Life: Idiotropic

One of my favorite things about this place is the multiculturalism and the ability to connect with so many amazing people from all over Europe and beyond. Tonight we had the privilege of being invited to the Italian's Children's Carnival party. What a wonderful time! All the kids dressed up and about half the adults. It was just a big family style party. Everyone brought something to share, so the table was covered with Italian cakes, sandwiches, and pizza spin-offs. Delicious. My favorites were small rounds of deep fried pizza dough used as sandwich bread and filled with prosciutto and provolone. Delicious!











Two of Elise' friends were there - Benedetta and Filipo, so she took off running and playing with them. Martina is an Italian girl in Arianna's class that Luci is also friends with, so they both played with her for a while and then also met a lot of the other children. There was a clown there for a few hours doing tricks and making giant animal balloons and one of the dad's was the DJ and played tons of music for dancing... it began with just the kids dancing to songs like Chihuahua and pretty soon Summer Love from Grease came on and a bunch of the parents came onto the dance floor as well dancing in a large circle with all the younger kids in the middle. We danced to YMCA, the Macarena, and a bunch of other Spanish hits. And all three of my little girls danced - a lot. It was pretty fun to watch. (And yes, I danced too.) I love the Italians. They are so fun to spend time with and so good at just relaxing and having a good time. We were there from 4-8 - lots of fun. Now I just need to learn some of their recipes and find the Chihuahua song for the girls. They all want it on their ipod now.

You ever had one of those days when you should have had a good strong layer of duct tape over your mouth and your hands firmly cuffed behind your back?

Well... my enthusiasm for all things cultural got the better of me earlier this month when I was sipping coffee with my English conversation group and one of the Italian ladies mentioned a dance class. "Dance class", I think to myself, "that sounds like a lot of fun - oh goody, I unique cultural opportunity." So me and my not-duct-taped mouth start asking questions. Bad idea.

All of the sudden, I'm invited to come to the dance class with them. Twice. The next two Wednesdays. "Great", I'm thinking. Wonderful! I get to learn a new dance and spend time with some really great Italian ladies.

The next week I show up to learn the Contradanza. We're partnered up. I'm a boy. Ha ha. Fine. I can do this. We clap. We dance. We laugh a lot because I'm not the only one with two left feet (though I'm the only one who can't understand the words to the song). It's time to go and they ask... "Can you meet on Friday?"

Oh, ok. No problem. And it starts. Wednesdays and Fridays, then Friday morning and evening. And guess what? I wasn't just learning a simple dance. There is a costume involved. Black pants. White shirt. "Borrow your husband's vest." So apparently all Italian men have a nice suit vest in their wardrobe. Mine - nicht, nada, zilch. A couple of scarves, a cap and a drawn on mustache would complete my outfit - thankfully, they forgot the mustache for the performance.

Performance, you ask? Because if you know me, you will be choking on your coffee by now. I don't dance. And I certainly don't perform. Uh, er... until now.

In September the local head of the Chamber of Commerce asked me if the IWC would be interested in doing something at the Geilenkirchen Christmas market. I passed along the invitation to my board who, in turn, passed it along to their members. How was I supposed to know that my Italian friend had jumped on that opportunity. No one told me.

So all of the sudden, I'm the sole American - the only non-Italian dancing on stage in the market place of Geilenkirchen at their Christmas market last weekend which was just about embarrassing enough... but then, wait, I was dressed as a boy.

And not a cute one at that. I don't own a lot of black pants and the two that I do own are, well, fit, uh, a bit snugger than I'd like. One was ok, but they are capries... so there I am trying to tuck the little ends of my capries into my Ugg boots (black pants, black boots). Cute Italian, I'm not. Then the top. So I don't own a plethora of simple button down white tops either and Kirk has no vest... so Mariella had lent a shirt to me. I hadn't really looked at it- hadn't tried it on. So just a couple hours before I pull it out of the bag. It's a 34. I wear a 38. Ugh. This would not be pretty. And instead of a shirt with a vest (like all the other "boys" were wearing), this one was a shirt with a black cami looking top sewed onto it - not masculine at all. So now I'm a feminine looking "boy" dancing with the girls. Not sure that's any better.

We arrived at 5:30 already in costume freezing our veritable patooties off. It was pretty easy to spot the sea of Italians waiting half with green scarves on their heads and the others with the smart black caps. We were supposed to go on at 6, but they didn't even begin to clear off the stage until ten after because, according to the director, it was gemuertliche -- the atmosphere and feeling were right. Just before we went on, Mariella told me that we'd dance twice. Twice???? Dancing once, I thought, was quite embarrassing enough, but now we'd dance once normally, then grab partners from the audience and go through it again.

It was almost time. I took off my coat and noticed a button undone on my top. Great. Something else to worry about - and we were dancing twice! So the entire time I was dancing, I was terrified that one of the buttons on the too tight top was going to come loose.

All in all, it went ok. I made one mistake, but not a horrible one... and when it was time to choose a partner, I grabbed Tiara. Generous mom that I am, sharing the embarrassment.

So, there it is. I, the non-dancing, non-performer, actually ended up dancing at the Geilenkirchen Christmas market on a stage in front of real people with a bunch of Italians. An accomplishment of sorts, and, though it wasn't exactly what I planned on, a lot of fun. All that time with my friends reinforced the little things that I already knew about my Italian friends - 1) the wear black and pretty much only black and 2) they really can't talk with out their hands and they talk and talk and talk... and discuss and argue and talk some more. Getting through a rehearsal with them is 10% actual dancing and 90% discussing the dance. Still, I love these ladies. They're a lot of fun!

Feb 2009 - I just decided to randomly "google" myself to see what's out there and found this article in the Italian's Passato Presente, a newsletter for the GK Italians. It mentions me in reference to the dance above.



Totally unrelated Elise quote: Because the other day I told Elise that she was getting old...
"I'm not old, I'm new."
"How do you know?"
"Well, old people have - (pauses and looks intently at me) - skin like I have, but really old, old people have squishy skin."

Once again the Italians put together a beautiful evening rich with their culture. Their warmth and hospitality always shine at their events. Tonight they cooked three delicious pasta dishes for us in the colors of their flag- green pesto, a rich red Sicilian eggplant pasta, and a white rice dish with two cheeses. The last two were the best and I am including the recipes below.

The theme of the night was music celebrating Pavarotti and 50 years of Volare, a popular Italian song that's been sung by many bands including the Gypsy Kings and Dean Martin.

Wow. There is some incredible talent in that group. They all sung together, but two of the ladies took the microphones and sung Volare and several other songs. Their voices were beautiful and powerful - it was like sitting through a concert. They danced in traditional red, white, and green costumes, then, of course, we all joined them for a long evening celebrating together.

We played a trivia game about Italian opera and won bars of hazelnut chocolate and some of the ladies practiced one of the traditional dances with the ladies in costume.

Many of the door prizes were handmade which is always a very special touch and they had many treats for us to buy as well.

I was happy to sit at a very mixed up table with a couple of my best Turkish friends, some other Turkish ladies that I don't know as well, a German lady, and a few Americans. It was a nice mix and we all had fun despite some of the language barriers. It went long which is perfectly in tune with the Italian culture that knows how to relax and play and generally enjoys a long stretched out evening. I danced until 11 with them. My Turkish friend, Meral, and I were the last non-Italians there dancing and celebrating. It's wonderful to be a part of that.

I feel like I've really grown up here. Relaxed a little, mellowed a lot, and have grown in confidence. This is a good place for me. I love these people.

busiata
gnoccoli

arnacini
cuscusiera


it's poetic, isn't it? And I feel just a little bit prettier when I say them. Italian. As delicious to say as it is to eat. Which will be put to the test tomorrow when I cook up my busiata e gnoccoli for my famigia.

My amazing Italian friend just taught me to make two beautiful Sicilian pastas by hand this evening and in exchange, I taught her to make pancakes - half plain and half with chocolate chips which her daughter devoured. I also sent her away with maple syrup which she'd never tasted.

Doesn't sound like a fair exchange, does it? Sicilian pasta versus pancakes? And pancake isn't as fun to say unless you're Italian and you can say it with just the hint of an e on the end that makes it sing. But she was as excited about the pancake as I was about the pasta.

So to 600 grams of durum semolina flour - a very fine pale yellow flour, we put in 1.5t of salt and probably a cup or so of water... kneaded it, then let it rest under a bowl for about 30 minutes. [At this time it would be appropriate to sit with a strong Italian espresso and some tiny round crunchy almond flavored Italian cookie whose name currently escapes me. It would also be an appropriate time to sip a large glass of aromatic Italian red wine.] We rolled it to 1/4" thickness, cut strips, then rolled those strips thin. For the busiata, you place a skewer on one end of the pasta, then roll the skewer so that the pasta spirals onto it. Then you slide it off and you're onto the next one. If you make gnoccoli, you take that same strip rolled thin, then quickly pinch down on the edges of it with your fingertips rolling it slightly towards you. Marilena could do this absolutely effortlessly pinching, tearing into smaller strips, setting aside, then starting over on another strand. I, on the other hand, couldn't get mine to look remotely like hers. Not even close. So, busiata it will be at my house. If you want gnoccoli, go to Trapani. The pasta can be cooked right away in boiling water with a little salt and a little olive oil for 4 minutes, or you can dust it with flour so it doesn't stick together and let it sit under a towel until the next day. She says it's delicious with sauteed eggplant and fresh tomatoes. Mmmm.

On my Friday after a busy week, I was almost hoping that she couldn't come and cook today, but now I feel lighter and refreshed. So much so that if I had more flour now, I'd spend the rest of the evening rolling out and twisting up tiny busiatas until my fingers ached. Spending time with Marilena is fun anyway. We laugh at silly words as we try to communicate. She speaks English well and the words she doesn't know, I can usually figure out via Spanish. And every Italian word I have to repeat a few times, savoring slowly each syllable and slight inflection like a connoisseur would taste a fine wine.

Next time I will learn to make arancini which, I'm sure will taste just like they sound - delicious balls of rice stuffed with meats, ragus, or spinach, then fried. Can't be bad. Nothing she makes is bad. Marilena owned and ran a pasta shop when she lived in Italy. She can do anything!

Oooh, oooh.... and today... I went to Aachen with a friend and enjoyed a fabulously relaxing non-obligatory day when I didn't really have to do anything and tossed any sort of must buy or must see lists that I would normally have in hand when going to Aachen. I only knew I must sit and infuse myself with Starbucks- the coffee and the comfy chairs. So I had a triple Venti caramel latte (I think) non-fat, with whip... and it was good, though a bit sweet. It's been too long. I used to rattle off tongue twister coffee orders with pride. Every specification had a place and the rattling of those words were in cadence - almost poetic in it's own caffinated way.

ANYWAY... that is where Holly pointed out our oddest visual of the day: A beautiful raspberry marbled cheesecake looking thing sitting, all by it's lonesome, on a large dingy black cart - you know those big carts that you would use in a Costco to move heavy boxes? Yep. One big cart and one cheesecake. May be the cart is for the one who eats the cake.

Oh... that, and the wind-up sushi that I was oh-so-tempted to buy for Kirk just for a chuckle. I thought, how funny. I'll make up some sushi and then let this little one roll right off his plate.

The high for the day aside from the coffee and the delicious gruenkohl mit mettwurst I had for lunch, was finding a pair of jeans that not only fit, but were also on sale. Yippee! And, to watch a woman go from absolute stony coldness to slightly friendly and almost warm just by switching my words from English to German was really quite funny and sadly typical. Still... I got jeans, a cultural oddity, and a half smile all in one store!

Found a really cool French table at an equally cool Dutch chocolate shop - the Chocolate Company - where I again managed to salivate over everything and not buy one eensie weensie item. Am I nuts? Yeah! This is just not right. Next time, I'm buying chocolate... and may be one of those cookie cream things with the raspberries on top and a ring of marzipan holding it all together... mmmm...

You'd have photos, but I forgot the camera. :( Left it at the school on Wednesday after a yearbook meeting and there it sits. Now I have to go an entire weekend without a camera... don't know if I can make it... withdrawal is imminent.

Contentment is a day with friends.

With family and travels, my Spanish Fridays have been becoming quite a commodity and I've missed them. This morning I was happy to see my friends again and catch up. When I arrived, Joana was watching a docudrama (Lifetime style movie) about President Roosevelt - dubbed, of course, in Spanish. I still think it's funny that my international friends know more about American TV than me. Just earlier this week an Italian friend told me about a reality show in the US called "Army wife," a show I'd never even heard of before.

So this morning we just talked, drank coffee, and ate cake. They were getting ready for the formal dinner/dance tomorrow night for the patron saint of the military - a formal event that the Spanish enjoy every year. They were laughing at the men who dress so formally in tuxedos and ties, then dancing like they were 16 to the fast Spanish rock music. I love that about my friends here. The Italian, Spanish, Greek, and Turkish could care less about how they look in spandex. They all dance. They dance with more life than I ever did in high school. It doesn't matter if they are skinny or not. All sizes dress to impress. And they all know how to move their hips. It's not about sex or how they look. It's about having a good time. They laugh. They smile. They dance to rock and roll even if they're in their 40's. They don't age.

I'd love to be a fly on the wall at their party tomorrow... it will be a good one.

So, my morning was Spanish and my afternoon was Italian. Marilena came over so our girls could play together and we could cook together. I taught her how to make pie crust and a very nice apple pie and she taught me how to make the most delicious tiramisu ever. The secret to the tiramisu is the Italian coffee... something that I'll have to learn to make (basically requires the purchase of the coffee and a cute little cast-iron pot about 7" tall and 3" wide.)

We had a nice time talking. She is so nice. Of course, I told her that I was going to make her Sicilian Couscous recipe this week and she said, "You can't." "What? Why not?" "You can't get the couscous here - only in Sicily." So she teaches me the recipe and now I can't even make it???? That is really not fair. She laughed at me. Apparently her Italian friends are complaining too. Next time she teaches a class, she needs to have extra supplies on hand!

She was surprised to see me making the apple pie dough. I don't think that it compares with anything that she's made before and she thought that there would be eggs in it. She said that it would probably be the perfect crust for the Ricotta cake that she makes - just ricotta cheese, lemon juice, sugar, and cinnamon mixed together and baked in a crust. Yum. She's invited us to visit her in Sicily next summer and all we need are bikinis and towels and then we can eat gelato the Sicilian way - not in cones, but served in brioche!

Today was our second of Federica's birthdays and the third Italian birthday that we've been to and I always look forward to them. The food, company, and atmosphere are always so special. There is no clock, itinerary, or watch. No rush, no stress, no fuss. Just great people, and amazing food at a party that could last 2 hours or 5.

So this year I asked if Kirk would take Luci as I had things to do at home and wanted to have a stay-at-home day. He took her and within 5 minutes of arriving, my phone rang. It was Kirk. "They're wondering where the rest of the family is. They want you all to come." I should have known. Unlike some American parties where you don't want to step on toes by bringing siblings, and the entire family is usually not invited, here, it's all family. They had the party at the IYA on base (International Youth Activities building) - a place with a big playground, so the kids played for hours and the adults sat around the picnic benches drinking very sweet Italian iced coffee - like the coffee version of Southern iced tea. It was delicious and I usually don't like sweet coffee.

Inside was a table filled with different chips and sodas. Another table had two trays of Marilena's amazing panini - one with ham and cheese and the other with spinach. All delicious. The third table was completely covered in trays. A cheese cake with a strawberry gelatin top, a chocolate cake with a powdered sugar decorative top, a large pan of the most delicious tirumisu I've ever had, and a mountain each of chocolate profiteroles, vanilla profiteroles, and two flavors of cannoli -- ALL baked/hand-made by Marilena the night before. Those were just the snacks. All home-made - all phenomenal.

An hour into the party, she came in and brought out the ice cream cake that she also made and served that to everyone. I thought that was the birthday cake. I was wrong. Another hour and then the real cake comes... a beautifully decorated Italian cream cake covered in candles and a sparkler and we all sung happy birthday in Italian and English.

And then the party continued with talk and play. The dads got into a water balloon fight. The ladies tried to stay dry. And, eventually, the bottle of Asti was opened for all to enjoy a toast. The usual boring present-opening ceremony doesn't occur at an Italian birthday. Federica opened her gifts as her guests arrived and handed them to her. The gifts were appreciated, but they weren't the focus. I like that.

So we ended up leaving after about 3.5 hours of party... the last of the Americans to go. The Italians who'd all arrived a little over an hour before we did for a lasagna lunch were all still there enjoying the sunny day.

I was sent home with a tray filled with profiteroles, cake, tirumisu, and cannoli. Then, just as I turned to go, I saw her come out with brand new, trays, heaped with even more cannoli and profiteroles. She must have baked hundreds. Amazing. I'll get the recipes.

Tonight was the IWC Italian night at the Frisbee Club.

Italian colors hung from the ceiling, music played, and an elaborate stage depicted a table at a traditional Italian restaurant. In the background throughout the evening, a slideshow of the Italian Air Force ran and many of the Italian ladies wore their countries colors.

The tables were set beautifully with candles and the lights were dimmed a bit for ambiance. The ladies served us themselves with large silver trays of bruchetta. Then we were each served our own individual small margarita pizza. After we ate, they brought out more pizzas and then foil so we could take some home. The food was great.

Music played - music from Italy, Spain, Brazil, and the U.S. and the ladies danced. We danced to Camisa Negra, La Bomba (different one), Prince, Beach Boys, YMCA, Black Eyed Peas, and a lot of other tunes. It was quite a mix, but all the ladies knew the moves and they knew the American dances better than the Americans did. If you don't want to dance, it is wise to stay in your seat and look completely engrossed in conversation, because those that were up or looking around were led to the dance floor. We danced a lot and had a great time. I stood in a circle of Spanish and Turkish ladies - the only American dancing - looking out into the room of tables. The right side of the room where the Turkish, Greek, Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese ladies sat was almost completely empty. They were all on the dance floor. The left side of the room sat the Germans, Dutch, Norwegians, Canadians, and Americans. Those tables were almost completely full with onlookers unwilling to dance.

I really think that the cultures are affected a lot by temperatures. The warmer climates tend to produce friendlier, "warmer" people. They are outdoors more talking with their neighbors and interacting. The women are confident and dancing is part of the party. The people from colder climates tend to be more reserved. They are friendly, of course, but not as outwardly open until they know you very well - and they don't dance much. I suppose the cold keeps people indoors and more to themselves.

After the prizes were rewarded, coffee and cake were served and people began to leave, but the dancing continued. When I left the only people left were the Italians. They all had an Asti toast and started singing with the DJ. It was the own private party then and very fun to see.

Two of Luci's closest friends are sweet Italian girls that go to her school and I've been fortunate enough to become friends with one of the mothers whose willing to use her English a little more.

I think that's one of the mixed blessing things about living here. There truly are some amazing opportunities being in a multinational community like this one where we can share friendship and cultures with people from Turkey, Greece, Italy, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Canada, The Netherlands, France, and, of course, Germany. The difficult thing then becomes the language. As many things exist that can transcend that language barrier, a there are a lot of things that rely on the use of words. I've been fortunate with the use of my Spanish language skills to get to know and become friends with several wonderful Spanish women here, but not all the communities are as open or speak English as well (and I certainly can't learn all of their languages). We really are limited in our friendships to those that we can communicate with.

Marica, Martina's mom, is very nice and one of the few Italian women who has been very willing to try to speak English, and so we've enjoyed visiting with her family and felt very honored to be invited to Martina's birthday party today. We were the only non-Italians there.

It was held at Pee Wee's, a favorite party location among many preschool parents of all nationalities. It an enormous room full of climbing things, slides, and every piece of Little Tikes type plastic available. Kids love to take off and explore the ball pits, slides, and myriad of climbing things. Parents love to sit with the endless cup of tar-like coffee knowing that the worst thing likely to happen to their kids, is the complete blackening of the bottom of their socks by the end of the afternoon.

The Italians were all very warm and friendly and even Marica's mom, visiting from Italy, talked to me in her broken English, but we understood each other and where English failed, Spanish worked.

The kids never care what language is used. They just play. Luci ran off with Martina and Federica. Everyone was happy. Then about 20 minutes later Martina and Federica ran back crying and talking quickly to their mom's, shaking their hands as they talked in true Italian style. It was amusing in that it was so typical of kids. Talking over each other to tell their side of the story and arguing over what the other had said. I didn't need to understand Italian to understand what was going on and the one word that did ring out loud and clear was Luci. They were fighting over who got to play with Luci.

Anyway, it was a nice party. We stayed for three hours while the kids did bumper cars and played. The cake was German and all the toys were American. The one unique Italian thing was the Asti toast that is traditional after the cake is cut. The kids were done with the sweets and the adults all enjoyed a toast with Asti. It's a very nice tradition that I enjoy and will probably adopt for my girl's parties as well - something a little nice for the adults.

Even Tiara likes the bumper cars. I don't like the smell of rubber that surrounds that part of Pee Wee's, but it doesn't seem to bother the kids who clamber to ride them again and again. Arianna's a pretty good driver. Luci will have to learn to enjoy public transportation.

There is a new family living just a few houses away that have a little girl Arianna's age. Her name is Ria and she is in Aria's class at school. They really enjoy playing together, and since Ria is an only child, her mom enjoys having my girls over to play with Ria and keep her busy. Like most girls, they all like to be princesses and luckily, Ria has 4 Disney princess costumes!

So, here they are in all their splendor.


Arianna, Ria, and Luci in one photo and Elise as Snow White in the other