Heehee! This Girl's Going To The Opera
Nonna knocked on my door this morning while I was drying my hair and asked if I'd like to see an opera with her later in April, so I hopped on that bus and went to buy my ticket. Only 20 euro? I'm not sure if I'm missing something there or if I'm just incredibly lucky to get an opera seat that cheap. Hehe I'm going to see an opera in Italy! Okay yes, I am lucky.
On Sunday the sun poked its head out for the first time in a million years and created a morning so spectacular that I thought about Jesus for a minute. Easter was a quiet affair in this family; a chocolate bunny or four circulated the house, the boys went off to the countryside to visit Beppe's mother, and the gals had lunch at Nonna's apartment. Pasta alla bolognese, all manner of delicately fried delicacies, and a traditional Neapolitan cake called pasticcera (Nonna and Vale are from the south--this is why they shout a lot). Afterward I wanted to curl up in the fetal position, fall into a deep sleep, and never wake up, but it was worth it. On our way back to the car, a friend of Vale rolled down his window and stared at me, asking if I was her daughter. This prompted a miniature existential crisis for 42 year old Vale, but she recovered and decided it was conceivable since we're both light-eyed and light-haired. She even said that I could be an older version of Ginni. Dawww--but no, Ginni looks like a lovely little marble statue and the conceivability ends with eye color. It made me feel like one of the family though.
Oh and I forgot to mention that "Man vs. Food" was playing in the background of our Easter lunch, which was initially entertaining but increasingly nauseating as our meal progressed. At one point, the dude (don't know his name, not gonna look it up) was in D.C., so I went "oh, look! my city!" Which was a mistake, because then the horrifying portions of chili and people throwing fish into vats of boiling fat ensued, and I had to field the questions. "Do people really eat like that in America?"
Um...
On Sunday the sun poked its head out for the first time in a million years and created a morning so spectacular that I thought about Jesus for a minute. Easter was a quiet affair in this family; a chocolate bunny or four circulated the house, the boys went off to the countryside to visit Beppe's mother, and the gals had lunch at Nonna's apartment. Pasta alla bolognese, all manner of delicately fried delicacies, and a traditional Neapolitan cake called pasticcera (Nonna and Vale are from the south--this is why they shout a lot). Afterward I wanted to curl up in the fetal position, fall into a deep sleep, and never wake up, but it was worth it. On our way back to the car, a friend of Vale rolled down his window and stared at me, asking if I was her daughter. This prompted a miniature existential crisis for 42 year old Vale, but she recovered and decided it was conceivable since we're both light-eyed and light-haired. She even said that I could be an older version of Ginni. Dawww--but no, Ginni looks like a lovely little marble statue and the conceivability ends with eye color. It made me feel like one of the family though.
Oh and I forgot to mention that "Man vs. Food" was playing in the background of our Easter lunch, which was initially entertaining but increasingly nauseating as our meal progressed. At one point, the dude (don't know his name, not gonna look it up) was in D.C., so I went "oh, look! my city!" Which was a mistake, because then the horrifying portions of chili and people throwing fish into vats of boiling fat ensued, and I had to field the questions. "Do people really eat like that in America?"
Um...
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