Wednesday, August 5, 2009

italia, day 7


Racommendata di giovanni nel Instituto: per colazione, Forno di Italo Didovich in Campo San Marino: buon espresso e buonissimo dolci Veneziana.

Photographed Venice before the tourists came. Garbage collectors, construction people, delivery boys, etc.: the real people behind the glamour.

Had to buy Italian shoes, no? Ho comprato Superga -- in rosso. Yey.

Checked out a lot of places where tourists don't go. More pics for album. Checked out a Taiwan exhibit for the Biennale, an exhibit of comic superheroes as Buddhist gods. Clever but boring.

Where in blazes does one find a bubble envelope? (Finally found one though. Must mail maille to Diego.)

Discovered Libreria Acqua Alta, which describes itself as "the most beautiful bookshop in the world." Which it probably is. Imagine a real gondola filled with books, and, in another room, a bathtub filled with comics. And a back door that leads out to a canal. And a bed and breakfast. Calle Longa S.M. Formosa 5176, Castello. Owner is Frizzo Luigi, a most charming Venetian.

Finally found Cip Ciap (La Bottega della Pizza). And yes, Let's Go Italy, the pizza was awesome. Had the cinque formaggi -- formidable. Tip: this place is easy to miss as they have no sign. Go towards the Ponte di Mondo Novo but do not cross the bridge: the pizzeria is on your right.

Home for siesta. Yey.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

day 6, continued


What the f's with Venice in summer? You have to pay at least 2 euros to get inside the church, which is why "Posso entrare solo per preghare?" is now my favorite line. Preghare my foot. Thing is, you can't even photograph anything anymore -- they want to make sure you spend every euro on their kitsch postcards and souvenirs. 

Walked miles and miles trying to recall where my favorite restaurant is. Turns out all I had to do was ask. Al Nonno Risorto (Santa Croce, near Campo San Cassiano) has the best spaghetti al seppia di nero, and with the house prosecco it's divine. Soon as I got in, the place got packed (not because of me) -- they actually had to add more tables in the garden.

Checked out where to go to see Biennale art tomorrow. Took lots of pics for an album I will call "Venezia senza i turisti." Wishful thinking.

The freaking espesso vending machine in the monastery ate my euro. Damn. 11 PM curfew. Double damn.


italia, days 5 and 6


Rain all day! Nicer, cooler weather though. F's mom again cooked up a storm, gnocchi and stewed chicken and lamb and veggies, plus her home-made biscotti and cherry wine. Later this evening we head out to Ancona to look for amaro tartuffo (no luck) but find incredibly cheap brunello to take to Umberto and Gemma's home for dinner. Stopped by the duomo, got chased by the rain into the nearby bar, where I had my second Americano in Italy (campari, vermouth, orange -- getting a strong liking to this aperitif). Later at U and G's house, Gemma filled us up with her signature spaghetti a la scampi, plus mussels and seafood kebabs, followed by the Sicilian cake we bought at Tavernelle (kind of like a humongous canolli) and G's apple strudel. Came back after midnight to pack for this morning's train ride to Venice.

Am now at Instituto Giuseppe, a monastery right in the heart of San Marco, awesome palazzo with supercomfortable rooms and, blessed be, wi fi. Had quick lunch of prepared sandwiches bought at the supermercati (too lazy and spoiled now to even think of lunch...). Gotta take a quick nap before I explore my favorite city. More later.

Monday, August 3, 2009

italia, day 4


At Mezzavalle all day, swimming and getting sunburned; Fausto's mamma baked about a dozen kinds of pizza for everyone, and we had dinner with the entire family (babbo, zio, zie, and various friends, including Luglio, who brought a bottle of his own artisanal wine), followed by 3 kinds of liquers -- limoncello, cream limoncello and "applecello"; jazz concert at Offagna (town was interesting, concert was not), met up with Ubaldo and Betti, then packed off the kids to the stazione where we checked skeds for the next leg of their tour (Firenze); brought the kids back to Betti's parents' gorgeous house by the Pasetto; then with the kids gone, Gina, Ken, Ubaldo, Betti and myself hunted around Ancona for a place open after 1 AM (Lazaretto Bar, by the pier); had an Americano (vermouth, campari, soda). So far, learned 3 words for "drunk": ubriacco, mbriago, chucca.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

italia, day 3


Fausto's mamma cooked us lunch, which was possibly the best meal we've had so far. Penne with broiled cherry tomatoes for primi; stewed mussels, bruschetta and pickled sardines for secondi; and year-old cherry wine and melon for dessert.

Over lunch, had an interesting conversation (entirely in Italian) with Fausto's babbo and zio on the pros and cons of organic insecticide on the farm, and how it attracted new species of pests and increased resistance of the older ones. And on how to make cherry wine, preserve cherries, the normal number of siblings in Italy, the "gift economy" between neighbors (they give them fruit and vegetables, the neighbors give them tons of fish), and so many other topics I don't remember bow after all the vino.

Afternoon in Osimo: exploring the underground caves, the "Vestu Auximon."

Picked up Stazie and her pals at the station in Ancona; dinner at La Forte, where we waited for over an hour (this is, after all, Saturday in Ancona) and finally had our pasta (mine was Taggliatette Mare Bianco).

Saturday, August 1, 2009

on cory aquino


Cory Aquino was the most revered and most maligned leader in Philippine history. All through her presidency, Filipinos kept the infantile belief that she – one person alone – could bring the country back to normalcy. Right after the “people power” revolution, we wanted to get back to our normal, post-Marcos lives, while we expected her to keep house, make peace with all the warring factions, bring the economy up to speed, “make us proud again,” etc., in other words, to create a heaven out of our hell. When that didn’t happen overnight, the far left and the far right took advantage of the situation to say I told you so. To this day, they blame her, and her alone, for not having solved the country’s problems. Which, as we can all see, has always been their way of diverting attention from their own romantic visions of revolution. The left, with its hopelessly idiotic (and paranoid) leadership, has devoured itself, while clinging to its naïve hope of replicating a petrified ideology within a social and cultural landscape so unfit for it. The right, dazed by their idealistic notion that they can re-create a better, improved banana-republic dictatorship, continued to rumble against a social structure so unwilling to try another Marcos-style military democracy. And in the center is the country’s pervasive corruption and moral decadence, where no system, no matter how efficiently conceptualized, can survive.

Cory Aquino misunderstood all this – she herself just wanted to get back to normalcy, i.e. bring things back to where they were before the Marcoses looted the country – just as we all misunderstood her. She was no politician, thank goodness. She was, possibly, a yurodivyi in the Dostoevsky sense, until we told her to be smart, and she tried. For despite her stubbornness, she was a political blank slate. Every faction knew this and wrote its own self-serving agenda on her. When she began speaking on behalf of one or the other, we blamed it on her, not on the people who were using and re-creating her.

We wanted Cory Aquino to be strong so we could remain passive. We wanted her to save us so we could refuse to save ourselves. She was there so we could continue the infantile neurosis that has always sustained the Philippines’ need for a “guiding” power – God or a dictator, choose your daddy – and has always justified its corruption and poverty. She was, as so many predicted during the heyday of the people power revolution, our Joan of Arc. We knew we would burn her for allowing us to corrupt the vision we wanted her to sustain. We forgot so soon that she had achieved what no man in our supremely machismo-obsessed country had done – to get rid of the Marcoses. For that alone, we should be grateful. If the Philippines never rose from the “long nightmare” after she took over the presidency, we have no one to blame but ourselves.

italia, day 3


Walking around Ancona; a taste to caffe il nonno at Rosa (sort of like a coffee milk shake); lunch at Il Vigolo, the city's best kept secret (only local stevedores come for the incredibly cheap and hearty 3-course lunch, with 2-euro-carafes of wine); shopping at all the saldi; a little swim at Pasetto, underneath the Mussolini monument and the poetry graffiti; a quick zip down to the stazione for my Venice tix; a short stop for a shower at home and then dinner at Il Belvedere overlooking the town and coastline of Sirolo, where we had grillata misto, pickled garlic and anchovy-stuffed peppers, Rosso Conero, and cherry wine with biscotti and tiramisu. What a life.