Thursday, April 19, 2012

Mozzarella- the Real Stuff


The other night I decided to go to TGIF to eat. That decision was not a mistake. However, what I chose to eat certainly was. Their special was mozzarella and tomatoes, with some other ingredient I cannot recall. I must have been too disappointed at the mozzarella to have noticed. I am a very biased person when it comes to cheeses, for I grew up overseas in countries where the making of cheese was an art. After I tried that mozzarella, which tasted like a mix between wet cardboard soy milk, I was thoroughly convinced to never buy mozzarella in state college again.
Back in Italy, in the region of Campagna, I had the privilege to eat some of the best mozzarella in the world. The smell on the way to school was sometimes not the most pleasant odor to wake up to. However, a plate of prosciutto and mozzarella at dinner would completely make up for it.
I remember one of my first field trips out in town was to a mozzarella factory. We were taken behind the scenes to watch the process that is taken to make this peculiar cheese. Mozzarella di Buffalo is made from the whole milk of s buffalo. It is not used for drinking and therefore every bit is used in the production process.
Once the milk is brought in, it is curdled, and drained to eliminate the whey. By hand the producers grind up the curds, and chine them even further in what looks like a small mill.  At this point, the curds are poured into boiling hot water, where it then takes on its rubbery outside texture.  The cheese maker then forms each ball individually, kneading it with his hands. He then immerses them in cold water and brine so that it may keep its shape and texture.
Just by writing this blog I have become extremely hungry as my mouth waters over the original and addicting savor of the cheese. I miss seeing the valleys of water buffalo in Naples, for they were the means to which I could stuff myself on that delicious cheese every week.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Small World


The saying, “It’s a small world” could never be more true. I cannot even recall the amount of times I’ve performed an embarrassing action, like tripping over air, in front of a crowd of people only to have my friends say, “Oh you’ll never see them again anyways.” Nothing could be farther from the truth. Just today I met a girl who attended a Doddea school like me. What are the chances of meeting this girl in my freshman seminar class? We were randomly partnered up and, after talking about our history together, we found out that we had the exact same friends. It’s crazy. There were only 54 students graduating from Rota, Spain, and 94 from Naples, Italy. Often we would go compete at volleyball championships in Wiesbaden, Germany, and never met each other.
Sig.org

Of course we bonded immediately. Just by laughing how everyone think that we are either foreigners of enlisted in the military provided an opportunity for many laughs. We have both been stationed in Sigonella, Italy. Referred to as the Mediterranean Hub, it housed a few more people than Rota. That was my favorite base. Being so far south, it always seemed to be sunny. Even though it was a U.S. Naval station, it housed all units, and testing sites for numerous aircrafts. Sometimes it was annoying to hear the aircrafts overhead when it was so early in the morning. The most frequent aircrafts that rip bye are the  U.S. Air Force C-130, C-17 and C-5 airlifters, KC-135 and KC-10 tankers. For the size of some of those aircrafts, they could shake the place up at times. Since there was so much empty space for air landings, much of the terrain was cleared for running paths. I had no excuse not to be fit then. With all the hills I was in the best shape of my life.

Since this was an island base, in order to travel we need to fly to other bases. It sure beat nine hour buss rides, and we were lucky enough to reserve out own planes. The only demand? That we bring back some sort of medal. We were fine with meeting those demands

Thursday, April 5, 2012

O' Napoletan'!


When I first came to Penn State my counselor told me I needed to talk a language in order to pursue the Paterno Fellow program. I thought to myself that after living in Italy for a few years it wouldn’t be that hard. My first day the professor spoke in nothing but Italian. I understood everything he said, as the students around me were starting to sweat bullets. I thought that I would never have to study. Sure enough that Friday we were to have our first grammatical review quiz. Of course I didn’t study.

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When the quiz came back I was shocked. How on earth could I have gotten a C? I was so embarrassed. Then I realized: I was implementing the dialect that I picked up without even thinking. Italy is notorious for the various forms of dialect, especially in the south. Napoletano, the dialect spoken in Naples, is more known to foreigners than the actual language. This is due to its popularity in many famous Italian songs.  In almost all mafia movies and the like Neapolitan is the preferred dialect. Unfortunately, for those who pick up on this, they are out of luck for grammatical purposes. The articles are almost always dropped for bare vowels, plurals are never correct (my errors on the quiz). However, I cannot understand all of it. It is a completely different language, and frowned upon by all other parts of Italy. In Rome, hotels will not admit people who speak with a southern dialect. When asked where I lived when I was up north, I would always say Rome. Saying I lived in Naples was an instant ticket to higher cab fees, no open hotel rooms, and downright poor service.

La Vera Pizza is a traditional pizzeria downtown in Pizza Plebiscito, in which there is always a group of men singing traditional Neapolitan music. Even though I do not understand all the words, its an opportunity that anyone visiting Naples should never miss. They come to each table and play a range of songs, which tends to draw crowds of people to listen to their music. I cannot blame them for picking up on the poor grammatical phrases; however, I am not ashamed to say I can speak their dialect. I just have learned to keep it out of the classroom.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Driving up North


Traveling up north from Naples, Italy to Germany to compete in our “championships,” we were fortunate enough to pass by all the countries and regions in between. Unfortunately, at the time a bus ride of twenty-two hours did not seem that appeasing; however, the stops we did take we used to explore our surroundings and experience different cultures.

Half the time we did not know where we were at our stops, for our coaches did not want to be bombarded with the infamous “are we there yet?” questions. So it was up to us to discover exactly where we were. I still remember getting up around seven in the morning at one of our mandatory gas station stops.  Still in a daze, I hastily made my way to the rest rooms. I was immediately taken aback. The walls were ceramic, the steps leading down to the bathroom was a scene taken from Cinderella on the palace steps, and the air smelled like morning dew. A little shocked, I continued to walk down into this so called restroom. Automatic doors swung open (after inserting fifty cents into a machine) and I entered a room of bathroom stalls and, attached, was a shower room. I was a bit scared I’ll admit.

After I came out, my friends were just as taken aback. We tried to look around and see where we were, but due to everything being in Euros, I had no idea. I walked up to a menu, and recognized the language as German. Were we in Germany? I walked up to the cashier, and asked (in my broken German) where we were. After scrutinizing me-probably to make sure I hadn’t been drinking to ask such a question- she responded, “Switzerland.”

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I was so excited. It all made sense. Switzerland is renowned for its cleanliness and beauty. Everywhere I looked there were signs of recycling and advertisements for hybrid cars. I was not about to pass up an opportunity to see as much as I could in the two hour break. Consequently, a group of us set out into a nearby town.

All the way into town, we saw mountains of all sizes with white caps surrounding us. It was a beautiful sight, and the air was so clean it actually made us choke at first (coming from Italy it was a drastic change). We saw a big sign upon the entrance of the town: Berner Oberland.  We came into a small village that had medieval looking remnants, and a big clock on what looked like a castle loomed over the entrance. The smell of pastries and bread filled our nostrils, and instantly we forgot about exploring and ran into the nearest bakery. I have to say the crème filled croissant that I purchased has had my mouth watering ever since.

Unfortunately we were forced to run back to our bus before we were stranded there (which I wouldn’t mind at all). I have every intention of returning and visiting those ski slopes that are famous all over Europe. The western part of Bernese Oberland houses the ski resort town of Gstaad, which goes on to the east for miles and miles; a skier’s dream!

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Homesick


Perhaps with the recent pile of homework and exams hitting me from left and right, I have become somewhat homesick. It's funny that when we are in high school, we would always say to our parents (especially in a heated argument) that we could not wait to go to college. Now that we are here, we can't wait to see familiar faces again. The grass is always greener on the other side, right?

Well Naples was no different for me. Going into the heart of Naples didn't really seem like an occasion at the time. Usually my friends and I would focus solely on the negative aspects, like the piling mounds of trash, or the strays running to and fro. Now in State College, I miss the chaotic hustle of that old city.

TMA portal
Amid the trash, there is beauty-literally. One of my favorite places is by the port at Castel dell’Ovo. At night it is beautiful to see the lights out on the water from all the ships and yachts, and it is especially amazing to watch the lights shining down from the medieval castle that juts out into the water. Dating back to Medieval times,

According to one of the most fanciful Neapolitan legends, the name of this castle derives from the egg (“uovo, “ in Italian) that the Latin poet Virgil hid within the  dungeons. The egg was protected because it was said to hold the castle’s protection from enemies.
The entrance to this castle is free, and very often it is used for special occasions like weddings and exhibitions. The DoDea school I attended actually had their graduation ceremony there a few years ago. That is, until it was deemed dangerous due to increased protection against terrorism. How amazing would it be to say you graduated in a Medieval castle?

There are also many restaurants that surround the castle. Last time I visited home for winter break, I ate with my senior friends down by the bay. Situated right under the castle, there is a cozy pizzeria where I could non resist but to order my favorite ‘Buffalina” pizza (pizza with only fresh mozzarella and tomatoes.” Even though most tourists order seafood, being right on the water, I have decided that the water is just a little too murky to order fish. Even though Naples is full of problems, to find bits of beauty like this castle make it all worth while.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Lake Constance


I am a beach girl at heart. However, it is not always possible to have the water at my finger tips. That is when I escape to the mountains and find a lake to dive into. The rolling landscape, the mild climate and a plethora of life contained within the Lake Constance in Germany immedietly took my breathe away when I visited my friend this past summer in the hot month of August.


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What seems like a never ending vastness of water, Lake Constance is the second largest lake in Central Europe. Not only serving as a breathtaking scene for tourists and citizens alike, it is the main source of drinking water for over four million people. As my friends and I decided to take a swim early one morning, we passed by numerous boats cruising by with onlooking tourists. What I did not realize at first was that the lake acts as a boundary crosser, which made it that much more enticing to delve into. On the Swiss, south-western side of the lake, you can literally swim up to the delightful old towns, as well as picturesque townships on the lower side of the lake, like Gottlieben. A famous river cruise starts off at Kreuzlingen, leads through the Untersee to Stein, and then continues along the Rhine to Schaffhausen. At the other end of the lake, boats cast off to connect to the Old Rhine river. Of course we did not swim this course, but took our canoe out later to travel most of the length of the river. Over forty miles long, we decided to travel the length of it over a two days span, waking up on the third day with tremendously sore arms.
An interesting fact that I did not know about this lake is that the water around the edge of is quite shallow and features some marshes which are home to approximately 250,000 different kinds of birds. Some merely nest there during their winter migration while others take up residence throughout the year. The birds feed on shellfish, plants, and some venture out into the middle of the lake to find larger fish. I was lucky enough to see the live action of what looked like a sparrow scooping up a fish double its size.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Carnival!


When we think of carnivals, we think of cotton candy stands, shows, and various other ride attractions. However, the carnivals, especially in Italy, are conducted in a much different matter. Instead of clowns and cotton candy, they wear masks and consider it as a holiday. The Carnival of Venice is an annual festival, held in northern Italy. The Carnival starts 58 days before Easter and ends on Shrove Tuesday, which is referred to as Fat Tuesday or Martedì Grasso-the day before Ash Wednesday.  The origins of this celebration can be compared to our version of the Forth of July. This celebration of “liberation” was from a victory of the "Repubblica della Serenissima", which was Venice's previous name. They were forced to fight against the Patriarch of Aquileia, Ulrico. After their victory, in honor of the heroes, the people started to create cheers and dances through reunions in San Marco Square. This reunion did not become official, though, until the Renaissance Period.  Today, approximately 3,000,000 visitors come to Venice each day for Carnivals. Venice is renowned for their beautiful masks even in the eastern hemisphere.
When I went to visit, I was taken aback at just how large and lively the celebration was. I came during one of the most important events. It was the contest for the best mask. This event, which occurs at the end of the carnival (which is a main reason I was so surprised they still were so lively). There was a crowd of lined couples walking down the streets, all in beautiful masks and gowns. A jury of international costume and fashion designers votes for "La Maschera piu bella", or the most beautiful masks.  It was like living in a Disney movie with all those dressed up people around me! Of course I wanted a mask. That is until I saw the prices. The average price for a handmade mask was around seventy dollars…needless to say I got one of the smaller scale masks.