Rome-Day 1

Jetlag caught up to all of us, and we woke up at 11am. We wanted coffee. Natalia had shown us how the Italians made their espresso at home. Either the Italians copied our south Indian filter coffee or we copied their espresso method. Everything is the same, down to the utensils used, and slow. So we head out for breakfast, to do the European thing- Chill out, have a cappuccino and watch the birds.

Romans do not like the morning sun. The only humans on the street were tourists like us. I heard one american ask another, “Why is this place deserted? Is it a holiday?” When you party hard all night, you don’t want to wake up before lunch. We found a café bar and ordered cappuccino. What we got was tepid coffee. Kala’s face puckered up, obviously disappointed. “What the hell is this?”

A little background here would help.

 A few years ago, we visited Spain with friends and just about had a near-disastrous trip. I wrote about it (see earlier blogs about Seville). The one thing we remember fondly about that trip was the perfect cappuccinos we got everyday; 3-4 every day. Despite the talent-challenged football team Italy has, we figured the cappuccinos would be similar in both countries. Boy where we mistaken. I tried my pidgin italian; Calda, CALDA, CALDA. The waiter nodded and brought me the same damn drink every time. And you see folks sitting around with the same cup of joe for hours on end. I wanted to tell them the milk in that cappuccino is probably curdled after sitting around in the open for so long. We were out walking quickly thereafter to run some errands. 

Natalia had told us about the farmer’s market close to the apartment, and we needed to buy some supplies, and a TIM card for the phone.There was this malayali aunty working in the store. She made the same mistake everyone makes who meet Kala the first time; she asked if Kala was malayali. She smiled and said no. Anju of course smiled and giggled at the lady and she was eager to help. The store carried curry powder and pickles, and ghee! We bought ghee for the kids. Yes we had a fully functional kitchen and we used it too. 

Farmer’s market was nice too. Awesome tomatoes. Juicy, ready to burst open at touch. A Bangladeshi worker there asked if we were from Chennai. When we said yes, he being a big Calcutta Knight riders fan said, “Shah Rukh Khan superstar. Calcutta Knightrider best cricket team. Chennai superkings lost haha.” It was weird to talk cricket with a Bangladeshi in Rome! 

We took it easy after all the shopping and returned home. While the kids slept, I went out for a run, up the hill to Gianocolese park. As it always happens, I got lost very close to the Spanish embassy, and a soldier in a parked Humvee helped me set me on the right track despite the language barrier. Fantastic run through the park, with trees to my left and spectacular views of the city of Rome to my right. Ran 3 miles and picked out a route to bring the Kala and the kids later in the day. 

Couple of hours later, we were on top of the hill, had a gelato We lounged about lazily soaking in the sun and the sights. There was a carousel in the park which got the girls happy. A bored-out-of-her-mind teenager with a Led Zeppelin T-shirt sat at the counter and gave out tokens for the rides. Felt bad for her; probably wanted to be out chilling with her friends than work at her family-run carousel. 

Something funny happened on the way down. We stopped by a local vegetable market on the way back. It was run by a Bangladeshi family. Their 5-year old son took one look at Maya and said “Aeei!” And did a Salman Khan move saying, “Dinchaak Dinchaak Dinchaak”, trying to wriggle his hips! He must have seen it in a movie. Maya gave him the same withering “What the hell are you doing?” look that her mother usually gives her, and walked on to look at the bananas. The boy did not know what to do next and went back to sucking his thumb standing behind his mom! Priceless.

Dinner was at dar Poeta; Trastavere’s best pizzeria. Same pizza experience here too; pre-bite Madness, magic, post-bite madness. Now we were quickly getting used to being KOed by the food, and using red wine to temper the impact. Here is where I say; Not the pizza from last night, but THIS pizza was the best!! At this rate, one could scrounge around the dumpsters in the back alleys of Rome, and come up with better-tasting pizzas than Pizza Hut’s “stuff”. Pizza Hut and Dominos have conned the world; that I am sure of.

Roma- Day zero

I will tell you of incidents, little stories, of people we met in Italy. I am no food writer, but will try to talk to the magnificence of the food we ate. 

Roma:

Anjali just about lost it in the airport after all that travel and no place to walk. There were just too many people to let her walk around. We had to calm her down and then head out into the heat.

The apartment folks in Rome had sent us a cab. Alessandro, the cabbie, waited for us for an hour with a sign “GANESH” that caught our eyes right away, amidst all the Gandolfinis, Berninis and Mancinos. We lost no time in getting the cabbie to chat. He loved to show off his English. 2 sons; one not so good in studies and helps drive cabs with the father, the other very good and works in a IT job in Roma and has moved in with his girlfriend. Mother is very happy that children are close by, and likes the girl (father also happy). The family detests Berlusconi (the very corrupt, philandering, misogynistic and very racist ex-PM of Italy who was eased out one too many years too late), and is sure economy will recover after a couple of years of austerity. I had no heart to tell him it would take a bit longer than that. 

The half hour trip to Trastevere took us past some really old and rich neighborhoods and Gianicolo park. When asked who lived in the old villas, he said “A loth of reech peepulleh”, and gave a throaty laugh. Our apartment was in a middle-class segment of the area, on a cobbled street and with barely enough room for a car to squeeze by. By the time we got out, took the baggage out and paid him, there were 4 cars honking behind him. “Aaah Italy”, here we come. We looked forward to 10 days of fun. 

The lady who managed the apartment, Natalia, waited for us at the apartment. She was super nice with the kids. Anjali took off as soon as I set her on the floor, literally took off poof!! Kala had to run behind her to make sure she did not put anything in her mouth. Natalia was a Romanian (from Romania) student studying music in Rome. She worked part time in a café bar nearby and helped run the apartment for the non-English speaking owner of the house. In fact we met a lot of immigrants like that. The English-speaking immigrant face of all-Italian establishments. Natalia gave us a map and talked about all the best eateries nearby and ways to use mass transit in Rome. I was glad I listened, because each one was awesome! The girls were on cloud nine, exploring the house: look Appa I am jumping on the bed, why do they have 2 potties in the bathroom (one was a bedet), they have a crib for Anju, but can I use it Appa, can I have some of the candy… it was going on and on. 

After settling in, we walked about the neighborhood of Trastevere. Cobbled streets, old buildings, mopeds parked at odd angles, clothes drying high above, between buildings. There were cafes at every corner, and everyone sitting at the tables outside smoked. Wearing sunglasses and people-watching and smoking over a glass of wine or Cappuccino was a European thing to do. 

Dinner was at Il-Duca. We  made the classic rookie mistake of ordering too much; ravioli, pizza, dessert and a carafe of wine! The restaurant reportedly has the last of wood-fired pizza ovens in the neighborhood and is known for the pizzas, which only sets the expectations even higher. When we ate the pizza, we fainted. 

What happens when you faint? Your eyes are closed, the world spins around you, you lose consciousness, and settle into your own world that your mind concocts. That’s pretty much what happened with that first bite of the pizza. I have been thinking about why the pizza tasted so good. It’s not just the cheese in the pizza, it’s the tomatoes, it’s the sauce, and how you have to eat it. The slices are large, so you fold it over like a handkerchief and I know it sounds uncouth. Not having tasted the pizza in the homeland of pizzas at all, your mind goes crazy with expectation. Your tongue touches the rough crust and it surprises you. You get past it. The teeth tear into the pie crust and your tongue is inundated with juices from the melting Mozzarella, the bleeding fresh-baked tomatoes and the sauce. The taste explosion just about causes you to lose sensation for a second. To understand it on an intellectual level, I had to close my eyes…taking in the fleeting image of Anjali reaching for the wine glass and thinking I will get to that problem in a second. That was the first time I had a momentary loss of reason due to food. That first bite convinced me that it was pizza made for the gods. Have you seen those movies where there is a fight, where the moves are fast until the fist meets the face at which point things go slow and you see the impact of the punch in slow motion? After the punch has landed, it goes back to the fast mode again. That is exactly how dinner went. Everything pre-bite was blurry; ordering the food, keeping track of a wily Anjali and curious Maya, taking a sip of wine, running after Anjali. Then that first bite lasted an eternity. Post-bite things went back to blurry; I caught Anju within inches of the glass, then ran after her, Maya nodded off, so did Anju, then things petered off toward dessert.

 We spent almost 2 hours at Il Duca and practically stumbled out, clutching our bellies. We swore we will never overeat again. To walk it off would require us to walk to north pole, so we settled for walking next door to Piazza Santa Maria to watch a few musicians play. The kids were up by then and thoroughly enjoyed the music. We lounged around and were home by 10pm. The neighborhood was just getting crowded! This is a town that parties hard.

We crashed like we had just run a marathon! Good times lay ahead.

Italy vacation: En-route stories

Connection to Rome was from Frankfurt. Boy where we glad to set foot on soil, any soil after flying 10 hours with a feisty Anjali and nonstop gabber Maya! It was the new Airbus 380 which took us from SFO to Frankfurt. The first and business class folks sit at the top level, and winding stairs lead up from the economy class. I made Anjali walk the stairs 25 times before she tired out and fell asleep on my shoulder. I timed her. She fought to stay awake for about an hour, and slept for half an hour. This happened in cycles all of the 10 hours! My neighbor was this Afghani man traveling with 3 children. He took pity on me since I slept all of half hour on the 10 hour flight, and did not even wake me when he wanted to go to the bathroom. No, he was not wearing adult diapers. The seats are spaced apart a bit more in the A380, so he squeezed past without waking me. Maya sat next to this 3-year old, who was as talkative as she was. When the entire section was trying to sleep and the lights were switched off, these two caught up on stories, conversing like old buddies. The stewardess had to come by and shush them a few times. Long story short, yes we were glad to be on ground and a couple of hours from a shower and bed. 

But of course, things had to go a bit awry in Frankfurt. Computer system shut down, and they had to manually check in passengers. To delay matters further, everyone had to go through security check-in again. With only an hour between connections, we ran with 2 carry-ons, 1 heavy laptop backpack, and another backpack filled with baby stuff. Kala pushed Anjali’s stroller. Maya kept pace, while asking “Why are we running?” like Lenny Kravitz; Anjali loved the lights and smiling people whizzing past her. For us, it was like backpacking down mission peak before night set in! We did it, and our flight left with our baggage onboard, 30 minutes late. It was definitely a first for us on Lufthansa, who pride themselves for punctuality. 

The one thing that sort of set the tone for the rest of the trip was the food on this short flight to Rome. They served us this Rye bread with cheese sandwich-That’s it. The bread was a bit nutty, and when chewed with the cheese, had this remarkable texture. It was like biting into soft heaven, and chewing it with softer heaven. Oh man, it was fantastic, and we resolved to recreate it when we got back home. I know a German bakery in Fremont, right off Fremont Blvd, which sold German cheese and bread. That set the mood for Italy- A little confusion, good food, kids on hyper-drive and nothing to do but chill.

Not expecting anything other than good pizzas and pastas, we did not know what we were in for when I set foot in the cacophonous capital of Italy.

Italy Vacation: Pre trip

When I told people we were going on vacation to Italy, their responses reflected their own experiences. Almost unanimously the women, or folks who had spent time there said "Ohhhhhh... Its (supposed to be) gorgeous there!" like they just saw a cute puppy play with a ball of wool. Italy inspires images of sunny beaches, sunlit villas, romance, puppies playing with balls of wool in the beach... The men typically said "Wow! Heard the pastas there are pretty good. Have some on me. " No exclamations to note. 

Folks who have never been there, or have heard of places like Capri or Rome only on TV, typically said, "Ok. Is it far from the Leaning tower of Pisa?" Or "Capri like the pants?" I admit that last one was me. What was worse was, I assumed there were shops with nothing but the shortened pants on sale all year around. Italy, for those who have neither been there, nor appreciated pastas, only elicit images of soccer, Mafia and the tower of Pisa. Then there is Vatican city; birthplace of Christianity, centuries worth of history, the playground of Michael Angelo and Leonardo daVinci, “Angels and Demons.” Then there is the language, and the people; the day to day itinerary can get filled with opportunities even if you knew nothing of the place.