According to the doc's dating, today marks 10 weeks! That means I'm inching ever-closer to the much-desired second trimester, which holds all sorts of promises of relief from symptoms.
Not that I can really complain. From what I understand (from talking to fellow preggo ladies), my symptoms are graciously mild. And the fact that I have the summer off--except for a couple of grad school classes--makes things a lot easier: I get to wear stretchy house shorts, sleep in, lounge on the couch if I feel sick or tired or lazy... although I do miss the regularity of my old schedule, and the interaction with people that distracts me from the minor sicknesses.
Smells around the house are now hitting me full-force. Yesterday I walked into the kitchen (which, admittedly, could have been a bit cleaner) and had to run out and gag over the bathroom sink. I really thought I was going to lose my no-vomit streak, but thankfully, I did not.
My cravings are easing up. Yes, I'm still extremely picky and wishy-washy about what I want to eat, but at least I'm starting to want healthy foods. The meat I so desired early on is slowly starting to look less appetizing. I'm making wiser decisions about breakfast cereal; I'm not yet back to my old friend, Wheat Chex, but after watching a horrifying video on the effects of High Fructose Corn Syrup (see below), I've decided the Frosted Mini-Wheats have got to go. (Of course, I knew all that about HFCS before pregnancy, but it's like all common sense about food flies out the window when you are confronted with nausea and strange cravings).
Other than that, not much has changed. I'm taking at least one 2- to 3-hour nap a day, which means fatigue is definitely in overdrive. I'm still not exercising like I need to, and I know it's key I motivate myself to do so, and fast. The heat and having to deal with honking or staring Italians are usually enough to deter me, but if I'm really honest with myself, it's laziness. And with the second trimester around the corner (and at least five pounds more than what I started out with), I have zero excuses.
Back to the smelly stuff, there is one particularly sad side effect: Alan's work deodorant (which he uses after his lunch break exercise & shower) is positively.nauseating. I cannot stand to be close to him when he's slathered it on. Needless to say, it is getting replaced, as is the hand soap I usually have no problem with.
Now on to some schoolwork, which is sure to distract me from all things pregnancy, but is dangerously sleep-inducing.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
First Prenatal Checkup! (written June 13)
The fifth in a series of pregnancy-related posts.
Our first prenatal checkup was not without hiccups, but we left the hospital happy, thanks to five little ultrasound pictures.
We were also very excited to meet the doc, who was smiley, energetic, and best of all, very knowledgeable. Alan remarked that it seemed like she had done this "quite a few times," which was very reassuring.
There was not much too the appointment; vital signs were checked and I discovered that I had already put on 5 pounds. While this was no surprise, really, seeing the number on the scale made eating healthy and exercising seem all the more pressing. Still, women who've done this before will understand that nausea and strange cravings and overwhelming tiredness have a way of curbing the best of your intentions. Here's hoping I'll regain some sense of normalcy in the second trimester!
The doctor confirmed my uterus was in the right place. Apparently it's grown to the size of a grapefruit (speaking of grapefruits, it's too bad I'm not a huge fan anymore--orange juice is much more appealing these days). My pelvis was also given the OK for birthing...*cringe*.
Then it was time for the black-and-white show. At this stage in the game it's a bit early for ultrasounds like you see in the movies, so I had to toughen up for something a bit more, ah, invasive. It was all worth it--even when the first machine broke, and even when the second machine was discovered to be out of photo paper, and they had to get a small army of corpsmen in the room to repair the situation.
We saw the little munchkin (our doc's words), but not much was visible. We know where the head and the rump are, as well as the yolk sac, and apparently there are arm buds somewhere in there, but to our untrained eyes it looks like a blob. Just to clarify, it's a beautiful blob. :)
It was definitely an emotional visit, and made the whole thing seem that much more real (though, as I've mentioned before, nausea has helped with that, too). Alan was beaming and I just couldn't stop looking at the pictures. It was slightly disappointing to find out we weren't quite as far along as we'd thought--the last word on that was 8 weeks 1 day--but the days will go fast and in just a few days we'll be where we thought we were last week.
Another exciting piece of news: we have a due date! January 19, 2012. I'm looking forward to that baby weight keeping me warm through part of the winter. ;)
In symptoms news, it's about the same. The nausea is still mild, but almost constant, and very annoying when it comes to food choices. I'm on to Frosted Mini-Wheats for breakfast, which have nowhere near the nutritional value my favored Wheat Chex have, but they're much more appealing. I need to be eating more vegetables. Fruit is always tasty (especially cold, watery fruits like melon) and meat is still beckoning my name...although the other day I felt I had had with red meat and just wanted a green salad. (With the recent E coli outbreak, the commissary wasn't selling any, but as of yesterday they had reversed their policy... so a bright green head of Romaine eagerly awaits in the fridge!). Pasta still turns me off, but I am feeling much better about bread. In fact, I had a bit of baguette with Brie (made with pasteurized milk, of course) and it was oh-so-good. It was a little frustrating to stand at the cheese counter and realize that 80% of it was off-limits, but it's a worthy sacrifice. Even buttered bread sounds good now...something pre-pregnancy-me avoided like the plague.
My analysis so far? Pregnancy sure is a topsy-turvy world. I'm sure Alan can attest to that, thanks to my raging hormones and violently shifting mood swings. It's definitely not the most pleasant of feelings--I always feel "off"--but it's such a blessing and I cannot wait to see what the remaining months bring.
Our first prenatal checkup was not without hiccups, but we left the hospital happy, thanks to five little ultrasound pictures.
We were also very excited to meet the doc, who was smiley, energetic, and best of all, very knowledgeable. Alan remarked that it seemed like she had done this "quite a few times," which was very reassuring.
There was not much too the appointment; vital signs were checked and I discovered that I had already put on 5 pounds. While this was no surprise, really, seeing the number on the scale made eating healthy and exercising seem all the more pressing. Still, women who've done this before will understand that nausea and strange cravings and overwhelming tiredness have a way of curbing the best of your intentions. Here's hoping I'll regain some sense of normalcy in the second trimester!
The doctor confirmed my uterus was in the right place. Apparently it's grown to the size of a grapefruit (speaking of grapefruits, it's too bad I'm not a huge fan anymore--orange juice is much more appealing these days). My pelvis was also given the OK for birthing...*cringe*.
Then it was time for the black-and-white show. At this stage in the game it's a bit early for ultrasounds like you see in the movies, so I had to toughen up for something a bit more, ah, invasive. It was all worth it--even when the first machine broke, and even when the second machine was discovered to be out of photo paper, and they had to get a small army of corpsmen in the room to repair the situation.
We saw the little munchkin (our doc's words), but not much was visible. We know where the head and the rump are, as well as the yolk sac, and apparently there are arm buds somewhere in there, but to our untrained eyes it looks like a blob. Just to clarify, it's a beautiful blob. :)
It was definitely an emotional visit, and made the whole thing seem that much more real (though, as I've mentioned before, nausea has helped with that, too). Alan was beaming and I just couldn't stop looking at the pictures. It was slightly disappointing to find out we weren't quite as far along as we'd thought--the last word on that was 8 weeks 1 day--but the days will go fast and in just a few days we'll be where we thought we were last week.
Another exciting piece of news: we have a due date! January 19, 2012. I'm looking forward to that baby weight keeping me warm through part of the winter. ;)
In symptoms news, it's about the same. The nausea is still mild, but almost constant, and very annoying when it comes to food choices. I'm on to Frosted Mini-Wheats for breakfast, which have nowhere near the nutritional value my favored Wheat Chex have, but they're much more appealing. I need to be eating more vegetables. Fruit is always tasty (especially cold, watery fruits like melon) and meat is still beckoning my name...although the other day I felt I had had with red meat and just wanted a green salad. (With the recent E coli outbreak, the commissary wasn't selling any, but as of yesterday they had reversed their policy... so a bright green head of Romaine eagerly awaits in the fridge!). Pasta still turns me off, but I am feeling much better about bread. In fact, I had a bit of baguette with Brie (made with pasteurized milk, of course) and it was oh-so-good. It was a little frustrating to stand at the cheese counter and realize that 80% of it was off-limits, but it's a worthy sacrifice. Even buttered bread sounds good now...something pre-pregnancy-me avoided like the plague.
My analysis so far? Pregnancy sure is a topsy-turvy world. I'm sure Alan can attest to that, thanks to my raging hormones and violently shifting mood swings. It's definitely not the most pleasant of feelings--I always feel "off"--but it's such a blessing and I cannot wait to see what the remaining months bring.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Settling my Stomach (written June 4)
The fourth in a series of pregnancy-related posts.
Nausea, while still relatively mild, has been getting more and more annoying. Today I had a really tough time going into the kitchen, thanks to all the smells there. I was very hungry but the nausea had me holding my breath each time I entered the kitchen. I finally buckled down and put together a steak, potato, and green pea lunch. I popped one piece of potato and immediately started feeling better. Fried, salty potatoes--well, these were baked after being tossed in olive oil, but they tasted similar--have been a huge craving of mine. The salty, peppery, juicy steak--even well-done!--was just what I needed. The green peas made me feel a lot better about the whole dish.
Post-meal, I am feeling better than I have all day. I have a feeling getting too hungry is a no-no; it's just difficult to keep a regular, healthy eating schedule. For one, my stomach never feels normal. Plus, I am now kind of a picky eater...definitely not normal. The other day we had beans and franks for dinner. I don't remember the last time I had that meal--maybe at my elementary school cafeteria?
Two working days remain, and I'm just crossing my fingers I can keep everything in my stomach until then...and, well, beyond. I am really looking forward to being able to rest whenever I want, but my no-exercise streak remains unbroken--so I'm really going to have to get my butt in gear soon. It's difficult to do when I feel so tired and/or nauseous most of the time. But I hear the second trimester is a big improvement, so I'm looking forward to that.
This coming Friday, we have our first major doctor's appointment. I'm looking forward to hearing a heartbeat or seeing an ultrasound, even though I'm apprehensive about the visit.
In the meantime, I'm very thankful to be feeling mostly normal right now. Thank you, steak and potatoes! I'd much rather find natural remedies than resort to pills. ;)
Nausea, while still relatively mild, has been getting more and more annoying. Today I had a really tough time going into the kitchen, thanks to all the smells there. I was very hungry but the nausea had me holding my breath each time I entered the kitchen. I finally buckled down and put together a steak, potato, and green pea lunch. I popped one piece of potato and immediately started feeling better. Fried, salty potatoes--well, these were baked after being tossed in olive oil, but they tasted similar--have been a huge craving of mine. The salty, peppery, juicy steak--even well-done!--was just what I needed. The green peas made me feel a lot better about the whole dish.
Post-meal, I am feeling better than I have all day. I have a feeling getting too hungry is a no-no; it's just difficult to keep a regular, healthy eating schedule. For one, my stomach never feels normal. Plus, I am now kind of a picky eater...definitely not normal. The other day we had beans and franks for dinner. I don't remember the last time I had that meal--maybe at my elementary school cafeteria?
Two working days remain, and I'm just crossing my fingers I can keep everything in my stomach until then...and, well, beyond. I am really looking forward to being able to rest whenever I want, but my no-exercise streak remains unbroken--so I'm really going to have to get my butt in gear soon. It's difficult to do when I feel so tired and/or nauseous most of the time. But I hear the second trimester is a big improvement, so I'm looking forward to that.
This coming Friday, we have our first major doctor's appointment. I'm looking forward to hearing a heartbeat or seeing an ultrasound, even though I'm apprehensive about the visit.
In the meantime, I'm very thankful to be feeling mostly normal right now. Thank you, steak and potatoes! I'd much rather find natural remedies than resort to pills. ;)
Monday, September 5, 2011
Cravings (written May 26)
The third in a series of pregnancy-related posts.
Last post I wrote about the onset of nausea. Right now it's a mild annoyance--it seems like I never quite feel like myself, but I can't say I'm really sick...especially when I'm experiencing all sorts of strange cravings.
Red meat seems to be a biggie. (I normally prefer chicken and fish). I had a tough time concentrating during church last Sunday because all I could think about was a big, juicy burger. Well, luckily the grill on base was open and I got my wish. Hands down, the best meal of the week, closely followed by Tuesday night's steak, fried potatoes, and fresh salad. Mmm, mmm, MMM!
Eggs and cheese are also high on my radar, which explains this week's double dose of spinach & tomato omelets. Alan is an expert omelet chef--mine always turn into glorified scrambled eggs--which makes omelet night even better. Except maybe for the fact that I've been relegated to line cook status.
Basically, anything meaty, salty, or oily really piques my interest. I'm usually a big fan of dry carbs (plain bread or pasta with a light sauce) but lately these things have a weird aftertaste. Fortunately, I've been able to stick to my old breakfast standard, Wheat Chex and grapefruit juice.
The most conspicuous no-show on my cravings list? Chocolate. I'm sure that's a good thing. I really don't miss it at all; on the contrary, just thinking about it makes my stomach turn.
Lest you think I've gone off the fast food deep end, I really am trying to include as many fruits and veggies as I can. Right now I am munching on a three-bean salad. Let me tell you, chickpeas, green beans, and kidney beans have never tasted so good! They are downright addictive. But while I normally really like the tangy bits of red onion that accompany them, the lingering aftertaste has been too pungent for me.
I think fatigue has finally kicked in--this morning I woke up with a burning desire to...go to bed. It's going to be a tough workday, but as I've mentioned before, my job gets me moving and it helps pass the time. I've also gotten light-headed if I stand up too quickly. And, since day one, I've been cramp-y. I think cramps must be pregnancy's forgotten symptom. I certainly never expected them! According to my nurse, though, mild ones are quite common--I guess it's a reflection of all the growing and stretching in my belly. They seem to really enjoy my right side, which has been cause for concern, but otherwise I'm feeling good and hoping that it's just all part of the process.
In the meantime, can somebody please tell me how I can get my hands on some of these?
Last post I wrote about the onset of nausea. Right now it's a mild annoyance--it seems like I never quite feel like myself, but I can't say I'm really sick...especially when I'm experiencing all sorts of strange cravings.
Red meat seems to be a biggie. (I normally prefer chicken and fish). I had a tough time concentrating during church last Sunday because all I could think about was a big, juicy burger. Well, luckily the grill on base was open and I got my wish. Hands down, the best meal of the week, closely followed by Tuesday night's steak, fried potatoes, and fresh salad. Mmm, mmm, MMM!
Eggs and cheese are also high on my radar, which explains this week's double dose of spinach & tomato omelets. Alan is an expert omelet chef--mine always turn into glorified scrambled eggs--which makes omelet night even better. Except maybe for the fact that I've been relegated to line cook status.
Basically, anything meaty, salty, or oily really piques my interest. I'm usually a big fan of dry carbs (plain bread or pasta with a light sauce) but lately these things have a weird aftertaste. Fortunately, I've been able to stick to my old breakfast standard, Wheat Chex and grapefruit juice.
The most conspicuous no-show on my cravings list? Chocolate. I'm sure that's a good thing. I really don't miss it at all; on the contrary, just thinking about it makes my stomach turn.
Lest you think I've gone off the fast food deep end, I really am trying to include as many fruits and veggies as I can. Right now I am munching on a three-bean salad. Let me tell you, chickpeas, green beans, and kidney beans have never tasted so good! They are downright addictive. But while I normally really like the tangy bits of red onion that accompany them, the lingering aftertaste has been too pungent for me.
I think fatigue has finally kicked in--this morning I woke up with a burning desire to...go to bed. It's going to be a tough workday, but as I've mentioned before, my job gets me moving and it helps pass the time. I've also gotten light-headed if I stand up too quickly. And, since day one, I've been cramp-y. I think cramps must be pregnancy's forgotten symptom. I certainly never expected them! According to my nurse, though, mild ones are quite common--I guess it's a reflection of all the growing and stretching in my belly. They seem to really enjoy my right side, which has been cause for concern, but otherwise I'm feeling good and hoping that it's just all part of the process.
In the meantime, can somebody please tell me how I can get my hands on some of these?
Friday, September 2, 2011
6 weeks going on 7 (written May 23)
The second in a series of pregnancy-related posts.
A lot has changed since I wrote my first pregnancy post last week: I feel pregnant! Yes, the nausea has hit, but fortunately it's been relatively mild so far. I still get hungry (terribly so, at times) and food stays put in my stomach. But the "morning" in morning sickness is an absolute myth--my symptoms, while more annoying than harmful, tend to hang around all day. I just don't feel like myself. I'm sure it's all a good sign, but for the moment I'm still hard at work, which means I have to put on an "all-is-normal" face and cross my fingers that I won't have to ask students to use their facilities for anything more than a wee.
It's probably a good thing that I have enough stuff going on to distract me from my symptoms. It's also nice that lessons force me to get out and walk. When they wrap up in three weeks' time, I'll need to find the inner motivation to get some fresh air and stretch my legs. I was quite the couch-lover pre-pregnancy; now that I'm actually pregnant (and tired and hungry and bloated and feeling a bit sick), nothing looks better than the couch--except maybe my lounge pants.
Overall I've tried to take it easy on myself. I still haven't done any heavy exercise since finding out the good news, which means it's been a solid month since my last run. The consequences are making themselves known, too. I can no longer fit into at least one pair of jeans, and my heart rate absolutely skyrockets when I chase after an elusive bus. I'm sure I won't be able to handle too much more absolute laziness, but when I finally do coax myself into my running shorts, it'll be for a quick & easy jog.
I eat when I feel hungry, and I keep eating until I'm satiated. No restrictions here! I've had few cravings (surprisingly, the chocolate bars remain virtually intact in their cupboards) but last week I really wanted some eggs and yesterday it was a juicy burger and fries. I've started popping some lemon drops and Lifesavers to combat the nausea, but as I'm not usually big on candy, I feel guilty about the empty calories, and will probably look for something a little more natural (ginger maybe?).
Tiredness hits me at times--mainly when I have nothing going on and I can actually allow myself a nap--but it's still hard to distinguish it from the fatigue I feel from work.
Mum is still the word and I am bursting to tell our parents. Just three more weeks until our first major doctor's appointment, after which we plan to share the news. By that time I will be 9 weeks going on 10--by my calculations, at least. This business of counting weeks is a little confusing! Right now mid-January seems to be the most accurate due date we can come up with, but I'm looking forward to all the answers the first ultrasound will provide.
A lot has changed since I wrote my first pregnancy post last week: I feel pregnant! Yes, the nausea has hit, but fortunately it's been relatively mild so far. I still get hungry (terribly so, at times) and food stays put in my stomach. But the "morning" in morning sickness is an absolute myth--my symptoms, while more annoying than harmful, tend to hang around all day. I just don't feel like myself. I'm sure it's all a good sign, but for the moment I'm still hard at work, which means I have to put on an "all-is-normal" face and cross my fingers that I won't have to ask students to use their facilities for anything more than a wee.
It's probably a good thing that I have enough stuff going on to distract me from my symptoms. It's also nice that lessons force me to get out and walk. When they wrap up in three weeks' time, I'll need to find the inner motivation to get some fresh air and stretch my legs. I was quite the couch-lover pre-pregnancy; now that I'm actually pregnant (and tired and hungry and bloated and feeling a bit sick), nothing looks better than the couch--except maybe my lounge pants.
Overall I've tried to take it easy on myself. I still haven't done any heavy exercise since finding out the good news, which means it's been a solid month since my last run. The consequences are making themselves known, too. I can no longer fit into at least one pair of jeans, and my heart rate absolutely skyrockets when I chase after an elusive bus. I'm sure I won't be able to handle too much more absolute laziness, but when I finally do coax myself into my running shorts, it'll be for a quick & easy jog.
I eat when I feel hungry, and I keep eating until I'm satiated. No restrictions here! I've had few cravings (surprisingly, the chocolate bars remain virtually intact in their cupboards) but last week I really wanted some eggs and yesterday it was a juicy burger and fries. I've started popping some lemon drops and Lifesavers to combat the nausea, but as I'm not usually big on candy, I feel guilty about the empty calories, and will probably look for something a little more natural (ginger maybe?).
Tiredness hits me at times--mainly when I have nothing going on and I can actually allow myself a nap--but it's still hard to distinguish it from the fatigue I feel from work.
Mum is still the word and I am bursting to tell our parents. Just three more weeks until our first major doctor's appointment, after which we plan to share the news. By that time I will be 9 weeks going on 10--by my calculations, at least. This business of counting weeks is a little confusing! Right now mid-January seems to be the most accurate due date we can come up with, but I'm looking forward to all the answers the first ultrasound will provide.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Two Lines (written May 18)
This is the first in a series of pregnancy-related posts. We found out we were expecting on May 11, but did not start sharing the happy news until a good bit of time later. Meanwhile, I set about scrupulously recording my thoughts, feelings, and symptoms. Now, I am entering my twentieth week and am thrilled to finally unveil these posts. NB: these are rated G, but for those not inclined to read about details beyond the bump, feel free to skip these posts, and rest assured that travel notes will still make an appearance here.
One week ago today, I got my first positive pregnancy test. Six days ago, I got my second. And five days ago, I got my third and fourth.
I always thought seeing that second pink line would feel so real. Now that I've actually experienced it, surreal is more like it. Does that really mean what I think it means? How come I don't feel pregnant? Just how drastically will our life change? Even after having seen the fourth positive, which came from the hospital and should therefore have felt a little weightier, the reality hasn't really hit me yet.
It's very hard to put such a mixed bag of emotions into words:
So far I haven't experienced too many symptoms. Thankfully, nausea has stayed away. A couple of times I've suspected it was around the corner, but nothing yet...even as I walk by the city's embarrassingly high piles of trash. My appetite has actually been healthy as a horse, so much so that I've already put on a few pounds. I know it's a bit early for that, but thankfully I started out on the thin side. I am trying to up my liquids and dark greens and legumes, and taking daily prenatal vitamins. I often fight the urge to eat chocolate--and often lose. Exercise will be key in the next few months, especially while I am more mobile. Right now my job keeps me very active, but I'll have to motivate myself once summer vacation hits.
Otherwise, my you-know-whats have been crazy-sore (besides a missed period, this was the first sign of pregnancy). I won't complain about the related side-effects.
I've been tired, but it's nothing I can't attribute to my busy schedule. I am awaiting my summer break more impatiently than ever.
I'm also looking forward to finding out more about baby in subsequent hospital visits, which are sure to loosen me up in a big way. On Friday, two days after I got my first positive, I got my first big dose of blood-work. Those who know me well know that I am terrified of needles, but it's something that I'm just going to have to get over--along with a bunch of other stuff. The first tech stuck me once in vain (not in vein...ha), but fortunately someone else took over and made the whole thing pretty painless. I made sure to get his name so I could enlist his skills during future visits, because he told me I'd be seeing a whole lot of the lab.
Finally, I can't wait to share the good news with family and friends. We want to pass a couple of milestones or so before telling everyone, but I am already bursting to share our secret. It was really fun to show Alan the evidence: though my smile betrayed me as I approached him, positive test in hand, he took one look at the double line and asked, "what does that mean?" Classic.
One week ago today, I got my first positive pregnancy test. Six days ago, I got my second. And five days ago, I got my third and fourth.
I always thought seeing that second pink line would feel so real. Now that I've actually experienced it, surreal is more like it. Does that really mean what I think it means? How come I don't feel pregnant? Just how drastically will our life change? Even after having seen the fourth positive, which came from the hospital and should therefore have felt a little weightier, the reality hasn't really hit me yet.
It's very hard to put such a mixed bag of emotions into words:
- Happy: of course! This baby is very much wanted.
- Thankful: after months of hoping, I am relieved to know all the "plumbing" works just fine. And not just that--the timing couldn't be better.
- Anxious/Nervous/Worried: will the baby be healthy? How many pregnancy discomforts will I face? Every decision I make now affects two people, not just me.
- Calm: just take it in stride. I am usually a bundle of nerves, but my response to all this has actually been pretty even-keeled.
- Restrained: don't get too excited yet. It's still early. (I've been trying to take the nurse's advice to be happy in the moment.)
- Playful: weeding out names like "Achilles" and "Princess"=comic relief.
- Speculative: boy or girl?!
- Confused: I didn't really expect it to feel like this. Is this normal? When will it start feeling real? (I think the nurse was onto something when she said, "just wait for the bump").
- Distracted: it's hard to concentrate on anything else when I've got such life-changing news!
- High-on-life: what a blessing! We are so excited.
So far I haven't experienced too many symptoms. Thankfully, nausea has stayed away. A couple of times I've suspected it was around the corner, but nothing yet...even as I walk by the city's embarrassingly high piles of trash. My appetite has actually been healthy as a horse, so much so that I've already put on a few pounds. I know it's a bit early for that, but thankfully I started out on the thin side. I am trying to up my liquids and dark greens and legumes, and taking daily prenatal vitamins. I often fight the urge to eat chocolate--and often lose. Exercise will be key in the next few months, especially while I am more mobile. Right now my job keeps me very active, but I'll have to motivate myself once summer vacation hits.
Otherwise, my you-know-whats have been crazy-sore (besides a missed period, this was the first sign of pregnancy). I won't complain about the related side-effects.
I've been tired, but it's nothing I can't attribute to my busy schedule. I am awaiting my summer break more impatiently than ever.
I'm also looking forward to finding out more about baby in subsequent hospital visits, which are sure to loosen me up in a big way. On Friday, two days after I got my first positive, I got my first big dose of blood-work. Those who know me well know that I am terrified of needles, but it's something that I'm just going to have to get over--along with a bunch of other stuff. The first tech stuck me once in vain (not in vein...ha), but fortunately someone else took over and made the whole thing pretty painless. I made sure to get his name so I could enlist his skills during future visits, because he told me I'd be seeing a whole lot of the lab.
Finally, I can't wait to share the good news with family and friends. We want to pass a couple of milestones or so before telling everyone, but I am already bursting to share our secret. It was really fun to show Alan the evidence: though my smile betrayed me as I approached him, positive test in hand, he took one look at the double line and asked, "what does that mean?" Classic.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Calabrian Fourth
In my last post I mentioned that I had a lot of good things to report. I'll try to work my way backwards through all our pictures and share some highlights from the past few months.
First up, our wonderful Fourth of July weekend in Calabria!
We traveled almost 7 hours to reach the agriturismo pictured above, and as you can see, it was well worth it! This one in particular had beautiful grounds, comfortable rooms, and best of all, the nicest personnel I've encountered in Italy to date. You can see the remnants of the old farmhouse (hundreds and hundreds of years old) in the newly-remodeled pink facade.
Since they are usually attached to some kind of farm, agriturismos are usually more rustic than luxurious. That said, this place knew how to pamper. We enjoyed a delicious breakfast spread--it's not often I indulge in cakes in the morning--which included cute little jars of jam made from the farm's own fruit. Both breakfast and dinner were enjoyed on the terrace; all the food was fresh and tasty, at an unbeatable price.
The staff had thought of everything: lounge chairs, towels, and an umbrella were all provided; there was a beautiful pool with a little diving board; and there was plenty of wrought-iron seating outside for relaxing in the shade or late-night card games.
But the best part was the virtually private beach we had access to. (Or was it A/C in the rooms?!).
Despite the deserted beach, we found lots of things to do. Of course, there was beachside reading, sunning, and general lazing about. But when our agriturismo announced they'd be hosting a wedding reception one evening, our friends thought of a great alternative for dinner that night: a beach bonfire and picnic!
Unfortunately, it was so windy that it was hard to keep our fire contained. We endured the sand whipping around us for just an hour, but it was great while it lasted!
There were just a couple downsides to the trip, the first of which (for me) was the yowie sunburn I managed to get on the very first day (of course). Except for my left shin, I managed to stay pretty pale overall. Unfortunately, the wind must have caught my spray-on sunscreen as I was aiming for my left leg, and just one afternoon later, I had myself a blistering sunburn that hurt so bad it had me limping. So for the rest of the trip, I combated the sun the only way I could: layers upon layers of SPF 50, plus towel-blankets to shield me even further.
I wasn't the only one to prefer the shade...
(That's our friends' dog Roma, pictured with her beloved stick buffet).
As you can see, Roma wasn't the only afficionado of sticks. Hubby enjoyed the challenge of lugging this really big "stick" to the water, where he used it first as a surfboard...
...then a banana boat.
Our friends brought snorkeling gear, which provided some entertainment, as well as the confirmation that my arch-nemesis, the jellyfish, was indeed patrolling the waters. That was enough to put the nail in the coffin of hopes that I would enjoy the water, but it didn't stop the more courageous among us.
A beached, but happy, Alan:
Flying his Toy Story kite (one of two at the local grocery store):
Overall, it was just the getaway we needed. We were sad to leave, but on the way home enjoyed a brief stop in Santa Severina, a small town on a hill:
Things were going great until we got back into the car and made mistake #2 of the trip. Calabria may be beachy, but it's also mountainous, and the Garmin unfortunately took us right through every single winding turn. A couple hours later, we weren't exactly the bubbly crew we had been on the way down, but like my sunburn, the hairpin path back home was definitely worth this happy smile.
First up, our wonderful Fourth of July weekend in Calabria!
We traveled almost 7 hours to reach the agriturismo pictured above, and as you can see, it was well worth it! This one in particular had beautiful grounds, comfortable rooms, and best of all, the nicest personnel I've encountered in Italy to date. You can see the remnants of the old farmhouse (hundreds and hundreds of years old) in the newly-remodeled pink facade.
Since they are usually attached to some kind of farm, agriturismos are usually more rustic than luxurious. That said, this place knew how to pamper. We enjoyed a delicious breakfast spread--it's not often I indulge in cakes in the morning--which included cute little jars of jam made from the farm's own fruit. Both breakfast and dinner were enjoyed on the terrace; all the food was fresh and tasty, at an unbeatable price.
The staff had thought of everything: lounge chairs, towels, and an umbrella were all provided; there was a beautiful pool with a little diving board; and there was plenty of wrought-iron seating outside for relaxing in the shade or late-night card games.
But the best part was the virtually private beach we had access to. (Or was it A/C in the rooms?!).
Despite the deserted beach, we found lots of things to do. Of course, there was beachside reading, sunning, and general lazing about. But when our agriturismo announced they'd be hosting a wedding reception one evening, our friends thought of a great alternative for dinner that night: a beach bonfire and picnic!
Unfortunately, it was so windy that it was hard to keep our fire contained. We endured the sand whipping around us for just an hour, but it was great while it lasted!
There were just a couple downsides to the trip, the first of which (for me) was the yowie sunburn I managed to get on the very first day (of course). Except for my left shin, I managed to stay pretty pale overall. Unfortunately, the wind must have caught my spray-on sunscreen as I was aiming for my left leg, and just one afternoon later, I had myself a blistering sunburn that hurt so bad it had me limping. So for the rest of the trip, I combated the sun the only way I could: layers upon layers of SPF 50, plus towel-blankets to shield me even further.
I wasn't the only one to prefer the shade...
(That's our friends' dog Roma, pictured with her beloved stick buffet).
As you can see, Roma wasn't the only afficionado of sticks. Hubby enjoyed the challenge of lugging this really big "stick" to the water, where he used it first as a surfboard...
...then a banana boat.
Our friends brought snorkeling gear, which provided some entertainment, as well as the confirmation that my arch-nemesis, the jellyfish, was indeed patrolling the waters. That was enough to put the nail in the coffin of hopes that I would enjoy the water, but it didn't stop the more courageous among us.
A beached, but happy, Alan:
Flying his Toy Story kite (one of two at the local grocery store):
Overall, it was just the getaway we needed. We were sad to leave, but on the way home enjoyed a brief stop in Santa Severina, a small town on a hill:
Things were going great until we got back into the car and made mistake #2 of the trip. Calabria may be beachy, but it's also mountainous, and the Garmin unfortunately took us right through every single winding turn. A couple hours later, we weren't exactly the bubbly crew we had been on the way down, but like my sunburn, the hairpin path back home was definitely worth this happy smile.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
A Case of Hans im Schnokeloch
Lately I've been feeling a little like Hans im Schnokeloch. For those of you without an Alsatian background, Hans im Schnokeloch is the subject of an old folk song, the gist of which is this: Hans has everything he needs, but what he wants he doesn't have and what he has he doesn't want.
Homesickness has hit me hard, and it seems that, no matter how many sunset views of the Vesuvius I witness from my balcony, or how many delectably sweet cherry tomatoes I devour, I find myself focusing on all the wrong things.
I can't seem to see past the more-than-curious staring of passersby on the street, or the fact that I have to pay my bills in person and in cash. (Not to mention the two--count them, two--words spoken to me by the guy helping me with my transaction. Not hello, not goodbye, not even thank you or have a good day...just the amount of Euros I owed).
Instead of seeing aisles and aisles of good-quality pasta at a great price, I see a narrow-minded view of food and a lack of curiosity for other cuisines of the world. (Week after week, I have to review my meal plans because the quinoa or cilantro has eluded me once again.)
Instead of being thankful for our ocean view--we see it even from the bathroom, for crying out loud--I bemoan the fact that our (nonetheless beautiful) apartment has been in need of a remodel for decades.
While it's completely natural to be homesick, the fact remains that we lead a cozy life in a romantic European locale, and that this phase in our lives is, in the grand scheme of things, ephemeral.
I have plenty of fun things to write about, so I think it's time I redoubled my blogging efforts and focused on the good things in life, of which there are so many. (Not the least of which is my folks' gorgeous Alsatian fatherland, which is pictured in the slideshow below. The accompanying track is a modernized rock version of "Hans im Schnokeloch," which doesn't quite capture the mood of the softer, original version, but gives you an idea of the jolly melody).
Homesickness has hit me hard, and it seems that, no matter how many sunset views of the Vesuvius I witness from my balcony, or how many delectably sweet cherry tomatoes I devour, I find myself focusing on all the wrong things.
I can't seem to see past the more-than-curious staring of passersby on the street, or the fact that I have to pay my bills in person and in cash. (Not to mention the two--count them, two--words spoken to me by the guy helping me with my transaction. Not hello, not goodbye, not even thank you or have a good day...just the amount of Euros I owed).
Instead of seeing aisles and aisles of good-quality pasta at a great price, I see a narrow-minded view of food and a lack of curiosity for other cuisines of the world. (Week after week, I have to review my meal plans because the quinoa or cilantro has eluded me once again.)
Instead of being thankful for our ocean view--we see it even from the bathroom, for crying out loud--I bemoan the fact that our (nonetheless beautiful) apartment has been in need of a remodel for decades.
While it's completely natural to be homesick, the fact remains that we lead a cozy life in a romantic European locale, and that this phase in our lives is, in the grand scheme of things, ephemeral.
I have plenty of fun things to write about, so I think it's time I redoubled my blogging efforts and focused on the good things in life, of which there are so many. (Not the least of which is my folks' gorgeous Alsatian fatherland, which is pictured in the slideshow below. The accompanying track is a modernized rock version of "Hans im Schnokeloch," which doesn't quite capture the mood of the softer, original version, but gives you an idea of the jolly melody).
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Naples Stinks + Ma che vuoi?
I'm not exaggerating when I say that Naples has a trash problem. Check out this video for proof.
In other news, I haven't given up on the blog, but school and work continue to dominate my weeks (which, coincidentally, have been flying by). We recently enjoyed an Easter break trip to Prague, Vienna, and Budapest, but I was teaching again within 3 hours of landing in Naples. Additionally, last night marked the start of summer classes, which will keep me up until 4 AM every Monday until August.
Life is busy but good, and I am reminded almost daily of how Neapolitan I've become. Example: just the other day I had a brief altercation with a taxi driver who had just about run me over. Granted, I was taking my sweet time to cross, but only because I was following the Neapolitan custom of, well, taking your sweet time. My Americanness would be totally out of the bag if I ran to avoid traffic. Hurrying--even in the face of oncoming traffic--just isn't done here. Non si fa.
Anyway, he honked, so I turned around nonchalantly and gave him a little of this:
I keep meaning to write a post about Italian hand gestures--Italians' body language is just so expressive--but for now I will introduce my perennial favorite, which means, "ma che vuoi?!". Translated roughly, "what the heck do you want?!"
You can't go five seconds in Naples without seeing this gesture. Just bunch up your fingers (as in the picture above), repeatedly flick your wrist back and forth, and you'll blend right in. I have a sneaking suspicion that the more slowly/deliberately you make this motion, the more offended/annoyed you are...but I haven't yet found a local to corroborate my theory.
Back to my encounter with the taxi driver: once I had had my fill of wrist-shaking, I flung my open palm back towards the street, indicating the crosswalk. In Naples, the other guy is always in the wrong. The taxi driver knew this very well, so he retorted with a fist shake of his own and a fiery "si, ma fai presto!": "Yeah, but hurry up!" (A discussion board on wordreference.com describes this phrase as "quite curt").
As hesped off into the distance crawled along with the traffic, I bitterly muttered under my breath, But I learned this from you guys! What was his big rush anyway? I had just trekked 30 minutes from my home to my first lesson of the day--sadly, it's often faster to walk than to wait on the buses. Absentmindedly, I brought my fingers together and went for a second shake of the fist.
The moral of the story is this: if I'm taking my sweet time to publish posts, it's because I've adopted the Neapolitans' deliberate pace of life. Everything else is beyond my control. I am posting once every blue moon...what more do you want? ;)
In other news, I haven't given up on the blog, but school and work continue to dominate my weeks (which, coincidentally, have been flying by). We recently enjoyed an Easter break trip to Prague, Vienna, and Budapest, but I was teaching again within 3 hours of landing in Naples. Additionally, last night marked the start of summer classes, which will keep me up until 4 AM every Monday until August.
Life is busy but good, and I am reminded almost daily of how Neapolitan I've become. Example: just the other day I had a brief altercation with a taxi driver who had just about run me over. Granted, I was taking my sweet time to cross, but only because I was following the Neapolitan custom of, well, taking your sweet time. My Americanness would be totally out of the bag if I ran to avoid traffic. Hurrying--even in the face of oncoming traffic--just isn't done here. Non si fa.
Anyway, he honked, so I turned around nonchalantly and gave him a little of this:
I keep meaning to write a post about Italian hand gestures--Italians' body language is just so expressive--but for now I will introduce my perennial favorite, which means, "ma che vuoi?!". Translated roughly, "what the heck do you want?!"
You can't go five seconds in Naples without seeing this gesture. Just bunch up your fingers (as in the picture above), repeatedly flick your wrist back and forth, and you'll blend right in. I have a sneaking suspicion that the more slowly/deliberately you make this motion, the more offended/annoyed you are...but I haven't yet found a local to corroborate my theory.
Back to my encounter with the taxi driver: once I had had my fill of wrist-shaking, I flung my open palm back towards the street, indicating the crosswalk. In Naples, the other guy is always in the wrong. The taxi driver knew this very well, so he retorted with a fist shake of his own and a fiery "si, ma fai presto!": "Yeah, but hurry up!" (A discussion board on wordreference.com describes this phrase as "quite curt").
As he
The moral of the story is this: if I'm taking my sweet time to publish posts, it's because I've adopted the Neapolitans' deliberate pace of life. Everything else is beyond my control. I am posting once every blue moon...what more do you want? ;)
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Home Sick
An annoying sore throat that's since snowballed into full-fledged crud has kept me sequestered at home for four days straight. Thursday was a freebie, as it was Italy's 150th anniversary, and thus a holiday throughout the country. Needless to say, I missed out on the photo-op, trusting that my Italian hosts would enjoy themselves without me.
Friday rolled around and I woke up feeling much worse, so I cancelled lessons for the day. I hated to do it, but my voice is very important for my job, and I was probably contagious. I normally try to tough this sort of thing out: as a kid, my peers' liberal use of the "mental health day" baffled me, a nerdy worrier whose anxiety about missing something essential almost always trumped my desire stay home--even if I was physically ill! This time, though, I must admit the smart thing was to listen to my body.
Now it's Sunday and I'm hoping the many hours I've been spending under the blanket will kick in on Monday morning. Going through mounds of Kleenex has left my nose chafed, and my energy level has not really made its way back to where it needs to be. Granted, thanks to a certain basketball tourney I've been enjoying my blanket more on the couch, instead of my bed...where I should be. Alan and I were riveted by that crazy double-foul move Butler and Pitt pulled last night, but I daresay not quite as riveted as we're about to be in a few minutes, when our beloved Heels take on Washington. Husband, blanket, popcorn, basketball--does it get any better than this?
It does--I'd love to stop carting around the box of Kleenex--but that's a minor consideration, given the fact I've been enjoying a rare break, springtime is on our doorstep (our space heaters need the break, too), and I recently had a nice change of pace when my sister visited a few weeks ago, for the first time since our move.
Otherwise, lately I sound like quite the broken record--school and work have literally taken me from 0 to 100--but I have nothing to complain about. I don't really have the time!
I'm glad I do have the time to join the chorus of Carolina fans everywhere: Go Heels!!
Friday rolled around and I woke up feeling much worse, so I cancelled lessons for the day. I hated to do it, but my voice is very important for my job, and I was probably contagious. I normally try to tough this sort of thing out: as a kid, my peers' liberal use of the "mental health day" baffled me, a nerdy worrier whose anxiety about missing something essential almost always trumped my desire stay home--even if I was physically ill! This time, though, I must admit the smart thing was to listen to my body.
Now it's Sunday and I'm hoping the many hours I've been spending under the blanket will kick in on Monday morning. Going through mounds of Kleenex has left my nose chafed, and my energy level has not really made its way back to where it needs to be. Granted, thanks to a certain basketball tourney I've been enjoying my blanket more on the couch, instead of my bed...where I should be. Alan and I were riveted by that crazy double-foul move Butler and Pitt pulled last night, but I daresay not quite as riveted as we're about to be in a few minutes, when our beloved Heels take on Washington. Husband, blanket, popcorn, basketball--does it get any better than this?
It does--I'd love to stop carting around the box of Kleenex--but that's a minor consideration, given the fact I've been enjoying a rare break, springtime is on our doorstep (our space heaters need the break, too), and I recently had a nice change of pace when my sister visited a few weeks ago, for the first time since our move.
Otherwise, lately I sound like quite the broken record--school and work have literally taken me from 0 to 100--but I have nothing to complain about. I don't really have the time!
I'm glad I do have the time to join the chorus of Carolina fans everywhere: Go Heels!!
Friday, February 25, 2011
The Fantastic Mr. Presley
"I just want to say one thing, and it is this: 'MY HUSBAND IS A FANTASTIC FOX.'"
-Fantastic Mr. Fox (Roald Dahl)
Impegnata. That's how I've been these last few weeks: very, very busy. As I wrote a few months ago, I am working again. But that's not all--as of January, I'm also back in grad school, working towards a Masters in Library Science. I don't have much time right now to go into the whys and the hows of my decision, but I must admit I'm enjoying being a student again--especially the part where I revisit old favorites in my Child Lit class.
Even though teaching and studying are very fulfilling, juggling the two can get hectic. Enter my husband and hero. Ever since I traded in my housecoat, rubber gloves and spatula for a stack of textbooks and notebooks, Alan has been absolutely terrific. He is incredibly supportive in word and deed, and has especially wowed me in how gracefully he's taken up the cooking baton.
Every night Alan gives up his free evenings and braves the horrendous traffic to pick me up--even though I could come home via public transport. When I step inside the apartment, I am treated to a delicious whiff of what is to come: a hot, freshly-prepared meal--no takeout or TV dinners here! Alan does all this with that same grin and enthusiasm that won me over...let me count...over six years ago.
Valentine's Day 2011 was icing on the cake. Alan treated me to a romantic, homemade Italian dinner. There were no expensive presents or fancy weekend getaways...only a labor of love and a series of extremely thoughtful gestures--the best kind of gift! I was greeted home that night by this lovely table:
Pasta pomodoro (you can find the recipe here) on our wedding china, some chilled wine, a card and a gorgeous bouquet. To say that I was touched is a gigantic understatement--I was swept off my feet.
These smelled amazing!
And so did this! I kid you not when I say that Alan has become a wonderful chef. This stuff is Neapolitan restaurant-quality...and it's definitely better than my version.
I had been blown away long before I helped myself to heaping seconds. But Alan hadn't forgotten my sweet tooth. Here is the finishing touch, some kind of nutty mousse in a chocolate shell, picked up from the neighborhood sweets shop. (Try to ignore the Parmesan shavings which grace its side). This meant so much to me: it takes a lot to put your ego aside and get some dessert for your chocolate-crazed wife with only a humble finger-point.
In the words of Mrs. Fox, "my husband is a fantasticfox" uh...make that husband. :-)
Valentine's may have come and gone, and I'm still floundering under the weight of my homework, but I'm excited to continue my celebration of all things Alan tomorrow, February 26th. Happy 29th Birthday, darling! I hope your day is as fantastic as you are.
-Fantastic Mr. Fox (Roald Dahl)
Impegnata. That's how I've been these last few weeks: very, very busy. As I wrote a few months ago, I am working again. But that's not all--as of January, I'm also back in grad school, working towards a Masters in Library Science. I don't have much time right now to go into the whys and the hows of my decision, but I must admit I'm enjoying being a student again--especially the part where I revisit old favorites in my Child Lit class.
Even though teaching and studying are very fulfilling, juggling the two can get hectic. Enter my husband and hero. Ever since I traded in my housecoat, rubber gloves and spatula for a stack of textbooks and notebooks, Alan has been absolutely terrific. He is incredibly supportive in word and deed, and has especially wowed me in how gracefully he's taken up the cooking baton.
Every night Alan gives up his free evenings and braves the horrendous traffic to pick me up--even though I could come home via public transport. When I step inside the apartment, I am treated to a delicious whiff of what is to come: a hot, freshly-prepared meal--no takeout or TV dinners here! Alan does all this with that same grin and enthusiasm that won me over...let me count...over six years ago.
Valentine's Day 2011 was icing on the cake. Alan treated me to a romantic, homemade Italian dinner. There were no expensive presents or fancy weekend getaways...only a labor of love and a series of extremely thoughtful gestures--the best kind of gift! I was greeted home that night by this lovely table:
Pasta pomodoro (you can find the recipe here) on our wedding china, some chilled wine, a card and a gorgeous bouquet. To say that I was touched is a gigantic understatement--I was swept off my feet.
These smelled amazing!
And so did this! I kid you not when I say that Alan has become a wonderful chef. This stuff is Neapolitan restaurant-quality...and it's definitely better than my version.
I had been blown away long before I helped myself to heaping seconds. But Alan hadn't forgotten my sweet tooth. Here is the finishing touch, some kind of nutty mousse in a chocolate shell, picked up from the neighborhood sweets shop. (Try to ignore the Parmesan shavings which grace its side). This meant so much to me: it takes a lot to put your ego aside and get some dessert for your chocolate-crazed wife with only a humble finger-point.
In the words of Mrs. Fox, "my husband is a fantastic
Valentine's may have come and gone, and I'm still floundering under the weight of my homework, but I'm excited to continue my celebration of all things Alan tomorrow, February 26th. Happy 29th Birthday, darling! I hope your day is as fantastic as you are.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Navigating Naples, Pullman-style
It sounds funny to native English speakers, but in Italian, the word pullman actually refers to buses. Unfortunately, that's where the comedy stops: in Naples, this word is often pronounced within the context of a sigh, or an angry shake of the fist. Here's why:
Here is my latest grievance related to buses, not so much against the buses themselves but the passengers that ride them: people here are in the habit of making their destination public knowledge. If you hear devo scendere ("I need to get off") or scende? ("Are you getting off?"), it means your interlocutor is really stressed out about being able to escape the bus, and has decided to make this the business of everyone else on the bus. Here's what goes through my mind when I hear one of these phrases:
(a) Clearly, this person has too much space, because I'm not really sure how I can move over and make room for him/her when I am packed like a sardine.
(b) Clearly, this person thinks he/she is the only one getting off. Or that it's of prime importance that he/she get off first. Many times when I hear anything related to scendere, it's right before a really popular stop, where half the passengers are getting off anyway!
Normally when I am in gripe-mode, I try to see the flip side. There are usually two ways of looking at something, and it's up to me whether I view the glass as half-full or half-empty. But when it comes to the buses of Naples, I find it hard to find a positive aspect. I think it's because they tend to highlight all the things I find unpleasant about this city: the chaos, the inefficiency, the egotism, the griminess...
Waiting on the bus for 20+ minutes does lead to a fair amount of commiserating with other potential bus-mates. The potential for a good, whiny conversation is exponentially higher when it is raining cats and dogs (or worse, hailing--a surprisingly common occurrence around these parts). So I guess that's a plus: I get to practice my Italian, and for once, I do not feel like the odd one out.
- Buses do not circulate as often as they should. I think my average waiting time is about 25 minutes, but I've been known to wait a full 45 minutes.
- Consequently, when the buses finally do come around, they are so jam-packed it is next to impossible to find a spot to stand.
- The horrendous traffic in Naples only worsens the bus situation. It's not uncommon for buses to be lapped by pedestrians.
- Rain also complicates the issue. Traffic worsens, further slowing the buses, and people waiting out in the rain get crabbier by the minute.
- Did I mention strikes?
Here is my latest grievance related to buses, not so much against the buses themselves but the passengers that ride them: people here are in the habit of making their destination public knowledge. If you hear devo scendere ("I need to get off") or scende? ("Are you getting off?"), it means your interlocutor is really stressed out about being able to escape the bus, and has decided to make this the business of everyone else on the bus. Here's what goes through my mind when I hear one of these phrases:
(a) Clearly, this person has too much space, because I'm not really sure how I can move over and make room for him/her when I am packed like a sardine.
(b) Clearly, this person thinks he/she is the only one getting off. Or that it's of prime importance that he/she get off first. Many times when I hear anything related to scendere, it's right before a really popular stop, where half the passengers are getting off anyway!
Normally when I am in gripe-mode, I try to see the flip side. There are usually two ways of looking at something, and it's up to me whether I view the glass as half-full or half-empty. But when it comes to the buses of Naples, I find it hard to find a positive aspect. I think it's because they tend to highlight all the things I find unpleasant about this city: the chaos, the inefficiency, the egotism, the griminess...
Waiting on the bus for 20+ minutes does lead to a fair amount of commiserating with other potential bus-mates. The potential for a good, whiny conversation is exponentially higher when it is raining cats and dogs (or worse, hailing--a surprisingly common occurrence around these parts). So I guess that's a plus: I get to practice my Italian, and for once, I do not feel like the odd one out.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Le Nostre Feste di Natale e Capodanno!
Last year's holiday festivities saw us make not one, but two trips to Rome in a very short span of time: once on Christmas Eve for Midnight Mass at the Vatican, and again during the first few days of 2010 for some sightseeing...along with probably a quarter of the world's population!
This year, we elected to stay closer to "home." (I am referring to Naples, but I cannot in good conscience remove those quotation marks: during the holidays, home is where the family is, and ours was not in Naples.)
We enjoyed a quiet, though not altogether lazy, Christmas. We toiled in the kitchen for much of the 24th and the 25th, stopping only to feast on our creations. If we were to be alone for Christmas, we would, at the very least, compensate by keeping the menu festive and "traditional" (more on those quotation marks later).
In my family, Christmas Eve is very important, and perhaps more venerated than Christmas Day itself. It's on the 24th that we assemble--and eat!--canapés, call family in France, attend Mass, and open presents. In 2007, just a few days before Alan and I got engaged, we celebrated Christmas with my folks. Though just one bite of salami won him over to the canapés, Alan was skeptical of "not opening presents on Christmas." Despite my protests--as he well knows, it is hard to give up your childhood traditions--he remains unyeilding on this front, but the canapés almost make up for it:
It is doubly satisfying that he has become quite the expert canapé-maker. (In my house, Dad is Chief of Canapé Operations, so I am simply continuing the tradition. That, and it frees me up to tackle the rest of the nibbles.) Every time I ask Alan to take on the trifecta of smoked salmon, salami, and soft cheese, I hear a few "do I have to?" whimpers. Curiously, these die down once the work of "taking care of the scraps" has begun.
We enjoyed our Christmas Eve treats on the couch as we watched It's a Wonderful Life: a sweet way to end the evening.
Dessert was not so traditional. Normally, we wash down our canapés with tea and Christmas cookies, plus a slice of Bûche de Noël. Since the family-recipe cookies had long been consumed--I'd made several batches for our party a few weeks before--I decided to dabble in my cooking magazines and try a new recipe. I picked Chai Shortbread for its simplicity and its pairability with something chocolatey. Since the shining ingredient, cardamom, was hiding at every store I tried, I had to make some unfortunate substitutions, but the end result was still satisfying.
I ducked out of making a bûche for two reasons: (a) I did not have the mold for my mother's unrolled/unfilled version, and (b) the more traditional version is technically challenging. I'm not usually one to shy away from new culinary adventures, but I needed to have more than fumes left for Christmas Day. The Creamy Chocolate Pudding I made instead was satisfying, but, like the Chai Shortbread, a clear runner-up to Mom's Christmas desserts.
Christmas Day began at the foot of our wimpy Tannen-brawn. We owe our families, and our good friend Jacob, special thanks for taking the time send wrapped gifts all the way from the States!
We did not waste much time before moving to stage 2 of our Christmas cooking:
Yes, that is our first-ever turkey! We had actually purchased it frozen, a few weeks before Thanksgiving and a few days before receiving an invitation to spend the holiday with friends. So on Thanksgiving Day the old Butterball continued its sojourn in the freezer, its fate put off until Christmas.
Beautiful bird, right? Unfortunately we encountered a slight problem as we bathed him and stuffed him silly with veggies and herbs: Nancy Drew was not around to help solve our Case of the Missing Giblets. Again and again we searched the turkey cavity for these, but all we could come up with was the neck. Eventually we chalked it up to a mistake, and went ahead with the buttered rubdown, salt & pepper scrub, and other turkey "spa treatments."
Halfway through cooking time--which was probably around 5 hours!--we discovered a steaming, but thankfully unadulterated bag of giblets at the other end of the bird. What an embarrassment!
To add insult to injury, I'd planned on a colorful mix of roasted root vegetables, plus a simple side of citrus green beans. I did not realize until the 23rd, when I finally did all my grocery-shopping, that almost every green on my menu was out of season. (Just another example of American convenience! Sure, it's tastier, and ecologically friendlier, to stick to what's in season...but whodathunk I couldn't get my hands on parsnips and turnips in the beginning of winter?! Friendly as those local green grocers are, it is quite frustrating to be met with a shrug and a "finito" as I read down my bullet list of produce.)
Not to be outdone, I came up with a second game plan. Since we hadn't really tackled a whole Thanksgiving meal on our own--I'd contributed sides and desserts, but turkey-wise had done little more than squirt some basting juices--and since I had all the necessary ingredients, we would make it a Thanksgiving Christmas. And despite a few minor roadblocks, it was a complete success!
(No Room at the Fridge: Roasted Turkey and Truffle Gravy, Basic Stuffing, Cranberry-Citrus Sauce, Brussels Sprouts and Pancetta Gratin, Mashed Potatoes and Carrots...all homemade!).
We had to take a dishwashing and Scrabble break before moving on to the Bourbon-Pecan Tart.
Despite a horribly unfair pick of letters (Alan was the unlucky one this time around), it was the perfect end to a perfect Christmas day of food and togetherness.
New Year's Eve was significantly louder than our previous festivities. You may remember from last year's New Year's post that the Neapolitans don't play around on December 31st. This year, we celebrated with dear Naples friends, whose home offers a stunning view of the Bay of Naples. Hence, as far as the midnight show was concerned, we had some of the best seats in the house.
We have now celebrated two Neapolitan New Years, and I've come to the conclusion that le feste di Capodanno are a fitting representation of Naples. The fireworks last well over half an hour, and they are set off continuously in a haphazard manner. Noisemakers abound, and car alarms add to the commotion. It may not be the most choreographed show, but it's definitely a passionate, if slightly dangerous, one.
Thankfully, no one was hurt, save for this poor dog's courage:
He cowered behind that bidet almost the entire night!
It's been a great run of partying and relaxing. We went all out last night, staying up past 4 in the morning, which is unheard of for me. Now it's already 3 in the afternoon on January 1st, and I'm still struggling to wake up. It may not be an up-and-at-'em kind of morning, brimming with the hope of resolutions kept, but it's nevertheless a great start to the New Year.
Tanti Auguri di Buon Anno! Thanks to all who celebrated with us, whether in person or in spirit. We are blessed to have such a wonderful family of Naples friends, and we are blessed to have thoughtful friends and family back home, who have showered us with Christmas gifts, cards, emails, phone calls, and messages. This year holds so much promise; may we all make the most of it.
This year, we elected to stay closer to "home." (I am referring to Naples, but I cannot in good conscience remove those quotation marks: during the holidays, home is where the family is, and ours was not in Naples.)
We enjoyed a quiet, though not altogether lazy, Christmas. We toiled in the kitchen for much of the 24th and the 25th, stopping only to feast on our creations. If we were to be alone for Christmas, we would, at the very least, compensate by keeping the menu festive and "traditional" (more on those quotation marks later).
In my family, Christmas Eve is very important, and perhaps more venerated than Christmas Day itself. It's on the 24th that we assemble--and eat!--canapés, call family in France, attend Mass, and open presents. In 2007, just a few days before Alan and I got engaged, we celebrated Christmas with my folks. Though just one bite of salami won him over to the canapés, Alan was skeptical of "not opening presents on Christmas." Despite my protests--as he well knows, it is hard to give up your childhood traditions--he remains unyeilding on this front, but the canapés almost make up for it:
It is doubly satisfying that he has become quite the expert canapé-maker. (In my house, Dad is Chief of Canapé Operations, so I am simply continuing the tradition. That, and it frees me up to tackle the rest of the nibbles.) Every time I ask Alan to take on the trifecta of smoked salmon, salami, and soft cheese, I hear a few "do I have to?" whimpers. Curiously, these die down once the work of "taking care of the scraps" has begun.
We enjoyed our Christmas Eve treats on the couch as we watched It's a Wonderful Life: a sweet way to end the evening.
Dessert was not so traditional. Normally, we wash down our canapés with tea and Christmas cookies, plus a slice of Bûche de Noël. Since the family-recipe cookies had long been consumed--I'd made several batches for our party a few weeks before--I decided to dabble in my cooking magazines and try a new recipe. I picked Chai Shortbread for its simplicity and its pairability with something chocolatey. Since the shining ingredient, cardamom, was hiding at every store I tried, I had to make some unfortunate substitutions, but the end result was still satisfying.
I ducked out of making a bûche for two reasons: (a) I did not have the mold for my mother's unrolled/unfilled version, and (b) the more traditional version is technically challenging. I'm not usually one to shy away from new culinary adventures, but I needed to have more than fumes left for Christmas Day. The Creamy Chocolate Pudding I made instead was satisfying, but, like the Chai Shortbread, a clear runner-up to Mom's Christmas desserts.
Christmas Day began at the foot of our wimpy Tannen-brawn. We owe our families, and our good friend Jacob, special thanks for taking the time send wrapped gifts all the way from the States!
We did not waste much time before moving to stage 2 of our Christmas cooking:
Yes, that is our first-ever turkey! We had actually purchased it frozen, a few weeks before Thanksgiving and a few days before receiving an invitation to spend the holiday with friends. So on Thanksgiving Day the old Butterball continued its sojourn in the freezer, its fate put off until Christmas.
Beautiful bird, right? Unfortunately we encountered a slight problem as we bathed him and stuffed him silly with veggies and herbs: Nancy Drew was not around to help solve our Case of the Missing Giblets. Again and again we searched the turkey cavity for these, but all we could come up with was the neck. Eventually we chalked it up to a mistake, and went ahead with the buttered rubdown, salt & pepper scrub, and other turkey "spa treatments."
Halfway through cooking time--which was probably around 5 hours!--we discovered a steaming, but thankfully unadulterated bag of giblets at the other end of the bird. What an embarrassment!
To add insult to injury, I'd planned on a colorful mix of roasted root vegetables, plus a simple side of citrus green beans. I did not realize until the 23rd, when I finally did all my grocery-shopping, that almost every green on my menu was out of season. (Just another example of American convenience! Sure, it's tastier, and ecologically friendlier, to stick to what's in season...but whodathunk I couldn't get my hands on parsnips and turnips in the beginning of winter?! Friendly as those local green grocers are, it is quite frustrating to be met with a shrug and a "finito" as I read down my bullet list of produce.)
Not to be outdone, I came up with a second game plan. Since we hadn't really tackled a whole Thanksgiving meal on our own--I'd contributed sides and desserts, but turkey-wise had done little more than squirt some basting juices--and since I had all the necessary ingredients, we would make it a Thanksgiving Christmas. And despite a few minor roadblocks, it was a complete success!
(No Room at the Fridge: Roasted Turkey and Truffle Gravy, Basic Stuffing, Cranberry-Citrus Sauce, Brussels Sprouts and Pancetta Gratin, Mashed Potatoes and Carrots...all homemade!).
We had to take a dishwashing and Scrabble break before moving on to the Bourbon-Pecan Tart.
Despite a horribly unfair pick of letters (Alan was the unlucky one this time around), it was the perfect end to a perfect Christmas day of food and togetherness.
New Year's Eve was significantly louder than our previous festivities. You may remember from last year's New Year's post that the Neapolitans don't play around on December 31st. This year, we celebrated with dear Naples friends, whose home offers a stunning view of the Bay of Naples. Hence, as far as the midnight show was concerned, we had some of the best seats in the house.
We have now celebrated two Neapolitan New Years, and I've come to the conclusion that le feste di Capodanno are a fitting representation of Naples. The fireworks last well over half an hour, and they are set off continuously in a haphazard manner. Noisemakers abound, and car alarms add to the commotion. It may not be the most choreographed show, but it's definitely a passionate, if slightly dangerous, one.
Thankfully, no one was hurt, save for this poor dog's courage:
He cowered behind that bidet almost the entire night!
It's been a great run of partying and relaxing. We went all out last night, staying up past 4 in the morning, which is unheard of for me. Now it's already 3 in the afternoon on January 1st, and I'm still struggling to wake up. It may not be an up-and-at-'em kind of morning, brimming with the hope of resolutions kept, but it's nevertheless a great start to the New Year.
Tanti Auguri di Buon Anno! Thanks to all who celebrated with us, whether in person or in spirit. We are blessed to have such a wonderful family of Naples friends, and we are blessed to have thoughtful friends and family back home, who have showered us with Christmas gifts, cards, emails, phone calls, and messages. This year holds so much promise; may we all make the most of it.
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