Great Neighbors

Sept. 18, 2008

Just to let you know, after my last very depressing post, I am doing well despite my partner in crime's absence. My neighbors have been wonderful, inviting me to dinner or to tag along on errands such as a granddaughter's swim lessons. Traveling in Rita's (the grandmother who is about my age) fire engine red car I have been able to see more of the larger city of Alessandria as well as have the scary experience of riding as a passenger in the front seat with an Italian driver. Car passengers and pedestrians have much in common- we are sitting ducks to the whims of Mario Andretti and co. As a passenger following several close calls, I now feebly whimper, Guarda! (Look out!) when Mz Andretti pulls out into traffic and in typical Italian style, the approaching cars actually speed up and only at the very last second veer around us. (I truly don't think Rita has a death wish for me- she likes Americans she says- and besides her beloved granddaughter Chiara is also in the car). When I take my city walks, I now angrily scream in English at the crazy drivers who speed up when they see pedestrians (even moms pushing prams and little kids and grandmas on bikes!) on the narrow curvy roads, coming within inches of all of our poor souls. Mamma mia!

Last Sunday I had my first "pranzo" (the big meal of the day) with Rita at her daughter's apartment which is next door to hers. I had no idea what to bring and then remembered one of our corner bakeries was open on Sundays. I ended up buying a whole lot of little dolce(sweets), more than enough for an army let alone 5 people. But when you don't know exactly how to order, some things get lost in translation... and then when you add in the shyness factor and the inability to say, Oh wow, I didn't really mean THAT many... you head home with a package so prettily wrapped that you just can't tear it apart and save some for yourself for another day.

I was relieved that our meal was very informal. We ate in the kitchen with the sound from a large TV balanced high on a shelf over the cupboards providing background noise. Rita had made some delicious meat filled pasta in a broth- as in she herself made the pasta- which were shaped like perfect little umbilicus and apparently are a specialty of the Emilia-Romagna region where she was raised. I believe the dish was called Tortelli alla Bolognese. She told me that she will teach Rachel how to make the cute little pasta when she returns and at that time maybe Rachel can confirm their name. So of course that was only the "primo piatti" and I plunged on to the secondo-some kind of delicious meat in a yummy sauce (Do you see why it's important for Rachel to be with me? I didn't have a clue what I was eating. She would have been able to provide details). All I know is that it was very good and isn't that really what counts? We then moved on to cheese and fruit and when I remembered my dolce, we had to consume some of the little pastries, too! It wasn't all about eating of course. We managed to have a conversation despite my limited Italian and their almost nonexistent English. There was lots of laughing at our attempts, the dictionary was frequently consulted, and our time together ended with a move to Chiara's bedroom ( a room that rivals any middle class American child's in the realm of toys, stuffed animals, games- a material consumption nightmare). There in her pink tutu and freshly made up face, Chiara put on quite a spectacolo-as announcer,stage hand, dancer- so much like Siegy used to do when she was 7 that it brought tears to my eyes.

The next afternoon while I was contemplating what I would buy, and worse, make for dinner, an angel appeared in the form of Massimo, my neighbor (husband of Barbara, and father of 3 year old Eduardo). He invited me over for pizza, showing me the take-out menu and telling me to choose what I liked- and thankfully I had the presence of mind before he walked away to remember to say "small." He also said bring nothing and to come at 8pm. ( I didn't say but it's a Monday night, why so late- How ever do you two get up at 6am and go to work and get Edo to preschool?) Oh well, when in Rome..I mean Alessandria... fine with me, I can certainly sleep all morning!

I was really looking forward to seeing their apartment on what turns out to be on both the second and third floor. It looked like it might be large from the outside and while I knew they had a large garden terrace (that I can only see a part of from the courtyard), I had no idea how nice all of it would be! Contemporary, great use of space, and with a zillion books (heaven to me!)- the perfect home for young(ish) professionals with a child. Oh and yet another lucky child's room with an enormous amount of toys and even his own private terrace that hold a play castle! (I have read that is very common now for Italians to have only one child- yet the number of adults in the extended family stays the same to shower love and gifts on these few. Kind of surprising that in the Pope's backyard they are NOT reproducing.)

Okay, dinner... When the pizza was delivered and I saw 3 boxes of various sizes, I realized we were each going to have our own pizza- and while mine was indeed a small, it was far from small. And petite little Barbara had her very own medium, Eduardo had none, and Massimo had a large (and we each ate every bit!) Followed by cheese, breadsticks, and shrimp in some kind of Russian dressing-like sauce. And of course all the time consuming wine, which was then followed by espresso (fortunately decaf). I cracked up when Barbara said she was sorry that she hadn't done anything for dessert! Ohmygod. I was there from 8-11 and while sometime during that time they had put Eduardo down to bed, all I could think is this guy is a cardiac surgeon who just worked 10 days straight and Barbara commutes an hour away at the Museum of Cinema in Turin- and it's a Monday!(and yes, I frequently said I would go...) About 10:30 Massimo says we need grappa and was astounded that I had been in Italy for 3 months and hadn't ever tried it. No time like the present, I said. Salute!

I had to laugh that they both think their English is terrible (patently false) and the fact that we only had to resort to the dictionary a couple of times proved my point. I was pleased that they are liberal, progressive thinkers- they knew so much about the US gov't and the candidates in the upcoming election, also hoping Obama will win. When Massimo said, "George Bush, worst President ever, don't you think?" I knew I was among kindred spirits. (However it is embarrassing to pretend that I know anything about Italian politics but they filled me in somewhat). We also talked about the difference in medicine from the US and Italy- everything from compensation, attitudes, stress, to the patients' expectations of a hospital visit (in Italy they want to stay, he says). I had already been the recipient of the gifts Massimo's patients bring him that he and Barbara share with all of us neighbors- fresh eggs, cheese, and lettuce from people who live in the country, and wine, wine and more wine from others. I told him I have no idea if cardiac surgeons in the US get showered with such presents! And now that all of our neighbors know that Rachel is an agopuntura, they'll be lining up for treatments when she returns, Massimo included. Rachel was worried that she'd forget how to do acupuncture and I scoffed. Leave it to me... maybe eventually we'll have our own little food and wine stockpile...

Yes, I'd say we hit the good neighbor jackpot, wouldn't you??