The rain cleaned the cobbles in the night, giving way to a fresh mist which hung lightly over the slow-moving Tiber. A man with the only gas-powered leaf blower we’d ever seen in Italy blew damp leaves down the stairway beside the Ponte Mazzini, rousing the sleeping gypsies who live under the bridge. As we […]
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It’s strange to hear Eros Ramazzotti sing his songs in Spanish. Oh, sure, the quintessential Italian rock star still has that big round voice with its soaring crescendos and the quirky clipped lyrics. But somehow – in the Spanish version – his passion is tempered. Well there you go: I guess not all things Italian […] We were ogling the biggest provolone I’d ever seen – hundred pound cheeses that hung in heavily roped tubes – when a great booming voice startled us. “Hey, you two!” A fleshy, bespectacled guy glared at us from behind the counter. “If all you’re gonna do is stand there shooting the bull.” …I was totally […] We’re an equal opportunity household here at Chez Bullhog, open to just about any holiday celebration. So when our legislators floated proposals for decorating the capitol building here in Washington State, I had to cheer their consideration for putting up a Festivus Pole. I’m all for cross-cultural connections, after all. In lieu of meatloaf, however, […] Freddy Mercury had nothing on my friend Max. Max, who worked at the local record store, gave Queen’s summer breakout single six stars on his scale that only went to five, and had us howling with his superbad imitation. ‘Dynamite with a laser beam; Guaranteed to blow your mind. Anytime.’ He cocked his air guitar […] Morning mist rose off the Tiber as Mauro swung his little van onto the forbidden streets of our Roman neighborhood. Sunlight glistened at a low angle, highlighting every crack and crevice in the faces of 15th century tenements. Wheels clattered against cobbles and slowed. ‘It’s okay,’ he assured us, conspiratorially as he eased the van […] West of Sienna, sunflowers paint the softly rolling hills as far as the eye can see. The road dips and sways through the Tuscan landscape, with shoulder high banks that rise to either side. Swallows glide on late afternoon thermals in the clear blue sky. At an opening to one field a man holds up […] My Italian was not at all up to this. ‘Lo sportello automatico non pagare il denaro,’ I said to the beautifully tailored man across the desk from me – as close as I could get with my tourist phrase books to ‘the bank machine ate my money.’ I felt perspiration rise on the back of […] My daughter the Cake Princess looked quizzically at the dough laid out on a wooden peel in the kitchen. “Do you make pizza every day?” she asked, striking a pose. “Just this week,” I assured her. “Yeah, right,” she said, and flopped off to check her facebook page. Thin to thick: Last week's […] |
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