a treasure trove! And what I really love is how this shop shines like a beacon of golden light when the sun goes down and on the greyest of days (not that we have many of those).

Antique stores can be found up and down Babuino. There are so many! Each one is carefully appointed with old carved marble busts, gorgeous furniture, massive mirrors, rich paintings and tapestries. It’s all a little over the top for us, but if I had an ancient, grand palazzo in the countryside, I’d fill it up from these antique shops.

There is a very cute, teeny-tiny stamp shop, Filatelia. Only two people can stand in it comfortably to look around. The elderly signora carefully watches over their historic inventory of old, and new, stamps from all over the world.

Another favorite is La Tessitura D’Arte. Looking at this vibrant shop window always puts a smile on my face. This shop carries plush, luxurious fabrics to recover a couch or create new window treatments and the accoutrements for finishing. As I don’t really have a reason to go into this shop, I haven’t entered, but I will before June - reason or not.

One of these days we will explore Armi Antiche. You guessed it, a shop with a variety of antiques attributed to the Italian army. From the window there are paintings, dishes, glassware, swords, shields and the like. We don’t speak army, nor have a direct connection, so we’ll have to further our language skills before we attempt this shop.

There are numerous jewelry stores filled with shiny baubles for every occasion. I’d venture to say, the majority of the jewelry stores specialize in veeery, veeery expensive jewelry.

We also have a small La Feltrinelli, an Italian bookstore. There are a few English items, but when it comes to maps, cards and calendars – who cares if it’s in English?

There’s a couple of modern furniture stores as well. Again, not in the market, so haven’t darkened the doorsteps yet.

Lastly, and also important, Babuino has a charming church that chimes for each hour and half hour. It’s right next door. There’s nothing I love to hear more than the time chimed out for me.

So if you’re ever walking down Via del Babuino, look beyond the commercial names and you’ll find the unique, generations-old, local negoizi of Rome.

The Real Divas of Rome, Italy

Make no mistake about it. You know a Diva when you see one. She has complete control of the situation she’s in. And heaven help those that think otherwise. She’s ready for whatever environment she may find herself in – a gleaming, glorious Piazza or a dark, cobblestoned strada. She knows where she’s going, where she’s been and she never looks back.

In Rome, she’s called a Taxi.

The Roman Taxi Drivers are a unique human species all to their own. There's something in their DNA structure, which their parents know so training begins at an early age. They are an unearthly lot, performing legendary, daily miracles. And I use the word miracle, because it’s a miracle we’re all alive after riding with them… I kid, I kid… Well, sort of…

Rule Number One: Never get into a Taxi with a full stomach. And I mean N E V E R. Why do you think the Romans are so fond of their passeggiatta (walk after dinner)? I’m telling you, it ain’t because they’re active.

Rule Number Two: Go to a Taxi stand, found in the main Piazza’s, to catch a Taxi. If you hail a Taxi from any old location you may find yourself, chances are, the Diva Driver won’t stop. Divas rarely go out of their way for anyone! However, if they do, it is perfectly legal for them to charge you from their “home base” location.

For example, you just dropped a bunch of Euro in the shops on Via Condotti. There’s a Taxi stand at either end of Via Condotti; Piazza di Spagna and Via Tomacelli. But your bags are really heavy and cumbersome. So you ‘go New Yorker’ and hail the first empty Taxi. Let’s say that Taxi just dropped a bunch of tourists in Piazza di Spagna, however, originated from Piazza Mastai in Trastevere. You end up having to pay what the tourists just paid (Mastai to Spagna), on top of whatever the price of your route may be. Divas love a chump to pay their way (but dislike a possible ugly confrontation, so usually, won’t stop in the first place.)

Golden Rule Number Three: Ensure each passenger is securely fastened into a seatbelt (cintura di sicurezza – just say “cheentoora” – they will understand) BEFORE you provide your address of destination. If a cintura isn’t working properly (this would be rare), find YOUR inner Diva and say, “rotta cintura” and move to the next available Taxi.

Rule Number Four: Know your address. If you aren’t comfortable saying it, because you don’t want to embarrass yourself by butchering the beautiful Italian language (and we know you will [we all do!] –and- the Diva Drivers will say, “No capito!” [just as forcefully as the Soup Nazi] at your expense), then write it down and hand it to the Driver.

Rule Number Five: Divas don’t observe lanes. If you are used to riding in the safety of a lane, you better change your definition of safety. And blinkers? Never used. I always hope my Taxi will float between lanes like Maria Callas through arias – those are my favorite. However, I usually end up with a slicer, which isn’t completely horrible. The worst are the darters, who make abrupt and completely unsettling lane changes. If you aren’t securely belted in, expect to go flying, in more than one direction (See Rule Number One). And heaven forbid a Diva to apologize!

Rule Number Six: There is no “correct” route to the address you provide. The Divas that rule the Roman roads will take the route THEY please, in the quickest manner possible (they want you out of their Taxi!) You know a more efficient route? Keep it to yourself – Diva’s don’t take direction - from anyone. You could go to the same address on a daily basis and never take the same route twice. Sit back (securely fastened into your seatbelt), try to relax and imagine it as a unique tour, created just for you. Every Diva has her signature song and the Taxi Drivers are no different when it comes to their routes.

Rule Number Seven: Be prepared for the ear shattering Diva, think: Mariah Carey. Typically, Romans do not honk their horns. It’s considered bad form. In fact, the majority of Italian’s don’t honk their horns. Non Bella Figura! Brutto! Unless you happen to be a Diva Driver. Then it is your duty to perform with your horn whenever you have an audience, which is often. They show off their octaves without hesitation.

Rule Number Eight: Tell your young children, who are securely fastened into their seatbelts, that your Diva Driver is very friendly, but partially deaf, so has cleverly created special hand signals to wave “Buongiorno!” or “Ciao!” to other drivers on the roads. We all know those hand signals have far sinister meanings, but the kiddies don’t have to know! And if you catch your munchkins repeating a word or two they learned from your colorful Diva Driver to other Italians, just shrug your shoulders and say, “Tassista.” The Italians will immediately sigh, make a sympathetic hand gesture, and nod their heads in understanding.

Rule Number Nine: Expect your seat belts to work, but radio, radio volume, windows, air conditioning and heat are operated at the expertise and whim of your Diva Driver. Oh, and if you think you’ll receive courteous service because you are elderly, are wearing a cross and rosary, or have an obvious impairment – guess again.

Rule Number Ten: Tip your Diva Driver a Euro for each passenger when you reach your destination. If you want to tip more, because your ride was especially smooth, do, as a show of utter relief and blessed thanks. Buon Fortuna!

(Note: This photo was taken while in a traffic jam on the A1 into Rome. We did not witness someone pulling a pre-sober Britney Spears action, nor is she referenced as a Diva.)

The Hardscape of Rome

Rome’s streets are harder than any other streets I’ve ever walked on. I’m sure since Rome sits on top of many older, ancient layers of Rome; that could be a contributing factor. However, I’m convinced the Romans created a construction technique that’s evolved over the centuries to produce streets that are the hardest of the hard. The only way I can prove this is via my bones.

We had been to Rome a few times prior to our move, but we’ve never stayed longer than two weeks. In June, we were here for two weeks - house hunting, finalizing our kid’s school admissions and of course, sightseeing. During those two weeks, I was experiencing foot discomfort like no other, but I blamed my shoes.

Right before we left for Rome in spring, I went to a shoe store that sold European shoes. I bought a few pairs of sandals, with a more substantial sole than I usually wore. The majority of my sandals are thin soled, which tend to get chewed up by the cobblestones commonly found throughout Europe. My theory: if I wore European sandals, surely my feet would be comfortable walking the streets of Europe.

Dumb theory.

By the time we reached home, my feet were badly in need of a massage and pedicure. I had acquired various blisters on my feet (thank goodness for New Skin!) and there were specific aches I could pinpoint to different pairs of sandals. The brown ones made the top of my feet ache, the blue ones…

Then I was immediately faced with the task of packing up a year’s worth of clothing and shoes. It took weeks to figure out which items were going to make the cut. I decided I would bring the shoes that I wore on a regular basis. If they worked at home, then they would work in Rome.

After being in Rome for a month, I was in trouble. My bones ached. From the soles of my feet to the tippy top of my head. My whole body was unhappy. Thankfully, no one else in our house was experiencing the same ache! I guessed the source was all of the hardscape walking we were having to do, just to live our lives. We had to walk everywhere – to the markets for food, the bus stops, library, church, dry cleaner, plus, our continual sightseeing adventures. Our apartment floors are covered in stone. I also thought my aching may be a result from the shoes I wore.

And it wasn’t like I was wearing shoes that would typically be labeled as uncomfortable. I was in flat sandals and Converse! I missed wearing my girlie high heel sandals and cutie-pie pointy-toed flats.

I decided to try to solve this issue. I went to a few sporting shoes shops and tried on shoes. I found a pair of Nike Air tennis shoes that were super cushy and comfortable; it felt like walking on fluffy pillows. My theory: cushy shoes = comfy bones.

Another dumb theory.

We went out of town that weekend, down into the countryside region of Campania, so I broke in my tennis shoes. I looked rather silly traipsing through Greek ruins in a skirt and running shoes, but I didn’t care. My feet and bones finally felt relief!

We returned to Rome and I kept my tennis shoes on. However, after just a couple of days, my bones began to ache again. Then I realized, there wasn’t a shoe made that was going to solve my ache. My bones were going to have to be broken in.

I’m happy to report, a few weeks later, my bones were finally broken in. I don’t know if it’s all of the natural Calcium in the water, or if my bones toughened up. It doesn’t really matter - it's time for some girlie high heels!

Another Recipe...?!

Yes, another recipe. But this is not just any old, run of the mill, any night of the week, eat without thinking kind of recipe. This recipe is Special. This is my family’s most favorite pasta recipe.

This recipe tastes soooo rich and heavenly – I suppose it must – or it wouldn’t be our favorite! However, I have to warn you, it’s not so very good for you. Seriously, it’s artery clogging. UNLESS you make it and eat it in moderation. Which in my house, means once a year.

I usually make this recipe in January, because it’s the first of the year, so I know it’s time for my family’s favorite pasta recipe. It’s very cold and frosty in the Northwest in January, so the warm heartiness of this recipe is always appreciated.

With our move, I, of course, packed this recipe. And since our kids have wanted the comfort of our home cooking, we actually made this last night. In November! So, we’ve now made it twice this year. Do I skip it in January 2010?

Last spring, I emailed this recipe to my friend Annie, who was living with her family on the other coast for the last two years. She made it for her family and she quickly wrote back, “Please send more!” I never did, because this recipe was the best I could do!

I have to give credit to the Alice Bay Cookbook, which is where I discovered this recipe 20 years ago. You can leave the first ingredient out for a vegetarian option. As usual, I’ve tweaked it a bit…

Pasta Carbonara

1/2 pound bacon –or- chopped guanciale (Salvatore makes and sells it at Salumi), cooked and crumbled

1 egg

1 cup grated Parmesan cheese

1 cup heavy cream

¼ cup unsalted butter, cut into pieces

2 cloves of garlic, pressed

2 tablespoons chopped parsley

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon fresh ground black pepper

1 pound pasta

In a large mixing bowl, mix the egg, Parmesan, cream, butter, garlic, parsley, salt and pepper together. Cook your pasta until al dente, drain and pour into the large mixing bowl of waiting sauce. Mix the two, sprinkle with guanciale and serve. Pure heaven!

p.s. As you can see from the amateur photo, the guanciale was used on my Brussels sprouts, so this time, I opted for the vegetarian version of the pasta.

Italian Language 101

For those that have begun a foreign language, as an adult, bravo! Learning a foreign language can be a challenge, which I have full, sincere appreciation for.

My first memory of the Italian language was from my girlfriend, Michelle. Michelle and I became friends in our 8^th grade English class, she sat in front of me. We bonded over literature - we were voracious readers.

In our teen years of listening to Depeche Mode, shopping at thrift stores, sneaking a rare clove cigarette, and attending the Seattle Film Festival - Michelle became a model. She was, and still is, beautiful, full of natural grace and very intelligent.

Growing up in the small town (i.e., Hicksville) community we lived in, her being a model was something worthy of ridicule by our mullet wearing, 4-wheeling, chew in the back pocket, classmates. They were just jealous, however, it didn’t make life in high school any easier for Michelle. Whenever she did a print ad, the kids would cut multiple copies of her lovely face out of the newspaper, draw all over it and post it all over school. She’d get yelled and ridiculed at from down the hallways and in the lunchroom. Many were suspicious of her and wouldn’t acknowledge her. Typical stupid teenager stuff.

Fast forward to 2009, because of the popularity of equally stupid reality television programs - America’s Next Top Model, etc., Michelle would be a GODDESS at our high school.

Back to 1984. We couldn’t wait for the next issue of Vogue to come out. The Town and Country fashion issues were also big favorites. We’d hang out at her house on the weekends, listening to Duran Duran and dream of, well, our wide-open futures. Mainly, boys. Then, Michelle went totally exotic and bought an Italian Vogue. The angels began to sing… I’ll never forget Michelle looking at me, and saying clear as a bell, “Wouldn’t it be great to speak Italian…?”

I’ve been stuck in Beginning Italian classes for YEARS. Yep, you read that correctly, for YEARS.

My first class was taken several years ago at a community college with a completely crazy Italian-American female teacher. Her personality was larger than life and she was super enthusiastic about bringing the culture of Italy into our class. However, she didn’t do a great job educating us on the language, which is why we were all there.

My next beginning class was taken with a similarly enthusiastic Italian-American male teacher through the Dante Alighieri society. Our teacher would singsong the alphabet, singsong the numbers and singsong his way through the most basic verb conjugations. He wouldn’t actually sing. He would just link it all together, musically. That part of our learning was great, but his way of charging ahead with the curriculum, left the majority of us in the dust. I, personally, never got past the avere and essere verb conjugations. Simple prepositions? Forget about it!

I then went to Siena for three weeks for instruction through the Dante Alighieri society. There were elements of it that were great! I learned as much in three weeks in Siena, than I learned in full quarters in the States. BUT, my teacher was a nightmare! She was from Napoli. She was very loud, smoked like a chimney and would humiliate us whenever she got a chance – and that was regularly. I often think of poor Giuseppe, an American who was picked on endlessly. I hope he’s not scarred. Our teacher refused to speak English (okay for some of us who had received previous schooling, not so great for others). After two weeks, I had to escape! Thankfully, a cooking school was conducted as well, and goodness knows, I love cooking. A quick switch was made and I was out of Mariangela’s clutches! Whew!

My husband (the permanent, fluent, advanced Italian student) signed me up for a conversational class once. I liked the instructor, but I’ve found, I learn best via reading and writing. Just speaking wasn’t gonna cut it. I secretly started ditching the class. My friends knew. I told my family. Then, I finally worked up the courage to tell him – it wasn’t going to work for me. I knew the best way for me to learn would be to find a class, in Italy, with a mutually respectful instructor.

Done! I’m now taking classes through ItaliaIdea and I cannot tell you how happy I am. My instructor is wonderful. She’s patient, funny, and respectful. My classmates are great too! Three are from Japan, two from India, one each from France, Germany, Ireland, Australia, and the Ukraine. I look forward to class and am learning a great deal. Bravo!

Olive Harvest

I have been looking forward to being a part of our family’s harvest of olives ever since we decided we were going to move to Rome for the year!!! I’ve never experienced an olive harvest and I just knew it would be something I would enjoy. Since I read all of the Little House on the Prairie books as a girl, I guessed I had an idea how the day would go.

Luckily for us, the olives ripened by the last weekend in October for our arrival. We spent a gorgeous fall weekend in the countryside of Ascoli Piceno, harvesting olives for one “branch” of our family (I couldn’t help the pun! It was too eeeasy…) There are two other branches of our family, who will begin harvesting their olives next.

The weekend weather couldn’t have been more perfect! It was beautifully sunny, but not hot. We wore our sunglasses with the sunshine warming our backs. The smell of autumn was in the air, which was a welcome surprise because that’s one thing we all miss about being home in the Northwest - the smell of fall. Living in the hardscape of Rome, we haven’t detected a smell of fall, nor have we seen any fall color in our trees – they are all still green and leafy!

The deciduous trees were in full color in Ascoli. Brilliant oranges and yellows dotted the hillsides. The tomatoes in the gardens have shriveled, the beans are done producing, the figs are a memory, but the garden lettuces and greens were lush and the kaki (persimmon) trees were overflowing with fruit to be harvested next month.

Each silvery, grey olive tree was full of olives. A large net was spread beneath each tree to catch the olives as they fell. Bamboo poles were staked on the hillsides to hold the netting up for the rolly-pollies. Once the netting was in place, our two kids would begin stripping the lower branches (yes, we bribed them with a euro amount per tree), a male adult would climb the tree to strip the mid branches and another male adult would operate “the teeth.”

This is where my vision of Little House on the Prairie ended. My daughter and I were the only women contributing to the harvest. We weren’t to do any of the “manly” duties and we weren’t really acknowledged in the grove by the men. It was almost like they were embarrassed by us.

Don’t get me wrong, the women of our family were working very hard cooking grand meals for us to consume at lunch and dinner (that would have been fun to do too!), not to mention the clean up of the dishes. However, the women didn’t take one step into the grove. I believe my daughter and I are now considered complete female oddities… What’s new? Life as an American woman in Italia goes on!

Giulio had the coolest tool to assist with the harvest. I have no idea what it is called, so I’m calling it “the teeth.” The teeth consists of a long wand with two small rakes on one end, that vibrate together when the trigger on the other end is grasped. When the teeth were placed amongst the branches, the teeth shook the olives off the branches, without mashing them. The teeth were attached to a long air hose, which in turn, was attached to an air compressor. Pretty darn nifty!

After the tree had been stripped, the adults lifted the netting and rolled the olives into a heap, then poured them into a large burlap sack. Over two days, we filled two large burlap sacks. Unfortunately, that is as far as the process could go for us city folk. Sunday afternoon, we had to depart for Rome, as our son had to finish preparing for a weeklong adventure with his school.

We were told the olives would be taken to a friend who has an olive press. He has a machine that will sort the olives from the leaves, wash them, then press the olives and bottle the oil for the family’s use. Hopefully, when we return in December, we’ll enjoy a taste of the oil and the most famous and delicious dish, Olive Ascolane. Oh, and maybe some cinghiale!

My husband and I agreed, it felt wonderful to be out in the countryside doing a bit of manual labor! We don’t have the opportunity in the city. And another appreciation we had - all of the people of Italy it must take to harvest the millions of olive trees in Italia (and Greece, and Spain, and Portugal, etc!) We know the commercial growers have special machinery, but so many people grow olives for their own personal consumption. What a unique experience to be a part of!