Rome wasn't built in a day...

It is true that in my life, all roads lead to Rome. I have lived here on and off for 12 years. And of course, when I live in Rome, I do like the Romans do. I wouldn't want to add insult to injury when living in a city that is not my own at that in every respect is a 3-ring circus. I mean if anyone knows what organization is like in Rome, they would know that is indeed like herding cats. With all the people roaming the streets who are one sandwich short of a picnic or just generally not the sharpest tool in the shed, trying to get anything done can be like being on a wild good chase. I often find myself barking up the wrong tree entirely or running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

And whenever I set a goal, I often get close but no cigar. I have to stop and remind myself not to get my knickers in a twist. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day.

Punto. Basta. Photo credit: I wish I knew who to give credit for this.

As a language nerd, I am a sucker for expressions and idioms. In every language, I collect them like coins. I never really know what to do with all of them, but I like to stash them away for a rainy day. Today, is indeed a rainy day and I thought I would bring out my collection of idioms for the silly, but not untrue, story above.

Some of my other favorite expressions:

French

Arête de me casser les pieds - literally: stop breaking my feet, i.e. stop annoying me. English equivalent: stop breaking my balls or rompere le mie palle in Italian

Boire comme un trou- literally: to drink like a hole, i.e. to drink heavily/get drunk. English equivalent: to drink like a fish.

Italian

porca miseria!- literally: the misery of pigs. English equivalent: darn it (or stronger)

Avere le mani in pasta- literally: to have your hands in the pasta, i.e. to be powerful (over someone).

Conosco come le mie tasche - literally: to know (it) like my own pockets. English equivalent: to know like the back of your hand.

A ogni morte di Papa - literally: at every death of the Pope, i.e. something that happens rarely. English equivalent: once in a blue moon.

Conosco i miei polli- literally: I know my chickens, i.e. I know who I am dealing with.


What are your favorite idioms or expressions? Share them with me!


Some interesting idiom sites

http://www.ancientl.com/roman/idioms-greek-hebrew/

http://www.idiomsite.com/

http://www.lifeinitaly.com/italian/idioms

http://www.anglotopia.net/british-identity/humor/top-100-most-beautiful-british-slang-words-and-phrases/

http://blog.studentsville.it/top-10-tips/everyday-life/10-italian-slang-expressions-you-cant-live-without/

Istanbul: Rome’s brother from another mother

As most people were flocking to Rome to ring in the new pope and to celebrate Easter, many of us expats were part of the exodus, taking advantage of the long 4-day holiday to travel to nearby destinations.

Italy is wonderfully located on the Mediterranean and therefore within a 2-3 hour flight of a multitude of fascinating vacation spots. Marrakesh was one Easter getaway. Transylvania was another. Malta a third. This year, maybe on the back of the Jordan trip, we chose a city at the crossroads of Europe and the Middle East: Istanbul .

It seems that, like Rome, Istanbul is a highly desirable destination spot at Easter (though for non-religious reasons I presume). This was evidenced by the fact that completely independently, our trip booking coincided with four other colleague’s schedules. We flew over with two sets of them and met another two there.

This was also evidenced by the shear number of tourists in the city. Like Rome, the lines snaking up to the most famous sights, Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque and the Roman Cistern, were massive. They rivalled the St. Peter's, Sistine Chapel and Colosseum’s lines any day.

Also like Rome, both cities have become super accustomed to oodles of tourists and the city center, (i.e. the old city), are tailored to tourist needs: tour companies, stands with food and water, little shops selling postcards, batteries, memory cards, stamps...

In both Istanbul and Rome, the old city is the place to visit during the day, but at night it empties and people seek out other neighbourhoods for dinners and clubs. Istanbul’s version of Testaccio, Rome's neighbourhood of restaurants and clubs, is Taksim; though Taksim is much more pedestrian-heavy and commercial, with shops that stay open late into the night.

Trastevere, the widely known cobblestoned street neighborhood of old Rome, is Istanbul’s Nevizade, where bars and restaurants are all lined up on a narrow street made even narrower by lovely outdoor terraces packed with locals and tourists alike.

Instead of gelato shops on every street, you had baklava and Turkish delight shops taunting you with stacks of the sugary goodness instead of Rome’s icy mounds of it.

Istanbul, like Rome, is happy to let cats roam the streets, mostly loved and taken care of by locals, or at the very least un-bothered by them. Like cats in Rome’s Largo Argentina, cats in Istanbul have become a part of the city landscape; they stretch out and bask on the lawns of mosques or amble slowly on main roads as another type of pedestrian.

In both cities, there is a tram that takes you right into the heart of the touristy center (though Istanbul’s is vastly cleaner and potentially more crowded if that is believable).

Both have water shaping the city layout: Istanbul’s Bosphorus to Rome’s Tevere. Both cities have a very strong religious past, but are very modern societies with locals tending to be less religious than many of its pilgrim-type tourists. Both have an amazing skyline of domes: though Rome’s belong to churches and Istanbul’s to mosques.

I realize that it is a bit strange to draw so many parallels to cities that are clearly so completely different from the outside (though of course there are some aspects of a common Roman history). Despite the fact that these are two cities whose paths diverged, it is still very easy to draw a comparison.

It is also somewhat reassuring to know that in different parts of the world shaped by different religious beliefs and different history-changing events, with different languages and different cultures: cities are still cities and people are still people.

There is a basic human instinct to be spiritual whether in a mosque or a church, to relax and spend time outdoors whether in a terrazza or in an open-air hookah bar, to be surrounded by other people and walk among fellow citizens whether on via Condotti or İstiklal Caddesi avenue. Istanbul and Rome are both cities that are proud of what they were, what they are and are comfortable with the acclaim and tourism that it has brought.

Also like Rome, it is hard to breath in and experience all of Istanbul in a weekend, even a long one. With all the sights to see, these take up the first 72 hours there. We only had 24 hours to see the other culture, life and ways of the Turkish people. More of that remains for another trip.

I would recommend that visitors whether to Rome or to Istanbul take more than one trip to these cities: the first to see the reasons why the city is famous, the second to see the reasons why city is loved. And both have many reasons to be loved.

Weekend trips to Italy

This past weekend, I visited Italy.

Yes, I live in Rome. Yes, Rome is in Italy. Yes, I know that makes the first statement of this post redundant. But what I mean is: Rome is an entity in and of itself. Like New York City or London or other self-contained worlds of hoards of people and mega attractions, Rome (without the type A personality of NYC or London)  feels like its own country. So it is nice to leave Rome on the weekends to visit Italy, the Italy beyond the Aurelian walls and the GRA.

Italy has a lot of other personalities as well: the winter snowy skiing side, the summery beach-bum lounging side, the small town/farmer harvesting side, the Florence Uffizi art-inspiring side, the Milan runway-walking business-making side... these are some of the many facets of "Italian" life.

Probably the one I love above them all is the rolling hills, agriculture growing, medieval town hosting country- side. I often crave the expanse of undulating land punctuated with cypress trees, dotted with sunflowers and indented with long curving driveways of agriturismi (farmhouses).

It is amazing. And I never get sick of it. I have been to Tuscany and Umbria so many times that I forget exactly where I have been; all the beautifully small, walled towns meld together into one lovely memory. I have often ended up in the main piazza of one of these towns and suddenly exclaimed, "Wait a second, I have been here before!" No matter. It is always nice to be there again.

Orvieto is a city I have been to countless times, and unlike some cities that fall into the black hole of my mind, I remember all the countless time I have been to Orvieto. I still love to go back to this noble but unassuming town high on the top of an Umbrian hill.

Noble Orvieto, high on its hill

We have lately found the perfect spot for gazing at this gentle and lovely city, the Cioccoleta agriturismo. I have mentioned this place once before in a past post you may remember; we had discovered it this past September as a desperate attempt to save a weekend-turned-wrong. This discovery was the surprisingly sweet lemonade after the gift of a lemon.

From the agriturismo's owners to the cats on its grounds, I love this place. Calm, picturesque  a bit undiscovered, it is everything I like about the Italian countryside. And it is a perfect place from which to discover other towns, to stop into cantine (e.g. Orvieto classico wineries in this area) and to see the unobstructed sky full of stars at night. It is wonderful.

This trip to Italy, as it should, also included amazing food and wine. Most notably, I tried umbrichelli, a local, typical thicker spaghetti-type pasta, made of spelt. This particular version was served with zucchini and ricotta affumicata (smoked ricotta cheese). Angela, our host at the Cioccoletta, recommended trying this dish and I am glad she did.

Umbrichelli

We drove on picturesque streets on the way back to Rome, saw the land change color with the setting of the sun and came back to a hushed Rome, quieted down after the rest of a Sunday.

All in all, it reminded me how happy I am to be living in Rome: I get to visit Italy every weekend.

Loving all ends of the spectrum in Jordan

Wadi Rum

There are some trips that you want to hold onto because right after your return you are so full of great memories and so full of great feelings that you want to elongate that after-vacation period when you feel relaxed and happy. Jordan was one of those trips.

For days I have been waiting to be able to put it into words, scanning the pictures, thoughts and stories to be able to accurately describe my time there. It was amazing for so many reasons that I had a hard time untangling all the different cords describing why.

It was a trip with some old friends, but I made new friends in the process. It was very touristy on the one hand going to Petra and Wadi Rum desert with a tour guide, and it was very local on the other going to a friend’s house (a 10+ year resident of Jordan) for a home-made lunch.

Our modes of transport varied between a 9-seater mega Tahoe that we took down to the dessert and camels, donkeys and horses while in it. 

We climbed up, down and over rocks to get up, down and through cliffs in Petra. We laid down and napped on slabs of rock in the Wadi Rum desert.

Amazing Petra

In some moments, we recreated Toyota commercials by driving over steep sand dunes, (the idea of our slightly show-offish guide), while the boys hung off the sides of the car (just because). In others, this same Formula 1- wannabe driver made keffiyeh-type traditional head pieces for my friends out of their wool scarves.

We slathered Dead Sea black mud all over ourselves during the day and donned heels and dresses for clubbing at night.

Dead Sea and Mud treatments

 

We danced with arms around each other’s backs in a semi-circle in traditional Arabic style for some songs then danced like a horse and rider in Gangnam style for another.

We ate some meals in very sophisticated modern restaurants while others in some more traditional type cafes; we even had one meal in a Bedouin tent, a BBQ cooked for us by our guide on a small portable grill.

BBQ in a Bedouin Tent

In terms of food, I don’t know if my palate is shaped by my roots or just purely by flavor, but I never get sick of Arabic food. I would have been happy to eat any of these dishes day after day after day if I had to, but there is such an array of vegetarian options that I didn’t have to.

Hummus, Labneh, Baba Ghanoush, Wara Enab

In fact, it was a vegetarian’s dream with things like okra (stunningly good), hummus, labneh (yogurt-type cheese), wara enab (stuffed grape leaves), tabouleh (bulgur wheat salad), falafel (spiced and fried chick peas) and of course, pita bread. While the meat-eaters didn’t go hungry either, with feasts of shawarma (spiced, roasted meat), shish taouk (chicken skewers), kibbeh (baked beef and bulgar wheat) and various lamb dishes like Jordan’s national dish, mansaf. 

Arak & Shisha

I had some piping hot sage and mint teas (I’ll never figure out how tea can be so good in the Arab world!)  and smoked double apple and lemon mint shisha on some days. On other days, I had icy-cold, Arak (a licorice-flavored digestive) and refreshing lemon-mint smoothies. 

One of the many local and impressive pastry shops in Amman

There was even an array in the types of coffee and desserts: we had Jordanian Starbucks coffee one day and local “Turkish” coffee another. At restaurants, I ordered various Arabic sweets (mainly consisting of phyllo pastry, nuts and honey). At our friend’s house, we had freshly made cupcakes. 

In a whole other category, there is knafeh, the famous local dessert, which to me tasted like a mix between a proper meal and a dessert. It is a type of deep fried cheese with bulgur wheat, rose water and orange syrup. (A bit too much for me, I’ll admit). 

In short, the variety was endless, and I had enough adventures and repose to more than amply fill the 6 days I was there. 

Packing up the day before I left, my inner voice opposed, saying “Wait, what are you doing? I like Jordan. I was just settling in here!” I felt like I had been there a lot longer; I felt like I could stay a lot longer. I had reached a familiarity with the place that didn’t come from a six-day duration.

I don’t pretend to claim I know Amman or Jordan like a local would or does, and I don’t believe that family roots can completely bind you to a place or region that you yourself had never been, but I do believe that it can feel natural. Being in Jordan felt natural to me.

I remember on my first trip to Egypt, my half Egyptian, half Italian friend told me to lean toward the window to see the desert from the plane. “You’re flying home,” he said. I had never been there. My dad had only lived there from birth to the age of 18. My grandparents weren’t even Egyptian; they were immigrants to Egypt from Syria. But there was something about the certainty in which he stated it, the factuality of it: home. There was something about it that made sense. Perhaps Jordan reminded me of home.  

 

 

Some useful links I used:

Royal Jordanian- For booking direct flights to Amman; Doesn't always come up in search engines

Amman Snob- Good list of restaurants/Bars

You in Jordan- A blog with some good hints and ideas for things to do

Living like a local

As it happens during periods of life (my life anyway), I have been going through a period of not living like a tourist, a rather long period at that. In fact, I have been living not like a tourist, but like a local in Rome for many months now, way too many months. And I will be very frank, living like a local in Rome sucks. All those quirks that are amusing as tourists, charming as visitors, unique as travelers to Rome are irritating, predictable and frustrating to the people who live it day in and day out.

When you arrive at a store and the opening hours say 14:00- 20:00 and it is 15:15 and the store is closed, as a tourist you say, “Oh those funny Italians, probably out having coffee. They really know how to enjoy life.” When you left work specifically to go to that store and it is your 4th visit because every other time there was also some reason it was closed, your reaction is “What in the world? Don’t they ever work?” Or when you wait 45 minutes for a bus, as a tourist you say, “At least it is sunny out. When was the last time it was sunny in February back at home?” As a local you say, “For crying out loud, I could have walked there and back (and probably would have) if I weren’t carrying these heavy bags of groceries.” The scenarios go on and on.

Whereas living like a tourist can, at moments, be the inspiring, fantastical, romantic life you see in the movies. Living like a local is none of those things; it is just ordinary, regular, everyday life in a city.

In periods like this, I make sure that my ordinary, regular, everyday activities can incorporate bits of the touristy-vacation-style-of-life. When running, for example, I take a slightly longer route that will take me by the Coliseum. Or if I have the mundane errands of picking up shampoo and face cream, I sometimes make it a point to do them in the Historic Center to see the city light up in an orange glow at night. I have to remind myself of the tourist point of view otherwise I become a much grumpier person (and this blog would be called Living like a Curmudgeon).

So as much as life has been requiring me to take care of the trivial things, you know, like health, money and career, I have been reminding myself not to get too comfortable in the local perspective. Because in the seemingly endless stream of doctor and dentist appointments, transportation pass renewals, income and tax declarations, government identity registrations and the variety of other paperwork/busywork, Rome can quickly lose its luster.

I will soon share with you two other stories that haven’t helped Rome in the luster category, but then I will brush that away and once again seek the inspiration that is inside of this city (as within every city) because I never know how much longer Rome and I have together. If these are the last moments, they should be great ones.