Swedish Polpette

On Saturday, Martello and Trofie Wife made a long overdue trip to Ikea to deal with the pillow situation that he already summarized. Yet again, we got lost despite having impeccable directions. The bus that’s supposed to await furniture shoppers right when they exit was lost in a mystical loop around the train station. We wandered in the cold and rain until we finally located it. Stepping aboard and crossing over the autostrada to the back roads of Genoa Sampierdarena, it was as if we had detoured into Paramus, complete with auto dealerships and confusing roundabouts. Trofie Wife felt right at home… (Wikipedia confirms that Sampierdarena is a shining example of boxed-in industrialization to the detriment of other activities. Apparently Sampierdarena used to boast a beach as beautiful as Arenzano’s, but sadly, no more, after being re-envisioned by “planners” just a few decades ago.)

If you’re looking for a confusing time, visit an Ikea abroad. Not only will you have to contend with interpreting the Swedish, but you’ll have the joy of double confusion if you don’t speak the language with which you’re trying to do the Swedish interpreting! Luckily, picking out pillows didn’t involve much in the way of language skills/having to deal with customer service. We had tasty snacks when we first arrived (although Martello was far from impressed with the lingonberry soda…) and circled back to the snack shop after purchasing our pillows and tub of discount candles! Along with lox and salmon, we scored some frozen latkes (well, they weren’t called that, but they fit the criteria and we’ll be frying up some come next week).  We easily found our way back to the bus and grabbed the train back home to prep for the party. Martello has already described my feat of wakefulness, so I won’t further gloat. But for any future hosts, the keys to a standing Trofie Wife do seem to be ample food, seating, and the natural effects of a long sabbatical (aka, a well-rested Trofie Wife).

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife