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| Alberobello, Puglia |
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| Laura giving Paola and I a guided tour of her wedding day last year |
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| The Chiesa a Trullo (Trulli church) |
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| On a trulli magnificent spring weekend |
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| After all my travels, taking some time to relax |
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| Exploring Dante's Inferno in the Castellana caves |
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| Matera, Basilicata |
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| On the way to the spa that's built into a cave |
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| I guess this means I'll be back |
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| Sleeping in a cave, check |
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| Enjoying the views from the cliffs of Matera |
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| Matera, a town carved into a cliffside |
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| No need for air con in Matera, all of the caves stay a refreshing 70 degrees at all times |
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| Teaching Paola and Laura the joys of pyramids |
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| And Laura how to frolic (which Paola who speaks British English thinks means to fornicate). Which really caused a lot of confusion when I told her I liked frolicking with sheep in New Zealand |
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Grazie Laura and Paola
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After traveling in Sierra Leone for two weeks, I arrived back in Italy to depart one day later for Puglia. When I first met Laura long ago she regaled Paola and I with her fairy tale, super creative surprise wedding that she planned last year in a little town called Alberobello. Since then, we'd been talking about planning a trip back for Laura to show us around. Given my unknown status in Italy, we kept thinking of weekends and then they didn't work given my travel to Peru, New Zealand, Tanzania, Sierra Leone but had finally decided on this weekend. What wasn't planned was that I would be in SL longer than expected. While you might wonder why I would want to travel again less than one day after returning - you haven't met Laura and Paola. I literally landed from SL, unpacked/showered/laundryed/repacked and went to work. And somehow, it was the softest, most welcoming return to Italy that I could have imagined. First, Laura who is our project assistant and my own personal super hero (she saves the day at least 3 times a day), is unlike typical super heros who only possess one talent because she has many. She used to own her own tourism company before coming to slum it at FAO with all of us jerks. So basically all I had to do for this weekend away was show up and be whisked away on a perfectly planned, luxurious, informative, relaxing weekend exploring cities I haven't visited because you need a car and I thought a lot of time, but actually you just need Laura. And second, Paola is possibly one of the most entertaining people I have ever met. You can be sure that any weekend away with her will be full of interesting stories and lots of hilarity = so again no pressure for me to do anything, no planning, no entertaining, I could just enjoy thanks to my two favorite Italians.
Luna di Miele: In addition to reveling in the love for my Italian girlfriends and visiting the wedding spot of Laura, May is also the start of honeymoon season in Rome. There was a time where I had a lot of weddings to attend, and I thought after that stage came the baby shower/baby arrival stage (and yes it has), but I never realized there was going to be a honeymoon stage (you know other than my perpetual MeMoon). I guess I have the romance of Italy to thank for that. I have four couples coming to Rome over the next month for their honeymoon. While I love third-wheeling on honeymoons (thank you Patty and Mike for indoctrinating me back in NZed), I still am shocked that people actually want to see me on their honeymoon. So while I've been here a year, I now have a new challenge - what to do/how to entertain a honeymooning couple without it getting real weird. I'm never sure if they're just being polite telling me they're in town, or how much they actually want me to plan/do with them - so my game plan is joining up for a prosecco toasts and then giving them a romantic itinerary to head off on their own. My gift of Rome-ance. First couple this week, Shannon and Pete; next up Sam and Pat; with a short break before the next set arrives and I can revise my recipe for how to crash a honeymoon
The heat came early this year: While I'm not sure it's actually hotter this May; the heat has certainly gotten to the Italian males early. You remember when I told you last summer about the transformation, where all of a sudden it's like everyone is in heat? Well that was August last year, so it might be a long summer. Here's one example of the male variety highlights while we're still technically in Spring:
-The Banker: If you've ever pondered the idea of dating that friendly teller at your neighborhood bank, I can tell you first hand why it could be a terrible idea - 1) They have access to ALL of your personal information, which eliminates any pretense of google searching and a kind of awkward moment when the bill comes, since they know exactly how much money you make (and have at that very second); 2) At my bank, all the tellers live together because they are transplants from the Bank headquarters in Northern Italy, which means the whole bank knows your business; 3) Did I mention they have control of your money? So, I've always loved my bank because they're so 'friendly' and there's never a line, small fees, etc. and I've always chatted with all the tellers (men and women alike), until one day I received an email and text from one teller (yes he used my personal info to contact me) asking if I wanted to get a coffee. I figured an innocent coffee with sort of a co-worker (the bank is in FAO) was harmless. Then he asked to meet for lunch, which I also thought was fine until when deciding on a place he suggested cooking in MY house, ummm. I quickly realized it was going to get weirder when age came up and I asked how old he was, he told me, then I told him how old I was - and he said I know. Oh right, you have all my info and know how much I spent on gum this month. So I quickly decided we should probably limit any future coffees.....but I mean I still have to go to the bank. I went the other day and spoke to another teller about increasing my cash withdrawal limit and he told me I had to talk with the 'friendly' banker about that, so I said I would come back another time. Within 2 hours I had received an email from said friendly banker informing me that he would raise my limit as soon as I met him for coffee again - oh, I see, bribing me with my own money, sounds like a page from Bank of America. I avoided the coffee until today when I sent him an email saying I was really busy with meetings and couldn't get coffee, so he offered meeting after work and signed the email - I love you. Now there might be many language misunderstandings, but that is one that clearly means I need to switch banks
Other characters in the mix in the Spring Bloom are The Brother/Language Exchanger; the Former Colleague; and the Mail Room porters.
And in other *related* news, some ongoing research that I've been conducting which you can add to the files of cultural exchange that I LOVE. You may remember my former language exchange friend Claudio who I journeyed to Abruzzo with? Well on the way there we had a random conversation about me wanting to go swimming in one of the mountain lakes up there, at which point he informed me that it's quite dangerous to swim in lakes, and in fact more dangerous than the sea. While I tried to get some explanation since I couldn't understand how this could possibly be the case, I sort of brushed it off/forgot about it as just maybe his weird thing, until lakes came up in another conversation with some Germans who are also living here and were eager to go swimming. I told them I had been informed by an Italian that lake swimming is dangerous and they were also incredulous, and so began my research to confirm this 'myth'.
I've since undertaken a survey simply asking all Italians I meet, including those I encountered in Sierra Leone who aren't afraid of much living there, "Do you think its more dangerous to swim in a lake or the sea?". And their reaction is amazing - they are ALL adamant that the lake is more dangerous. I've been given a range of explanations including - volcanic currents (since some of their lakes are former volcanic craters); the fact the water is murky/not clear; people try to swim across lakes whereas they don't try to swim across the sea - but my all time favorite explanation was the dangerous mud when you have to wade into the lake that can suck you down. This research has given me endless hours of entertainment and hilarity, and while I think I'm close to figuring out the 'real' conclusion behind this puzzle, I'd be interested if you all could help me by surveying any Italians you know, and they have to be real Italians, not Jersey Shore Italians. I promise to update you with my full conclusions - after I conduct a case study by swimming in an actual Italian lake
