The sprint to Christmas...

Just an update, after my last post regarding holiday illness, hubs was taken to bed with TONSILITIS.  

Seriously.  I kind of thought that only 10 year olds got that...

He DID do his best to emulate a sickly child by sending me text messages from the bedroom to bring him water and take his temperature, as well as looking puppy-dog sad when he matter-of-factly announced that he'd heard that kids who have tonsilitis get to eat all the ice cream they want.  I promptly went out and bought him ice cream.  What a good wife I am. 

Shortly after (as in ONE day) little miss baby girl developed a hacking cough.  Which turned into the same inflamed bronchial tubes issue that we battled a short two months ago.  Seriously, when would it stop??  

I had already not slept in my own bed for fear of being passed Henry's affliction, so it was only fitting for baby to need her mamma to sleep next to her.  

And any of you reading this with kids knows that "sleep" does not happen in a bed with your kid.  

I am a zombie.

Now, here we are, the week of Christmas, and I am madly preparing for a Trans-Atlantic flight.  

Shopping is nearly finished, bags are most definitely not even packed much less brought out of the attic, the house is a disaster following two visitors from down under (BTW thank God for Aussies...they are the BEST houseguests ever), last minute doctors' appointment, downsizing the mini-pharmacy that we have in the kitchen to fit in the luggage (we only get 50 pounds each...), dog getting ready to be dropped off with Zia Ale, teachers' gifts for the daycare that Olivia has abandoned since the cough and the shortness of breath started, and a lovely husband's birthday in two short days, which warrants a few dozen of my homemade cupcakes be brought in to work tomorrow.  

Anything else? 

Well of course.  Lessons, laundry, work, a bit of shopping for myself (MYSELF!? Yes, believe it or not I need stuff too...) and attempted meet-ups with dear friends to wish them a Merry Christmas before we all head to our respective home-lands.  

Am I looking forward to this holiday?

Damn right I am. 

I fully intend on sleeping like it is going out of style, and then - while I am awake, I also fully intend on drinking lots of terrible American beer and wine, eating massive portions of Mexican food, brownies, cookies, and whatever else ends up in front of me, and visiting my lovely friends (the ones who can fit me into their schedule of course...).  

I will indeed celebrate.  This is the first proper Christmas I will be spending at home in Indiana in four years, and I fully intend on making it one of the best ever.  

To all of my friends and family around the globe, have a very very Merry Christmas, and best wishes for all the hapiness in the world in 2012.  

My own personal happiness? - one is hacking away in her bedroom, and the other just sent me a text asking for some chocolate milk and cookies.  

It's a wonderful life...

My two sickies...enjoying their hot toddies... ; )

xoxo sjkh

Aria Mortale...

It is oficially that time of year again...the magical time when generous gifts abound.

No - not Christmas.  

Cold and Flu Season.

Basically, the Hart family seem to all be rather 'healthy' througout the year, but since baby girl has been attending the 'Nido' - which translates to 'Nest' (playschool) - we have been gifted with several ailments.  Ah the joys of parenting.  Quite literally, Olivia's little ' Nest' is in fact a nest for breeding germs, diseases and about every other lurgy you could imagine.  When asked upon enrollment what worried me about sending her there, I laughed off the suggestions that she would find it difficult to socialise, not share her toys, or not eat well...my top concern was her getting ill.  

My fears were certainly warranted.  

I just forgot to include MYSELF and Hubs in that equation.  As I write this, poor hubs has taken to his bed with the latest bug...this one has made the rounds already through our family and friends...and apparently it loves us so much it has returned. Yippee.  

So, illness is quite an international thing obviously.  No culture or race is immune from anything that goes around in the wintry season.  

But the way in which Italians cope with and even the specific illnesss which they contract are something out of this world.  I have long been told I was crazy for my apparent lack of clothing on days when I chose to wear ONLY a top and a cardi...GASP!  Something I wish I would have been informed of before my migration across the pond is that - according to Italians - the air here is positively DEADLY.  

That's right.  You heard me.  DEADLY.

It can quite literally kill you, or at least give you a stiff neck.  This is why Italians - I'll go ahead and throw myself in that mix as well - look so darn stylish.  We are never sans scarf.  NOT a fashion thing mind you, but rather a 'death prevention' thing.  Works like a charm. Forgot your scarf today?  Best find something to wrap around your neck or pop your collar...Don't want that air to get you.

So what is the deal with the air you ask?  

It is the very simple and deadly malady called 'colpa d'aria' - a hit of the air.  

Didn't wear a scarf? Boom. Colpa d'aria.  Bed two days.

Forgot to tuck in your shirt after going to the bathroom? BOOM.  Air crept in your shirt.  Diarrhea.

Drove with your window open? BAZAM. Air on your neck.  Torcicollo - stiff neck.

....and the MOST bizarre I have ever personally heard....

"You have a urinary tract infection.  You must have got a colpa d'aria."  

Really?  Up my skirt???

This deadly air thing made me laugh at first, but as my time here goes on it seriously gets more and more ridiculous.  Baby girl in the swimming pool in June...not super hot outside, but it was a perfect day for a little skinny dip and a splash round.  (Hey we live in the country, baby spends most of the sumer half naked running round here...)  Now for any of you who have kids, one thing you KNOW you cannot prevent is the dreaded poop in the pool.  It will happen at least once a summer.  Livvy goes in the pool during a lesson and leaves a little surprise for daddy...when I asked my student to kindly excuse me, as I needed to lend a hand, she offered her kind advice that probably we shouldnt let her go naked in the pool, as when the water touches a human stomach, said human immediately poos.  

Seriously? 

I was not so much concerned about her severe lack of the understanding of the human anatomy as I was with the sheer horror that any time I may have showered in an Italian's home, I had been standing bare foot in a veritable 2nd toilet.  

So do they just go to take a shower, step under water and immediately POO???

Is the Italian human makeup lacking about 3 feet of intestine?  Does the poo just fall out upon contact with water?  What about public swimming pools?  Full of Poo?  

Eeek.  Enough of that...

Aside from the killer air here, the other difficulty I have found is not with the illness itself, but with the freedom in which they feel as though they need to share.  As Americans, we are taught at a young age that the basic response to "How are you?" is ALWAYS "fine thanks!" or "great!".  Even if your eyes are bleeding and you vomit a bit in your mouth while you say it, never overshare.  I don't want to know for REAL how you are, I just have to say it to make it seem like I care.

Typical Italian response to "How are you?"

"Oooh, I am not so good.  You see the other day I got a bit of air on my neck while I was driving, and I immediaely had to take to bed as the diarrhea just kept coming and coming.  And then of course the next day my per----"

OK stop right there my pizza-eating friend.  That is about all I need. TMI.

But after all this complaining, I must say that the whole general health department is definitely where the USA has some severe catching up to do.  Even though they complain, they are also treated well.  No person who is here legally can say they are not being taken care of.  I have no idea what half the stuff my doctor gives me when I am ill (which is a strangely high number of different meds that you stir into water and down like a boilermaker at closing time...) but I am entitled to the care. And it is great.  No worrying and waiting to see if you REALLY need to go to the doc.  Just go, this is your benefit of paying taxes - and with the tax we pay here, I certainly try to get my money's worth ; )

OK, enough rambling, I am afraid that the Attack of the Man Flu requires a bit of delicate attention...not unsimilar to this little clip...

Get well soon little bunny Henry....


xoxo sjkh

Il Giorno di Ringraziamento...

Thanksgiving. 

Of all the American holidays, this is top bananas for me.  And as long as I have been here in Italy, I have never made it back home for the celebration and it brings a little tear to my eye every time I think about it.

So, that means 6 years with no turkey. No dressing. No gravy. No pumpkin pie...

Really?  

Do you think that I would voluntarily miss out on that?

Do you also think I am dead inside? 

Well, I am not. Every year, I do the very best I can to re-create the holiday (never actually ON the holiday of course...work and school snuff that one out quickly...) Italian Style.

The 2009 Thanksgiving crew...Chris, Mooresy and Drama...

So this Friday, I will be hosting our annual Italian Style Thanksgiving.  To be honest it is not much different than the American style Thanksgiving, but one must be a bit more creative in finding ingredients fitting of a Turkey Day feast...they are not just stacked up to the ceiling in the entrance of Wal-Mart.  There are no "stations" for pie making in our local supermarket, and God forbid you ask where the canned pumpkin can be found!?

I make it a habit to peruse new recipes every year, and - as Thanksgiving fodder is quite specific to American tastes and availabilities - I always have a little giggle when the ingredients include canned green beans and cream of mushroom soup...

(Sorry Midwesterners, that means no Green Bean Casserole round these parts...)

Turkey Day 2010

The availibilities of "short cuts" seem sacreligious here in Italy, and I am fairly sure that the use of pre-diced garlic in a jar will warrant a trip to confession and 10 Hail Marys.

And then there is the turkey.  Our native American bird is an unappreciated little guy in our neck of the woods.  I can only imagine that an entire bird could be made avaiable by advance order from the butcher, but I have never been so brave (and I have also never been brave enough to attempt cooking one...best leave that to the true Americans...)  

So the substitute ends of being an entire breast of turkey with a 'pocket' cut into it and stuffed.  The stuffing can be anything - one year it was fresh chestnuts, breadcrumbs and apricots; another was chopped leek and spinach...

Sorry again, Yankees...not stuffed with a chicken and a guinea fowl, or McDonalds hamburgers.  We keep it simple round here ; )

Thanksgiving 2009 - with Uncle Chris...

To round out this menu, there are always a plethora of fresh sides; mashed potatoes, green beans and pancetta, and then there is the dressing.  To be specific, Neukam dressing.  

No you cannot have the recipe...it is a well guarded secret. 

(OK, that is a lie, but I don't part easily with my recipes...you need to bring me at least one bottle of wine before my secret recipe book is brought to the table...)

No Thanksgiving dinner would be complete without the pumpkin pie...that is where it gets a little hairy.  I quite envy the Yankees who have frozen pie crusts, canned pumpkin, pumpkin pie spice and Cool-Whip available at their fingertips...24 Hours a day at WalMart.  But the greatest discovery I have made since being here in Italy and learning to cook things - not just from scratch, but from whatever comes before scratch - has definitely been the good old fashioned pumpkin.

In the absence of precooked canned pumpkin, the filling for the pie must come from (GASP!) a REAL pumpkin!!  First chopped in half and roasted for about an hour until soft.  Then scooped out, pureed, and mixed with various spices and a bit of heavy cream.  All baked in a freshly made pie crust...

Wow. I am exhausted just reading that back.

Now, as I am married to a Brit, I have one tough customer to impress with my pumpkin pie...he is very highly unconvinced regarding the use of our North American friend in several recipes.

Just to make matters worse, we once enjoyed an episode of "Two Fat Ladies" (a British cooking programme...and pure culinary hilarity at it's FINEST) in which they insisted that Americans should...

"...never be allowed near a pumpkin, as they do awful things to them". 

It is officially the ONLY line from a TV show or film that the Hubby can quote...
Harumph...

So this year the pumpkin challenge continues.  After 6 years, he is still wildly unimpressed.

But, Thanksgiving.  It is not just about food...

It's a time when we sit with the people we love the most and remember how thankful we are for all we have got.  I may not be around the table this year, and most likely will not be able to return for many Thanksgivings to come, but I am certainly thankful for them most of all.  

Thankful that they don't give me TOO hard of a time for being so far away.  

Thankful that they are always there for me, even when I am a world away.  

And most of all thankful that we CAN all be together - no matter what time of the year it may be.  

My family - the ones in Indiana, the ones in Italy and the ones all over the world - make it all worth it.  

I can wake up every day knowing that I have them.  

I am thankful for my beautiful family...

 

...and my beautiful family.

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

xoxo sjkh

Wine Time...

Hubs is travelling once again this week (Asia just can't get enough of that tall, salt and pepper, handsome English man...), so this drawing pretty much sums up my week - post 8pm bedtime of course...

Now, I remember when I was little that saying someone was a 'wino' was a derogatory statement and synonymous with being a bum.  But now, as I am older and wiser, I can honestly say that there is nothing bum-ish about hanging out on the sofa in your tracksuit and fluffy white socks in front of the fire drinking bottles of the stuff...

Hear ye, hear ye - I am a wino.

Wine lovers x 2 (pre-Olivia years...)

Once upon a time, I would scrounge all my change up out of my Lincoln Quad dorm room and head over to the Ghetto Market in good old Terre Haute to buy myself the finest box of wine $3.50 could buy.  These days living in Italy I am spoilt for choice... 

I live in Prosecco (Valdobbiadene as it is now formally known) country - for those of you who do not know what that is have obviously not hung out with me since I have lived here.  

 Definition: Prosecco is an Italian white wine — generally a Dry or Extra Dry sparkling wine, normally made from Glera ("Prosecco") grapes.  DOC prosecco is produced in the regions of Veneto and Friuli Venezia Giulia in Italy, and traditionally mainly in the areas near Conegliano and Valdobbiadene, in the hills north of Treviso.

Or to be more exact on the location...

View from my front yard....

At the base of that mountain in the distance is the main Prosecco production region...nothing like waking up every morning to this view.

For those of you who think you need to spend a load on good wine, it is untrue (at least here...).

A great mid-priced bottle of bubbles, which we often drink is Valdo...

About 5 euro a bottle...

Or my #1 favourite cantina (producer)...

I may be a bit biased...this is my student's family cantina ; )

Colesel produces Valdobbiande as well as Cartizze, another sparkling wine - a bit more specialised than Prosecco - SO good.  They also have a Rose that I love...

For you red lovers, there is no shortage of goodies from around here.

The best by far is Amarone...

Def: Amarone della Valpolicella, usually known as Amarone, is a typically rich Italian dry red wine made from the partially dried grapes of the Corvina (40.0% – 70.0%), Rondinella (20.0% – 40.0%) and Molinara (5.0% – 25.0%) varieties.

A good Amarone will set you back a few clams, but it is VERY WORTH IT.  

I am not much of a red wine drinker, but my good friend Chris introduced us to this a few years back and it stole my heart (and my liver?) in a moment...

This would be a tasty little drop...

Chris is our resident Red expert - so much that when Olivia sees a bottle of red enter our house, she immediately says "CHWIS!!"  ; )

Our wine loving "Family" - Mooresy, Chris and the Harts...Thank goodness we recycle bottles...

As far as whites go, we are not too versed, so I would be open to any suggestions from my fellow wine lovers...

So there you have it friends - a very short wine tour from yours truly....if you needed any more reason to save up and come visit the Harts I am sure the wine talk pushed you over the edge.  

And hey, even if you don't I will still be here enjoying my very own personal wine time...

8:15 pm... {hiccup!}...

Aussie version please - not the rubbish US version!!

xoxo sjkh

Diventando Americana...

The dreaded appointment had been in the books for weeks and I was panicking inside for about 5 days leading up to it...papers were flying, the entire contents of our filing cabinet was in our sitting room, and I was furiously printing copies of documents scanned and faxed from the US.  

I was ready...Good Lord I hoped so.

You see, there are many things that one must remember when getting involved with a foriegner.  

Language barriers.  Culture differences.  Strange habits.

But that is the easy part.  

If there is anything that has been more difficult, it is definitely having a kid with said foriegner.  

Not the actual labour bit, that was easy too...but rather the endless barrage of paperwork from any choice of any of our native countries at any time.  

A Cultural Profile of the Harts

Henry: Born in England.  Lived in Bahrain and Switzerland for a minute, and then back to England.  Then to Italy.

Steffi: Born in USA.  Never ventured farther than an afternoon's car drive from home, then moved to Italy.

Prada: Mexican and Yappy. Born in Indianapolis, but you would never know, her English is rubbish.

Olivia: Born in Italy.  Lives in Italy.  But due to foriegn parents she has NO rights to Italian citizenship. So, she is British - passport issued at one week old (you should see the photo...she is a little blob of baby and it is valid for 6 years?!).  Also eligible for an American passport and citizenship - we left it for two years because, hey she is European and therefore isn't the British Passport good enough?  Nope, says every port of entry to the USA.  Not good enough.  And as I am sick and tired of getting put through the discussion every time I go home, and have spent even just a few minutes in THAT room (you know the one I am talking about - the one reserved for sketchy people, NOT a former Miss USA contestant) I made the executive decision to apply for the good old American citizenship and Passport.  Easy Peasy! 

Um.  Think again.  

One full day off work...BOTH parents.  Three train tickets to Milano to visit the Consulate.  5 am start. 

Check. Check. Check.

Apples and Tractors on the train!

Then came the paperwork requests.  

There were normal ones of course - birth certificates, marriage certificates, residence certificates. 

But then they asked me to PROVE my American-ness (as having only one American parent only requires evidence of a stay of 7 years or so after age 14).  

Wow.  

Social Security statement?  OK, but we need more.  W2?  OK but more even then...

That's when I started running out of ideas...but my mother came to the rescue and helped out by scanning and sending my high school transcript.  

OK!  That should do it!  

Side Note: After receiving the transcripts, I can no longer call myself a nerd.  Dear husband has seen my Mathematics and Algebra grades.  And they were not pretty....

So the diaper bag was full of documents and Hubs, baby, and I were off on the first train to Milano.  Easy journey.  Easy finding the Consulate.  Getting in was like going through airport security but much worse...

And then, as you step through a door guarded by a Marine in uniform...it actually SMELLS like America.

45 minutes later and after several attacks of the nerves (would all that paperwork be enough!?!), all that remained to do was take an oath and sign on the dotted line.  

Olivia called the Consualte Head "Granny"...thank goodness she didn't hear that one.  

But all went well, and I am now very proud to say that I have myself a little American baby girl...Officially.  
So what does any good American do to celebrate that good news? 

Why, we eat of course!!!

Henry directed us to the most AMAZING restaurant just up the street from the Duomo (so little you would never even take ANY notice of it).  We ordered a giant plate of fresh sliced proscuitto di Parma 24 mesi, some fresh bread, and two BOWLS of Lambrusco wine - Dark, fizzy, and red. 

It was the best celebratory meal I had ever had.   

This place is definitely up there in the top 3 restaurants recommended by the Harts...it is intimate, quiet, full of locals, and the Parma ham is to DIE for.  It melts in your mouth. 

Happy Henry...

Lambrusco...yummmmmm.....

A quick visit to the original Prada Luggage shop... Love.

A bit tipsy and baby sleeping in the stroller, we boarded the train back home to Monfumo...

For such a day full of stresses, business, and balls-ache, it actually ended up being one of our best family days out ever...

Now off to teach Liv the most important American song ever - Take Me Out to the Ball Game! ; )

xoxo sjkh