mmmm

heat+summer+nostalgia = constant craving for this:

I was thinking back fondly to my students earlier today, and remembered two of my favorite dialogues:

Scene 1: Trinity prep class, Level I. Topic of discussion: vacations. Grammar to be employed: "the most: vs. "the least".

Me: So Matteo, which part of your vacation did you not like?
Matteo: I liked Pompeii the least.
Me: Why is that?
Matteo: Everything was ruined.

Scene 2: Class 4Ai, a class of rowdy, yet very sharp individuals. Topic of discussion: first day of an on-going lesson on the health care system in the United States (a topic they are very interested in, believe it or not).

Me: ... so, a simple visit to the doctor can cost up to $500. A hospital visit can cost even more!
Student: Si, ma da voi ce l'avete il Dottore House, e allooooraa... (Yea but in America you have Doctor House, sooo...)
Applause and cheers of encouragement from classmates. I just shake my head and try hard not to laugh.

caccia apartamento/lavoro/vita

Since returning states-side, I have begun the treacherous job hunt and the not-so treacherous (but stressante all the same) apartment hunt. I know it's not the most fiscally responsible decision to try and move out before I have a job, but in my head, this will be the cosmic force the propels my life forward. So, Nina and I are spending the summer looking for apartments in Brooklyn (while I continue to look for work).

During this endless period of cover letter writing and resume sending, I've noticed that people keep asking me "What do you really want to do?" The truth is, I don't really know. I know that I want a job that utilizes the degree I earned. I know I don't want to be underemployed. And I know I would love a job that keeps my lingual capabilities active, be it through the work environment or through the work itself. But I don't really have a dream job. When I dream, I dream of being able to travel freely between New York and Italy. I dream of visiting friends around the world. I dream of adventures and then the comfort of returning home. I dream of discovering new wonders and re-discovering old comforts.

And really, I dream of sharing my love of these things with other people. I guess I just haven't found the vehicle to do so.

light

People always comment on the light in Italy, and rightfully so. Each city is illuminated by a different array of colors; in Rome, it seems like everything glimmers with hints of gold. In Florence, the terracotta hues of the roofs and the rich earth reflect in the cobblestone streets. In Milan ... well, everything was kind of grey, but when the sun did break through, it was low, because of how far north it is, and it gives this old-time, cinematic ambience to the entire city.

NYC has it's own light, too:


Sunset over Astoria park - the camera on my cell phone did not do it justice.


I saw this from my TV room and was just in time to grab a shot with my cell, but not with my real camera. I love this picture. Angelo really does look angelico.

this italian life (in america) #1

An abundance of Louis Vuitton bags on-the-go!

holidays that aren't mine

As I explained to my students on many occasions, America is a land of many cultures. Everyone, at some point or another, came from someplace else. So cultural holidays from other countries assimilate into American culture. Like Cinco de Mayo, for example. When I was in elementary school we learned Mexican songs, but now we just eat Mexican food. Which is exactly what I did this past Wednesday.

Apparently I brought back the good weather - since I arrived in Brooklyn it has been hot and sunny. Like, 85 degrees. Like summer.

Some people might not think that NYC is a great place to be in the summer, but it is. There are tons of outdoor concerts, open beer gardens, and the closest the newyorkesi get to a passeggiata is heading to the closest Tasti D Lite or Pinkberry, a poor substitute for il gelato italiano, albeit delicious in its own way. Some of my best memories are of meandering the streets during hot, Brooklyn nights, sharing bottles of wine in the park with my friends or searching for the perfect rooftop with hopes of finding a cool breeze.

Coincidentally, the single thing that best represents Brooklyn in the summer for me is another frozen delight - the Italian Ice. Pronounced "ice-y", they are ubiquitous in nearly every Brooklyn pizzeria and are available in chocolate, cherry, lemon, rainbow, and vanilla chip. It being so summery today, I couldn't resist the temptation do indulge.
But why is it an Italian Ice? I guess it kind of resembles a granita, but only because it's made of ice. This is just an example of how real Italian dishes have evolved so that Italian American cuisine is really a culinary genre unto itself.
So I know, Italian Ices are no where near any kind of Italian dessert - and what kind of a flavor is rainbow, anyway? - but as a Brooklynite, how could I say no?

sunset

Okay, so New York doesn't have thousand-year-old churches, or monuments, or piazzas dating back to the 17th century. But where else can you walk down a normal street and see a sunset like this?