American Girl in Italy

How does the blue mold get in Gorgonzola? Have you ever heard the rocks at Castiglioncello sing and why do writers always seek solace in Italy? Time for me to find the answers to these and see, if in doing so, I also find my home.

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Name:
Location: Rome, RM, Italy

i am actually the lost royal heir to the small kingdom of Birundi...having been secreted away by my wet nurse when mean overlords arrived turning our little known, yet terribly chic fiefdom into a nasty republic. now my people sit glued with their eyes glazed.....dreaming of distant IRA's and stock options, having long forgotten the taste of sweet green olive oil and the scent of rosemary.

31 March 2007

Strange but completely normal happenings on my little street in Monti

  • Waking-up at 8 AM on a Sunday morning after a night of sampling absinthe with friends being serenaded by the sounds of a 17-piece brass marching band playing outside my window…(and no I wasn’t hallucinating).
  • Seeing same said marching band a scant 3 months earlier, dressed in matching Santa suits and sporting white beards, playing Christmas carols….and no I wasn’t hallucinating then either.
  • Having a hole in my bathroom ceiling that is 7 inches wide from which I can look up and into the apartment above seeing the legs of the housekeeper-babysitter working in my neighbour’s kitchen. Estimated time for repairs….2.5 weeks (più o meno) guess I will be sitting on the toilet using an umbrella.
  • Having fixed the aforementioned hole, and in abject horror finding out an even bigger hole must be cut in my kitchen ceiling to release 17 gallons of water that has pooled under the sub-ceiling whilst they “repaired” the bathroom.
  • Having a Mexican catholic priest with a Filipino nun show up at my door unannounced offering to give my Buddhist soul an Easter blessing (I asked for an exorcism of the house but they were appalled)..
  • Knowing the working girls on Via Urbana and Via Capocci by the imaginary names we have given them and their favourite spot for motorino lounging, and niche marketing.
  • Being able to listen to live jazz playing out my front windows and live classical piano out my back simultaneously while an 11 year old practices piano stumbling through J.S. Bach’s “Little Prelude in C” above my head louder than I can drowned him out with my iTunes playing Dave Matthews.
  • Making faces and playing peek-a-boo with the little boy who’s grandfather lives directly across from my windows.
  • Knowing my alarm clock is about to go off in two minutes because I have the timing down pat for the daily dumpster emptying and Hotel Laundry service arrival permanently etched into my sub conscious.
  • Having a 70 year old man offer to help me carry my laundry to the laundry-mat and feeling special, until I discovered that he has offered, on multiple occasions, to marry both my flatmates.

30 March 2007

Hey there really are quite a few of us....

Discovered a new, old timer expat today whilst research an article on Limoncello. Its nice to see someone else who has been here as long, if not longer than me but who also seems to be scratching her head from time to time with all things Italian and something particularly Roman. Hi Shelly!

09 March 2007

specchio

What’s the ugliest

Part of your body?

What’s the ugliest

Part of your body?

Some say your nose

Some say your toes

But I think its your mind…

I think it’s your mind

My darling

I think it’s your mind.

By Frank Zappa

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