On the Chopstick Trail: London

I'm becoming a blog slacker! I'm disappointed in myself. It's been too long (despite the fact that I know exactly who my blog audience is, and how very few you are, I like to write something every week). Anyway, I can try to explain my absence by using London as an excuse: last week Rosa played hostess for 5 days and was an extraordinary London guide. While I gawked at the amazing shoes parading around, and ate Korean food at a constant rate (on 3 different occasions), she managed to ensure that I saw a great deal of British culture, too.

We saw a great play. We also saw some great museums, in particular this exhibit at the Tate Modern. We randomly happened upon a collection of gold pillboxes, among other things, at the Gilbert Collection. That was cool because museum-goers are provided with an enormous magnifying glass to inspect all of the microscopic decorations.

This is Rosa, using her glass to look over something-or-other.


Because Rosa has the good fortune to live in a neighborhood nicknamed "Little Beirut", off the Edgware stop, I was able to convince her to come to a hookah bar with me. Don't worry, Mom, it's not addictive. I don't think.


I made sure to enjoy as much non-Italian food as possible. That included a trip to Borough Market, which is basically an endless array of food samples. We indulged in many things that I cannot find in Bologna, such as cheese-y potatoes:


And pickle juice (there are pickles in there, but they're pretty much overwhelmed):


Rosa particularly loves the marinated garlic cloves, which really don't leave an aftertaste - they're a miracle:


But, if I'm really going to get into a food discussion, I should say that the Korean food really hit the spot. Particularly Asadal, which took three days to get into. (on Thursday night, a 2 hour wait!) However, we were given lots of love despite the fact that in my language confusion I accidentally responded to the waiter in Italian. (My English was at times painfully error-filled throughout this trip, which is depressing, considering that my Italian is not anywhere near perfect!) Our waiter seemed baffled by the fact that we knew how to order and eat our food - do British people not appreciate Korean food enough? I finally got into his good graces by ordering cinnamon punch, which is one of my all-time favorite beverages.


After laughing in disbelief, he brought not us only cinnamon punch, but two free Korean cookbooks! ("If you love Korean food so much," he said, "you should learn to make it.") I need to get started. If only Italian supermarkets sold things like soybean paste and Chinese cabbage.

Ice Cream Parties

It's cooling down here, but that's no reason to stop eating gelato. We have remained loyal fans of Stefino, our nearby gelateria with all-natural gelato, and our relationship with the shop grows all the time. A few weeks ago, we had a much-anticipated party at our house to mark the arrival of our new roommate, Francesca, and to celebrate the cooking skills of Massimo's parents. (Their skills are considerable.)

Massimo embarked on a month-long campaign to invite the employees of Stefino to our party. He called this his "feminine" technique. Instead of aggressively issuing one invite as a man would do, he reasoned, it would be better to invite the "Stefini" every day until they got the message, as a FEMALE would. It's so nice to live in such an emancipated household.

Well, regardless of Massimo's method, we were overjoyed to see the owner of Stefino (named Stefano, surprisingly) at our door on the night of the party, along with a various coworkers whom we've come to know over the past few months. (One is a Brazilian woman who's in training to become a pilates instructor - we're going to do an English-pilates exchange. I can't wait!) We also made a special lasagna delivery to Stefino for the girls who were working that night (including Stefano's girlfriend), and we were given a huge tub of gelato.

Stefano and Maurizio, the gelateria's male representatives, had this bright, oh-so-Italian idea: they wanted to be photographed with the gelato and all the women at the party. We obliged.

I am holding my favorite Stefino item, a chocolate granita with whipped cream. It actually came from our freezer, where it had been waiting to be consumed - the Stefino employees were much amused to see their product emerge from our freezer on command. Francesca is the auburn-haired girl to the left of my granita-arm. Stefano is the semi-balding brown-haired man all the way to the left, and Maurizio (also of Stefino) is the man with the orange classes.

Later that night, Massimo and his best friend from high school, Saverio, entertained us with guitar-playing. Saverio also whipped out a bazooka, which he played for us proudly.


Stefino employees entertained us by dancing.


And force-feeding gelato to party guests.

(That's my friend Arash, who's a John's Hopkins MA student. Maurizio, the Stefino employee who's abusing him, told us that he has been stopped on the street by irate Italians due to his glasses frames. Apparently an ancient Italian woman once grabbed his arm and said, "What the hell is wrong with your face?")

We are now planning for the next party. It will commemorate the end of the gelato season, and partygoers will be required to attend in costume. First prize: gelato.

Language, Vulgarity, and Some Questions

While I procrastinate about the newest blog entry (which requires me to upload various photos onto my computer) I've decided to do some thinking about language. Language and swear words, in particular. The past two months in Italy have taught me a lot about swearing, probably because I've been working full time with other young people. These young people also happen to be male, and therefore swear more often, which is something I'll get to in a minute. Also, since I figure that I know everyone who reads this thing, I can actually discuss this. It's interesting!

Over the past few weeks I've noticed that various vulgar phrases have somehow ended up in my Italian vocabulary. It's interesting, since I have (obviously) a better command of English, I think that I'm less susceptible to these influences when I'm surrounded by different types of English-speakers. In Italian, since most of what I say is learned through repetition, hearing something frequently is the best way to memorize it. This is how I've learned all of the normal verbs for general bathroom/bedroom behavior that in English are known to all.

The other thing is that a lot of these Italian expressions are tied to gender. Take, for example, the constant discussion of male genitalia. A person who annoys you is "breaking your balls". In fact, anyone or anything that gives you a hard time is "breaking" - or "on top of" - your balls. This statement varies in strength depending on the vocabulary used, because naturally there are many many different ways to say the same thing, and many different tones of voice can be used. In my opinion, nothing beats the commonly heard wish or promise - "I'll do it once so-and-so is out from between my balls". What imagery! This ranges greatly; I've heard it used to refer to girlfriends, which has some degree of sense. It made less sense when one of my choir-mates told me, "I'll start having fun once high school is out from between my balls". Oh well, the idea is clear.

I do wonder at the fact that these words, coming from the mouth of a female, are either jaw-droppingly vulgar (especially from the point of view of an Italian man) or just nonsense. How can you successfully curse someone out by referencing body parts that you don't have? And why is it that any sentence stronger than "devo fare la pipi" (in English this can literally be translated as baby-talk: "I have to go pee-pee") is not permissible for me to say outside the most intimate company?

I don't like the idea that women should be more classy than men by not swearing. And since when does swearing make or break someone's class, anyway?