The sweet and the low

I'll start with the good.
The weekend in Germany was incredible. I took a night train from Bologna to Munich- 7 hours next to a man from Napoli who expounded without stopping on his views on immigration (against), evolution (impossible), and the youth of today (drug addicts and drunks, all of them). The 17 year old Italian across from me insisted in touching my legs with his legs throughout the trip, stretching out across the compartment and innocently changing position whenever I tried to shift away. I finally made it to Munich at 6.30 in the morning and camped out in a cafe until Tabea arrived at 11. After a lovely cup of coffee in downtown Munich, we went to drop off our bags at her friend Flo's house, conviently located about 3 blocks from Oktoberfest, which was already in full swing by 2 o'clock in the afternoon. After a quick lunch (of pasta... go figure) we made our way down to the site. It was jam packed with more people in lederhosen than I have ever seen. There were giant carnival rides, stands selling traditional (pretzels and bratwurst) and not so traditional (beer ice cream?) Bavarian treats, and of course, the famous beer halls- giant tents filled with people drinking litre-mugs of cold, savory, foamy German beer. We made a halfhearted attempt to get into a tent, but there wasn't much chance. People had been waiting since 9 am to get in, and there was no sign of anyone coming out. Instead, we walked around, went on a carnival ride, and then decided to go get drinks in town before dinner.
We returned to Flo's house for a lovely traditional meal of sausages, potatoes and saurkraut, and afterwards we were joined by some new friends for cocktails, german board games, and a midnight snack of nachos. The next day Tabea and I returned to Stuttgart for Jason Mraz. It was lovely seeing her family again, they are some of the most welcoming people I've ever met. The concert was spectacular, even better than I could have hoped. We were second row from the front and we danced and sang without stopping for the entirety. Sadly, the weekend was over in the blink of an eye. Monday I packed up and left for Italy, enjoying my last few moments of the incredible German public transportation and overall good organization.
On arriving in Pisa around 9 pm I learned that the only train to Bologna left from Florence at 1.47 am. As I sulked, waiting for my first train to arrive, I got a call from my dad. He sounded strange on the phone, and after asking about my weekend, he said he had some terrible news. I felt my heart drop straight into my stomach. At first I thought it must be to do with my mom's heart- she's still having some trouble and they're thinking they might have to operate again. But I could never have guessed what was coming.
"I don't want to tell you this, but Fiona died." His voice broke, and I felt my throat close up.
They think she must have eaten something poison, since one day she was healthy, and the next she came home horribly sick. The morning after, she was gone, having fallen asleep on her favorite leather couch in the living room. My parents are destroyed, it must be so much worse for them than me, living in the suddenly very empty house.
It's amazing how much an animal can steal your heart, and how much losing them can break it. I still can't believe her little smiling face won't be waiting for me at home this Christmas. She's still so alive in my memory.

What I've been eating, part 1...

White Wine Sangria

Ingredients:

• 1 bottle decent white wine
• 1/4 bottle white rum
• Sprite
• 2 small, sweet apples
• 1 mango
• handfull lychees (or grapes, in a pinch)
• 1 peach
• 1 nectarine
• juice from 2 large oranges
• simple syrup to taste (equal parts sugar and boiling water)

1. Chop fruit into approx. 1 in. pieces and place in a medium sized pot. Add rum, wine, OJ, and sugar. Don't make it too sweet, since you'll be adding Sprite later.
2. Refrigerate at least 3 hours, longer is better. Serve over ice, topped off with Sprite.

Hot and Spicy Salad

Ingredients:

• 1 medium zucchini
• 2 medium carrots
• 1 medium red onion
• handfull brown mushrooms, handfull cherry tomatoes
• Sambal chili garlic sauce (or Sriracha)
• white wine vinegar
• olive oil
• salt and pepper
• cumin or curry powder

1. In a large skillet, saute the onion until softened, but not browned
2. Cut zucchini and mushrooms into similar sized pieces and add them to the pan. Season with salt, pepper, and your spice of choice. Once they're mostly cooked, add quartered cherry tomatoes and hot sauce
3. Using a mandolin or a standard vegetable peeler, grate the carrots into long, flat strips, like tagliatelle noodles. Add the carrots to the pan and add more salt and hot sauce.
   
4. Finish with a dash of white wine vinegar.

Fig and Brie Appetizer

Ingredients:

• 1 baguette, cut into 1/2 inch thick rounds on the diagonal
• Brie or similar soft cheese (I tried a goat cheese that was similar to brie, but lighter)
• either standard honey or date honey, which I assume could be found in a middle eastern market - it's amazing!!!
• fresh green figs

1. Brush the bread slices with olive oil and toast them very lightly in the oven.
2. Drizzle with honey and place a slice of brie on each, then return to the oven to melt the cheese.
3. Once the cheese is melted, remove and place 1/2 fig on each slice of bread
   

Almost as long awaited...

First, let me apologize for the ridiculous break I took from updating. I guess I was waiting to have something to write about. Unfortunately, my own journal has seen similar results of this crafty waiting plan. Now that I'm back in school I don't see myself getting that much better in my own journal, but hopefully I can at least keep up here.

I still can't believe that summer is over, even though I've been in school for two weeks now. I guess because I spent so much time with David (The Graduate), I never really realized that I would be going back. I feel like I spent the whole summer expecting summer to start and then it ended. Really, it was an amazing summer. It was so relaxing and laid back. It was nice living with David, working full time and coming home to each other at the end of the day, catching up on some reading and watching really good movies. Towards the end I started getting antsy that I hadn't gone anywhere, but I realized it was only a psychological complaint. I decided I didn't have a good summer without looking at the facts. In all honesty it was one of the best summers I've had.

Things I accomplished:

• I listened to three years worth of This American Life archives. On those long grueling days at work I would sometimes listen to three or four a day. It was beautiful.
• I read A LOT. I caught up on a lot of things I've been meaning to read, plus found some new favorites. like Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation.
• I studied a bit for German before starting class, not enough really, but some.
• I studied a bit for the GREs, again, not enough, but some.
• I co-habitated successfully with my partner and continue to do so, which I think is a major accomplishment for both of us.
• I managed to save up some dough.
• I cooked A LOT.
• I welcomed lovely new roommates into my home.

But... I never went swimming! Can you believe it?

So now, the new semester. I'm only taking 13.5 units but I feel totally overwhelmed. Deutsch is kicking my little butt. My two history classes are great, but I'm having a hard time trying to keep up with them while not falling behind in German. I hope conditions improve.

That's all for now.

P.S. I edited our list of comrades. Everyone is blogging these days.

Long awaited, I'm sure

It's been awhile...
I tried to post from Israel, but couldn't quite figure out the buttons in Hebrew. I got back to Bologna yesterday afternoon around 2 and crashed for the rest of the day. I woke up briefly to unpack, do some grocery shopping, and eat a light meal, then I went back to sleep until 8:30 this morning. It's strange being back in Italy. My Italian is definitely rusty, after almost a month of English, but my Hebrew has certainly improved. It's so odd how much I can understand, even though I never speak. I find myself following my relatives' conversations easily, without thinking about it. It's so different from how I understand Italian- that requires intense concentration, translation of certain words. But with Hebrew, it's as though it's already in my head, I just absorb it without thinking. I think after college I will have to spend some time in Israel, re-learn the language for real.

My vacation was amazing. Tel Aviv is such a cool city, especially in the summer. The beach is packed with gorgeous, suntanned people, cafes, bars, and restaurants, and at night the whole city is alive with music. I stayed there for about a week, listening to amazing bands (my favorite was a girl named Rif, about our age, who sounds like an Israeli Fiona Apple), eating incredible food (and a lot of it), and exploring the city. Afterwards, I spent a few days at my uncle Amichi's house in Pardes Hanna, waiting for my parents to get in. After 17 years of shyness and cold-shouldering, my girl cousins have finally opened up to me. I had a great time hanging out with them, as well as my aunt and uncle, who are always lovely. It's so strange being a part of a big family when I'm in Israel. They're all so tight knit, their lives completely interlocked even as they whirl around one another in a flurry of activity. I've only ever really been close to my nuclear family, and for most of my life my brother's have been so at odds with my parents that my relationships with them have been kept separate. Being in Israel is dislocating, I know that by blood I am a part of this clan, but I can't help feeling irreconcilably (sp?) foreign.

When my parents got in, I moved with them to a house we rented from an old lady on Kibbutz Sdot Yam. It's the most incredible place- right down the road from Caesarea, a Port City built by Herod in the Roman Era, and immediately on the beach. The grassy lawns are overflowing with Roman artifacts, many of which have been claimed as lawn ornaments by the kibbutz inhabitants. Our house boasted two at the entrance and four more as plant holders on the modest tile porch. The woman herself, Ester, was a pretty amazing character. She arrived in Israel in the 30s, before the Zionist movement even began in earnest. She came from Yemen, and her entire family made the trip on two donkeys. When she got to Israel, she joined the Palmach- the first Israeli military, composed entirely of young volunteers. There, she met her German husband, married, and moved to Sdot Yam. The house was full of pictures of her, her husband, children, and grandchildren, wedding pictures of women in elaborate Yemenite costume, her husband's German family looking somber in suits and buttoned-up dresses. The sea was about a minute's walk down the path, and every morning my parents and I woke up at 6 am for a walk to the ruins of Caesarea, followed by a swim in the Med, breakfast, and a nap. It was so good to see them again, to spend some time being totally lazy with the people I love best. We did do some touring- we spent one day at the Holocaust museum, Yad Veshem, and another in Tel Aviv, where I showed my mother the boutiques on Shenkin Street (which she loved) and toured the art museum, which had a surprisingly large collection of Picassos. Afterwards we went to dinner at a restaurant called Manta Ray- it's right on the southern end of the beachfront promenade, and it was absolutely incredible. One appetizer was a cylinder of crab meat on top of dates, topped with some kind of sweet/spicy chutney, dinner featured mussels and chorizo in a fennel scented broth, calamari and shrimp in a creamy white sauce with parmesan and figs, and the most perfectly fried calamari I've ever had. The only thing that could have improved it would have been my favorite Berkeley dining companions to over-do it on Sangria and laugh at my Dad's terrible jokes.

Now that I'm back, Bologna seems terribly lonely. I know this is just the beginning, that soon I will feel at home here in my little, sunlit bedroom, but for now, I can't help wishing I was on the plane with my parents, back home to California.

I stayed home from work today with cramps/hangover. It feels strange to sit around with nothing to do. I rarely take days like this, but it's kind of nice to steal a slice out of my usual schedule. I feel like by skipping work I've created extra hours in the week to just lie in bed. I have been working full, full time and it's so frustrating to come home at the end of each day too tired to do anything but crash. This is my last summer as an irresponsible student and I feel like I'm making a mess of it by being too responsible.

That said, Ashby is a lovely place to be. The weather has been mild, not the unbearable hot stickiness of May, but more like how it was in Berlin last summer. Parts of me ache for my dorm room in Berlin. It was stark white and empty because all I had fit into a tiny suitcase. This year has been a blur. I can't comprehend how quickly time has flown.

Our new roommate is moving in mid-August. I'm looking forward to the fresh energy, and also to having a settled house. I'm anxious about the transition. I feel like a sort of Madame here, not in the pimp way, but just like I am the Lady of the House since I have lived here longest and manage all financial transactions. People look to me to check if things are ok. It's a funny, strange feeling.

That's all for now.

First Italian Poem

Dissipation

It’s July in Rome, and I can’t sleep.
Even as the sun dips languidly into the horizon,
in timid increments, like a cautious bather
the heat still lingers. It hangs
draped over rooftops, across clotheslines
strung like cobwebs between flowered balconies,
caught by the fibers of the starchy sheets on my hard mattress,
pricking beads of sweat from my restless legs and feet.

The fan churns weakly in the corner, defeated
by the humid weight of stagnant air. And despite
the itchy, pressing warmth, I will not throw
the blankets back. Because uncovered
here means unconfined, borderless, and thus exposed.

And I have already felt my edges start to blur,
standing in the courtyard of San Pietro,
head swept back to follow marble pillars
up their gleaming length into the too-large sky,
feeling so untethered I could almost
shuck this tiny clumsy body, atomize
into the ivory-cradled blue – almost.
Except the heat enfolds me, layered thickly like a bandage,
compressing me into myself, until I can look down
to find my feet still balanced on the cobblestones.

So I’ve lied awake since midnight, counting down
until those precious few cool hours before dawn,
willing myself heavier, dense enough
to remain whole, contained without
the ballast that once kept me grounded,
gave me shape.

Cooking and nostalgia

My time in Rome is quickly winding down. My final exam is next Thursday, and after that it's off to Bologna for two or three days before I leave for the holy land. My time in this city has not been easy to say the least, so I'm very much looking forward to starting fresh in my new home. Although my last weekend was a lot of fun, I can't help but feel a little ratty in my claustrophobic little room, hiding from the roommates who have begun to drive me absolutely bonkers. But it's not much longer, and there certainly have been some good times. Here's a rundown of the most exciting events of the past week:

Friday night: Went out with some of the roomies for an aperitivo, including the absolute best alcoholic beverage I have ever consumed: a frozen mojito. It's like a mojito slushie, all sweet and bright green with a wedge of lime, a sprig of mint so big it was more like a small bush, and a maraschino cherry. I was a little too greedy with mine and ended up with an awful brain freeze. After that, we had sangria at an outdoor cafe where we talked with a nice Swedish couple on a romantic vacation, followed by hard ciders at our new favorite pub, The Scholar's Lounge. At The Lounge we made friends with a nice young English lad who we invited to crash on our couch and join us for Saturday brunch. Bedtime that night was about 5 am.

Saturday morning: I made a pretty monumental brunch: basil and parmesan scrambled eggs, roasted potatoes with plenty of olive oil, garlic, and rosemary, polenta with arugula and porcini mushrooms, fresh tomatoes, sliced and salted, pancetta (Italy's sad excuse for bacon), and peach nectar and prosecco bellinis (the perfect brunch hangover cocktail). Afterward, we lapsed into a severe food coma and went back to sleep for the next four or five hours.

Saturday night: Woke up, got dressed up, and made our way to the opera! The show was Aida- the music, costumes, and singing were all out of this world, but I'd have to say my favorite aspect was the location. The stage was set up outdoors, right smack in the middle of the ruins of Rome's largest ancient bathhouse complex. The broken stone towers rose up like extensions of the Egyptian themed set, lit up by varicolored stage lights, bats flitting back and forth from tree to tower as the sun began to set. Absolutely breathtaking. My only complaint was that the show didn't start until 9:00 pm, meaning it only got out around 12:30. What with the previous night's sleep deprivation, my head did nod a bit towards the middle of the third act. Still, an amazing experience, and worth the agony of trying to get a cab to take home five people at 1 am. In the end, I had to convince the driver I really only count as half a person.

Sunday: Went to a beach outside Rome, lied in the sun all day, played in the Mediterranean, ate a salami, cheese, and tomato sandwich followed by a nutella and ricotta and fig gelato. Life is good.

Still, most nights I miss coming home to Ashby and Fulton and just walking into any room for a chat, a giggle, or a hug. I find most of my stories starting with: "my friends in Berkeley..." I've been trying to write, but the words are difficult to find. I'm looking for something in between change and loss, but so far I haven't come to any enlightening conclusions. For now, I'm looking forward to a night at the movies, American style. My roommates and I, and most of the kids in the program, are heading to the Warner Village Theater to see The Dark Knight in English. I can't wait to eat popcorn... I can only hope that they do that here... somehow prosciutto and melone just wouldn't be the same...