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Coffee - revisited

In past blog posts, I have extensively examined Italian coffee and coffee culture. It wasn’t until recently that I have explored a new approach: Coffee at home.

The average Italian doesn’t throw some instant coffee into a mug of hot water, or drip an entire pot of coffee-flavored water. Coffee made in the house has its own technique.

This little coffee pot is the normal size for four people. Inside, the coffee grinds are put in a small “basket” above water. As the water boils, the coffee bubbles up through a tube into the upper chamber. It comes out a little lighter than an espresso – but stronger than any American coffee.

The most important rule: NEVER WASH THE COFFEE POT! Italians will freak out if soap touches this little contraption. They believe that the coffee gets better and better with the use of the pot. Only rinsing allowed.

Posted by Kelsea at 6:41 AM | Comments (3)

Pillow fight: Reporting from the front lines

You would think it was a normal Sunday in Rome - the day when the Italians eat big meals with their families, go for walks in the park with their dogs and relax before the week starts up again. At least I was prepared for a day like that, until I saw this sign.

...A mass pillow fight in Rome! Of course, I had to go. I hopped on a bus and headed towards Trastevere, the quaint and cobblestoned area of the city. Crowds of people were standing around holding pillows, waiting for the clock on the nearby church to strike 6:00 p.m. When it did:

This reporter was trying to hold an interview among the feathers.

The fight continued for a half an hour total. Everyone remained in good spirits and there were no major injuries.

Joan Gill, student at the American University of Rome, was right in the middle the whole time. "It was really exciting because there were all sorts of people...beating the **** out of each other," she says jokingly. "The girls were really nice to each other while the guys would whack as hard as they could. Everyone was having a really great time - it was a great atmosphere!"

Posted by Kelsea at 2:47 PM | Comments (0)

Easter Weekend

Italy has just observed a four-day weekend, from Venerdì Santo (Good Friday) to Pasquetta (Easter Monday). I had planned on using the days off of school to catch up on some studying – but keeping your eyes on the books is difficult when surrounded by giant, chocolate Easter eggs!

Sunday morning: I had spent the night at my boyfriend’s parents’ house. I came down the stairs for breakfast and was confronted with a table overflowing with decoratively-wrapped eggs and homemade tortes. Easter is the only time of the year when Italians eat hard-boiled eggs for breakfast (eggs are traditionally a lunch or dinner item). The chocolate eggs are exchanged among family and the children are anxious to break open their eggs and see what little surprises are hiding inside…

The gifts are generally things like plastic toys, necklaces or keychains – but the quality depends on how much you paid for the egg. Some people hand-pick their gifts and take them to a chocolate store for a custom-made egg. Either way, the Italians enjoy finding out what’s inside – I personally found the chocolate more interesting!

On Pasquetta, the Italians take the day to rest (to recover from the huge amount of food and family of the previous day). The city dwellers like to spend the day in the countryside. Traffic, however, can be discouraging. Rome’s parks fill up with picnicers and everyone gets to enjoy the day off and the spring weather.

Posted by Kelsea at 5:08 AM | Comments (0)

Prodi Elected Prime Minister

Challenger Romano Prodi, fittingly on the left, and Conservative Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi. Official results give Prodi a narrow win. Berlusconi refuses to concede, citing "many irregularities." AP Story.

After two days of voting, it has been officially announced that Romano Prodi of the center-left coalition has been elected as Italy's Prime Minister. Link to article on cnn.com Although he has defeated the center-right rival, Silvio Berlusconi, in the parliamentary elections, Berlusconi won control of the Senate by one seat - and won't let anyone forget that. Update: Official results now give Prodi 158 Senate seats, 156 for Berlusconi. Prodi had already taken the lower house.

With results like this, the power is split between the two parties. In the past weeks I have witnessed many arguments between Prodi and Berlusconi supporters. Now, however, no one can really claim total victory or total defeat. It's a stalemate among the people, and potentially within the government.

Sidenote: I went to the polls with my boyfriend on Sunday when he went to vote. I was looking at a poster of the 20-or-so different parties in Italy with the politicians' names. There is one party called "Forza Roma" (Go Roma) and the politicians are nicknamed after the players of Rome's soccer team...

Posted by Kelsea at 12:00 AM | Comments (1)

A little help from some strangers

We all thought that the New York City public transportation strikes were bad - but in Italy, strikes are just a normal thing. I can't even count the number of times I have stood, waiting at a bus stop for 20 minutes before someone would pass and casually mention that there were no busses running on that line that day. Those of us waiting would exchange looks, and a heated conversation would start about what a hassle these strikes are. The conversation would usually last longer than it would take to walk to the desired destination. That's the thing with Italians, they can always get a good conversation out of a bad situation.

Sure enough, last Wednesday I found myself waiting for one of the trains that run from Rome's center to the far outskirts of the city. I had been teaching English lessons all morning and was on my way back to school. After about 15 minutes and no sign of the train, a young woman in heeled shoes, clicking and echoing in the empty station, walked up to me.

"How long have you been waiting?" she asked me in Italian.

"About 15 minutes. None have passed," I responded.

She waved a newspaper in my face. "No trains, there's a strike. Are you a foreigner?"

"Yes."

"Where do you need to go?"

"Trastevere. Do you know of a bus that I can take?"

"Come with me." With that she put her hand on my back and pushed me along with her out of the station. As we approached the street, she began to yell in thick dialect. "A-oh, Francesco! What bus goes to Trastevere?" It wasn't until after that I realized she was shouting across the street to an old shoemaker, sitting outside and getting some sun.

"Take the 990 to the center. Ask the bus driver what to do from there," the old man yelled back, puffing on his cigar. The woman escorted me to a bus stop. She mused over the newspaper for a moment, informing me that not all public transportation was on strike, just the trains.

A bus pulled up to the curb and we got on. The woman marched right up to the front and confronted the bus-driver about where I should transfer to get to Trastevere.

"Stay on until St. Peter's - then take the 23 to the 8 tram," he informed me, paying more attention to act out his directions with his hands than drive the bus.

"No, no," an older woman interjected from the front seat. "Go to Piazza Cavour then take the ...oh, what is it?" She turned around in her seat and shouted to the back of the bus: "A-oh, Renato! What's that bus that goes from Cavour to Argentina?"

"The 40," a voice called back.

"Yes, the 40," the first woman confirmed.

"Not the 40!" another woman shrieked. "Take the 30."

"No, she should go ahead and take the 23," yet another man said, waving his cane.

"Yes, the 23," the bus-driver agreed.

"But the 40 is much easier - and goes right to the tramline," the first woman argued.

"What are you saying?! It's the 30!" the second woman snapped.

"I don't know of any 30," the first woman said haughtily.

"Never mind the 30 or 40." The man with the cane winked at me, "Listen to the driver, not these birds. Take the 23."

"Why didn't she take the train?" someone else asked.

"There's a strike," the young woman explained.

"Oh, what for?" the voice in back called. "Just to give us a hard time?"

"Last week I waited 45 minutes before I heard there was a strike," the second woman informed all of us.

"What line?" the first woman inquired.

"The 40," she replied.

"Do you mean the 30?" Just then, the bus screeched to a halt and the doors opened.

My original guide pushed me out. "Wait here for the 23. I'm headed in the other direction." The doors closed before I had the chance to thank her. I stumbled up on the sidewalk, out of the sea of Roman traffic and waved my bus-full of friends goodbye.

Posted by Kelsea at 6:44 AM | Comments (3)

A Move to Monteverde

I had been living in Rome's historic center for nearly two years. It was nice to be within walking distance of all the major sites and surrounded by markets and cobblestones. After two years, however, the quaintness and cuteness wears on you, and practicality becomes more and more desirable.
This past weekend, I packed my things and moved to Monteverde.

Technically a neighborhood of Rome, Monteverde sits on the hill above Trastevere. It's easily accessible to and from the center by way of the tram - but is equipped with everything you need to survive. Butcher shops, florists, coffee bars, clothing stores, restaurants and supermarkets can almost always be found within a short walk from the residences. The outdoor market in Piazza San Giovanni di Dio offers everything from shoes to salami. At night, the streets are quiet aside from the occasional passing car.

Living in Monteverde, I really feel like I'm doing as the Romans do. As the weather warms, the historic center bustles more and more with tourists while in my new neighborhood, foreigners are few and far between.

Posted by Kelsea at 5:14 AM | Comments (2)