One Month

Ciao a tutti,

If I had any wish to prove that I am not a compulsive blogger, than I have surely accomplished that aim. I'm sorry for having neglected you all for a month. But perhaps it is better than I write to you only now, after a month has passed. Looking back, I can track the changes in my lifestyle since I arrived. They are not great changes; it is the little things that help one in adjusting to a new culture. The other day, the principal of the liceo scientifico asked me the usual question ("Come ti trovi a Matera/Are you happy in Matera?"), adding "Ti stai integrando/ Are you integrating with the city?"). Well, you know that you've been in Italy for a month when:

1. You shudder to think of lunching on a mere sandwhich. Lunch means pasta, at the very least.
2. You think nothing of seeing women hiking in the mountains with suede shoes, even suede boots, because you yourself are wearing suede ballerinas.
3. You scorn pedestrian crosswalks, or if you use them, you do not wait for cars to stop for you.
4. Even if it is 70 degrees (Fahrenheit; I estimate, because I am still learning the Celusis system), you do not remove your jacket, nor your scarf. It is autumn; therefore, I wear a jacket and a scarf.
5. Lunch is not complete until you have had a coffee. Without the coffee, how can you be expected to continue the day?
6. You don't start to think about making dinner until 8 o'clock, and even then it seems rather early to dine.
7. You wish friends "Buon Pranzo" (Have a good lunch!). You also ask, as an alternative to discussing the weather, "Che cosa hai mangiato oggi?".
8. And finally, the most revolutionary change of all (at least for me): You begin to question the necessity of eating breakfast (fare la colazione) all'americana. Instead, you begin to appreciate the attractions of breakfasting on only coffee and milk. However, I can only pull this off after having eaten pizza at 11 o'clock the night before, as happened this past Friday night.
9. Which leads me to another sign of adjustment to Italian life. When you order a pizza at a restaurant, you actually order a pizza, all of which you eat. You never, ever take the leftovers with you.

Just as I am fascinated by small details of Italian life, my Italian room mates are intrigued by my American habits. For example, the first morning that we breakfasted together, they were incredulous to learn that I eat una fritata (an ommlette) for breakfast. Even if my omlettes are quite plain, consisting of eggs, milk, and either olive oil or butter, my room mates still think my breakfast excessive. However, this did not prevent my room mates and their friend Cele, who is very curious about exotic foods, from experimenting, in order to, as my room mate said, "understand what Lauren-Claire eats." When I left for school, they were preparing their own version of my fritata -- with Nutella. However, this Nutella was added after the fritata cooled, as Rossana, when I asked her just now, was anxious to make clear. I can hardly wait for Thanksgiving, when I hope to share some typical dishes with my room mates and some mutual friends who are intrigued by our American holiday. But will I be able to find a turkey? That is the question. In Matera, whole turkeys are not to be had until Christmas. Will I be able to enlist the help of my neighborhood butcher to find an entire turkey?

Alla prossima!