Life before, during and after Italy - Events and Thoughts

So many people want to know what it's like to live in Italy. 4 years is a long time to accumulate answers to these questions, so I'll just post some of the more interesting things that may have happened, or thoughts I formed about their culture, etc. These are in no particular order:

I had a car accident in Italy. Go figure! Crazy drivers... and I lived in the north where they're much more civilized. About my accident... I'm tooling down A4 in my Kia Sorrento, driving in the slow lane and doing under the speed limit (130kph/83 mph). Next thing I know I feel this bump from behind, and look in my driver's side mirror to see a service van go zipping by. I GOT HIT FROM BEHIND AND HE RAN! My sister Krissie is in the car with me (we're on a road trip) and she totally freaks out. I'm the non dramatic type and I just laughed at her. I asked her "What do you want me to do? Pull over and call the Carabinieri? They'd laugh at me!" If you ever told me I'd survive an 83+ mile per hour hit and run with little damage, I wouldn't believe you. Only damage to my car - a nice bumper scratch wrapping around to the side. God bless large American-style cars!

My landlord was named Paola Rova. She was married to an American retiree, who passed a few years back. Her son is named Marco. Marco is 1/2 American, 1/2 Italian. Marco is also autistic. Highly functioning enough to be left on his own, and hold a job, but not functioning enough to live alone or marry. Marco kept us entertained. He spoke in sentences half full of Italian words, half full of English words, in no particular order. He was like my 8 year old son - always wanting attention, always wanting to say hello to everyone. You would come outside our row house and he'd be across the street at his house at the gate, waiting for someone to walk by. Marco cracked us up! I had lots of visitors, one of which was a 12 year old girl. She, her mother and I were sitting upstairs in my guest bedroom, which overlooked the front of the house. It was about midnight and the daughter was sitting in the window ledge - 12 foot drop to the cement below. Marco was outside taking pictures of her - he was quite the peeping Tom. The most common thing Marco did was reminiscent of the scene in "Finding Nemo" where Marlon and Dory get to Sydney Harbor and are flopping on the pier, and the seagulls above all start going "Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!". Well anytime you got within viewing distance of Marco, he'd start up a similar cadence, but substitute the words "Ciao! Ciao! Ciao! Ciao!" Our visitors got such a kick out of him! He often came and looked through our open windows to talk to us in our house. Paola (his mother) loved us so much she told us she would give us her house if we stayed there (we did have that option). She doesn't have any heirs and Marco obviously can't inherit. We declined, in spite of the financial windfall that would have followed - I know Marco would have been somewhere in the fine print of our inheritance from her.

Our house in Aviano was built in the 1920's by Paola's grandfather. Technically, it was a farm house, built on the edge of the road with no front yard. This house actually had statuary in the back yard. BIG statuary! My mother visited and didn't notice them until late one evening when she thought there was a very large woman (8 feet tall) standing in my backyard, lit by the moonlight. The house was covered in windows and shutters. Because of my overzealous neighbor, we often kept all the shutters on the front of the house shut. One Sunday, I'm sitting in my kitchen and I hear this rumble, rumble, rumble, right outside the windows. So I open the windows and then the shutters and right in front of me is a very long row of vintage Ferraris. It was shocking! I would get so used to my lifestyle in Italy, doing my American thing, and then something like that would happen and it was like "Whoa! I live in Italy! How cool!" Needless to say, I drooled for about 5 minutes as they sat there. I also saw a few vintage Alfa Romeos, a Lamborghini, and a few others I can't name, but recognized. I love cars, by the way. The house was very cool and even had an old refurbished barn, a chicken coop (we used it as a shed), and an old smithshop attached next door.

Power in Italy is interesting. I never quite understood the exact reason, but an Airman who worked in civil engineering on base explained it to me that Europe's power system is very very old. But because of environmental issues an overhaul would create, they were at a standstill on bringing it up to today's standards. As a result, it was easy to overload the system and pop the main house breaker (which was next door in the spider-infested smithshop). I could not run any of the following together: hair dryer, washer, dryer (both tiny by the way), oven, toaster, microwave, curling iron, iron, air conditioner, dishwasher, or vacuum. So all day long, when trying to get my work done I ran around the house turning things on and off. My house rarely got 100% clean.

Fashion in Italy is a trip. People will spend very little on a vehicle, but will spend horrendous amounts on clothing. It's not uncommon to have people look down their nose at you because you are not dressed up enough for them. It's becoming more and more of an American culture there though - jeans are now common, and are daily wear for youth. It is not uncommon to see an old lady riding her scooter/motorcycle to the market in full skirt suit - or to see an elder gentleman gardening in a blazer and a pair of slacks. Contrary to what you might think though, the average Italian probably buys the bulk of their clothes at the market. This is a lot like buying clothes at the Asian stands you see in parking lots around the U.S. - the clothes are similar. I can predict to you that this next year will be a big year for the color purple - it was everywhere in Italy last year, and fashion trends in the U.S. usually follow a year or so behind. What's also odd is that Italian's love American yard sales. And contrary to the American way, it's not the junk or knick-knacks that get sold, it's the American clothes! They love our clothes! Except they'll never tell you that to your face. In the spring, when it's about 55-65 degrees, you will find all the Americans in shorts and t-shirts, ready to enjoy the warm weather. The Italians on the other hand, are still bundled up in their winter coats and scarf set. They're very big on full clothing. Except when you go to the beach and then topless is not a big deal. In fact, I was appalled to see a 10 year old boy running around naked! Little kids don't always wear clothes at the beach. Funniest fashion moment: two Italian road workers, stripped down to their tightie-whiteys while working with road tar. Hey, it was a hot day!

When we got to Italy, we weren't sure what mannerisms to adopt, and which not to adopt. So we just wing it and figure it out as we go along. One of these mannerisms is the answering of the telephone. One must say "Pronto!" I didn't get this straight for a long time and would say "Prego!" instead which means welcome. After a while I figured out anyone with any business calling me was American and went back to the old "Hello?" When using the word "Prego" as a "your welcome", we found that we could confuse the Italians by saying "Ragu" instead. Of course, they didn't get our little American joke, but we thought it was pretty funny!

Pepperoni is an American invention. No really! The original pizza was created for Queen Margherita in Napoli (Naples in Amerispeak) by one of her chefs. Of course, this is where the Margherita pizza came from, which is simply a cheese pizza. If you ever go to Italy, and you want a pizza similar to Pepperoni, you should order a Diavola which is salami. If you ask for a Pepperoni, they're going to be confused and then bring you a pizza covered with Pepperoncini salad peppers (not an uncommon pizza topping). My favorite pizzas ended up being either Capricciosa (prosciutto, mushroom and artichoke), or Bresaola con Rucola e Grana (shaved dried beef, arugula [yes, the fancy salad stuff], and slivers of real Parmiggiana Reggiano cheese [see reference below]). It's fantastic!

I did not find Fettucini Alfredo ever the whole time I was in Italy. Totally an American invention. I can tell you though that the Olive Garden's Seafood Portofino is just like the seafood pasta dish they serve in Portofino (my favorite place in Italy).

When drinking red wine (room temperature, non sweet variety) it is complemented best with small pieces of REAL Parmiggiana Reggiano. It's incredible if you've never tried it! Note: Substituting BelGioiso Parmesan that you can buy at any American store is a no-no. Go to the deli section and get the real stuff. Oh, and if it doesn't knock your socks off, then your deli is selling stale cheese (I had this happen at HARMONS in SLC, of all places!). Note: An Italian can drink any American under the table any day of the week and twice on Sundays... and then drive home in a fairly straight fashion.

While in Europe, I drove to the following places in my car: Rome (2 times), Napoli, Milano, Lago di Garda, Florence, Venice (2 times by car - 10 by train), Portofino (3 times), Santa Margherita Ligure (2 times), Tuscany (all over the place - no I did not go to Volterra, home of the vampires in New Moon), the Italian Riviera (3 times - all over), Genova, Cinque Terre, Nice (France), Monte Carlo (Monaco), Ville-Franche sur Mer (France), Salzburg (Austria - 3 times), Garmisch-Partenkirchen (Germany - 4 times), Neuschwanstein Castle (Germany - 3 times). Never once did I drive the 40 miles to the east and cross into Slovenia or Croatia. Germans, by the way, are the NICEST people on earth. And the people in Southern France are also very nice - they don't like Italians, or Northern French.

I got into the whole Mecham family tree while I was in Europe. Mom (Helen Kay) got me onto that BYU Relationship Finder website and so I got to see everyone who was famous or royalty from Europe. It was so cool to go places and see this stuff and know that my ancestors were here. For example, one of our great grandfathers (like 33rd or something) designed the foundation and plan of a nearby castle/village called Castello d'Aviano (different from the town of Aviano). When first learning about this great-grandfather, whose name was Frederich I, Holy Roman Emperor, (he was from Bavaria or Bohemia, or some other variation of old Germany), I was in Milan. I found out that this great-grandfather was responsible for destroying Milan it's second time (it was destroyed 3 times). I did not tell anyone I was related to him that day. Charlemagne is a much better-received relation if you want to talk with Europeans about them.

Okay, that's enough for now - I might post more later when I think of it. If you're on Facebook, go to my photo albums and see lots of pics.