As Gelato Consumption Rises, Waistlines Fall

The OCED (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development; score one for British spelling) released its 2009 Society at a Glance OCED Social Indicators in late April. Linked here are the key findings for Italy: http://www.oecd.org/dataoecd/28/6/42672218.pdf. Fun facts and figures abound, but Trofie Wife’s favorite relates to obesity rates. Italy ranks fifth in lowest obesity rates amongst industrialized states, losing out to only Korea (rice), Japan (more rice), Switzerland (gooey raclette, but they strip you of your citizenship if you don't go hiking every Sunday), and Norway (lox).

Guess who comes in dead last, 30/30 with 34.3 percent of the adult population obese? Yup, America—the red, white, and blob. Clearly, it’s time to take some advice from the Italians.

In fact, gelato does have a lot less fat and other icky by-products as compared to the average American ice cream. You can walk up and down the streets of Arenzano all afternoon and see tons of people with excellent physiques downing their daily dose—you’d never see folks of a similar build eating so much ice cream in the States (maybe a Tasti D-Lite every now and again). Una coppa gelato ogni giorno helps keep the weight off (it’s worked thus far in Trofie Wife's case! And well, Martello, he never gets out of the featherweight class), especially when you have to hike up and down hills to procure some.

So listen up fellow americani: swap the Atkins for some gelato e pasta and maybe spend a little less time in the office while you’re at it.

Baci e gelato (indeed!),

Martello e Trofie Wife

Well, That’s Potentially Courageous

In what is being promoted as a show of solidarity with Afghan women, Italy is considering temporarily pulling out its female service members from Afghanistan in order to lodge a protest against the Shi'ite Personal Status Law (see http://in.reuters.com/article/domesticNews/idINL463527820090404?pageNumber=1&virtualBrandChannel=0). Trofie Wife is not sure that it would make a huge practical difference, but it might be a good move symbolically, particularly if some of the displaced troops held particularly key positions such that their absence would truly affect the civilian situation on the ground (through some well-orchestrated inconveniences) without endangering lives. However, perhaps by leaving women in their crucial field positions (and forcing misogynists to take note), the Italians (and all other members of the Coalition of the Willing, or whatever we're calling it now) will visibly drive home the importance of equal personhood.

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife

One Small Step for Manicotti, One Giant Leap for Mortadella

Apparently, Italy has just been selected to head the European Space Agency for the next two years. (See:  http://www.upi.com/Science_News/2008/11/25/Italy_heads_European_Space_Agency/UPI-61831227654473/)

The country is the third-largest contributor to the European space program, yet it’s only been launching astronauts since the 1990s. Plus, Trofie Wife is not really sure why it was granted this honor, given its well-documented foibles with all the other forms of transport over which it already has control (airplanes, trains, buses…). A strike on a space station sounds unsafe. Perhaps it’s all just an elaborate reemployment plan for laid-off Alitalia pilots?  Either way, for the next couple of years, I’d stick with Cape Canaveral as your shuttle launch of choice.

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife

Prelude

Herbie gets ready to take on Arenzano

When you’re a talkative New Yorker set asunder in one of the world’s most notoriously talky cultures and you don’t speak the language, it’s a challenge. Thus the need for a way to express myself, keep in contact with friends and family, and find a way to pass our year on the Italian Riviera (known locally as the Liguria region).

First, some history on the blog’s nomenclature: “Martello” is translated as “hammer,” my husband’s nickname (and no, he is not Tom DeLay). Kudos to those of you who guessed this one. Now the second portion of the name is a double entendre. And before anyone thinks that I’ve abandoned feminism after less than a month of marriage, rest assured. “Trofie” is actually a delectable Ligurian specialty, a thin, rolled pasta of light consistency best served in a luscious pesto sauce teeming with haricots verts. Of course those who know me well know that I am anything but a trophy wife, and throughout this year I will likely struggle with my new identity, which while exciting and an avenue to new opportunities, has also placed my career on hold at a crucial juncture. Nevertheless, I hope the pun makes readers chuckle.

So how did these two New Yorkers end up in Liguria? The prelude to this adventure begins back in the Summer of ’07 when Martello (then my long-term boyfriend) and I started discussing our life plan post-grad school (design for him, nonprofit management for me). He, ever the dreamer, expressed a fleeting interest in “living and working in Europe.” I, ever the planner, wanted to know the particulars immediately: “Where exactly (city, postal code, census tract) would we live? What would I do (full schedule, each of 24 hours)? How do the visas work? Would there be health insurance?”

“Details, details; not the point,” said Martello, as he would then table the discussion to stop me from asking any more questions of a fiscal, tax, or real estate nature. This passive–aggressive repartee would go on for an hour or two every few months, but the discussion basically faded away as semester deadlines approached.

Flash forward to June 2008. On an eight-hour layover between travels through South America and a family trip to Italy, Martello received a phone call; he was being invited to interview for a post in, of all places, Italy, where neither he nor I spoke the language! Since circumstances were favorable, Martello scheduled the interview to coincide with his travels. Not yet having heard of “trofie,” nor yet a “wife,” the soon-to-be christened Trofie Wife started doing what she always did when a new circumstance arose—research! I found out everything I could about Liguria, how to pull off a quickie wedding, and how to become an American expat (of course this was all fully documented prior to Martello even stepping foot in Liguria). Needless to say, the interview went well, Martello was offered a job in July, and he offered his hand in marriage in August. Trofie Wife duly earned her moniker in early October, and the duo arrived in Liguria just as Daylight Savings Time ended in Italy.

We will try our best to post new information several times a week so that you can fully capture the flavor of our adventures. Trofie Wife will be the blog’s primary author but Martello will (somewhat) regularly submit guest commentary— his schedule pending—and bring his unique voice and observations to our dispatches. (He will also likely be responsible for any noteworthy photography, although I do have my moments.)

So benvenuto to our site! We hope you visit often.

Coming up next: A tour of the apartment and a visit to Voltri.

Baci e gelato,
Martello e Trofie Wife