Happily Troubled

What kind of a magical land is this?

2007-01-12T10:35:00.000+01:00

Yes, it's a 24 hour automatic fresh pesto machine.

(You won't find one of these in Buttsford.)

The Aforementioned Cioccolata Calda.

2007-01-12T09:19:00.000+01:00

Hey, Happy New Year. Let's start off with something very good!
-5 tablespoons good quality unsweetened cocoa powder- I am using the Perugina Brand lately.
-6 ounces bittersweet chocolate,
-1 tablespoon sugar
(NB - you may like your beverages more sweet than I – try semisweet chocolate or more sugar if I am too bitter of a pill for you to swallow.)
-a little boiling water
-2 cups milk or water
-powdered chili, ginger or cinnamon

Mix Cocoa powder, sugar, and 2 tablespoons of boiling water in a saucepan and heat. Whisk like the dickens until the sugar melts and all is smooth (Ewww, lumps! yucka!) and you can’t help yourself and have to taste it. Boil and add the 2 cups of liquid. Keep whisking and heat until almost boiling. Turn off the heat and add the chocolate cut into tiny pieces. Stir to melt the chocolate and let it sit for a few minutes. If it is too thick for your taste add a little more hot water. (Some of the cafés in Milan and Florence serve CC so thick the spoon you will need really does stand up.) Reheat if needed and stir well before serving or give it a whiz with a frother or hand mixer. Pour or spoon into a demitasse cup and sprinkle a little chili, cinnamon or ginger powder on top.
When I have been very good, I serve myself this with a glass of sparkling mineral water, chunks of warm bread and a few fresh strawberries if I can get them. Bundle up and sit outside to drink, putting your feet up and smiling knowingly. Nice boots by the way.

I wish we could forever all speak in poetry.

2006-11-21T09:23:00.000+01:00

The point at Portovenere - 19th November 2006

On the way to Byron's Grotto - Portovenere 19th November 2006

There is pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Lord Byron - Childe Harold

Byron's Grotto - Portovenere 19th November 2006

Oh, there she goes being wistful again!

2006-11-21T09:03:00.000+01:00

Glory, like the phoenix 'midst her fires,
Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires.

Lord Byron - English Bards and Scotch Reviewers

Big, Fat Happy Sigh.

2006-11-21T08:28:00.000+01:00

The Grand Canal - Venice 14th November 2006

I haven't posted in some time as I have guests here from Canada.

Last week I took some time off and brought them to a few places. As I'm not sure how much longer we will be in Italy (it really depends on work), I've decided to optimise the rest of my time here. I think I'll definitely be coming back to North America but it will be hard

to leave scenes like this.

The River Arno -Florence 16th November 2006

This weekend we will be going to Portofino and Portovenere. I, of course, am extremely excited because of the whole Lord Byron/Grotto/ Shelley connection. No, I am not a Litgeek - well, maybe a little, okay, a lot. It's not like I will be spewing out quotes whilst gazing wistfully into the distant dark sea...

Is it time to stop being mossless?

2006-11-07T14:14:00.000+01:00

Stop leaving and you will arrive.
Stop searching and you will see.
Stop running away and you will be found.
~Lao Tzu

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala! Not listening!

~Stupid quote of the day service, making me question and review my life choices. ..harumph.~

The Heat's Turned On! The Heat's Turned On!

2006-10-24T09:43:00.001+02:00

“Woo hoo!” is all I have to say. There is a law here in Italy that says the heat must be turned off completely from spring until fall. When I first looked into it I had a little Canadian stress attack and was ready to go out and start chopping wood or at least getting into daily baking again. The date for the big switch-on is November 1st – luckily when you live a little bit more north-erly they take pity and everything goes on October 15th. It’s been a colder than usual autumn here apparently so this date came none too soon. It’s still not that cold, but it’s damp and rainy and I fear that I am getting soft and will soon be languidly wandering through the centre of Milan with great boots, a pained look and a fur stole, searching endlessly for the perfect, steaming hot Cioccolato Caldo (an incredibly rich, thick hot chocolate drink – more on this soon.)
But in the meantime, I figured out the heating system – did you know you could download pdf instructions files of wall mounted apartment temperature regulators? I’ll say it over and over again - I love the internet.
And I love not having to drag my blankey all over the apartment, although I do anyway. I really must see about getting an “outside” job. Maybe in the spring.

Please Light a Candle

2006-10-17T13:57:00.000+02:00

This is a small thing, will take only a few moments of your time and can help stop the abuse of children on the internet. Watch the message, add your light for those poor souls caught in the darkness and then ask someone else to do the same.
http://www.lightamillioncandles.com/

~~If you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, march right down there and turn it on yourself.~~

The Only Time I Will Talk About My Toilet - I promise.

2006-10-05T10:09:00.000+02:00

Three words: Fabulous Italian Design.
I nearly fell over in the local grocery when I saw this and yes, I had to buy it. It is an Alessi designed toilet cleaner/refresher and is at this very moment hanging in my toilet. When you flush, he rides the wave. I won’t elaborate any further save for three more words:

Brilliant, yet disturbing.

I'm sure could learn Italian faster if I had better shoes.

2006-10-05T09:21:00.000+02:00

I hope to be going back to Italian lessons soon. I have to wait to see how many people sign up – if there are enough then the class goes ahead. If not, I am COL and have to go into the next city (hassle) or hire a tutor (expensive) – so I am crossing my dita.

Italian is easier in many ways than German, but sadly enough; it still involves work and memorizing and using parts of my brain that are having a hard time switching from Deutsch. I still regularly say “Ja, si” and “vielen, uh, grazie”. It’s like I have a second language Rolodex brainfile and only one whizzy cartridge can be in use at a time. It took a long time for the German file to get in there to replace the French so I guess it’s not surprising that the Italian one is slow in arriving. (Note to self, check mailbox for phone bill)

Italian is similar to French but has a lot more conjugation (like Latin) and the verb endings in the more complex tenses are really hard. On the other hand, you don’t use personal pronouns that much (built into the verb ending) and if you want to ask a question, all you have to do is intonate at the end of the sentence. No pesky inversion even. The people are great and are thrilled when you can speak a little and when you say that you don’t in any way shape or form understand anything that they say, will continue to talk to you and expect you to answer, or at least nod knowingly. I rely on the deer in the headlights look and generally get a face pat from the old women who I imagine are saying something like “oh, you are kind of cute in a pale sort of way, so it’s okay that you are not so clever. But you really do need better shoes and a tan.” Si. Indubbiamente. Danke.

Wha?

2006-09-25T17:13:00.000+02:00

My afternoon entertainment was as follows:

I received an email today saying that my telephone bill is online.
I want to pay this right away as the last one took a long time to be processed and was almost late so I thought - best to get it out of the way...
But when I try to pay it, I can't because the phone company has not printed it yet and the bank won't let me pay it because telecom has not told them that I owe them money. I am not allowed to pay them money unless I owe them money. But I do owe them money - can I pay? Please, I ask? No, you don't owe them money yet. But I received a bill. Maybe it is some sort of an advance bill that lets you know that you will be owing money in the future? How come they charge me for phone calls I haven't made yet, quote ~based on predications about my past usages~ but I can't give them payment in advance for a bill I "haven't received" yet (even though I have)?

And why on earth would I want to pay my bill that I have seen but does not exist, before I get it, when I receive it, before it's due anyway?

Think German rules. With no logic. And more paperwork.
Is there a patron saint of logic? Let me take a wild guess and surmise that he or she is not Italian.

I'm going to wait until I get the bill in the mail and pay it online when the bank lets me, after of course, I have had a small glass of wine and a biscuit, and debated whether or not I have actually received it. I must let go of this whole efficiency habit - it really is quite exhausting.

Oh, who am I kidding? Shoot me now :)

And Sail the Seas Piratical...

2006-09-19T20:22:00.000+02:00

Ahem...
I've decided that there's not enough silliness going on in me world. I have been focused too much on parental illness and my ineptness in not knowing how to wiggle me nose and have everything be better. The great circle of circling crap that we call life has a tendency to roll 'round and bite you and doesn't really care if you are not really into it. Bah to that! So without further ado...

Ahoy!
Aye, I know you've all bin waitin'. Break out the eye patch and dust off yer hook.
Finally, it's International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

You think I'm foolin' and I just made this up? Har har!
http://www.talklikeapirate.com/piratehome.html

And for me favoured pirates living in a German locale...
http://www.talklikeapirate.com/howtogerman.html

Arr me hearties, lastly I present the means to yer Pirate Name (lads and lasses both can apply)
http://www.piratequiz.com/

& Fer those a you wit no time fer quizzes...there's a pirate name generator here:
http://www.privateerdragons.com/caseys_shiphold2.html

I hope all is well, your seas are calm, your grog plentiful and there be no sharks or scurvy among yahs.

I remain, as always,

The Piratess Mad Dog Do, Plunderess of Good Purse Sales, She who read too many adventure novels as a child, Terror of the Seas, arrr, I forget the rest...where be me coffee?

Stupid slow soul.

2006-09-05T01:00:00.000+02:00

I've been feeling melancholy for the last few days. So staying true to my current -why the heck am I in this strange land away - got a wicked funk going on blueness, I give you my favourite quote on emptiness and jet lag (oh, and there are soooo many to choose from, I know!). This is from William Gibson’s Pattern Recognition.

"She knows, now, absolutely…that Damien’s theory of jet lag is correct: that her mortal soul is leagues behind her, being reeled in on some ghostly umbilical down the vanished wake of the plane that brought her here, hundreds of thousands of feet over the Atlantic. Souls can’t move that quickly, and are left behind, and must be awaited, upon arrival, like lost luggage. "

Hm, so that's why I feel like part of me is missing sometimes. Find me yet?

Backatcha

2006-08-30T11:11:00.000+02:00

Ah, the joys of jetlag!
Please be patient with me - I am still trying to get sorted here.
Rest assured my dears, we made it back and I will post soon.

p.s. The Nightmare, 1781, Henry Fuseli - Beautiful, no?

Be not afraid.

2006-08-11T00:46:00.000+02:00

Just quickly...
Thanks for all of the emails.
We are not flying through London or the States. We will probably encounter some delays but are well prepared.
If we don't travel - they've won.
Don't worry. I'll be home soon.
xo
do

Keep on keepin' on.

2006-08-07T10:46:00.000+02:00

Yes, it's time for the (almost) quarterly pilgrimage to the Motherland. As of this Friday, I will be either closer to you, or farther away.
Miss me yet?

The Mighty Comma.

2006-08-07T10:00:00.000+02:00

This is for everyone who ever told me that I shouldn't obsess over my punctuation at work.

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20060806.wr-rogers07/BNStory/Business/home

My brain, more busy than the labouring spider...

2006-08-03T10:19:00.000+02:00

The other day a spider bit me. I never saw the little culprit but it certainly left a mark on my right forefinger. After a few hours it began to swell and turn red.
Curses! I haven’t reached the chapter in my Italian book that deals with doctors and health! So off I went to the pharmacy, tried to explain and failed miserably. I was forced to ask if anyone spoke English or German. One girl’s English was good and she started dragging out books with photos of spiders. The spiders in these photos looked like the cousins of my friend Brad’s window guest in Vancouver (pictured above ~shudder~). Anyhoo, when I told her I didn’t see the thing, pleasant pharmacy girl looked at my finger, then turned and started speaking to her colleagues in fast, unintelligible and what sounded to me like panicked Italian. Since I don’t know what she said I only imagine that they were calling the ambulance, the poison control centre, my mother and I’m pretty sure she mentioned the priest twice.

She marked the edges of the itchy area, which had now spread to my hand and had me sit down for a few minutes to see if the red area grew. Then she applied a patch thing and had me sit in the corner of the shop. What a great opportunity to people watch! You have to ask for almost every item you need, as the only things on the counter in this Italian Farmacia were cellulite creams and candy. ~I thought that was a pretty funny combo.~ It’s the same absolutely no-self-service system in Germany, as why would you pick out drugs for yourself when you never went to school to study them? It’s a totally different health care mentality and takes some getting used to. I’m a rebel and bring everything I think I would ever need from Canada and restock regularly. You have to ask even for aspirin here and if you don’t speak the language, it’s difficult. My friend Suz says pointing to the affected area and grimacing helps. Abject fear of losing my hand aside, I found the whole experience to be pleasantly organized. - Everyone keeps a good idea of who is where in the line to be served and then when it is your turn, the pharmacist greets you, at least in this area, by politely saying "mi dica, signora." (Tell me, Madame) and then you’re up. There was no privacy as the store is small and crowded and I had to speak pretty loudly to be heard over the din. If they didn’t already know me from my previous tortured attempts at Italian at the bakery and butcher’s, they knew me now. It’s a small town.

I ended up getting some cortisone cream for the itch and advice to go to the doctor if the swelling did not decrease. After a little research on the net, and some advice from my Ma, a bread poultice and some Tiger Balm has brought my finger almost down to its normal size. I didn’t even have to break into my extensive store of Canadian import aspirins.

Really, Basil...

2006-08-01T12:37:00.000+02:00

By semi-popular demand, a recipe for

Pesto
-One cup Pine Nuts
-clove of Garlic, peeled and chopped
-Sea Salt and fresh ground Black Pepper
-2 overflowing cups of fresh Basil leaves
-One cup of Parmesan Cheese, freshly grated
-extra virgin Olive Oil

Warm the pine nuts a little in a pan to bring out the flavour. If you would like to toast them go ahead and brown them a little but this will change the flavour of your pesto. I have heard both never to do this and to always do this – I have tried both ways and I think it depends on your basil. If it is young and fresh I don’t toast the nuts but only warm them a little; if it is an older basil plant with a more developed flavour or has flowered, then I definitely toast the nuts lightly.

~Don’t forget! You eat first with your eyes!
Remember to put aside a few pine nuts, a little parmesan and some basil leaves to pretty up your dish later.~

Prepare your basil leaves by letting them sit in cold water for a little while before use.
Shake dry and chop lightly.

If you have a mortar and pestle drag it out! A food processor works well too. Crush one clove of garlic, a tiny little bit of sea salt and the basil together until it is a beautiful green mush. Crush the nuts separately and then add to the basil mix. Now smell this – it really is incredible. Add about ¾ of the parmesan cheese a little at a time and stir gently. Add some oil to get whatever consistency you desire, add more cheese if you like, and then season with the salt and pepper to your taste.

If you are using the pesto with pasta – prime the pasta with a little bit of butter and then add a touch of hot water when mixing. If you are making your pesto to serve with risotto, warm the pesto slightly in the microwave or a butter pan before serving.

Pesto can be stored in the fridge for a few days and I’ve heard can be kept in the freezer for about three months. I grow my basil on the balcony. For those of you who remember my history as a plant murderess and are mute and shocked at this fact, look upon the photo above and marvel at my reformed ways!

Hey, kid! Wanna be a star?

2006-07-28T11:04:00.000+02:00

My, I’m just a postin’ fool today.
So, have you seen myheritage.com ?
This site has a facial recognition program through which you can check your mug against a big list of celebrities. The celebrities with the highest percentage of matching measurements, based on your uploaded photo, are presented...and you can, well, waste a bunch of time, dream of stardom and amuse yourself.
You do have to sign up for an account but I guess it’s worth it to find out that you bear a striking resemblance to Chuck Yeager and Elijah Wood...

www.myheritage.com

The Never Ending Laundry Saga

2006-07-28T10:54:00.000+02:00

I don’t have a clothes dryer. Before you drop in disbelief, I want to let you know that not many people do here. Power is very expensive and dryers tend to suck up a great deal. They also throw off heat, shrink your clothes and dramatically cut the lifespan of every piece of cotton you own. Are you convinced to live without one yet? Yah, neither am I. The truth is, if you really want your dolce vita bubble burst, is that behind every quaint photo of fluttering white linen over a quiet Italian lane, is somebody busting their hump in a never-ending cycle (no pun intended) of washing, carrying, hanging, picking up and rewashing ‘cause it got dirty when someone forgot to put enough clothespins on, checking to see if they’re dry, sniffing for freshness, taking in, piling in the corner in hopes that the elusive creature known as the Ironing Fairy will come and take pity on you and finally, realizing that she hates you and has vowed never to darken your door again after the last time, ironing everything yourself.

Aside ~Thankfully, I can iron in front of Cerberus. Yes, I named the air conditioner.~

I find laundry here to be an exercise in patience. European front loading-washers take forever to finish. It’s frustrating when you just want to have it done with.
I do miss my dryer. I have a big history with dryers. When I was small, we had an industrial dryer for the motel. It was into this gargantuan lovely, my brother and I decided that I would go after a particularly good rainstorm. I thought it efficient, I could dry my hair and clothes at the same time and, as an added bonus, check to see if I “Pink Panthered” afterwards. Sadly, my Mom stopped the experiment before we could find out.

In our Canadian winter, the most coveted spot in the yard was the dryer vent by the backdoor. Frozen mittens could be thawed, toes warmed. It smelt amazing. Clean and warm. Comforting. I can see through the basement window, my Dad’s shadow folding never-ending sheets with strong arms. Dryers are home.

But, I must admit, early yesterday morning before the heat came, when it was quiet and the door to the balcony was open, I could hear my white, fresh-smelling sheets fluttering and billowing. I went to take them in - my standards over the field, my flags without colours. And as I folded them, it occurred to me that they were, in a roundabout way, white sails bringing me home.

Scusi, non parlo Italiano molto bene. Your Fiat is parked on my foot.

2006-07-13T16:52:00.000+02:00

I really love learning Italian. It’s hard, don’t get me wrong. I’m definitely not sailing through and magically acquiring fluency like in the classic, brainy heroine with a broken heart and/or bad fashion sense moves to a foreign country and transforms into a confident, beautiful, well-dressed picture of charm and elegance kind of way.
~Have you seen those movies? Fabulous, all of them. Usually, smiling locals only have to provide a chic outfit and a haircut and then our heroine is a new woman. I am such a sucker for transformation flicks.~

Some days, like today, I really wish that I had a Matrix-style jack chip that I could just plug in to my bella-cerebellum and be able to discuss Dante and the finer points of Italian Design and Art and perhaps even talk coherently to my butcher. But alas, not gonna happen. I actually need to work at this. Damn.
Yet, with this realization of the coming hard slogs over grammar texts, lives hope. One day I will begin to dream in Italian – I have been told that this comes along after you reach a certain stage in a language where you are more comfortable and have some vocabulary and skill. When this night comes, I will be extremely happy. Shocked and happy. And the next morning, I’m going to get my hair done, buy some new clothes and go stand in line at the butcher’s.

Just an Average Sunday Night in Italy - Bedlam, Chaos, Pure Unadulterated Joy

2006-07-10T10:24:00.000+02:00

Wow. Italy won the World Cup last night. And How.

A 1-1 Tie with a brilliant, fading French team looking for last glories and an unexpectedly cohesive, earnest Italian team looking for redemption from a match fixing scandal that has shaken the hearts of the country. It came down to a penalty shoot-out, apparently a skill Italy is not known for, and the Italians pulled it off 5-3. It was quiet in my town for, oh I don’t know, about a second, and then everything erupted.

I must say that I am not a huge soccer fan. I don’t follow regular games and I don’t know the songs, but I do like the World Cup. Maybe it’s because it’s special – coming along only every four years and maybe because it illustrates the Europeans so well. Coming from Canada, I find the devotion foreign but then I think of hockey and I understand. It’s a need to be a part of something. As expats, sometimes we feel disconnected and foreign and alone. Being a part of something is not a bad thing.

So, we walked into town and felt like we were a part of it.
Everyone was headed for the central piazza singing and waving. Parents pushed sleeping babies in prams and led kids so excited you could see that they were vibrating under their red, white and green I-am-untouchable-and-will-remember-this-forever capes. Grandmothers with flags on their walkers. Everyone dancing. Pure Happiness. It doesn’t matter where it comes from or if it’s soccer or hockey and if you know the offside rule, or can sing the songs. What does matter is that it is contagious and sometimes in these days, much needed.
I didn’t sleep so well, what with the horns and the fireworks and the screaming and everything. But I really don't care - it was totally worth it.

It's not often you get to witness across-the-board, unadulterated joy.

Life in Dante’s Inferno, I mean Italy.

2006-07-05T12:29:00.000+02:00

Well, I broke down and bought an air conditioner. After hours and hours of proselytizing to myself about how I needed to experience the culture and get to know how things were really done here in Italy – I totally caved after not sleeping well for about two weeks. When I did sleep, I dreamt of Dante’s Inferno, in particular the Epicurean section of circle six. Don't ask.
Waking up in a feverish sweat every hour is exhausting and I admit it – I can’t take it. I also got a little nervous when one of our friends here insisted that it will get hotter and that 34 degrees Celsius is rather pleasant. So I have come to accept that physically, I’m a Canadian through and through.
Therefore, yesterday into my home came the lovely Duracraft AMD-50E portable air conditioner. It’s a little noisy yes, but within an hour or two I felt like it was springtime in the Rockies. It has wheels so I am thinking about converting it into a transportation device – perhaps adding a bubble like il Papa, a fashionable hooey-hooey sunshade and a flame job.

Actually, I think I might add the flame job anyway.

Sigh.

2006-06-30T10:33:00.000+02:00

"However," he said, brightening up a little,
"we haven't had an earthquake lately."

A.A. Milne

German Coast Guard

2006-06-29T10:26:00.000+02:00


Anyone who has learned a second language will appreciate this.

Swiss Shopping and Schweinebraten

2006-06-26T17:49:00.000+02:00

I used to live in Germany.

For four years, 6 months and 29 days, I dutifully learned to Deutsch sprachen, be strong, not complain, bag my groceries like a mad woman and appreciate the culture. I am proud to say that today I make a mean schweinebraten (roast pork), can pan fry a schnitzel like nobody's business, occasionally dream in German and am very glad that I gave it a chance.

I worked hard. I met some great friends there. I lost my father. I grew up a little and I came to peace against some of the dark, little, congested and festering corners of my mind. I saw great works of art and learned to appreciate both sides of history. Let’s talk about this sometime over a beer and a nice Schweinehaxe.

On a related yet completely superficial note.
Now, no offense to da Cher-manns but I really had a hard time shopping there for clothes. Thus, when I came across Fox Town in Mendrisio, I was sceptical and drove by with a sad snort. After all, the small range of Swiss shops I had seen, although clever and efficient in service, seemed more difficult and expensive than even the most daunting of the German. I was wrong. Oh, sooooo wrong.

Fox Town is an outlet mall. It has free parking and truly is a magical fairyland where everything fits and is lovely and stylish - where a brass band plays and happy Swiss people who are pleased to take your money cavort merrily and speak to you in whatever language you please. Forgive me Foxtown. www.foxtown.ch
later,
Do

Hello Max...

2006-06-23T10:33:00.000+02:00

Well, then.
Here we are.

This is mostly due to the people who have been bugging me to start a blog. Are you happy now? Actually, let’s get into this because I am entirely unsure about what to focus on here. When was the last time you really thought about happiness? What makes you, all you lovely people out there in the dark, happy? {Forgive me the not-so-subtly veiled reference to Sunset Boulevard, Max.)

Me, I like to find patterns in things. That makes me happy.

For example, yesterday, I took these two photos…

Yes. Look at me being happy.