Feste Time

After several weekends of travel, Martello e Trofie Wife decided to take this last one before Passover easy. Friday night was dedicated to a feste (party; wherein we made the faux pas of bringing the offending Bolognese Lambrusco) for a departing colleague, which gave Trofie Wife (after she reluctantly agreed to leave the house after 11 p.m.) an opportunity to meet more of Martello's co-workers. I admitted that they were a fun bunch, although the mix of English and Italian was a bit dizzying/disarming (while most people speak a mix of both, some Italians and some estrani (well, mostly Trofie Wife) don't have much to offer conversationally in their subordinate language.

We finally made it out late on another rainy Saturday just in time to hit IKEA for a tavola pieghevole (folding table) so Trofie Wife could work and read outside on the rare ocassion when the sun is actually shining! Once finished with the furniture shopping, we went to town at the Swedish market, picking up a bunch of salmon-related products and other assorted treats, including a small portion of reindeer salami (sorry, Rudolph), whose purchase proved that Trofie Wife didn't fall too far from the paternal tree when it comes to culinary curiosity (disappointingly, it did sorta just taste like beef). We returned home to watch Wall*E, which we had managed to miss in both the English- and Italian-language theatres. What a great flick! (I greatly enjoy imitating the robots, especially when dancing with appliances in the kitchen.)

The weekend was rounded out with another feste, a late potluck brunch at the home of another one of Martello's co-workers. As this extremely international group sat around the table conversing in English, Italian, and food (and later moving on to badminton and a pre-downpour stroll), I felt as though I were in a scene out of a slow-paced, subtitled film, sitting in a lovely European backyard, sipping wine and eating cake (including our quickly-conceived and well-received salt-specked chocolate chip cookies (er "biscuits"); someone even requested the recipe!) and discussing all matter of things intellectual and otherwise (yes, I know I sound both snobby and dorky). Our lives felt, and continue to feel, very charmed.

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife

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