At dinner Tuesday night, Claire and I taught our host family about Thanksgiving and all the foods we have. They in turn, taught us about wine. Bruno has been bringing home wine for us to drink since he learned we like it. So, they learned about stuffing, of course they had to learn about the best part, and we learned about the “copyright laws” of the different wines of France and Italy and what they can be called (ex. Chianti). Apparently the two countries have a big rivalry that are not limited to wine. As is usual with our family dinners, Bruno got so passionate about convincing Guido, Stefania’s boyfriend, that Stefania, Claire and I had two whole conversations and were still amazed they were going at it. Oh the passion of the Italians.
Although we have 2 hour Italian classes each day and I am picking it up quicker than other languages simply because I am here, but in class it is so painful to understand and talk it. Even at dinner, I try to think of stuff to say in Italian but by the time I think of all my verbs and the conjugations along with how to put the prepositions together with the adjectives, etc, Bruno gets impatient and answers my question before I finish. My family is very patient with Claire and I though. They almost always know where we are going with the sentence though, so they respond back before we get to practice it. No complaints though. They are pretty amazing. I have to laugh at myself, as other people do, when I say something that isn’t right. Who knew words could have two meanings anyway?
I want to have an Italian bambino (baby). Ok, not seriously, as the man from the Italian consulate advised us, “It’s not always a bad thing…could mess up your studies though…” (it was hilarious). Every single kid I have seen here is so stinking cute though! They all have curly hair, some blonde, some brown but all adorable. Maybe I should have let that guy sell me to his friend yesterday…haha It would mess up my studies.
I asked my host sister if Italian guys hit on Italian girls all the time or if they just spot American girls and go for it. She said it’s everyone. Just the culture unfortunately. This is still a source of confusion for me.
Continuing my serious first hand realizations and issues I analyze, lately I have been realizing how much I let relationships define who I am. In Italian class, I gave a presentation on details about myself. Looking over my written speech, I noticed how much I described myself as the role I play in different relationships, thus allowing relationships to define who I am. Sister, daughter, niece, roommate, friend, etc. This has definitely been showing in my life with my want for the type relationships I have at home. I am homesick right now not for my actual home, but mostly for the relationships I have in the states. Recently, I have gotten upset with myself for allowing some of those relationships get to me emotionally. Thinking about it now, why wouldn’t they? Relationships are so incredibly important to every human on the planet, so why should I feel guilty about being upset in some of them? It isn’t trivial, it’s a fact.
Wednesday was Saint Bruno day. In the catholic church there is a saint for every name so on that day, the person with that name gets presents and celebrated for the day. So, Bruno’s day was Wednesday. I had never met the other daughter but she and her children along with Stefania’s boyfriend came to dinner. The older daughter has never come to dinner. There has never been a special occasion like it was that day. The apartment was loud and a typical family sound coming from everywhere. Little Julio, who is 3, was singing and making kid noises while crawling on the floor making travel difficult for the adults…a typical 3 year old. Little Agatha, who is 6 months, would cry periodically when she thought she wasn’t getting enough attention. The adults laughed and were obviously excited. Claire and I even got to help some, which never happens either. Bruno got gifts as if it were his birthday. The feel was very much of a birthday celebration. Although they are not practicing Catholics, their days are still celebrated.
This morning we had an olive oil tasting in my nutrition class. Literally, we had 3 different cups with a couple teaspoons of olive oil to drink. We learned the method for “slurping” it to tell if it is a good one or a bad one. My guess would be most of the olive oil we have in the United States is rancid, meaning the manufacturers did not take care with the crushing process leaving a bad flavor and much less nutrient than traditional olive oils. Italians use olive oil for everything, including baking. As most of you in the states know, if you use olive oil in baking, the flavor is usually still there thus you don’t use it. That strong oil taste will disappear when heated if it is of good quality (so most of what we use is not good). I hope I never have to do an olive oil tasting again though. I was looking around me and everyone else seemed to be ok with the texture and thought of drinking oil, however, I was definitely not ok with it. The thoughts…fine whatever, but the texture and thickness of the oil was building up in my taste buds and stomach. After tiny sips of the first two, I struggled so hard not to get sick on the last one. It was probably the nastiest thing I have ever tried. So greasy and uhhh just completely disgusting. I can somewhat taste good quality olive oil though.
No comments:
Post a Comment