Rome, sweet Rome

We have been back in Rome for just over two weeks, but the suitcases were finally unpacked and stowed only yesterday.  Our happy return was slightly marred by the discovery that the power had gone out while we were away, allowing the contents of our fridge and freezer to rot quietly in a month-long heatwave.  No problemo: two litres of bleach and one crazy homemade baking soda paste later, our fridge is back to near-odourlessness...and the freezer is well on its way.  I actually spent the first weekend back not in Rome but up north in Bergamo, getting denied for my permesso di soggiorno again.  No tears this time, as I actually didn't really expect to pick it up (ha!) and Filippo's family spoiled me like crazy with delicious dinners out and the season's first polenta con funghi porcini. (A quick Google search failed to turn up a decent recipe and/or photo, so I'll have to reproduce pcfp at home then post for all to see.  I don't even like mushrooms, but this is definitely in my Top Five Favourite Fall Dishes.)

But I can't jump ahead to an I *heart* fall post before properly turning the page on Turkey.  It really is an incredible country, and we discovered that it has absolutely everything: mind-blowing mountains, turquoise (!) seas, amazing architecture and beautiful people.  The couple pictured in my last post, for example, worked so hard at engaging Filippo and me in conversation - we had forgotten our Teach Yourself Turkish text on that particular walk (doh!) so had to rely on a mix of the few phrases we knew supplemented by the travel glossary at the back of our Lonely Planet.  We "talked" for at least 20 minutes, and when I asked to take a picture of them at the end, the grandma made me take about five, then picked her favourite.  She also asked us to take a self pic and mail it to her - she couldn't write her address so we waited and chatted until a young man walked past and scribbled it down for us.

Cuteness like this happened to us every day in Turkey.   The gentle owners of our B&B in Safranbolu mapped out a wonderful series of sights to visit for a one-day tour of the area and shared their family mulberry jam recipe when they saw that I couldn't get enough.  Now all I need to do is find some mulberries, and I'm set.

But I'm not respecting the narrative - have skipped Cappadocia, where we hiked to our hearts' content through winding canyons and sandy hills.  The manager of our hostel-turned-hotel took us on his favourite day hike, we made the bad decision not to bring our camera along (I love it like a pet but it's a little on the heavy side), but got an unforgettable and very personal window into the land and flora of that amazing region.  I wish I could also say fauna, but the fact is that we saw nothing aside from one stick insect and one fox.  No animals!?  Most bizarre.  Filippo's pièce de résistance was the hot air balloon ride he organised for our last morning.  I had been anxious about the idea due to my paralysing fear of heights...but got the good advice not to look down but across...and didn't throw up or have heart palpitations.  Actually really enjoyed it - though I'm glad it only lasted one hour. :-)

It was in Cappadocia that I checked with my loved ones in Britain and decided not to go off on my own for a few weeks as per the plan, but save up my vacation days for a mega visit to Blighty this fall.  I was determined to see as much as possible on weekends, though, so dragged Filippo to Safranbolu (dangling as a carrot the lovely Gülevi) and planned an ambitious trekking route around the mountains of Kabak, our final destination.

Maybe because of the dragging to and fro, or maybe just because we've reached a stage when good books and a quiet paradise to read them in is exactly what we're looking for in a vacation, but: we did a little asking around in Kabak, and when we found that we'd have to waste one full morning and pay 75 Euros to take a taxi to the trailhead, all trekking plans were abandoned.  Instead we tag-teamed through every book in our camp's little lending library, went on lots of beautiful day hikes and ate three gourmet meals a day.  The Olive Garden was actually recommended in our Lonely Planet as "place to eat", but they had upgraded their bungalows and pool area since the LP was published, so we decided to take a gamble and stay there.  Their yogurt, olives, bread, and majority of veg was grown/made on site, and the honey (from resident bees) was dark and fruity and life-changing.  I ate it with a fork right out of the little dish they brought to our table every morning.  Compared with super-touristy nearby Ölüdeniz and Fethiye, Kabak was tranquil and perfect. 

Just the rest we needed, as we're right back up to our eyeballs at the moment, with Filippo working until 11pm on evening shifts and me still sharing the workload of four people with only one other colleague.  The good news is that there will be a new head of my department in place by early January, and Filippo will only have to keep up the ultra-late shifts for another three weeks.  He's actually off to Torino for all of next week, so I will be free to cook all the crazy Asian recipes that I want and stare dreamily at our holiday pictures, wishing I were back there, lounging in the shade with a good book.

sparklies

I don't know where my love affair with shoes came from, but I can state with certainty that it began when I was very young.  My first stand-out pair were lilac Mary Janes - I was six years old, and the shoes were a reward for starting school.  They stood out among the greys and browns both in the store and in my classroom, and while I loved them fiercely, I didn't want them to attract attention.  Fast-forward 28 years: I continue to dress fairly eccentrically, and still cannot stand to be looked at.

Over the years, some memorable pairs include a pair of white mini heels with a bow at their open toe for First Communion, the sneakers that I lived in throughout my teens (velcro high-top Reeboks in the early years, switching to grape-coloured Converse mid-way) and the silver wedding sandals I found two years before Filippo asked me to marry him.  My favourites were always the jackpot specials: vintage Nikes from the thrift store near my Uni, multicoloured espadrilles propped under a rack of sundresses in a consignment store on Main Street.

I have been moderately successful at suppressing Shopping Mania while living in Italy - of course, my previously super-tight budget helped reign in spending.  But now that we're living off of two salaries for the first time in the history of our relationship (!) Filippo and I are loosening the purse strings and making up for lost time.  The sparklies above come from a small shop hidden in a tiny town on the edge of northern Italy's agricultural heartland.  We were passing through on the way to visit Filippo's family and former neighbours in Torre de' Picenardi (pop. 1,821) last Saturday, and dropped in so that he could find some work shoes that would match the linen suits he had purchesed earlier in the day.  We made the rounds of Torre, starting by paying our respects to Filippo's dad and neighbour Bruno, and ending with dinner at Agriturismo Corte Sant' Anna, where five of us enjoyed two-course meals and wine for a total bill of 60 Euro.

Family visits continued through Sunday, offering me the chance to run through all of my residency documentation with cousin Federico, who had set up a meeting for me with his friend in the Bergamo Provincial Office on Monday morning at 8:15am.  The appointment was to get a a crucial part of my residency permit sorted out: a "permesso di soggiorno" (literally: permit to stay) required before the city will register me as a resident.  This is the same elusive document  that I (unsuccessfully) tried to collect nine times in Bergamo in the course of 2007.

"Bergamo?" you say, squinting your eyes and frowning.  "Why fly up north and take a day off work to get the permit when surely you can zip into the Roman HQ and get it resolved lickety -split?" 

Rewind one month: I had high hopes for the immigration office in Rome because, unlike in 2006 and 2007,I finally had all the "right" documents: marriage certificate, proof of employment & self-sufficiency, etc. On the day I set out to submit my paperwork, of course nothing went as planned - from a transit strike in the morning to verbal abuse when I finally got there and found someone who would speak to me.  So I wasn't even able to start the process in Rome after wasting an entire day in 35-degree heat.

Resourceful Filippo looked into all his networks and found that he wasn't even a zillion degrees of separation from anyone who could help me at this immigration office - hence the decision to fly up to Bergamo and accept the help of Federico's friend.

And so we're back to this past Sunday, where I spent the night vividly dreaming of plane crashes, and jumped awake more than an hour before the alarm was due to go off.  The appointment lasted no more than 15 minutes: I nervously filled out the final paperwork while Filippo charmed everyone in sight, then accompanied me to get all parts of both hands electronically scanned.  I have apparently been fast-tracked, so will fly back up in early September to collect my plasticised card...and deliver a case of wine to the guy who helped us out.

I believe that this will be the perfect occasion to break out the sparklies.

comfort food

The temperature has been hovering around 40 degrees for the past few days - a paralysing crescendo built from weeks spent in the mid-30s.  I know I should probably be expanding my culinary repertoire to include Italian warm-weather recipes, but the heat has forced my brain onto auto-pilot, so I find myself reverting to foods from Summertimes Past.  Some examples of this week's deliciousness include potato salad (so excited to have found wrinkly olives), veggie burgers with corn on the cob, and Thai green curry with eggplant and peas.  Like a true Kozlowski, I hung on to yesterday's potato-boiling and green bean-steaming water, and will use it to make barszcz later today.  A new shift-oriented schedule means that Filippo is home for lunch quite often these days - sunshine defrosts his bread in record time.

Speaking of repertoire and auto-pilot, I'm clearly blogging again, after a 3+ year hiatus.  You may note the new design and updated links in the left sidebar - I hope the freshness conveys how lovely it feels to be back.  Writing is my compulsion: this outlet opens the door and lets crammed-in ideas fly out.  I'm also playing the piano again, thanks to Filippo's generous Christmas+birthday+anniversary present of a Kawai CA 63.  Not knowing what he had in store, I brought all my favourite piano books back here following May's visit home, and am so excited to be using them already.  Right now I'm easing into things with some Billy Joel and light Royal Conservatory favourites, and plan to get into more structured practice once the newness has worn off and a few of my other projects (Turkey trip-planning, paper-writing) have wound down.

Due to competing demands (i.e. my job) I must close, but will do so on a high note: a new post on a new template from a new desk.  Yay.