A Free Lunch

No such thing, huh?  Read on.

By now you may have discovered this blog was named in an attempt to not only play with a theme present in Northern Italian art and architecture, but also to convey my current plebeian status.  You see, I've got a knack for making things last, stretching a dollar and getting by with what I have.  Quite frankly, living in Italy without a job-- let's just say I have my work (or lack thereof) cut out for me.  As you've seen in previous posts, I've been able to find food fairly cheaply, but my how things add up around here!  Plus you've got the whole euro-dollar conversion factor.  I've started to feel rather uneasy about spending money without making any in the meantime.  In fact, this is the first time I've been without a job and/or internship since high school.

it's kinda like monopoly money.

In an effort to better understand just where my (read: dad's) money goes, I've started to keep a journal of everything I spend.  (Shout out to my Aunt Holly for buying me the cute handmade journals, one of which now serves a practical purpose).  A goal of mine, even before this trip, has been to gain better financial awareness.  Ever since I saw a friend of mine at a bar ask for a receipt and promptly write down her expenditure.  I thought, Wow, I should proooooobably be doing that.  For 2 weeks now I've kept the journal in my purse/backpack/grocery bag and calculated my remaining totals.  It's slightly painful to see how things add up, 1.5 euro for gelato, 3.50 euro at the cafe, 10 euro for the museum, 44 euro for the bus pass *cringe!* but it's helpful to see everything itemized.

(Ok, I just realized I'm writing a post about financial awareness.  Does this mean I'm growing up?  Nooooooo!  Must stay young forever.)

The only person in the world who could be getting by spending less in my shoes these days would have to be my brother :)  Nonetheless, you'll all be happy to know I'm not only very responsible when it comes to money (see: rejecting invitation to Milan for a shopping bonanza, selecting the biggest jar of Nutella because I get 75g free!) but I'm also clever.  Yesterday I had my first meeting with Dr. Bernardini, President of the University, resident of Lago Como, Renaissance historian, Italian language extraordinaire.  We'd scheduled a meeting last week to which he didn't show - I know, unacceptable, right?  Well he apologized profusely for the oversight in appointments and I quipped, "No worries, but now you owe me lunch and conversation!" to which he laughed, perhaps even guffawed.

victory tastes so good.

So yes, I guilted the President of the University into buying my lunch, but hey, a girl's gotta eat.  And risotto ain't cheap, you can ask my spending journal.  Anyway, we had a pleasant lunch, speaking of our professional interests and his several years spent in Austin back in the early 90s - (didn't mention I was barely teething back then.)  We spoke of his experience teaching at Boston University and his reasons for taking his current position at St. John.  He corrected my Italian when necessary and taught me a few new words, both of which I appreciated.  All in all it was very enjoyable, he encouraged my Italian, complimented my accent, and even laughed sincerely at my fumbled attempts to be witty (which, by the way, isn't easy in another language!)

I'm looking forward to more meetings with the President and (hopefully) more lunches.  Plus, I saw his car outside, he's got a Jaguar - no FIAT for this fellow.  I'm sure he can spare the euro where this little flat baroque lady cannot!

xoxoxo

University of Terror

I'm feeling fairly shaken this evening due to the events at UT today -- it's horrible to think there are still acts of terrorism like this and I'm relieved there were no victims.  The aggressor took his own life, and my thoughts go out to his family, I hate to think what must have been going through his mind.  It's frightening to think this happened so close to home, it gives me goosebumps even from across the Atlantic.  The library where the gunman entered was adjacent to the museum where I was working only 1.5 months ago.

It's always hard to believe when these things happen in our backyard, as we tend to think they happen elsewhere.  The fact is, we never know when our last day could be -- it's a true blessing no one was hurt by the gunman.  I still know several people in classes on the UT campus and I was happy to see via Facebook they were all safe at home or away from school.

I was explaining the situation to the roommates this afternoon when I returned from school and received the Urgent email from the university.  The Americans were shocked and sad that these things still happen in schools, and oddly the Europeans were incredulous.  Ricarda and Nathalie couldn't believe it when I told them it wasn't the first time The University of Texas has experienced terrorist acts -- the sniper who shot 14 people from the tower in 1966.  They hadn't heard of the events at Columbine or Littleton, Colorado.  I remember being in middle school and having to buy a clear backpack so the administration see if you had weapons.  I also remember bomb threats and teachers finding student hit lists.  Is this a purely American phenomenon?

I find it heartbreaking that people can be so troubled as to threaten or take the lives of others, even themselves.  God help us all.

Note from the University President:

I am grateful to our campus community for the way it responded to the emergency that took place at Perry-Castañeda Library this morning.  The University Police Department and the Austin Police Department responded quickly and professionally.  Law enforcement teams from multiple agencies worked together to ensure that the entire campus was safe.

I want to thank our faculty, staff, and students for their cooperation and vigilance.  Our emergency communications system reached thousands of members of the University community promptly and helped keep the campus informed.

I extend my sympathy to the family, friends, and classmates of the young student who took his life.  In the days ahead we will attempt to understand his actions and to learn from this tragedy.  We invite those who would like counseling services to contact the Counseling and Mental Health Center (for students) or the Employee Assistance Program (for staff and faculty).

I know that this has been a stressful experience for everyone on the campus.  I appreciate the cooperation we received from students, faculty, staff, and their families in responding to this difficult situation.

Sincerely,

Bill Powers
President

Citizen of the World

Today's the first day I've grabbed a long-sleeved shirt from my dresser.  Although my trusty weather app tells me it's not much over 18 C (64 F), for a Texas girl that translates into the impending onslaught of winter.  I made a pot of tea earlier to keep my fingers from locking up as I thumbed through pages of Accounting (gag.)  Whilst enjoying said tasty beverage, Ricarda's (German roommate's) parents stopped by the apartment as part of their weekend tour of the city.  A recent internet query rendered me able to ask her mother, Mochtest du einen Tee? (Would you like some tea?) to which she appeared delighted -- even thrilled I tried to communicate with her.

Me, Ricarda and Natalie after flying across the Po.

I've been ruminating on the international experience here, and what it means to be a well-rounded individual.  The information I'm absorbing in all my courses tends to generally overlap, which I suppose is what happens when you become specialized in a field.  In Organizational Behavior we've been discussing personality types and what characteristics define a person's identity.  In Project Management we're talking about what makes someone a good, well-rounded manager and team leader.  I like to think I have leadership skills as well as adaptability and determination, and being less sensitive I can learn.

My colleague believes you cannot learn to be a better leader, you're born a leader.  Blegh.  You see, I'm following the Project Management course with one other student, a German guy who, quite frankly, I find insufferably arrogant and rather elitist.  He claims to be a "world traveler," made pictorially obvious by his tattoo of the world that purposefully doesn't include North America.  Yeah.  Tool.  But, as I learned well from my grandmother, you can find something good in every situation, and sometimes you have to look harder than others.  I admit, he has more knowledge of business practices than I do, so I've decided I will take this opportunity to learn from him (and simultaneously devise a plan for working peaceably with future [over]confident colleagues.)

In front of i murazzi (giant walls) near Po River.

It is this idea of the citizen of the world that interests me.  It seems that these days, individual enlightenment, or the "well-rounded" personality characteristic, is attributed to and often measured by experiences with other cultures, places and ideas.  I admit I place a lot of personal value on learning first-hand, the multi-sensory experience.  For me, the international aspect of this adventure is one of incalculable importance.  My degree focuses on the theories and managerial practices associated with cultural consumption, and what better way to grasp these concepts than to truly engage my environment?

Today I was able to communicate with a woman in German and make her feel welcome in our home because a few days earlier I'd made an effort to better understand our German housemate.  I am actively trying to learn more than what's listed in my curriculum, as I believe a well-rounded person isn't just someone with book smarts-- and I think my management teachers would agree with that.

Carving Out My Future

Yes, I went there with that pun.

Today was my second cooking class at school.  I signed up for an extra-cirricular activity, and what - you thought I'd choose volleyball or guitar lessons? - nope, I went with food.  Last week we made gnocchi (delicious Italian potato dumplings) which was rather enjoyable.  This week we learned the art of vegetable carving.  Intaglio, as we call it here in Italy.  While delicately sculpting a radish this afternoon I was reminded of my mother's exceptional abilities in this particular medium.  She used to make all kinds of squash animals and much more adept versions of what I created today:

This week was still rough around the edges, I think I needed to communicate with home more than usual, but I anticipate everything smoothing out.  Yesterday was one month since my arrival in Torino, and I have to say it feels as though I've been here much longer.  I've gotten into a routine, I know my way around, and my life is organizing itself accordingly.  My evening habits have changed somewhat dramatically and - allow me to pull this directly from my journal entry last night - "I can't believe I'm getting in bed before 11pm, am I old already?  (Note: find out when this happened.)" 

I am becoming more and more busy as the weeks progress, and it appears as though midterms are in a few short weeks.  You'll all be happy to know I'm in the process of kicking Accounting's butt.  I've taken it upon myself to enlist the help of my friends Nutella and Butter Cookies as study partners in addition to studying an hour every night, specifically the material that will be discussed the next day.  I don't think I've ever been playing homework defense like this.  Mom will be so proud.  When I find myself stressing about the amount I need to read and study, I remind myself that the roommates from Germany and France are studying hard just to understand the basic information.  (Sidenote: The more I'm here the more I am thankful English is my first language - we really are blessed to have the world's language as our mother tongue.)

The Student Services Coordinator has asked me to apply for a job teaching English for one hour a week to Italian adults in Torino.  I obliged and sent him an updated CV (that's fancy-European-speak for resume, everybody) in the hopes of being chosen.  I think it could be a great opportunity to interact with Italians, create interesting dialogue and further my understanding of the international way of life.  I'll let you know if it pans out.

In the meantime, lots of love from your veggie-sculpting virtuosa.

Selfish and Selfless

My Grandma always used to tell me I'm easy to love.  Today I wondered how true that is.

The choice to come to Italy for graduate school was my own.  I did all the necessary research, gathered and submitted all the paperwork, appealed to my financial committee (read: Dad), and prepared myself for the inevitable as best I could.  Now that I'm here, I realize there wasn't much I could have done to anticipate what my experience would be like.  And I'm not sure if I fully considered the impact this decision would have on those closest to me.

As school moves forward, I'm dusting off my study skills and attempting to enter a zone of total academic concentration.  I have reevaluated how I should allocate my time and energy in order to achieve the best results.  This is obviously a complete shift from the way I've been living my life the last 2 years.  And this has put a strain on me emotionally.  For the past few weeks my relationship has found me in a two-planed existence with one foot back in Austin and one here in Turin.  This week I've made the difficult decision to shift both feet to Torino at the expense of another.

At the start of this adventure, I had unwavering faith in my ability to maintain my commitment.  What happened to my strength and dedication?  It appears that those efforts and abilities are being focused in other ways, to school, to my new life, to the development of my career.  I must say in this instance I don't find myself easy to love, as I seem to have chosen myself over a good relationship.  When is putting oneself first a self-sustaining act and when is it a selfish deed?

This has been a difficult realization, and I can now only think of the wonderful memories and everything positive I've learned in the last year.  My next step is to consider the ways in which I can better myself and further my understanding of my personal needs in this new environment.  I hope I can continue to prove myself easy to love and, by the grace of God, easy to forgive.

Asti: Douja d'Or

There is an annual festival in Asti called the Douja d'Or.  It's a food and wine festival that includes hundreds of booths full of wine and classic Piedmont dishes.  We took a picturesque bus ride from Torino and in 45 minutes we arrived in Asti.  Now, we all know Asti as a producer of sparkling wine, or spumante, right?  I remember my grandma serving around the holidays, especially with Christmas dinner, as it was a favorite of hers.  Though I didn't see any spumante at the festival, I did partake in the vino da tavola.

There must have been thousands of people at this festival, because the lines at each booth were half an hour long at least.  We scoped out a few places we wanted to try based on the food map, and devised a strategy.  Appetizer.  Main course.  Main course #2.  Dessert.  Post-Dessert Snacketizer.  We were there for 7 hours, so don't worry.  Photo of me indicating points of interest, i.e. fried pasta:  

   

We tried bruschetta bianca (bread with rosemary-infused olive oil), agnolotti (meat-stuffed ravioli typical of the Piedmont region), polenta cinghiale (wild boar polenta), pesche ripiene (chocolate/hazelnut stuffed peaches), fritelle (fried pasta dough, not as good as doughnuts), crema dolce (cream-filled pastry that wasn't exactly sweet), and we finished with bruschetta rossa (bread with tomato sauce).  Whew!

And can we all just take a moment to truly appreciate the ingenuity of the Italians?  Here you have olive oil.  But it's not your average olive oil, it's infused with rosemary via this stirring/brushing utensil.  So delicious.  I'm still in awe of the brilliant simplicity of Italian food.

The vendors of these delectable meals were serving everything from mushroom risotto and roast beef tagliatelle to lardo-smeared bread and fried frogs legs.  It was definitely a fun evening, we tried some tasty local fare as well as some not-so-tasty desserts.  In fact, toward the end of the night when I went to pour out the "sweet cream" (totally gross non-sweet cream) from my pastry in the trash, I consequently started a conversation (in italiano!) with some native Piemontesi around my age.  They asked me what I was doing and I, slightly embarrassed, replied that I thought the dessert wasn't good.  They laughed and said Piedmont desserts are deceiving, all the ones that look like shit taste good, but all the ones that look good taste like shit!  We laughed and talked for a while about school and the United States and all the cool festivals in the area.  After this interaction, I am further convinced I speak better Italian after a glass or two of vino.

Unfortunately the night didn't have a pleasant ending, as one of the girls from our group stepped on a broken bottle and had to be taken to the doctor.  Consequently we couldn't get on the bus until 1:45AM and we arrived in Torino around 2:30AM.  At that hour there were no buses and we had to walk to find a taxi.  Needless to say I slept in today more than I have in ages!  

Always an adventure here in Piedmont.

Eataly

Yes, this is another post about food.  Excited yet?

On Friday I ventured with a few of the roommates to Eataly, the first Slow Food grocery store in the world!  There are several locations here in Italy as well as a few in Japan, and the first one in the states just opened at the end of August in NYC.  The Slow Food Movement began in Italy in the 1980s with a few key members who wanted to create an organization supporting locally-produced food, traditional cooking practices, and eating as communion.  The Slow Food philosophy and Eataly stores have spread far and wide, especially here in Italy.  As a country that defines itself by family and food, it's no wonder the movement has garnered such support.

Now, I admit I've been known to say Italy's approximately 15 years behind us in some ways (see: Scrunchies, Midriff-Bearing Tops, and Playing Hanson in the Bars) but in this case, I'd have to say they're 15 years ahead of us.  The only truly healthy/organic grocery stores in the states are so high-priced it's not economically plausible to complete all your shopping there.  Also, farmer's markets are once a week, if that, and still the prices are generally high.  Here in Italy there's a farmer's market every single day, it's a completely integrated custom and the prices are incredibly affordable.

And now we get to Eataly.  It's about a 5 minute bus ride from my apartment, and it's like Whole Foods on crack.  Italian, organic, locally-produced crack.  The shopping carts are made from recycled plastic bottles, there are interactive areas that teach shoppers about seasonal fruits and veggies, and the bathroom is strategically placed next to the beer/wine tasting areas.  Genius, I say!

All the sauces and preserves were packaged as though someone's grandma had carefully placed them in jars and sealed them with love.  (Thanks for the analogy, Sara!)  I have to say it was a rather enjoyable outing.  The roommates picked up all the fresh ingredients for lasagna and I have to say it was rather delicious.  There's something about truly fresh ingredients that makes food taste oh-so-much better.

I'd like to think we're living the Slow Food lifestyle here in Torino.  Like I told you all before, we're all cooking together and eating all the local fare we can get our hands on.  I'd like to close with a reflection on a quote from a wall inside Eataly:

"Life's too short to eat or drink poorly"

Indeed no truer words have ever been spoken.  Thank you, Eataly, for a gastronomically edifying experience.

Bon Appetito

At the request of one of my dedicated readers, of which I have many, I've decided to include a post about food.  After all, what's the purpose of this Italian-themed blog without mention of all the pizza, gelato, and home-made dinners I'm eating?  i.e. this amazing Caprese salad:

I should start by saying I'm fortunate in that I live a few blocks from the biggest open market in the surrounding neighborhood.  I walk through it each day on the way to the bus stop.  The market is open daily from 8am - 1pm and you can find almost anything you'd need.  There are housewares, sundries, clothes, shoes and small appliances in addition to cheese vendors, meat stalls, fruit stands, and all kinds of vegetables and flowers.

And did I mention everything is ridiculously cheap?  The supermarkets here are roughly the same price as what you'd pay back in the states, but the market is pure economic bliss.  I've made it a habit to stop by the fruit stands each day before heading to school on the bus (I've already scoped out the best priced vendors) and you'd never believe what you can get for less than a euro.  I bought a nectarine the other morning for 3 euro cents.  I don't even think anything exists in the USA for as little as 3 cents.  Today I asked for a Pink Lady apple and an orange -- the guy threw in 3 small pears and 2 tiny peaches -- all for 50 euro cents.  Isn't that incredible?

My roommates and I decided in week 1 we should each cook one night a week in order to feed everyone.  I can't say I was certain it would last, but here we are in week 3 still enjoying the art of cooking and eating.  We've had some interesting nights, as we can't find all the ingredients we would normally need, and there seem to be some fundamental cultural differences re: food.  The other night we had "chili and cornbread" made by a roommate from New York.  Being from Texas, I tried to remain unbiased, but let me tell you, it was basically bean stew with bits of turkey and a side of cornmeal.  Even so, I admit it was nice to have a southern-inspired dish to share.

The french roommate swears by creme fraiche and honestly thinks it needs to go in everything.  I made carbonara the other night and she added at least 2 cups of the stuff in with my eggs.  Me: Umm, are you sure?  Her: Oui oui.  Still turned out alright:

The french roommate also made "cannelloni" the other night.  I use quotations here because I don't know that the Italian Pasta Commission would allow us to use the name in reference to this dish.  She told us they were full of sausage.  Oooh, yum, right?  Uh, wrong.  I sliced into my cannellono, ever so excited to taste it, only to find... hot dogs.  Legit ballpark franks, guys.  I glanced to the other Americans and saw their reactions were similar to mine.  She was ever-so-excited about the "sausage cannelloni," however, and thus I ate close to what I consider my year's allotment of hot dogs.

Despite the lack of ingredients and details lost in translation, I've really enjoyed every meal I've had here.  What I enjoy most is gathering at our dinner table, opening a bottle of 5 euro grocery store wine and eating together like a little family.  We end up sitting around long after we've finished our meal, just talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company.  This sense of unity and communion is essential to the Italian way of life - eating, drinking and relaxing - and I honestly can't get enough of it.  

I'd like to close with an image of something that continues to bring me great joy here in Torino:

Of course, if any of you notice me becoming fat-faced in pictures, you realize it IS your obligation to have a gelato intervention.

I've gotta run, as it's my turn to cook tonight.  I'm thinking: meat/cheese-stuffed zucchini and pasta with garlic and olive oil.

Bon Appetito!

Avigliana - San Michele

On Saturday we took our first side-trip of the semester.  As it turns out, the roommates and I were the only ones who signed up, so it was a kind of bonding experience.  We left in the late afternoon for Avigliana, a small town upon a hill that traces its roots back to the middle ages!

In the background you can see the Alps - so beautiful!  The streets were extremely steep and made of cobblestones, I was surprised to see several people on bikes - are you kidding me?  I could hardly walk up the hills.  There were old medieval structures, churches and houses in addition to old watch towers - apparently this was a prime spot for viewing possible invaders over the mountains.  We also visited Avigliana lake, an incredibly serene, picturesque area frequented by many Torinese looking to get away for the weekend.

We then went for dinner at Piedmont's most famous pizzeria, Toto e Macario, where we ate truly delicious pizza in the Napoletana style.

And yes, I did finish it.  Ok fine, all but a little crust.  I couldn't risk getting too full on crust!  They call this pizza "capricciosa" or capricious.  Maybe you can see why, as the toppings are: olives, mozzarella, ham, salumi, artichokes and mushrooms.  Oh my.

Next we drove about 30 minutes up a winding road to the top of a hill (mind you it's about 11PM) to see a famous medieval church.  We finally arrive and find our way in the dark to this magnificent, foreboding structure that almost looked like Hogwarts from Harry Potter.

The Sacra di San Michele is built quite literally from the rocks upon the hill.  We walked so far to get here, it was almost like a pilgrimage.  I couldn't imagine how they arrived here in the days before automobiles.  We made it just in time for the last tour of the evening and wow, what an experience.  We could see out across the land for miles and miles (or should I say kilometers and kilometers?)  Either way, it was unbelievable and undoubtedly worth the trip.

This is the view from the Sacra.  The exposure here almost looks like everything's on fire.  I wish I could somehow convey the beauty of this place to you.  I felt so on top of the world there, like an explorer of distant places and as though I were truly seizing the day.  

Note: the writing in this post may appear terse, as I have to run to class.

I miss everyone and hope you're all doing well!  Lots of love!

Leap of Faith

I'd like to thank everyone for the words of encouragement and support.  It is such a wonderful thing to be so loved and supported by friends and family.  I felt much better after receiving all of your positive comments and I think that with a little dedication I will be able to overcome these obstacles.

On Friday a few of the roommates and I ventured to the city center where we'd previously been on the tour.  We remembered seeing a sign for "un voletto" (a little flight) across the Po River via zipline.  Only 3 of us had the gumption to go out there and do it, and given my love of roller coasters and skydiving, I jumped at the chance.

My French roommate, Natalie, and my German roommate, Ricarda, were excited all week about going to "fly" across the river but once we got there, they started shaking!  Next thing I know, I've been volunteered to go first.  Then when the workers realized I understood Italian they proceeded to give me all the safety instructions in their native tongue.  Hmm, ok.  No time to be nervous, only time to concentrate on verbs and conjugations.  A few moments later I understand the guy is telling me to launch myself off the side of the river, and off I go flying across the Po.

The flight across only lasted a few seconds, but it was a wonderful feeling of weightlessness and serenity as I watched the river pass beneath my feet.  Only moments later I made it to the other side, realizing that my slight anxiety hadn't been worth the trouble.  Sometimes it just takes faith to believe you can succeed in doing something, whether its jumping off the side of a bridge or studying for a seemingly impossible subject.

Hope that wasn't too cheesy of a metaphor for everyone :)

xoxoxo

Hope for the Hopeless

I'm going to get real for a second, so please disregard if you're not into hearing a pathetic anecdote:

I've been thinking all day about posting something related to emotions.  This thing is sort of an online journal, right?  Well, I have been adjusting here quite well, I'm really enjoying myself and so far I can count on 2 fingers the number of times I've felt melancholy since my arrival.  One of them was the first night in the new apartment when I couldn't get to sleep until 3:30 AM and unfortunately, the other was today.

Ok, we all know I can be a bit...emotional at times.  I admit, I cried during an iPhone commercial recently.  (It really tugged at my heartstrings!)  I like to think of my "emotional" quality as an ability to empathize, though sometimes it plagues me.  Perhaps I could chock it up to my astrological sign, Pisces, which is classically characterized as oversensitive and extremely compassionate.  But I'm not really into all that.

Today was my second day of Accounting lessons.  *insert dramatically painful sigh*  Though it may sound silly to be affected by cost-volume-profit relationships, I can honestly say I haven't felt this hopeless in ages.  My professor, a native Italian, was lecturing what he thought to be the basics of Managerial Accounting by presenting detailed flow charts and balance sheets.  He may as well have been speaking German because I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.  At all.

Excerpts from my notes: "what the *$@# is he talking about?" "this suuuuuuucks."

I went into the confinement of the bathroom after class and yes, I cried a little bit.  I thought, why are you such a baby? this is just an accounting class and you need to study!  But as I sat there I thought about what it means for me to cry and let emotions spill out.  It's cathartic, a sort of therapeutic exorcism of negativity and stress.  I thought about the fact that I felt I had to hide from everyone that I was overwhelmed and upset.

Then I remembered my walk to the bus from school the day before when I'd passed by a funeral procession that took up the entire main street.  There were about 50 people in front of the town's church watching the casket being placed into the hearse.   Everyone was openly crying, even sobbing - just letting themselves release what they felt.  There were passersby asking "who is it?" and then staying to give the family hugs and share in their grief.  I felt such solidarity just walking among them.

Maybe that's what this blog can do for me.  I feel that if I'm going to write here and essentially live out loud, I may as well be honest and acknowledge that sometimes I feel a little down.  Maybe by admitting I have feelings of hopelessness through this post, I can let that feeling go and have the reassurance of my friends and family to give me confidence.

Ugh, hard to believe Accounting made me feel the need to write all of that, I hope it made sense and I hope you can all continue to send me good thoughts and positive feelings.  I'm going to need it!