The Joy of Cooking

If only I had started this experience by video documenting every meal I am served here, I could have made an unforgettable mini series and posted it on a food blog somewhere.  I suppose I would've entitled it Cooking with Auntie Phyllis, Pass Me the Butter or What Would Irma Rombauer Do?  But alas, the photographs will just have to suffice.  Keep in mind that upon moving to New York I had no expectations regarding my living arrangement - all I knew was that my professor's mom was willing to host me, she lived on the Upper West Side (UWS, we learned that, remember?) and she was currently researching a 19th century Norwegian explorer for a book contribution.  I didn't know what she looked like, how old she was, what might be required of me, what the apartment was like, but I walked into it with a blind faith and found that any expectation I could've had was promptly exceeded.

stuffed peppers, spanish rice and chicken soup

The first night I arrived in New York, Phyllis told me she loved to cook and she'd be happy to prepare dinner (supper, as she calls it) for the both of us every night unless she had other plans.  When she said this she may as well have been accompanied by a 12-person choir joyfully singing Hallelujah because I swear I was convinced she was sent straight from heaven.

baked fennel with mozzarella cheese (omg. yes please.)

Now I'm not going to say I've been deprived for the last year and a half, for goodness' sake I've been in Italy, but it's not like I was gorging on lasagna and ravioli every night.  In fact, you'd be surprised what my roommates in Italy and I have haphazardly thrown together and tentatively called a meal.  Groceries are expensive, produce can be cheap but you need a certain amount of motivation and inspiration to succeed in cooking.  I can say what I've missed most (other than family and friends) while abroad has been the food.  There's nothing like coming home for the holidays and appeasing your gluttonous side with comfort food.  But as a student, you're constantly aware that this too will come to an end.  That responsibility and adulthood await, in a land where no one does your laundry but you.  A sad, barren land where the iced tea pitcher doesn't magically replenish itself.

fish soup with potato and corn

That is, until I met Phyllis.  (Ok, she doesn't do my laundry - I am able to manage that.)  Living with Phyllis is like living with your Grandma, which I was never able to do, but I imagine it would've been just as fun.  The apartment is lived-in, like Granny's is, everything has its place, and it's had that place for over 30 years most likely.  Every night a new dish is served, often something I've never had and always something I discover I enjoy.  Some nights we host guests, small gatherings around the dining room table where Phyllis catches up with old friends.  So far I've met Carolyn, former director of the American Institute of Graphic Arts; Karen, a toy designer from Vermont; Bill, a retired artist and filmmaker; and Fred, a biographer and historian of 20th century France.  You can just imagine the kinds of conversations we've had over winter root veggie soups, roasted lamb shanks and manhattan brownstone chocolate cake.

gorgonzola tortellini and tiny asparagus

I. Love. This. Lady.  And I'm not just saying that because she cooks for me (though that does put many a point in her favor).  It's because she's a gracious, gentle, caring, clever individual - basically she reminds me of my Grandma.  She's endlessly fascinating; we've spent a lot of time chatting at the dinner table, long after the bowls are clean.  I get the scoop on New York in the '50s, what it was like to travel abroad in the early '60s, and sometimes what she remembers of her father before he died in WWII.  She's constantly reading several books at a time, working on writing projects, volunteering at the Natural History Museum, visiting friends who are poor in health, and somehow she finds time to make dinner for me almost every evening.

baked apples with raisins, blueberries and spiced wine

And you know what, she really likes me.  And why wouldn't she, I'm great company!  She's interested in my life, my interests and my thesis research.  She's put me in touch with a few of her friends around town and I've met them to talk about the art world in New York.  She's taken me out several times to places she thinks I'll enjoy - a Mexican restaurant, a little Italian place (where we saw Kevin Bacon!), and last week we went on a movie date.  We went to see A Separation - it just won Best Foreign Film and I highly recommend it - then we had dinner at a nearby restaurant.  She bought tickets for us to see a Broadway show on Thursday night, too.  I know she adores me because she gives me granny-like hugs when she knows I need 'em and she already told me she thinks I shouldn't ever leave!

borscht - ukrainian beet soup (sooo good)

I really think a lot of my bonding with Phyllis has happened over food.  We discuss dishes we enjoy, then we compile the ingredients and make them.  I watch her leaf through butter-stained cookbooks before ever going to the internet with a culinary question.  I ask her how she's so creative and she says it's just industriousness and a zest for life.  I help her when she needs it, and observe her when she doesn't.  I listen to her friends' stories of their memories of first meeting Phyllis - all involve food at a dinner party.  Stuffed artichokes, cheese soufflé, lemon bars.  And most of these events were 40-50 years ago!  I wonder what people will remember about me, certainly not an ability to stuff artichokes, perhaps a mean grilled cheese?  Then I think of what people remember about my Grandma: brisket, pinto beans, fried chicken, biscuits and gravy -- the people who spoke at her memorial ceremony almost all mentioned food!

moroccan spiced lamb shank, cous cous and beet greens

So have I been missing something, am I just now putting together something I've always known?  Of course, food is inextricably linked to emotions, comfort, memories.  I miss certain dishes the most when I'm away from home because they're connected to a feeling of familiarity.  Phyllis' friends haven't forgotten the impression she made with particular dishes and a certain charm.  I know I won't.  And my Grandmother's legacy lives on through her generous spirit and willingness to share her table.  Considering this, I would venture to say food must be the key to a happy life.  Not just eating, but the act of making and sharing.  Breaking bread.  Communion, in the sense of bringing people together to participate in an experience.  What I really appreciate about Phyllis is her generosity, her vigor and her selflessness.  And this she shows me daily, by the spoonful.

One Woman Show

Or: Zero Degrees of Kevin Bacon

Well I'm going on month 2 of living in New York City and I can hardly believe so much time has passed already.  I feel like I just arrived here yesterday!  I've been busy with the internship at Christie's, frequent trips to the New York Public Library, cooking adventures with Phyllis and a healthy dose of arts and culture.  The only thing is, I haven't really made many acquaintances (from my generation) since I arrived!  I'm not complaining, in fact Phyllis has introduced me to some fascinating characters that make up her social network.

The Metropolitan Opera, Atrium

Last Monday I met Phyllis' friend Peter for an evening at Lincoln Center.  Peter is an 80-year-old actor and opera aficionado who kindly offered to pay my way at the Met for a performance of the Italian opera Ernani by Verdi.  He is a well-spoken, cultured gentleman who assumes I've "certainly already read about it in the Times" when he refers to anything (and almost always I haven't).  I met his friend Ingrid, a 50-year-old actress and voice coach and we (read: they) all spoke about 19th century librettists the entire night.  The performance was a real treat, as the Metropolitan Opera itself is a work of art, and the personally controlled monitor with electronic subtitles was appreciated.  But can I just say - 3.5 hours is too long for anything, let alone opera.  I don't even think I could manage an epic film for that long.  If you have to stop for 2 intermissions, the show just might be too long, everybody.  

© MetOpera.org

As I sat in the audience, one of the very few heads that lacked gray hair, I thought about the future of opera.  I appreciate the arts.  I'm white, female, middle class, educated-- essentially the target demographic for this Fine Art.  I've even taken several music appreciation classes, one of which focused on opera, but how the heck is my generation going to sustain and support this art form when even I can't keep from dozing off in the middle of Act II?  I pondered this question a bit over the course of the week, even discussed it at length with Phyllis over coffee and bagels, but truly dissecting that thought would be another post entirely.

blackberry cobbler night: I can die happy.

After a week at work with lots of post-sale activities and a standard "I have a friend who bought a Michelangelo drawing at a garage sale in Jersey" phone call, I welcomed the weekend.  The few girls I'd met via the internship at Christie's are all in the Visual Arts Administration master's program at NYU,  (you know, the program I was accepted to but then turned down because I would have had to sell a kidney and my first born child to make a tuition payment), and they're always very busy.  I went ice skating in Central Park with them one day last weekend but haven't held my breath for another invite, they have unimaginable amounts of reading and projects.  So this weekend I hung out with me, myself and I.

me and Central Park

Friday I did some reading and told myself I simply couldn't stay indoors all night.  When you live in NYC it's hard to justify laziness knowing what awaits you just beyond your doorman.  I ventured out into the blistery cool air and took the subway down to Chelsea to check out The Rubin Museum, or the museum of Himalayan art.  They were open until 10pm with a lounge, bar, DJ, free admission and several public programs.  I attended the "Talking Stick" storytelling session that involved artists, comedians, poets, writers and musicians interpreting works from the museum's collection.  I sat on the ground with 20 other people on the 6th floor of the museum as a 6ft tall Chinese guy did a spoken word piece with musical accompaniment about what it means to be Asian.  Another girl introduced a few paintings in the Modern Indian Art exhibition then read a short prose piece about a minnow.  A Jewish comic recounted crazy travel stories and a museum worker spoke of his first day in New York City as related to the theme in a painting.

13th Century Green Tara

I was mesmerized by this museum, the bustling activity, the liveliness of the people, the openness of the format, the accessibility of the programs, the friendliness of the staff.  As I descended to the lower floors to see the permanent collection a museum worker offered me a guided tour.  In the last 30 minutes of my museum visit I learned more about Buddhist tradition than I'd ever learned in my life.  The guide showed me a recreation of a shrine while explaining Siddhartha's life, then patiently described the parts of a painted tapestry that depicted the karmic circle of life.  I was so thrilled with the way my Friday night turned out, I left the museum feeling energized, knowledgeable and above all welcome.  Maybe going out by myself wasn't so bad after all...

Me and New York City

Saturday I went to Midtown after lunch to see my first off-Broadway play, per Phyllis' recommendation.  I managed a student discount with my Italian permit-to-stay and when I asked for one ticket the lady asked skeptically "…just one?"  Before the show I stopped into Shake Shack, a tasty burger joint where a free seat is prime real estate.  After finishing the last bite of my cheeseburger an eager couple was already asking if "we were done eating" referring to the people next to me.  I replied that I was finished but I had been sitting alone, to which the guy responded "Oh, I'm sorry.  Well I hope you're not alone for long."  Ummm, ok.  Thanks?  Then my one woman show headed to the theatre where I enjoyed the performance of How I Learned to Drive, and was thankfully flanked by 2 single theatre-going women on either side of seat F-110.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

In the evening I took the bus across Central Park to see an exhibit at the Met.  The museum was open until 9 and I was surprised how lively the building was.  The sounds of soft violin, piano, clinking forks and lively conversation wafted from the upper balcony and through the grand entrance as I escaped the bitter cold and checked my coat.  I perused the 19th century section without hurry, salivating over Rodin sculptures and feeling my heartbeat quicken when I recognize a Cezanne I studied last semester.  Something's beginning to happen to me in art museums with notable collections.  I'll see a study for a famous work by an artist and then try to remember where I've seen the painting before reading the label. I rarely ever get that chance, but over the past 2 years my visual vocabulary has grown tenfold with all the museums and collections I've seen in Europe, and once in a while I can give myself that mental high-five.

me at the Guggenheim

Today I dedicated to reading and thesis research.  Thanks to another of Phyllis' friends who worked at a foundation supporting emerging artists, I've got some leads on New York based arts organizations that may be worth discovering.  After seeing I'd worked all day, Phyllis insisted on taking me to dinner this evening, despite my repeated attempts to offer.  (Heart of gold, that one.)  I'm thankful she did because we ended up at Gennaro, an Italian trattoria on the UWS that she assured me was delightful.  Believe it or not it'd been over a month since I'd eaten pasta!  We stepped in the tiny restaurant and were ushered to the back where they'd found a chair for Phyllis and we were to wait for a table.  No sooner had I asked for a menu than I look up and realize I'm staring into the icy blue eyes of Kevin Bacon.  Whaaaat?!  This might even be better than my tap-dancing Jimmy Fallon sighting in Rockefeller Center a few weeks ago.  After a stifled giggle and quick text to people who might give a damn, I notice he's with his wife - a lady whose face I recognize but can't place her name until I imdb it later - Kyra Sedgwick.

unrelated snowy sidewalk picture of my neighborhood

I ever-so-slyly inform Phyllis of his presence only to realize she's never seen Footloose or Apollo 13.  Then I try to explain the 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon game to her, but I realize it's not as funny if you haven't seen any of his almost-legendary performances, including the awesomely bad 90s SciFi flick Tremors (not just the first one, I mean II, III and IV).  But not to worry, Phyllis was busy getting her work published, traveling through China, and generally being too much of a badass to watch Kevin Bacon films.  

view of the skyline across Central Park

We had a lovely dinner and I enjoyed having a meal that reminded me of Italy.  I realize more and more how much I am thankful for her guidance and companionship here in the city - we really get along quite well.  And to think she's been living alone for decades!  The way I see it, if she can star gracefully in her own one woman show that continually has me riveted, then I must not be averse to continuing my (mostly) solo adventures in the Big Apple!

A Bite of the Big Apple

When faced with the decision to sit down and write a blog post or check out the gym in my building's basement, I'll have you all know I most certainly choose the former.  I'm not exercise averse, in fact I've been walking quite a bit the last few weeks, I just have a diehard dedication to updating my readers.  Well that, and I'm pretty damn comfy after a glass of nebbiolo and a belly full of chicken soup and jalapeño cornbread.  I guess you could say I got it good up here in New York City.

in Central Park near the Jacqueline Onassis Reservoir

In the course of a year I've shared a living space with 2 Californians, 3 Southern Italian men, an Iranian Muslim, a French Jew and now a 78 year old retired writer and grandmother of 2.  Makes me smile just thinking about it.  As you all know, I'm currently residing on the UWS (that's how we New Yorkers abbreviate the "upper west side") with my professor's mom, Phyllis.  She is such a hoot!  (And yes, when I'm around her I find myself saying things like what a hoot, oh my lands, and heavens to betsy)  Phyllis may be 78 but she's as sharp as a tack - she volunteers at the Natural History Museum doing research on a 19th century Norwegian explorer and now she's contributed to a book about his life and work!  This aside, she has been so magnanimous as to offer me a place to stay, AND (here comes the best part) a home cooked meal every night that we're both home together.  Ok, that's it, I'm calling my lawyer and drawing up adoption papers.  Can I keep her forever?

Phyllis' cheesy jalapeño cornbread.  I think she likes me.

Night 1 in my new place Phyllis had a chicken roasting in the oven, steamed broccoli and a buttered sweet potato.  Oh my lands, it was amazing.  She showed me her worn cookbooks and countless spices, the fridge was full of fresh fruits and veggies.  We have made a habit of chatting over supper and well into a cup of herbal tea.  Each night she tells me to sleep tight, and sometimes in the morning she has coffee ready when I get up.  Oh, I'm not done yet.  When she learned I have an undying love for Mexican food she told me she'd take me to her favorite little place - we went there on Sunday for brunch, her treat.  To somehow repay her I bought the ingredients for a buttermilk pie as per a dinner conversation one night and we baked it together.  Divine!

view of Central Park on Jan 20

my new neighborhood, a winter wonderland

The place is nice and cozy, I've got my own room and bathroom (can't really remember the last time I had that!) and a living room with windows that open up onto a slice of Central Park.  Part of the dining room table is now my desk, or my office as I like to call it.  This weekend it SNOWED in the city so my view of the park was delightfully serene.  Oh, and did I mention the building is called The Turin?!  How oddly serendipitous, right?

in front of my building, The Turin!

Oh yes, I should probably mention my internship!  When I started a few weeks ago I was thrown straight into the mix, which is probably the best way to learn though simultaneously the most intimidating.  The first hour I was already answering phones and transferring calls for the department.  There are currently 4 interns including me, though 2 of them are leaving at the end of this week as they completed their term.  Interestingly 2 of the other girls are Italian so I have been keeping my language skills polished.  The work includes general office tasks, supporting the specialists in our department which includes Old Master Paintings, Old Master Drawings and 19th Century Art.  Aside from fielding calls from everybody and their mother who claims to own a Rubens and wants it appraised, I have been helping prepare for the big 2-part auction our department is holding this week.

20 Rock, we're in the same building as the Today Show!

The other interns and I have been doing research on artists, artworks, checking and re-checking provenance, forwarding bids, confirming estimates, sending catalogs to important clients, setting up the gallery preview show, photographing and handling the works, etc.  At one point last week I was helping a specialist adjust Netherlandish Art placement in the galleries, including the top-of-the-lot Hans Memling which is estimated to bring in $8 million at auction tomorrow.  But that was nothing compared to the work that was brought in on Friday afternoon - a work by Francis Bacon that is estimated at $30 million for a London auction in February.  I'd like to know the chap that's got $30 million in disposable income to throw down on a piece of contemporary art.  And more importantly whether or not he's single.  Don't judge me, I like flying First Class.

BLOWN away by this experience.  Ha.  (Empire State Building)

I'll be interested to see my first auction now that I've been working behind the scenes.  Things are much different here in the for-profit art world, the capital of the western world for that matter.  All in all it's been a whirlwind first few weeks with lots of exciting changes -  new home, new job, new friends, new experiences, New York, New York!  

A New Year, A New Chapter

It's strange.  Every time I finish writing in a journal it seems that starting a new one coincides with new beginnings in my life.  I believe I've filled up 5 since moving to Italy, and now it looks like number 6 will be penned on the East Coast.  For some reason it still hasn't hit me that I'll be living in New York City.  But I'm confident that by tomorrow (when my plane leaves) that reality will rouse me from a near month of rest and relaxation in Texas.

Black and Bleu Burger, The Hobbit, Houston

To recap my winter break I'd venture to use two sinfully simple terms: sloth and gluttony.  After a semester of hard work it was delightful to indulge in the finer things in life.  Those being sleep, napping, waking up whenever I want, watching addictive TV shows with the fam, hot tubbing, happy hour (cocktails in general, really), queso, guacamole, bbq, chicken fried anything -- I imagine you know where I'm going with this.  Basically living the American dream, folks.

Biscuits 'n Gravy, Le Peep, Houston

Well, let me rethink this, I wasn't completely inactive.  I went from Houston to Austin twice, shopped to my heart's content, spun around under the Zilker tree, cut and colored my hair, rode on the back of an '86 Harley, played with fireworks, completed a painting, crocheted several projects, had a father-daughter date, went line dancing while wearing my cowboy boots, and somewhat organized my clothes collection that now spans 3 cities, 2 continents.

pre-creativity/pre-wine, Painting with a Twist, Houston

I was happy to have seen my family over the holidays, allowing my worries to melt away in their presence.  I even snuck in a visit to San Antonio to see my girlfriends, one of whom just got married and the other is planning her big day! (Contextual inference: I am getting old.)  Really though, I loved gabbing with them over margaritas and Mexican food, it's amazing how I couldn't even tell that 1.5 years had gone by.  Catching up with my old book club girls was refreshing and such a blast!  I'm so glad I was able to have dinner with my Aunt, Uncle and cousins (who are soon to be attending my alma mater).  I didn't get to see everyone I'd hoped to see as time was short and my mobility was limited, but I was luckily able to chat with my Uncle who'd been in the hospital and is recovering.

Sara & Me, New Year's Eve 2012, Katy

I rang in the new year at a house party in a suburb of Houston with my friend Sara and a group of people I'd only just met.  I had a fabulous time playing games, shooting fireworks and watching the 2012 ball drop in the new city where I'll be living.

fun with a sparkler, New Year's Eve 2012

Things have changed since I left Texas, that's for certain, but some things never will.  Like the way my Mom always knows when I need a kind word and a warm beverage.  Or how Dad can always give me a serious case of the giggles.  How a chai latte (or a margarita) and effortless conversation are sometimes all I need.  Before we know it, years have gone by and the chapters of our lives have written themselves.  The question is, will we have readable material for future generations?  I plan to.  New York, get ready.

you can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take Texas out of the girl

Final Countdown

Can someone please tell me when time started flying by so fast?  It's somehow December and that means a lot of deadlines are approaching, one of which means coming back to Texas.  But before that happens, there are A LOT of projects/papers that need to be finished.  This weekend I'm going to lock myself in my room and churn out an art theory paper on postmodernism and globalization.  Then I'll be compiling the final version of my strategic plan for fundraising.  I need to apply for a grant, create a 5-year plan and draw up creative details on some original fundraising events.  Oh, and my exhibition is opening next week!

my exhibition poster (italian version)

Yesterday I was at school all day, but not in class, I was installing the artworks in the castle courtyard which was quite an endeavor.  Planning and executing this exhibition has perhaps been some of the most useful practical knowledge I've gleaned so far.  I am now incredibly familiar with Murphy's law, that is, if anything can go wrong, it will.  And it does.  First of all this would have been great as a group project where I could manage and delegate, but considering I'm the only one in the course I did everything myself.  Developing the theme, selecting the artworks, writing the curatorial statement, creating the logo, doing the (preliminary) translations, designing the posters/flyers (and distributing said posters/flyers), writing the catalog entries, writing and doing research for the catalog essay, designing the catalog, writing the press release, organizing the location and permission for hanging, managing the artists, scheduling the installation/opening, negotiating with a local business for sponsorship (5 bottles-o-vino for free), collaborating with the local library for volunteers, creating wall labels and curatorial statements in 2 languages, (I mean do you guys need me to go on?)  Let's just say it was a huge undertaking, even for a final project.  The hardest part?  Working with Italians.  (I say that with the least-intended discrimination, of course.)

Tom Johnson, Untitled, charcoal on paper, 250 x 170 cm, 2010.

Originally I wanted the show to be up from December to February but a few weeks ago the administration informed me there was another exhibition planned to be installed on 15 Dec and the other artists wanted to be the only ones on display.  Meaning my exhibition would last all of one week.  I finally convinced them to de-install and then re-install once the other exhibition was over (3 days), because I had worked really hard on this project and it would be a shame to only show the works for one week.  Then they gave me problems about trying to install 5 days early, but the artists had to arrange vans to bring their work plus bring people to help them hang.  Their issue was that a guided tour was happening over the weekend and no one would be here to supervise the works, so I had to get the artists to sign a liability waiver.  Yay, legal.  

Rocío Aguilar-Nuevo, RIMSKY KORSAKOV Flight of the Bumblebee, acrylic on canvas, 200 x 200 cm, 2011.

So Thursday, the morning of installation, I am informed that we can't put any holes in the walls of the courtyard because "this is a very old castle."  Yeah, I get that, but I'd been given permission by the highest decision maker who decided to change their mind at the last minute.  And what is that thing behind your head right there, oh, a kitty calendar with a nail holding it in the wall, isn't it?  Whatever.  So I had to negotiate with the library and borrow 4 metal stands for some works I wanted to mount on the wall.  Fine.  I printed and attached all the labels and information guides when the first artist arrived with his work.  The minute he comes through the door someone tells him he's not allowed to put the works up today.  Subsequently there is was an argument (in Italian) between me, the custodian, the student services coordinator, the artists/my professors and the event manager.  There was poor communication between the staff, each had their own opinion and no one knew where to turn.  I said I didn't understand why putting beautiful artworks could in any way be negative for the university, if anything it will be a great addition to the tour and they should all be trying to help me with the project, not impede my efforts with bureaucratic nonsense.  But, that's Italy for you in a nutshell.

my prof and her boyfriend installing her works, to give you a sense of the dimensions

view from across castle courtyard, I really like the multiple perspectives the space provides

We finally are granted permission to install when I realize one of my artists brought not only the wrong number of works (5 instead of 4) but he didn't bring the right ones!  Two of them were not selected for the show, meaning I had three I wanted but was stuck with 2 extras that I hadn't cataloged/designed in the layout/generally prepared for.  Ugh!  So I made a last minute decision to shift the set up and include all of them, since it seemed silly to leave a nice drawing in a dark dusty corner of the castle.  By the late evening we had the paintings attached to the metal stands via zip-ties and all the works were positioned.  Suddenly all the stress from the day melted away when I saw how the paintings and drawings played with the space.  Everyone still at the university came to peek at the show and they all said it looked so much better than before, that the courtyard felt more warm and the university had more vivacity.  I felt good about my work, despite everything that went wrong in the process.

inner hallway of castle courtyard

view across the courtyard

Friday I went to the local copisteria, aka photocopy/printing store, and got 5 copies of the catalog printed in color on nice paper.  One for me, each of the 3 artists and one for the university.  Cost me 12 euros a copy (egad!) but they look amazing and I'm going to see if the university will reimburse me for the expense.  Once I saw the catalog printed, (even with one work that didn't even make it into the current show), I felt extremely proud of what I had produced.  I called the university and had them contact the website designer somewhere in New Hampshire so they could attach the pdf of the catalog online (the file is really big, but worth a look! And while you're at it you could check out the front page of the university website to read a testimonial from yours truly.  What can I say, I like to keep in the campus spotlight.)  The show is opening on 7 December, I can't wait to have an end of the year celebration and see all of my efforts come to fruition!

me being thoroughly excited about the printed catalog

super awesome and professional looking (not me, the catalog, clearly.)

Giving Thanks

Yesterday evening we celebrated an Italianized Halal Thanksgiving at the University, making this the 2nd Annual Thanksgiving Celebration planned and organized by yours truly!  We were able to secure a halal turkey from the local butcher which was cooked by the family that runs the café under the castle.  The funny thing about ordering a turkey in Italy is that since it's such a rare request they are ridiculously expensive, (we're talking 50-70 euros) and they seem to interpret "stuffed" as "meat-stuffed" so our turkey had A LOT of halal sausage inside.  So that was fun.  And delicious.

italian sausage-stuffed halal turkey

green bean casserole

One of our administrative staff was in the States last week so I asked her to bring me back 2 boxes of Stove Top, for authenticity's sake, you know?  Ok, last year I made stuffing from scratch and that was a huge commitment so believe me with my schedule that wasn't happening again.  (In fact the President thanked me for the Stove Top because he said his mom used to make it when he was a kid.)  Seriously though, 5 minutes and you've got stuffing.  A Thanksgiving miracle!  What I spent most time on was my green bean casserole.  Green beans, cream of mushroom soup, but French's french-fried onions are non-existent here.  Hence I spent about an hour slicing, breading and frying those little buggers, but I must say it was a big hit at dinner.  One of my friends at school, an Iranian MBA student, was assigned mashed potatoes but he'd never made them before, so I made sure to send him an informative youtube video and they turned out great!  Oh, and the university's founder made a speech thanking me for my initiative in putting the party together.  *Blushes*

(back) Lindsay, me, Taraneh

(front) Javad, Fatemeh, Jennifer

our pilgrims and indians

roommate pic!

I'd definitely say it was a success -- another year of students, staff, professors and administration from all cultural backgrounds coming together to give thanks and share a meal.  It's a beautiful thing.   Really though, there's something inexplicable about the ability of food to bring people together, to make someone feel at home, to bring back memories, to create a family atmosphere, to inspire camaraderie.  I find it fun to share our staple cultural celebrations and traditions with people who have never experienced them before.  For instance my roommate Lindsay and I were invited to our neighbor's place for coffee this week.  There is a Moroccan family living on the first floor of our apartment building and they're some of the nicest people we've ever met.  Their daughter was mesmerized when I told them we'd be celebrating Thanksgiving, a holiday they'd only ever seen on TV and in movies.  

feeling like we're in Morocco.

They invited us to come over today and have cous cous with them, as the mother prepares it every Friday afternoon.  (How great is that?? It's like Spaghetti Thursday or Pizza Fridays in American families!)  Let me just say this was hands-down the best cous cous I've ever had in my life.  Not to mention that being in their apartment is like stepping into an exotic oasis with floor-to-ceiling tiles, colorful textiles and pillows on a wall-length couch, a running fountain and several stuffed pheasants mounted to the wall.  

north africa, just south of our apartment

cross-cultural gluttony.

The mom brought out a HUGE bowl of cous cous with veggies and lamb and everyone ate from their own corner of the cous cous mountain with big spoons.  In a way I felt like this was another sort of Thanksgiving meal, coming together with our neighbors that hardly knew us but wanted to share their culture with us without asking anything in return.  I'm feeling very thankful these days, for family and friends that support me (and take time to read my blog), for the opportunity to be living and studying in Italy, for getting the internship in New York.  Oh, and getting an email from my professor today stating his mother will be happy to host me for 4 months in NYC rent-free in her Central Park West apartment.  I am further convinced that there are an abundance of gracious individuals in this world, many of which I've seemed to find in the most unexpected places.  Yes, I'd say thankful would be the minimum expression of the way I'm feeling right now.

The Gamechanger

There comes a time in everyone's life when something absolutely unexpected happens. Actually, life is full of these little twists and turns, some larger than others, and the true test of our will is how we react and what we choose to do next. Maybe a loved one passes on, a baby comes into the picture, or, in my case, a badass internship somehow presents itself to you. That's right everyone, this week I accepted a position as a Spring intern for Christie's in New York, the #1 Auction house in the world!

© TripAdvisor.com

Now let's quickly rewind to this summer: *insert harp chords to signal memory sequence* It's a swelteringly hot June afternoon in Turin, I sit in my un-airconditioned room hoping for even the slightest breeze to enter through the open window. A frown has positioned itself upon my face along with a vacant stare through watery eyes. It's official. I've now been systematically rejected from three internships in the past few months. My irrational thought process is as follows: I'm a failure, I suck at life, I have no friends and family around, ergo I will never get a job and clearly no one will ever marry me. When it rains, it pours, and this summer it may have been hot outside but I had a raincloud over me, Eeyore style. I was lonely, homesick, dejected/rejected and working as a glorified personal assistant.  Ugh.

© Kippreport.com

Fast forward to today: *harp music* I am decidedly awesome. I got paid (a pittance) to work at an international art fair with a Dutch gallery in which I ended up successfully selling the 2nd edition of the artist's video work to an Italian collector (in Italian!)  I was still getting off that high when last Monday I received an email from Christie's about working in their Old Masters and 19th Century Art Department. I'd applied for the internship back in September on a whim (half expecting it'd be like the last THREE that have flat-out rejected me) because it was a "Winternship" so it would've been for 6 weeks over my Christmas holidays. Meaning if they were offering, I wouldn't be able to come home at all. Despite me being unsure about the timing, I decided it would be worth the experience.  

© MarilynMonroeCollection.com

Friday comes around and I have the interview at 8pm my time, 2pm their time. There were questions about my interests in the company, my master program, my thesis, etc - she was really impressed by my current degree and the international scope. She explained what my role would be and offered me the position with the start date of early January until mid May. There had been a clerical error on their part because I didn't apply for the Spring semester. I asked if there was a chance I could be considered for a Summer or Fall internship but she said if I graduated I was no longer eligible to be considered. Meaning it's now or never. She assured me they thought I was super qualified and they thought I would be an asset to the company. And when Christie's tells you you'd be an asset, well damn that makes you feel like a million bucks. Or pounds sterling, euros, yen, etc.

© elogedelart.canalblog.com

This, my friends, is the gamechanger. I mean, it's Christie's. Just having that experience would be like dusting my resume with powdered gold, you guys! GOLD! But I'll have to move from Torino back to Texas, find an apartment and move to NYC for 4 months, then move back to Torino to finish my thesis and remaining workshops. I talked with the administration at my university and everyone's very supportive and excited (also because it'll look great on their website) and they're going to give me a credit for "Art Market and Art Collecting" just by doing the internship, so that'll fulfill my last course requirement.

© jewelry01.blogspot.com

So, this is my life. It completely shifted directions in a matter of days. In a matter of weeks I won't be studying in Italy anymore, I'll be in New York City, that mythical island in the northeast where all those important people live and work. Consider this an open request for virtually pinching me because I still don't believe it.