Sunday, February 20, 2011

Attack of The Heart Shaped Pizza

We'll start with Friday night at the pizzeria Europa.
Host Sister: Mom, let's do something really lovely tonight and go out for pizza. Olivia, is that alright with you?
Is that alright with me? Umm what do you think?
Walking in to the pizzeria, we were greeted by the owner who of course knows my host family and greeted them in the only way an Italian knows how. After our grand entrance and greeting almost half of the resturant because every pretty much knows everyone, we went to sit down.
I looked around on the way to our seats and saw old people, more old people, babies, old people, and then, a smexy, so this is what everyone was on about, "Italian Stallion." It was like he was the poster boy for the Italian Stallions. I suppose I did what they call, "making eyes" with someone, and then we found our table. I sat down and had a perfect, far-enough-away view of my find. Far enough away so he couldn't catch me staring like a perve yet, close enough to see details.
Then it was time to order. (this is where it gets kind of gross but, pretty much the best part of the story.)
The owner came back and promptly made himself comfortable at our table to take our order. He is exactly what you think of when you immagine an Italian. Gold necklaces with crosses, gold rings, an earring in one ear, loud, happy, and in control. When it came to my turn, I told him to make mine a suprise just like any "rebelious", "free spirited" tourist.
We then waited. I stared some more at my future boyfriend, and then came out three pizzas; each one big enough to split among 4 people. Two of which (one for me, one for my host sister) were heart shaped. My host sister's was nice, light, fluffy, and completely healthy so as not to ruin her pretty, Italian figure and perfect Italian complexion.
Mine, instead, was bound to do some major damage and I was never so excited to eat something in my life. It pretty much looked like somthing my brother would make as a late saturday night, expirement for dinner when my parents go out and leave him in charge of me and my little sister.
The heart pizza looked like the future of mine but, I dug in. My first thought wasn't really a thought, it was more like a bunch that my brain spluttered out all at once and it turned into mush. A delicious combo of mozzarella, sausage, prosciutto, mushrooms, eggplant and salame all on top of spectacular tomato sauce and crust so good, if they don't serve it in heaven, I don't want to go. I ate the whole thing. Nothing wasted. That's when I mentioned it was hot and asked if my face was pink. My host mom said yes and then kind of muttered under her breath "because you ate all those carbs..." She must have just been jealous that she had to eat a pizza with lettuce on it and I downed a pizza capable of clogging my arteries on the spot, despite being in plain view of an almost equally delicious Italian boy. (He was long forgotten when I layed eyes on my new found love, the heart shaped pizza.)

Oh, yes. I am indeed still feeling the greasy results. I would so do it again.
Picture soon!

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Since the constant improve game of learning Italian requires me to "pick up" what Italians say and repeate it like a parrot, I usually come home with my pockets full of rocks and by rocks I mean phrases or words that I hear often. Then I go home, sit down at the computer and empty out my pockets. It's sometimes funny what I pick up but, I have begun to see a pattern forming in the majority of words I pick up. Yes, a lot of them are swear words and I probably know all the Saints names combined with various animals now but, this most recent list just goes to show how skeptical Italians are of the entire world around them:
Sciopero-Strike (I actually learned this one a while ago but it is used more often than you would think)
Non mi frega niente-I don't give a damn but, if you take off the "niente", which means "nothing", then it just means "I don't care" (usually followed by some hand gestures because Italian is about 45% sign language)
Porca Troia-Holy Shit
Yet, at the same time their language has everday phrases and words that translate into the most beautiful things in English.
I'm going brag now and say that I can finally follow an entire lesson and give some input without falling asleep. I can also write down all the notes that my Italian/History teacher gives us for an hour but, even though he saw that I had been doing so and told me "bravissima, bravissima" (this is something very special and rare coming from a teacher that scares the crap out of my entire class and his very presence demands their upmost respect, even from the "bad-ass" kids in my class) he told me I was ready to have a notebook just for History since I could take notes. He said the notebook should perferably have a cat on it. Thats when almost everyone lifted up their notebooks for History, displaying cats on all of them. I don't know if it is a coincidence or this teacher has a weird cat fascination but, it this funny classroom story had to be recorded somewhere. It doesn't quite top "Super Babies!" but it comes close.
Ci Vediamo!

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Le Parolaccie Are The Best Of Words

I am convinced that although Italian is one of the most beautiful languages that ever existed, the fact that it is so close to Latin, it also holds primitive tendencies. It is a fairly young language and still is. But, it seems as though the language itself makes Italians part of the way they are. Love is obviously above many things in their culture. Therfore, you don't say or take lightly ti amo it is strictly reserved only for lovers and only when they are alone. That's it. You don't say it in public, you don't say it to your children, you don't say it to your friends and you most definitely don't say it to your cat.
Another example. Food (of course that would be next). Italian just sounds like food. Especially when you are hungry. Just listening to it I can hear: Tortellini con Prosciutto Cotto e panna, Spaghetti Carbonara, Tiramisu, the best olive oil on the planet, Nutella etc...
And lastly, just as much as Italian has the ability to make you swoon like you never have-especially when it's coming out of the mouth of a beautiful Italian boy-it has the ability to sound angry. No.
Down right frightening.
I don't know if it was scarier before when I didn't understand and it all just sounded like rapid gunfire over and over again, or if it's worse now that I can understand every cuss word, every threat and every (AND MANY) exasperation(s).
My host mom for example. Or, almost every Italian woman and a few men. Nothing sounds more threatening than a nice, long, growling cuss word thrown at the TV when a certain unfavored polition is speaking, or worse, on the phone or worse, to someones face. No, at that point it's just entertaining (as long you aren't the one being yelled at).
They can hold out those lovely words as long as they want. They roll the r's as if some sort of primitive side has taken over and this sound was built in to the language for emergencies such as these in order to make the user seem more animalistic, thereby frightening the oponent or...prey in some cases it feels like.
I'll have you all know i'm learning well. All you special people at East (you know who you are) thought I was a threat to the saftey of the school last year. Just wait, i've got some new tricks up my sleeves.

Monday, January 3, 2011

The New Year Speaks a New Language

An Italian New Year is one where you can find friends just by stepping outside into the little town where theres a glittering atmosphere of a new start on the horizon. Where the smell of fireworks are everywhere, and as soon as you countdown, tre, due, uno into the next year you're sprayed with hundreds of bottles of champagne and embraced by masses of Italians you don't even know. But who cares? You meet them once, and afterwards its like you've been friends forever.

This is the year to expand the queens empire. The year to use those stored up bits of wisdom you've gathered from tea-tags, experience, others, and yourself. The time to sharpen your skills in what is already there, but must be utilized like another newly grown limb.
Just Be Yourself. You'll Be Fine.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Xmas Wishlist: The Unabridged and Un-Filtered Version

Doesn't Matter if i've Been Naughty Or Nice. Santie Better Pay Up:) Please
To get a 4.0 in my last year of hike skoo and not kill someone and or die:)
Acceptance into an amazing design college, hopefully Parsons
A jar of Nutella
The Dolce and Gabbanna coat I saw here
A Louis Vuitton purse
A ticket to the next Lady Gaga tour; Born This Way
An Italian boy who looks like a Burberry model
A Husky sewing machine
A mannequin that you can adjust the sizes on
To be an apprentice to a designer
A job that I at least like where I am my own boss (NOT babysitting) and I have money to buy materials for designs
A lifetime supply of mint magic tea
An herb and vegatable garden
A greenhouse
A box of Twinkies
The Dolce and Gabbanna shoes I saw here
Recognition for a hard earned yet, fufilling work
My verification to be enough
To expand in a global and mental sense, and the oppisite in a physical sense

And Wilbur wants his Malibu Barbie house to get fixed as well as a bigger cage
Seeing as i'm in Italy at the moment, one of my biggest wishes is true and the only one on the list i see coming in a box here, is the box of Twinkies.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Prefisso e Suffisso

Prefix: Where did it come from? How was it born? How exactly in every detail was it permanantly marked by humans in its long life? Why?
Though we created it and continue to do so, it still seems to have its own life and mind. It ebbs and flows through everything and everyone. Like oxygen, being casually used like and arm or leg yet, the user doesn't even know what it is. Its deep, pitchy history, it's various shades, it's true meaning. Every piece of one part carries its own meaning, all knit together to turn out a piece of art which anyone can and will add their own streaks of paint and mold in a different way. Sometimes its root, its home, is lost in the process. Sometimes forever, and sometimes just until someone is curious enough to open the treasure box where its been quietly waiting for you to discover its been lost like an old pearl earring. Then, something feels right. When all the time its been a small seed of confusion that you just cover up with superficial acceptance. Now, you feel at home as well.
But, why are they changed? Simply for the sake of convinience? Why are they negligently twisted into something theyre not? Perhaps this is the way everything must go through in its life.
Suffix: And at the close of life, it knows in its every pore and fiber what it is. Though its gone through much filing down and bent in every way imaginable and unimaginable, the circle comes back around and it is how it was at birth. Perhaps at the close of its strenuous life, when it has grown weary of richoceting off of every wall on the planet a million times a second and the earth is finally silent, Language and all of its users will know what it really is and where it really came from.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

* ***amMagic***