17 Oct, Day 65, The neighbors

I’m so far behind on the blog that I’m starting to forget what I wanted to say in the backlogged entries. I think I may have to change the model, and just write entries when I feel like writing instead of trying to write about everything.

In response to my sedentary lifestyle during the workweek, I’ve decided that I’m going to exercise at least twice a week. I started off with a free-be at the Palestra (fitness club) in my building. I would describe it as carino (cute) in comparison to a Ballys or LA Fitness. -Although I don’t think that the trainer was very pleased when I called his gym cute. Friday I went to OneFit, which I would describe as an adequate gym with a rather superfluous spa area which includes showers with perfumed water, a tanning oven, tea-drinking lounge, and a complete spectrum of other feminine treatments that I’m not interested in. Yesterday I went to Freesport. The first thing I noticed upon walking in was a distinct smell of gym-sweat. Gym sweat is a different thing from the stinky-people-that-don’t-bathe-enough sweat. I just read somewhere that it contains a steroid andrstenol, but it quickly breaks down into a hormone that people find more offensive after aerosolizing. But I don’t think that’s relevant to this discussion.

I greeted Marco, the receptionist, and explained that I’m looking for a gym for the next 5 months. He introduced me to another trainer, also named Marco. It seems to me that Marco is the most popular name amongst the Italians I deal with. There’s at lest 3 at work (excluding myself), now 2 at the gym. Anyway…

This is why I’m behind in the blog. I’ve written half a page and have yet to write anything I was meaning to write. Maybe this is the first sign of a changing mindset corresponding to my slackened activity level since moving here. –But the “changing mindset” debate is an entirely different topic from my agenda tonight.

2 weeks ago my neighbor gave me some dessert while I was sitting out on the balcony talking on the phone. Last weekend I went to Torino with Vicente, where I enjoyed strolling the wide boulevards of the city, saw a replica of the Shroud of Turin, and the box where they keep the real thing, had an awesome coffee, and bought some chocolate. I ate most of it on the Alta-Velocita train on the way back, but saved a few pieces for later. I decided it would be a nice gesture to offer the 3 remaining pieces to my neighbor as reciprocation for the homemade treats she gave me a week ago.

They didn’t open the door when I knocked on Sunday afternoon, and I was occupied Sunday evening at the Gamescapes digital art exposition, and then an aperitivo with Umberto and the Genova crew. Monza is hosting all sorts of weird video game history stuff in preparation of the World Cyber games later this week, but this exhibit was a joke. I was hoping for some surreal scenery like that which you might find on digitalblasphemy.com, or at least the quality of graphics you might find on a well-made PS2 game, but this was really a waste of time. Then we strolled around town for a bit, contemplated the window shoppers, ate some focaccia, had a look in the duomo and roman bridge ruins before deciding that it was time to move on. We went for the aperitivo at a bar called “Loft” which advertises itself as an American bar. I would hardly agree because American bars don’t do aperitivos. But we had a good time that digressed into an interesting discussion about childhood cartoons and eventually morphed into a short debate on if the Smurfs were a communist society

But upon my return from the gym yesterday I saw the neighbors outside and decided to offer them the remaining 3 chocolates. I don’t think you can give an Italian grandmother food without getting more in return. So I was invited in for some coffee and was instructed how to make the Tartufi di Castagne that I’d tried the week before. You start with 20 castagne lise fessate il sitoccio (boiled chestnuts chopped), add 50 gm zucchero, 100gm mandorle, 1 noce di burro, latte grenella di ciocolato de cacao amaro. (Add sugar, almond, butter, and bitter chocolate on top.) While we were working out the details of the recipe, I was tried some homemade cherry jam, pickled eggplant, and a strange fruit I think they call cachi, oregano, and canionlino (maybe bayleaf?). They remind me a bit of grandma and grandpa, and even have a grandchild about my age. With a little luck, I may be able to get a few cooking lessons from them when the return from Prague. But in the mean time I have to think of something to give in return for all this food I took home with me.


Some pictures of Torino from the weekend before