This Concludes Part One

Sunday was market day. Similar to the farmers market in Austin, all of the local vendors come out selling whatever produce they may have. In addition, there are a large amount of clothing, shoes and textile stands open with various booths of various quality. This is my first trip to Sunday market and it is a welcome change to the more routine lifestyle I have had so far. Rogliano is a beautiful village with so much to offer, and the Sunday. Market brings out the best of it's character.  
On Tuesday, there is a rare treat from my perspective. The weather is supposed to be amazing on the coast in Falerna, 27 degrees C or about 88 degrees F. So, off to the beach we go with Maria, Keith and her sister Angela and her husband Michael. After a 40 minute drive thorough canyons and changing hillsides, we finally arrive at the sea. Not the ocean. Not the water. The sea. It is referred to as such the entire rest of the day, which eventually I get used to and start using myself.  
The Mediterranean Sea, my first visit, is much different than what I expected. First of all, where we have set up camp we are one of ten people for as far as the eye can see in either direction. Second, the sand isn't a tan-ish color like you see on most US shores, this much more of a grey. Thirdly, there is about a four to five foot drop off after you get in the water barely half way up the shins. This explains the single set of waves that come in with a more forceful nature than you would be used to going to the Atlantic or the Gulf. Also, the bottom is made of stones, so as you are entering or exiting, your footing is relying on these stones staying in one place which, with the current, is not very likely. Getting in was much easier than getting out. But one nice thing is that the salt content is higher making you very buoyant. I had forgotten that fact until I began floating without so much as a kick or two. 
After a good twenty or thirty minutes of being a water bug, swimming all around in a quiet sea with no one else in the water other than myself, it was time to get out. Everything is about the timing. Getting past the three or four foot step up was about making sure a wave is coming in to carry you up, not crashing and therefore forcing you down. After about three tries and escaping multiple embarrassing face plants in the sea, I finally get it. Four dips in the Med in total through out the day and I was a happy camper. Also, unlike being on the gulf coast a month ago where i got burnt to a crisp on the front side, I remembered two important things. One, sunscreen. Two, flip over onto your stomach. Thanks to these two things, I sat all day in the hot Italian sun had a very nice tan to show for it. Maria and Keith commented on it as if they were proud to get me away from my desk and out into the real world with the real sun. 
With Wednesday comes rain. And a lot of it. There is only one thing to do when it's rainy in this household and that is cook. So, on with the cooking Maria and I go. It's skinning tomatoes to make passata for lasagna sometime later, making eggplant and beef meatballs, pesto, tomato soup, all sorts of things. We spend the morning in the kitchen and then set off in the afternoon to make house calls. 
My ability to drive the car is a big help to both Maria and Keith. Recently Maria has injured her back and walking to town, 25 minutes, isn't going to happen. And Keith would much prefer it if someone else could take maria to town so he could stay home. That someone is me. And I love to drive, especially in Italy. So Maria and I set off to give huge bags of tomatoes and jars of tomato soup to friends and family throughout the day. Each bag contains about 20 or so tomatoes and two pints, at least, of homemade tomato soup for each person. She has so much excess that she is giving it away to anyone she knows. We have a café and dolce at one house, then a tour of a backyard garden at another, then a look at a newly installed kitchen in the lest. This last stop with the new kitchen is very excited to  have finally gotten gas hooked up to their stove, so they have the thing everyone is doing this time of year, cooking chestnuts. Maybe some of you have had cooked chestnuts, but when Maria said I should try some, I refused because I was already stuffed from the dessert (dolce) we had earlier. Then she told me how to eat them, to crack them in half with my teeth (they are soft and still steaming hot at this point) and then scrape the innards out with my teeth - tasting just like mashed potatoes. Now, I was completely uninterested with everything until she said mashed potatoes. A nut? Like mashed potatoes? Ok, I have to try this. And yes, there it was, a nut, just like mashed potatoes. Add garlic and I could eat these all day (although I have learned that finding perfect chestnuts is not as easy as it sounds, as I've been picking and inspecting the fallen fruit from Keith and Maria's own trees). 
Then there is the search for limes. I have volunteered to make a Tex Mex meal for them, fish tacos. This is, of course, before I realize that getting access to cilantro ("What is that?", they asked) and lime (used only for cocktails) is not going to happen. Despite going to five different grocers, Maria and I can not find a single lime in all of Calbria. In the end, when I do make fish tacos with lemon, the difference is hardly noticeable. Although iIwill say, that if you are ever in Italy make your own tortillas, for the love of god. I don't know what they serve here but it's really floury and really thick and they crumble as soon as you touch them. Not recommended.  
On Thursday comes one of my favorite nights so far because we are yet again having dinner with all of Maria's family, except this time I know not to be foiled with too much wine or food so I can completely enjoy the night. There are at least four conversations going on in Italian between the people seated around me. Each is talking of something different, but each is talking emphatically with their hand gestures or facial expressions making it a little bit easier to decipher what is being said. As the night goes on, nieces and nephews show up, swelling our number to fifteen. In an organic way, the women end up at one end and the men at the other. The women are talking about a current news story and the men are discussing hunting, wild boar season has just opened. And despite Chico and Maria's brother's best attempts at keeping my wine glass full, I survive unscathed and sober.
For my last day in Rogliano, I spend some of it in the garden weeding, but most of it in the kitchen with Maria, helping her do a bit of fall cleaning. I also volunteered to make a funny cake for Keith. For those of you that don't know what that is, it's a Pennsylvania Dutch breakfast cake that I fell in love with when I was really young. My Mom always makes a point to have one in the house when I come home because she knows how much I enjoy it. Not that either one of us had ever actually made one ourselves. We just know that it's yummy and is called 'funny' because despite there being a layer of chocolate on the bottom of the cake, during cooking the cake, you pour the chocolate over the batter and when it bakes, it seeps down through to the bottom through the cake layer. Again, I've never made one before, but I'm going to start right now. And, to be honest, I did a pretty good job. Maria helped by making the crust my hand, which is actually quite easy (at least she ales it look easy). For dinner, Maria makes chicken parmesan for my last meal and after eating Keith goes off to watch the Italy/Ireland soccer match, a very big deal. Maria and I sit and talk more, as usual, and she plays me some of her nephew's band's music. They are actually huge in Italy and she is incredibly proud of what they have accomplished. She shows me the accompanying style of dance, Tarantella (not a couples dance, thankfully), and there we are, in the kitchen, dancing. She asks me to show her something I have mentioned to her in the past - a little thing called two stepping. Now, I can't two step to save my life, and it shows when I try to explain it to her. Best to just pull up YouTube and go that route. Then, it's back to dancing Tarantella to the band Zona Briganti. Look it up sometime.
In the morning we set off for the airport, I am flying up to Bologna for my next host stay. I take with me recipes for fritters, meringues, tomato soup, meatballs with eggplant and beef and a basic pie crust. I've also gotten a present from the cantina owner - a liter bottle of his homemade wine. Don't get excited though, it doesn't travel well so I'll be drinking it next week, sorry. And thankfully, I take with me new friends. Keith and Maria have been a joy to stay with and they invited me back any time as their guest, not as a helper. Hopefully one day I'll return, but right now, I've got a plane to catch.