Italian Myths About Americans

TOP 15

Myths

Italians have about

Americans

(As told to me by my Italian friends)

1. All Americans are rich and there is almost no poverty in America.

2. Everyone in America is from New York City. Or California. Or maybe Texas.

3. Americans eat ketchup all the time. With every meal. 

4. While chewing gum. All the time. 

5. Americans drive huge cars and they are all brand new.

6. All Americans have huge families.

7. Everyone in America vacations at Disney World or Myrtle Beach.

8. Every American owns and carries guns on their hip, John Wayne style.

9. Every American is a cowboy.

10. Americans wear jeans all the time, except when they are wearing workout clothes (because we are all in great shape because of all the working out we do).

11. Americans only own two types of shoes: flip flops and tennis shoes

12. We all know George Clooney.

13. And Julia Roberts

14. We all drink beer and never wine.

15. Americans think all Italians are in the mob.

Home & Family

I grew up in a tiny little town in Virginia that probably wouldn't be considered tiny anymore, yet is still small enough that my oldest daughter had my 1st grade teacher as her 1st grade teacher, and that I taught 8th grade English there with my 8th grade English teacher.  In my opinion, this makes it small enough.  I loved growing up in small town, surrounded by history and people I had know my entire life.  And then I married a military man and moved far, far away and I thought all of that would change--that my own kids would never have that sense of "home" that I have now come to cherish.  It's so true.  Ask any military kid where they are from and they'll do one of three things:

*They'll tell you where they were born (Trey does this.  He says he is from Texas--a state that he was born in and actually lived in for exactly 3 1/2 months before we moved to Virginia, and he spent almost the entire time in the NICU.  And I cannot tell you how many kids I've taught over the years who say they are from Germany)

*They'll tell you where their parents are from, even if they've never lived there themselves (Tory does this.  She frequently tells people she is from Virginia, or sometimes Alabama)

*They'll tell you where they moved from last (Jackson does this. He's from Ft. Campbell, by the way--a place that is super confusing since it actually straddles the states of Kentucky and Tennessee.  We lived on the Tennessee side, by the way)

I frequently wonder if Delilah will say she's from Italy, since it's where she's lived for the greatest amount of time.  Even now, when we ask her if she's an American or if she's Italian, she always says she's Italian. I blame that on the gelato.  And the pizza. 

But here's what I've come to realize over 20 years as a military spouse:  Home really is where you make it.  It doesn't mater in what city, state, or even country that happens to be in.  And you build your own history with your military family that you're lucky to know and call your friends.  They become your family and in a sense, your history.  I'm so thankful to have this opportunity. 

Steve and the brats.  Yes, the Roman soldier came with the house...

My Missing Neighbor--An Italian Mystery

We've had an interesting occurrence over here at Via Fontanelle this weekend--our missing neighbor has suddenly reappeared! (at least I think it's him)

Let me start at the beginning.  

Our house sits amongst a weird little collection of Italian homes that are typical for Italian families but quite unusual for Americans.  We are quietly tucked away in the middle of the Veneto farm and wine country, on the banks of the Bacchiglione river.  While most of our windows look out at the beautiful vineyards and farm land that this region of Italy is so famous for, our front door opens up to a fairly small front yard and a larger Italian farm house that houses 3 families.  The "unit", for lack of a better word, to the far left is the largest and this is were my neighbors Anna-Maria and Luigi live with their single son (who is easily in his late forties).  They are also the grandparents of Clarissa, the little girl who is only a week older that Delilah. The girls sometimes play and have this strange bond that I can't even begin to understand or explain since neither of them speak the same language, but somehow they play just fine together...although now that I think of it, Delilah *does* spend a tremendous amount of time patting Clarissa on the top of her head and talking to her in a high squeaky voice...

Anyhow...

The unit on the far right is a weekend get away home for an Italian couple living in Milan.  They are probably in their late 50's and are very friendly with us. He speaks a tiny bit of English--probably as much English as we speak Italian--and we enjoy talking to them when they come into town every now and again.  She is amazed at the thought that we have 4 bambini and ends most of our conversations with "Mama Mia!".

The farm house was built in 1782--this plaque is about the opening for the garage. I'm curious what the letters stand for--If you know, send me an email...I'm so curious!

The person living in the middle unit is who this mystery is all about.  He's a single man, in his 50's also and although I have no idea what he does for a living, he seems to be home a lot...AND he is OBSESSED with his car.  It's nothing fancy--just a four door 1990's Volvo sedan, that dark teal color that was so popular during that time period. You would have thought it was a Ferrari though with as much attention as he paid it.  He literally washed it several times a week and we would always see him outside cleaning it.  He had this one friend who would come over sometimes and they would work on these racing cars that were covered in sponsor logos.  I'm not sure who was the car racer--I always assumed it was the friend--and that our neighbor was the mechanic.  

Garden shed

He had lived across "the way" from us from the time that we moved into our house in early 2012 and we would see him pretty much everyday, sometimes more, sometimes less, and we had a friendly, neighborly relationship with him--meaning we would yell out "Ciao" to him and he would answer us, or vice versa. One time when we went on vacation early last summer, we asked (in our totally broken Italian) if he would mind dragging our garbage can back up to the house and he was nice enough to help us out.  It was that sort of relationship.  He seemed like a nice enough guy...

And then last August, he totally vanished.  One day, we woke up to him putting a few things into the back of his friend's car, and then they waved to us and just drove away.  The odd thing was that he had driven his beloved car into the "garage" part of the house and just left it.  It seemed ordinary enough at the time.  August is vacation month for Europeans.  It seriously seems that everyone goes on a vacation during that time. Houses are shut up and businesses close down for extended periods--sometimes for weeks--in August. Last week, Steve and I went out to dinner on a Tuesday night and we had to go to six restaurants before we found one that was open! They take their vacation time seriously around here, so it wasn't surprising not to see him for a couple of weeks. Then those weeks turned into months, summer slipped into fall, and still no neighbor. 

From our driveway

It was our first summer and fall in Italy, so we didn't really know what to expect.  I suppose it's common in farming communities, but the FLIES were (and are this summer as well) overwhelming!  I had never seen anything like it.  There were quite literally THOUSANDS of them on the back side of our house.  It was gross! And obviously, a few of them ended up in our house as well. The kids would come home from school and I would show them my "kills" for the day...

Steve and I really didn't think anything of it until the weather started to turn cooler.  The pretty little garden our neighbor had maintained by the side of our house had turned into a jumble of weeds by this time and his Volvo was covered in dust.  Otherwise, everything was just as he had left it.  

 Clothesline and pretty little garden now covered in weeds

Garage with the Volvo

Then, on one weeknight in the late fall, we had a knock at our door late one evening.  It was around 9 or 10 at night, and both Steve and I were in our pj's watching TV in the living room.  Normally, I would have ignored it, but the time of day made us curious, so we answered the door to find an Italian man and woman, middle-aged and wearing suits, standing on our doorstep. He was holding a clipboard with some paperwork attached. They both immediately apologized--I assume for the time--and started to point at the paperwork, and at our neighbor's house.  Neither spoke any English, and we unfortunately didn't speak enough Italian to decipher what was being said, but it was obvious that they were "official" and were talking about our neighbor.  When they realized that we were Americani, they waved and left.  Nothing EVER came of this...

Skip to this summer...still no sign of our neighbor....The mail is piling up in his box, the garden looks like a tropical rainforest, and the car is covered in dust and dirt.  Even I started to worry.  And then I remembered the flies...  And all my true crime-lovin' mind could imagine was bad, bad things.  

The Volvo today--see all the dust and dirt!!

Until this weekend.  On Saturday night, a little red honda hatchback pulled onto our driveway and stopped in front of his house. I honestly figured it was just someone who was lost and had come to the end of our street and was using our driveway to turn around.  But on Sunday morning, we woke to find the little red Honda hatchback parked in the driveway in front of his house.  The curtain that covers his doorway was pulled back, but all the shutters were still closed and the windows were still closed. And when we came home from the movies on Sunday evening, there were clothes on his clothes line.  The little red Honda was gone, but there were clothes!  You better BELIEVE I stalked that house for the next few hours!  No luck.  We went to bed last night with no little red Honda, and clothes still on the line (and I thought I was the only one who left clothes on the line all night)

Until this morning.  Red Honda is back, clothes are off the line.  But Teal Volvo is STILL covered in dust and STILL in the garage and the mail is STILL overflowing out of the mailbox and, you guessed it, the windows and shutters are STILL shut....(expect for one at the top of the  house, which is now suddenly open) 

The curtain to the door pulled to the side now but the mailbox is still full!

It's a mystery....and I love a good one.  I'll keep y'all posted!!

I'd love your vote!  One click on the picture of the happy momma below is all it takes! Ciao and Grazie!

The Luxembourg Gardens

The Luxembourg Gardens, or Le Jardin du Luxembourg as it's referred to by the French, is Paris' version of NYC's Central Park. Although it was almost nothing like what I had expected, I absolutely loved the place.  What a perfect respite to a week of museum and cathedral hopping!  We arrived to the gardens just ahead of a downpour and still, the park was bustling with Parisian families.  We saw lots of older couples walking hand-in-hand, lots of grandmas and grandpas with little grandchildren, and families out for a leisurely afternoon in the park. Everyone seemed so happy and relaxed, and just SO....FRENCH!! I loved how the park was lined with rows and rows of young trees just beginning to take bloom, and even though the park contained only a few patches of grass, there was certainly something appealing about its dirt and gravel walkways.  I really wanted to rent a tiny boat to sail in the large ponds (the French call them "basins") that were in the garden, but sadly, they were closed by the time we arrived.  We had to "settle" instead for a ride on the vintage carousel that was on one edge of the park, right next to the puppet theater where the original "Punch and Judy" show was performed.  The gardens also are home to the French Senate, and rumor has it (or Rick Steves) that the French version of the CIA is located underneath the gardens. It was high on our Parisian "Must Do" list and I'm so glad that we made time for it.  It's a place that I'd love to see in the summer or early fall when it's in high bloom! Visiting here made me want to pack up the kids and move to Paris.  It was one of those places where I felt more like a world traveler enjoying my most recent city instead of a tourist following a guide book.  I could totally imagine being a young(ish) Parisian family out for a stroll in the park and enjoying the fresh air.  Don't miss it!

 The Gendarmerie--the French version of the Carabinieri.  Even though these two gentlemen look very stern, they were very friendly to us! 

 The Luxembourg Palace

I loved the spikes to deter the birds!

Gross! But Trey was in heaven...

 The basin where you can rent the boats

I loved the rows and rows of trees that were just starting to bloom.  Maybe Steve and I will retire in Paris one day and stroll hand-in-hand like the older couple...

It cracked me up that the brats decided to ride in a carriage together instead of on individual horses.  

 Isn't this little French boy adorable! The kids each got these sticks that were supposed to be lances and the operators had these metal rings that they would hold out and the kids would try to catch with their lances. I wanted to try but Steve wouldn't let me... :(

Nutella Crepes=Heaven...(but they weren't cheap....)

Check out how she's CLUTCHING that bag for dear life and how she has the super annoyed look on her face!

Now...there's a funny story about this picture.  Just before we got to the park, we grabbed some raspberries from a fruit vendor to eat as a little mid-afternoon snack.  Both Delilah and Jackson insisted on carrying their own bag and we planned on sitting on one of the green park chairs that are everywhere in Paris and enjoying a few.  We got up close to the "basin", found some chairs, and got ready to sit down, but JUST as we were talking the kids into sharing "their" berries, this adorable little French boy came up to Delilah and started to babble to her in French. It was obvious to everyone that Delilah was not having anything to do with this kid and was certainly not going to share her berries.  She kept shooting him her death stare, until finally Jackson stepped up and shared his berries with the little boy--I forget his name, but it was something very French, like Jon-Luc or Henry (pronounce Han-ree).  His mom realized we were Americans and spoke to us in perfect English about how funny the situation was.  It turns out that Jon-Luc/Henry was just a few weeks younger than Delilah.  I wanted to ask for the lady's phone number, move in next door, and come to the park each day for playdates...

UGH!!! Going through all these pictures of Paris SO makes me want to go back.  It was SUCH an awesome vacation for our family--even the brats loved it!  The French people couldn't have been nicer to us and the entire city was AMAZING.  I'm ready to go back....

I would love your vote for Top Mommy Blog!  All it takes is one little click below on the picture of the happy momma.  Each click brings more and more readers to Via Fontanelle! Thanks!

Happy Birthday Jen

With the crazy way that Blogger schedules posts, this may show up on August 2nd, even though I'm writing it on August 1st...

TODAY, August 1st, is my BFF's birthday :) I first met Jen back in 1997 while we were both high school English teachers at Ellison High School in Killeen, TX.  We were at a English department luncheon at Golden Corral (no, seriously....) and the rest was history. I knew it was fate when we both thought those ladies were crazy for reading those books that they all loved.  Fate stepped in a few days later when Jen got her first student roll and all the other teachers warned her about a student named Javier and I told her he was my favorite student. And then it sealed the deal when a month later she came and told me he was her favorite, too. People would often compare us to Laverne and Shirley, thinking that I was Shirley and she was Laverne, but those people who know us well know that in truth, it's completely the opposite.  I am totally Laverne and she is completely Shirley--except we're both WAY smarter than they are, and milk and Pepsi is just gross...At first glance, it would appear that we have nothing in common, but in reality, we are halves of the same whole.  She is proof that a person can be lucky enough to have two soul mates in life.  I miss her everyday (and yes, I still talk to her everyday--even all the way from Italy) Happy Birthday Aunt Jen!

I frequently tell people that we are twins...

We even have the same tattoo. 

Venice's Bridge of Sighs

My best friend Jen and I met when we were both high school English teachers 15 years ago in Killeen, TX.  For as long as I've known her, she's had a fascination with the Bridge of Sighs in Venice.  It started with a movie called A Little Romance, which stars a very young Diane Lane and a mischievous girl who runs off to Venice with a boy.  Here's a clip of the trailer:

The premise of the movie is that the girl and boy both believe that if you kiss your true love under the Bridge of Sighs at sunset, your love will last forever.  The movie is cheesy as hell, but totally awesome if you're watching it for pure nostalgia.  

So last year, when Jen came to visit me for a few weeks, the number one thing to do on our bucket list was to get our butts to Venice, into a gondola, and under the Bridge of Sighs.  The "kissing your true love" part would have to come later.

If you've never heard of the Bridge of Sighs, here's a little history.  The story is that the Bridge of Sighs is what connects the Doge's Palace to the neighboring prison next door.  Built in the early 1600's by a man by the name of Antoni Contoni (who's uncle built the Rialto bridge in Venice), the Bridge of Sighs provided the convicts of Venice with their last view of the city and the sea as they walked from the Palace to their sentence in prison. Architecturally, the bridge is interesting because its completely covered and there are few like it in the world.

The bridge from our gondola ride

If you look closely, you can just see a tiny bit of the bridge peeking out between the Doge's Palace and the prison

We carefully selected our gondolier (I'll tell you about our gondola ride in another post) and off we went.  In just a matter of minutes, we made it to the bridge because we picked a gondola closely located to it. We glided slowly under the bridge with our cameras flashing!  What an awesome moment!

We went home hot but happy!

A year later, (just the other day) I headed back to the bridge with my family who had come to visit.  This time, we decided to visit the Doge's Palace--something that I'd never really had much interest in before. The Doge's Palace was so awesome, it deserves a post all to itself, but the interesting thing is that the Bridge of Sighs was included on the tour of the palace.  I had absolutely NO idea the bridge was open to tours and I was so excited!! We got to walk across it and to look inside the prison cells on the other side.  We each stuck our fingers through the spaces in the windows in the bridge and imagined what it would have been like for the prisoners who walked across the bridge, looking out from the windows at what might have been their last view of Venice. The view was breathtaking, but I couldn't help but think about Jen and just how much I miss her, especially in this place she loves so much!

View of the bridge from the Doge's Palace

 Looking through the window on the bridge

 The tiny walkway to the cells

A cell--it was soooo tiny!

Video of me looking at of the bridge--and yes, I'm crying...living over here is amazing, but being so far away from the people we love is never easy

Happy Sunday!

I'd love your vote for me for Top Mommy Blog! All it takes is one click on the mommy picture below--Grazie!

New Blog Series-YCMTSU

My friend Shannon (she's my person here) and I were recently talking about all the craziness we as Americans experience here in Italy that is impossible to describe to anyone, especially someone who has never lived outside of the United States.

She is a frequent blogger also and so we both decided to add a new series to each of our blogs entitled "This Doesn't Happen in America" or as we like to call it between friends, "You Can't Make This Shit Up..." I cannot tell you how many times a day I think these exact thoughts in my head or say them out loud.

Don't get me wrong, living in Europe and Italy can be amazing!  The opportunities and experiences we are having and that are kids are having are life changing.

Making sand castles in Paris 

But for every amazing thing, there seems to be just a little craziness to go along with it....

So, it's here in my own little corner of the blogosphere that I'll try and enlighten you with (or at least share in the humor of) the craziness that is our Life in Italia...

Back in December, when my father had just arrived for Christmas, we noticed that the exhaust fan in our fireplace wasn't working.  We have a giant fireplace in our kitchen--it's one of the things that I liked best about our house when I first saw it.

Our fireplace (before we moved in)

 Keep in mind that Italians actually use their fireplaces for heat because they frequently keep their thermostats set in the 50's.  Gas for heating is VERY, VERY expensive! Without a fireplace, your house would be freezing. When we first moved in back in January of 2012, our downstairs would frequently drop into the high 40's INSIDE.  It is COLD without a fireplace!

This is what it was like the first month we lived in our house....

We contacted Claudio, our landlord, about the exhaust fan not working and he arranged a time for himself and Lucca, the electrician, to come over.  It was a Saturday when they decided to come and I had run out to the market.

When I got home, I had missed them.  I had started to put away the groceries I had bought, when I noticed an empty wine bottle--a big one--and 4 wine glasses sitting on the work table we have in the kitchen....and next to it all was an empty container of fudge that my cousin had sent for Christmas.  Keep in mind, it was barely NOON by this time....

I said some thing to my dad and Steve about who was drinking wine at 10:00 in the morning and Steve laughed and said that when he had asked Claudio if he and Lucca wanted something to drink, Claudio had pointed at the giant wine wrack we have in the corner of our kitchen...and then he went over and PICKED OUT A BOTTLE !

All of this might sound fine up until this point. Claudio, though he doesn't speak a word of English (except for Wednesday, flip flop, and Mercedes--he has one, the other two he learned from me), is the NICEST man and we honestly couldn't ask for a better landlord....I had NO problem with them socializing...

BUT, keep in mind these important facts...

1. It was 10:00 in the morning
2. They had come over to fix something involving ELECTRICITY
3. They had to climb up on the ROOF to do so
4. Italian wine is much, much higher in alcohol content than American wine is--the bottle that they drank was 13% alcohol...
5. They drank the wine BEFORE they climbed on the roof
6. They ate all the fudge... :(

My dad, seeing the humor in the entire situation and not wanting me to miss it, took a picture of the whole thing from my yard...thankfully HE had some sense!

The men on the roof--Steve is in the red shirt, Lucca is to the left and Claudio is in the center

You can see the chimney just peeking out on the corner of the the house. This picture is just to show you HOW high up the roof actually is...

Can you imagine this happening in America?  Honestly, I can't make this shit up....  

If you've enjoyed my new blog series, leave a comment and become a follower!  And as always, don't forget to vote...

www.topmommyblogs.com

Wordless Wednesday

Hi There!

I wanted to take this moment on a Wordless Wednesday to beg for followers.  

Here's the thing...I've got a couple of pretty snazzy give-a-ways coming up and only followers will be eligible. 

 It doesn't matter who you are. 

There are no rules for being a follower.  Anyone can be a follower.  

And ANY follower can win....doesn't matter if you know me or not...(random number generator will pick the lucky, lucky, LUCKY winner).  

BUT, you have to be a follower to win...

Don't know how?  Look over on the right hand side for the white "Bloglovin'" button.  

It looks like this.

Click it.

Follow the steps.

(did you do it?)

Yes?  Good job!

OR

Look for something that looks like this...

 

Type your name in the box where it says "email address".  Be sure to click submit... This is the easiest way...especially if you don't follow a lot of blogs...

And finally, you can look for this....

It's ok to be a follower in this case...and I've given you THREE ways to win prizes!!! WOOHOO!!

Now here's a picture for our NotSo Wordless Wednesday!

This is Big Lew...he's the "one giant Newfoundland" in our story...