God Loves Acoustic Guitar

So as Trofie Wife has observed on this blog, there are quite a few Catholic holidays which call for parades and processions. Little did I know that yet another one— Corpus Domini or Corpo e Sangue di Cristo— was on its way until I saw a sign affixed to the main building door, reminding everyone to light and ornament their balconies out of respect per “Signore.” Now, you know that Trofie Wife and Martello have been happy to follow alongside these parades out of curiosity, but we have to stay within our comfort zone. And on this one, I knew where the line was, especially after doing a little research and finding out that this whole event revolved around parading the Eucharist bread (believed by believers to be the manifestation of Jesus’s body) under a canopy around town en route to the cathedral. This was clearly a religious event, and we just weren’t going to actively take part.

Inevitably, Mrs. Furley, our ever-present landlady, was on the case. I knew when our doorbell rang at 7 p.m., 24 hours prior to the event and then three times the following late morning and afternoon (finally followed up with a phone call), that she was fretting about the light display. And of course she was. She invited herself over to discuss the matter, explaining that we should put a small light or blanket on the balcony. I explained something along the lines of “per ebrei, Cristo non dio" (for Jews like us, Jesus isn’t God) and that for us to participate, would be a tacit acceptance of such, and that we weren’t comfortable with that. Either her comprehension wasn’t quite there, or she felt the need to proselytize, since her comeback was, “Well, you can put up a small light. The other American who lived here before you did.” Trofie Wife explained that she wasn’t familiar with the prior tenant’s religious beliefs, but was certain that this whole light thing wasn’t working for her and Martello. Mrs. Furley believed that Martello would feel differently about the matter (oh, if she only knew!) before returning to a prior conversation we had had regarding her own religious practices (she’s not really sure what she believes, but she goes along with it all the same, dozing in church all the while, something of which il padre is aware, as he has commented that "everyone knows you are somewhere else”). The encounter ended with our dear neighbor calling me a good Jew, I think, and allowing me to leave her apartment (we had migrated over there so she could pawn off some lights and show me her own display); I’m still not sure whether or not I'm offended.

When the procession actually started, it was fun to watch. Many (but not all, and I’m pretty sure that we aren’t surrounded by a colony of crypto-Jews here) of the windows were decked out like so:

No one appeared to be in a rush to carry me into eternal damnation for not adorning our balcony.

Corpus Domini is actually a ritual of Italian origin (Firenze (Florence) had an especially renowned celebration), which always takes place 60 days after Easter; it later spread throughout Europe. In Arenzano, the event takes on special meaning, as all the children that have had their First Communion that spring march at the head of the parade. This year, they held a special mass and had the procession headed by the local twins who were both ordained as priests recently (their mother must be kvelling, unless of course these are her only kids and she really wanted to be a nonna…). I knew that the new priests were around our age and had been having trouble getting my head around why someone would make such a self-sacrificing (on many levels) choice; but I guess you just have to hear the calling to fully understand.

As the group rounded my corner, a trio of acoustic guitars broke out in song—I swear the opening chords reminded me of stuff from the NFTY repertoire. The group wound its way down the street and then back up to the Bambini church, where more acoustic guitar was heard, followed by a brief wrap-up inside the church (despite my principled stand, I can still pop in and spy). The faithful were on their knees for most of the ten- to fifteen-minute ritual; I was the standing Jew in the corner. I think they removed the Eucharist from the special box in which it was being held, showed it to everyone on all sides of the church, almost like a magician does prior to carrying out an illusion, and relocked it in a special Eucharist safe. The event ended with more acoustic guitar. Which brings Trofie Wife to her thesis statement: God just really loves acoustic guitar. Doesn’t matter the religion, doesn’t matter what you’re asking for. Just throw together some chords and strum, and God is happy (double points for three-part harmonies).

[Can you spot the guitar strap??]

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife

Buon Natale!

As part of our cross-cultural exploration, Trofie Wife insisted that she and Martello make it to the live (with farm animals!) nativity scene at the Santuario e Seminario di Gesù Bambino as well as a portion of Midnight Mass, this likely being our once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience this very Italian holiday while living in a veritable Italian commune.

We arrived at 11 p.m. for the nativity pageant, beautifully pantomimed by local children.



It was a long wait, but eventually three live donkeys and one micro-mini pony were introduced to the scene (and stayed behind to eat hay after their curtain call, penned in behind the piazza). We entered the beautiful church to get a sense of what this holiday entails for the faithful (Martello managed to snap a few photos before worship began; it is quite beautiful). 

We made it through the pre-Mass hymns (Trofie Wife swears that some of the Italian/Latin sounded like Hebrew…) and the processional and incense portion of Midnight Mass before leaving to take one last look at the donkeys and pony (sadly, no pony pictures) and then return home to pack for our upcoming vacation (yes, Trofie Wife is technically on one very long vacation…). 

Some observations from our time at the church: Trofie Wife insisted that she and Martello change out of jeans and into nicer pants so as to be respectful on this mega holiday. While some worshippers were decked out, the majority were on the casual side—most notably the dude wearing the Chelsea soccer club warm-up suit replete with sweatband. More than a handful of people seemed to come in, cross themselves, stay three minutes, and then depart. Perhaps they were headed to a smaller church but just wanted to pop into the big kahuna or perhaps they just needed to literally make their presence known and then duck out (not unlike many two-day-a-year Jews; I’ve heard that such Catholics also exist). All in all, a very interesting experience that Martello does not intend to repeat again! (Trofie Wife will probably check out some Stations of the Cross come Easter, should they be local enough.) But not to worry that we're merely dabbling in exoticism, we just found out how to get to the shul in Genoa, so it’s high on the priority list for an excursion in early 2009.

Please note that the blog will be taking a longer-than-usual hiatus as we spend the next week and a half travelling through Italy and Switzerland. Planned stops include a town overlooking Lake Como (where, unbeknownst to Trofie Wife before she quickly booked it, is where Mussolini and his wife met their ends…), Zurich (to visit with Trofie Wife’s sister and family), and assorted towns throughout Switzerland that boast design delights (and hopefully, for Trofie Wife’s sake, chocolate). We’ll be sure to update you on our adventures when we return.

To everyone celebrating any and all winter holidays, we say Auguri! (best wishes) e buon anno!

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife

Madonna’s Immaculate Conception (As Opposed to Madonna’s “Immaculate Collection”)

Given our religious upbringings, Martello and Trofie Wife are not well versed in all matter of Catholic practice and dogma. So when we learned that Monday, December 8 was the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, we scratched our heads and remained befuddled but thankful for any holiday that creates a three-day weekend with Monday off. (While we thought that the holiday referred to the immaculate conception of Jesus (which would be kind of quick given the 12/25 birthday), it actually refers to his mother’s “pure” conception, which, although undertaken by her parents au natural, rendered her free from the original sin with which everyone else supposedly is born. Jesus’s conception is apparently “virginal,” not “immaculate.” Thank you, Wikipedia!) We had originally considered taking another three- or five- hour train ride somewhere (just like Trofie Wife’s sister in Zurich was seven whenever she traveled somewhere in Europe, any train trip that Trofie Wife takes in Europe is three or five hours away—sorry for the bit of insidery family lore for those unfamiliar with the story). But yet again, the computer screen called to Martello, so we decided to stay put and explore our Genoese home base.

Well, we didn’t make it outside on Saturday (well, Martello did make it to the grocery store to pick up what was supposed to be just eggs (for the molten chocolate cake mix) and steel wool; he returned nearly two hours later with two full bags; he just really likes supermarkets (as do I). We then vowed to spend Sunday in a more exploratory mode.

And explore we did! Although we hit the snooze one too many times and missed the train that would take us to the old Casella railway (a very old scenic trackway leading to walking paths on the outskirts of Genoa, northeast of our home in Arenzano), we did make it to a branch of the Parco Beigua, a beautiful protected regional park (kind of like a state park), in our usual, roundabout manner. Trofie Wife found Googlemap directions to the park administrative center, which we figured would be at the head of the park. We still don’t really know street names here, other than our own (we find our way by visual aids—lamppost, staircase, bakery), but from the map we saw that the offices were over the train tracks and across the highway. Martello thought they were on one side of the tracks and on the side of one highway; Trofie Wife thought they were on the opposite two sides but since Martello usually has the better sense of direction, followed him (getting winded along the way) up a steep incline of steps (there are many in this town) to what we thought would lead to the park, but only left us across the street from the local hospital (and somewhere near the legendary canile—the organizers still haven’t called…). So, we decided to throw in the towel and just take the train into Genoa to hopefully catch a museum and dinner. But while approaching the tracks, we found a street sign that corresponded to the Googlemap directions. To hurry this story along, we ended up circling Arenzano to find this park. While we managed to locate the administrative offices, they did not, in fact, lead to the park, but luckily, we eventually found a sign that indicated that some sort of aviary outlook was “up ahead.” “Up ahead” turned into a two-mile or so hike up the steep incline that was the auto road to the park, not the hiking trail proper. Since Trofie Wife doesn’t regularly Mousercize (or perform any traditional exercise other than taking long walks), she strained the top portion of both legs in the process of getting her relatively stumpy limbs to more or less keep apace with Martello’s long strides. But no pain, no gain, right? And what a view from the top, which we proudly display below.

We hiked back down the actual marked trails to the famed Bambini church behind our house (that's its belltower in the above photo). So, we essentially followed in the footsteps of famed Genoese Christopher Columbus, accidentally circumnavigating (or in his case, attempting to) to find that what we were looking for was just straight ahead. We plan to return to the park in coming weekends for the fresh air and exercise.  But next time, we’ll avoid the hike before the hike!

Soreness aside, we managed to make it into Genoa for dinner and a glimpse of the Christmas tree in Piazza Ferrari (think the Rockefeller Center Tree as a fetus, see picture below). 

We spent the actual holiday in another sleep- and design software-induced fog, but made it out just before sunset to wander through the local park and see what we thought were decorations (a mistranslation of the flier—it was a craft fair). This weekend must be Italy’s equivalent of “Black Friday” in terms of it being the official kick-off for holiday decorations and shopping in all the small towns (turns out we missed the local tree lighting on Saturday night). We hope to take in some more (adopted) holiday cheer in the coming weeks in our adopted home.

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife

A Tour of Our Casa

Ciao! I'm happy to devote this post to providing our devotees with an all-access pass to our apartment. I spend much more time here than Martello does, as he is either in or traveling to/from the office 12 hours a day during the work week. Our favorite time of day, of course, is when he returns and we prepare dinner together.

But before I get to the culinary delights, let me guide you through our home. First, take a look at our elegant street sign—it’s quite an upgrade from the green aluminum and white block lettering in New York City! We live on Via Michelangelo Buonarroti, he of sculpting and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle fame.

Just off Via Dante Alighieri (ah, the Italians and their beautiful names...), we are the second house from the top of the street.



Conveniently located across the way are the recycling and trash cans (note, if you can squint, the handy, sanitary foot pump on the far right bin); the locals take their recycling very seriously.

Our steps are composed of a lovely marble. However, they do get a little slippery when it rains, which it does a lot here… (Martello says the forecast is rain through next Friday, November 7! Pacific Northwest, eat your heart out!)

After passing the mailboxes (not pictured), which are eagerly awaiting your postcards, it’s time to step into our elevator.

This picture is not quite illustrative, but visualize inside this plain white door a set of green swinging doors leading to a tight squeeze.

When you disembark from the elevator, a quick right turn leads to our front door with its crazy locks. The locks look even nuttier from the inside! I think we have four; the main one and three additional deadbolts! We are quite secure! (But from what we can gather thus far, this town isn’t a hotbed of criminal activity.)

The doorway leads immediately into the hallway, where we keep our outer garments (including Trofie Wife’s infamous bomber (aka Nanook) hats.

Adjacent to the front door is our guest bedroom, which is eager to welcome visitors!

Note how the retro orange décor coordinates beautifully with the bedspreads (how we wish we could take credit…).

Our favorite room is our cucina Italiana! It’s really the cutest kitchen ever.

The red checkered tablecloth is straight out of Lady and the Tramp and just screams “pasta! vino!”
There’s plenty of storage space (and interesting appliances—a juicer!— left behind by prior tenants) in our overhead cabinets.

Dishwashers are not common here, so we do our scrubbing in the sink and drying on the side.
Our small appliances exquisitely pick up on the cute theme. Here is our adorable fridge.

For those of you familiar with the original latte-colored refrigerator at the Jackson Place apartment, it too has those amazingly helpful (hysterical?) drawings that outline how long you can store (presumably dead) fuzzy animals: bunny rabbit—six months, Rudolph, 12.

The bathroom contains a trove of treasures.

Note the hot pink bathmat, which Trofie Wife scored on sale at the housewares shop at the “mall” (a true New Jerseyan wouldn’t even deign to call our dinky local “shopping center” that)!

Our freshly washed clothes get hung on this amazing contraption that rests above the hybrid shower–tub.

Below you will see our infamous hot water boiler.

In our town, hot water is only guaranteed when the central heating is turned on, a momentous event that will occur on November 15. Between March (when it turns off) and November 14, the only way to take a warm shower–bath (you kind of a have to sit in the tub as if you were taking a bath but then use the handheld shower nozzle to moisten your soap and yourself) is to turn on the electric water boiler, which is supposedly quite expensive (we’ll let you know when the bill arrives). Martello forgot to unplug it earlier this week, so Trofie Wife had quite a nice warm shower that afternoon! (It consequently may turn out to be the most expensive shower ever; we’ll be sure to update you.)

This is our dining room, which Trofie Wife repeatedly refers to as the living room (even though it’s really her “office” (used loosely, since as of yet no actual work is being done) during the day).

This is our curio cabinet and some sorta comfy chairs.

We don’t have a couch, and it does not appear that there will be room for one (and we’ll be less likely to turn into little gnocchi that way…).

Our shutters (located on all doors and windows) open and close with this cool device. This is the view from our dining room terraza.

We have a lovely snapshot of the Santuario e Seminario di Gesù Bambino, the major duomo in the town. It’s actually a noted Catholic pilgrimage site and many of the faithful pass through Arenzano to visit. Additionally, this year is its centennial; we were lucky enough to wander into one of the celebrations during Trofie (Almost) Wife’s September visit. I should also add here that our house is filled with Catholic iconography (courtesy of the owner), so between that and our own religious contributions, we should hopefully be pretty covered in the God department! This is the sea view from the terraza in the kitchen and this is the mountainside view. On warm days (months from now) Trofie Wife can sit outside with an espresso and inhale the view and salty air.

Finally, here is our master bedroom. It’s sizeable, though sadly we could not bring our lovely new bedding with us (except for one blanket), so pardon the clashing.

Well, that concludes our tour. As I used to say at each stop on College Walk (after bracing myself to start walking backwards again), “any questions?” We hope you enjoyed your first “visit” to our home!

Next up: More news from around the house.

Baci e gelato,
Martello e Trofie Wife