UCMTSU--Domani

When living in a country that's not your own, it becomes impossible not to compare your "passport country" to your "visa country".  Some of the best advice I ever got when first moving here was:

Italy isn't America.  Stop trying to change it...

Yep, so true.  

Believe me, there are many, many things that I adore about Italy, especially once I got used to it.  I've tried to stop the running comparison in my head, but I'll freely admit that I sigh when I'm talking to my best friend and she mentions running out to Target now and again. And don't get me started on how much I miss Starbucks.

But Italy has its perks.  The best wine in the world can literally be found right outside my backdoor (no, seriously...there are 7 wineries within a mile of my house) and it's actually FAR cheaper than water.

Access to fresh (truly FRESH) food is super easy here.  There's always a market selling it close by.

(Read about the one I love the most HERE) I have a cherry, persimmon, apple, and pomegranate tree in my backyard. And Italian food is delicious.

But what I love about Italy the most is the pace. Yes, Italian drivers can be crazy and there are seriously cities (any including Rome and south of there) where I wouldn't even consider driving.  But honestly, I have only seen 2 accidents since I've been here, so there's got to be something to say about that.  It's not the driving pace that I'm referring to though.  People's attitudes here are much slower, so to speak.  The favorite word of any "worker" (like the cable guy, the repairman, the mechanic) is "domani, domani", which means "tomorrow", although it's rarely tomorrow that anything gets done.

Things seem so much less RUSHED here.  People stop and talk to each other in our tiny towns, families go for walks together, and meals at restaurants can honestly take 3 hours.  I've grown to love that about Italy. And you have to admire a country that takes a 3 hour lunch break in the middle of the day...

Domani...

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YCMTSU--The Dreaded Italian "toilet"

It's Friday--and you know what that means! It's time for my next installment of UCMTSU! (You can't make this shit up).

If you have never been to Italy, or have been as a tourist and only vacationed here in larger "touristy" cities like Florence, Venice, or Rome, you may think that the title of this blog refers to the bidet.

You're probably thinking something along the lines of "A bidet isn't THAT bad...it's not like you HAVE to use it if you don't want to..."

Some of these thoughts are true.  We DO have bidets in Italy.  In fact, I think it would be safe to say that an Italian house is actually MORE likely to have a bidet then it would be to NOT have one.  I've actually never been to a home here that DIDN'T have one.  And it's true, you don't have to use it if you don't want to...

But you would be wrong about one thing... the "dreaded Italian toilet" that I'm referring to in the title of this post ISN'T the bidet...

It's the so-called "squatty potty"--the bane of the existence of any American Living in Italy.  Never heard tales of these?

Here's what one looks like:

Confused?

Imagine trying to use one for the first time...

OR

Imagine trying to talk your 2 1/2 year old POTTY TRAINING little girl who really has to pee pee that this strange hole in the ground really IS the potty, even when she's looking at you like "Seriously???!!!"

OR

the poop

( I said that last part really quietly...)

Still confused?

Here's a little "squatty potty" learnin'.

1.  Sigh in disgust when you open the door and realize it's a squatty potty

2. Shut the door and lock it--if it even has a lock (or a door for that matter)

3.  Arrange your clothing so that they are not in the way of whatever business you need to take care of, paying serious carefulness that they do not COME CLOSE to touching anything remotely near the ground

4. Back up

5. But, GOOD God, DON'T slip, trip, or fall

6. Place your feet on either side of the hole...See those little ridges, that's where you put your feet

7. Don't touch ANYTHING--scream at your children like a lunatic to not touch ANYTHING--and just a tip, I tell my little ones that acid is EVERYWHERE and it will burn their skin off if they touch anything...I'm sure this might have a little to do with their reluctance to use these...

8. Pray

9. Do your business

10. Wipe--and then aim for the hole--whoever went before me did not do this....

11. Arrange your clothing and then leave...

12. Cover your body in hand sanitizer because squatty potties almost NEVER have a sink where you can wash your hands


Where can you look for one of these precious gems?  These can be found in most public buildings, like bars, average priced restaurants, and certainly anything like zoos, castles (these one is at Soave and actually one of the cleaner ones I've seen), and sports facilities.

I know, right?

Now, I bet you're thinking that what I really mean is that these "squatty potties" are really rest stops.
Nope, wrong again.

THIS is a rest stop in Italy:

Daddy, Jackson and Steve 

Typing this, I just realized where the term "pit stop" probably comes from...

And so to wrap up this week and our UCMTSU post, let's review:

Germany public toilet:

They even have one for the wee folks...(pun intended)

Italian public toilet:

Perhaps this is why the Germany's felt it necessary to place this sign over the commodes in a public restroom we visited:

They know the Italians are used to standing up....

Have a GREAT weekend!

And please don't forget to vote (daily, because obvious you have NOTHING better to do....)

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....  

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