The End of WWOOFing: my time in tudia

To say the least, WWOOFing has been one unforgettable experience after another. This farm is no different. It tops the cake with its eccentricity. So, where to begin?

After a very exhausting few days of traveling and then subsequently being stranded in Palermo, Amy, Chris, and I finally made it to Tudia, Sicily, where the farm is located. What did we find? Isolation. Pretty much nothing except some wild flowers, bushes and a stray dog or two. When you step out of the farm’s walls, you step into nowhere. We can see one other house from the farm and that’s it.

The farm is beautiful though. It is the biggest farm I’ve stayed at, with over 240 hectares of land. They grow mainly olives and wine grapes but they also have a small vegetable garden and fruit orchard. The agirturismo is a restored farm complex, complete with a massive courtyard, long corridors and multiple rooms. It seems like the building goes on forever. I could (and did) get easily lost in there. They have a swimming pool and outdoor bar for the guests and anyone else from the next town over who wants to take a swim.

There are about 8 other WWOOFers here with us, yet we don’t really do much, except hangout with each other. The Sicilian lifestyle is very different from the American lifestyle and even the lifestyle of northern Italy, which I’ve gotten used to over the past two months. Here, we call it a day after about two hours of work. The rest of the day is spent hanging out around the pool, sleeping, reading, or just relaxing. While at first this seemed like a fantastic break, and it was, I find that I miss work. Not only has UNC instilled a hyper-motivation gene in me since the day I set foot on campus, I also simply like the satisfaction of knowing I put in a hard day’s work, that I deserve my dinner, that I am truly exhausted when my head hits the pillow. Instead, we lounge around all day and do nothing. However, it seems a little harsh to be complaining about this. It could be much worse.

The owner of the farm may be the MOST eccentric person I have ever met, seriously. Sudir (or Vincenzo before he changed his name, I’ll get to that in a bit though) reminds me of a mix between Santa Claus, the king from Cinderella, and Shaggy from Scooby Doo. He is a 60-year-old child. He loves life and wants everyone to have fun, hence no work. He is also not really all there. He told us a little bit about his life, and I am partially amazed and partially terrified. He learned English from living in Hawaii growing marijuana. He spent two years on a commune in India, studying under this whacked out guru, who changed Vincenzo’s name to Sudir. His mother was a noble of Sicily, who owned almost half the island, and then Sudir lost most of the property by playing poker and the other parts he sold and gave the money to his Indian guru. He married an American woman simply to get a greencard. He has never met her and they are still married to this day, even though Sudir has another wife. To put in bluntly, he has lost his mind. At times, he just sits there and laughs at you, without ever saying why. He does have a quirky side, though. He loves to dance and play foosball. Surprisingly he is very good at both.

At the farm, Amy and I are constantly being exposed to new habits and customs, some are typical Sicilian, and others are just typical Sudir. We’ve meditated, done morning yoga, learned Sicilian card games (they even use a different deck), had our tarot cards read, cooked and cleaned for about 100 people, and witnessed a dog give birth. Unforgettable experiences. We’ve come to get used to being constantly surprised with what each day brings and we both agree that a year ago neither of us would have guessed we would be doing any of this.

Amy and I have befriended the bartender, Angelo, who works at the pool. Yesterday, for our day off (like we needed one anyway) he took us to Cefalu, which is a beautiful beach and city about 30 minutes away from the farm. It reminded me a lot of Greece, with rock cliffs leading right up to the ocean and water as blue as a sapphire. We walked along the cobblestone streets and found a great restaurant to have lunch. Amy tried her first Italian gelato! YUM! In Sicily, however, it is common to eat it in a brioche, almost like a really nice ice cream sandwich. I liked it, but I think I may stick with the traditional cup and spoon from now on.

When we got back to the farm, we found out that everyone was heading out to this large tomato festival in the next town over, so off we went. The festival was fun, like most of the other festivals I’ve been to in Italy. It was very small, very quaint, and everyone shows up. In a small side street, there was a man playing really loud music from his car, marketing it as an outside discotheque. Well, you don’t need to tell Sudir twice to start dancing. All ten of us (8 American and English WWOOFers, Sudir and his wife) started busting a move in this tiny little street in Sicily. We were obviously not from Italy and completely out of our comfort zones, but that made it all the more fun. We were the entertainment for all the locals and of course, a crowd started to gather to watch a bunch of white 20-year-olds attempt to dance. I find that I am the local entertainment a lot over here. We eventually got other Italians to join in and made a huge party on the street.

All in all it was a great day, and a great time in Sicily, full of adventure and spirit.

Palermo, a city of expectation with little follow through

Palermo is quite underwhelming. I heard such great things about this place, but I didn't really enjoy it. Compared to Bologna or Torino, Palermo is a cramped, dirty, smelly city with not a lot to look at. There are some landmarks and museums, but nothing that really stands out in my mind. I will therefore not bore you with the happenings of my day in the city.

However, I could be seeing this city with an extreme bias, since I am not supposed to be here in the first place. I am supposed to be in the Sicilian countryside with my best friend working on another farm. Instead I am stuck at a hostel because her plane was canceled and the next one comes in later tonight. Once again, a great expectation was let down. I was literally counting down the hours until I saw her. It was pretty much the only thing that kept me sane during the 24 hours of travel time getting to this city. Hopefully everything goes smoothly with her plane ride tonight and she will get to Palermo safely. For now, I can only hope and pray and make the best of this situation.

Gold? No. The streets of Torino are paved in chocolate

Travelling on the 15^th of August in Italy, well for lack of a better word, sucks. Everyone goes on vacation. Shops close down, people shut up their homes, and they all head south. On trains. Where am I trying to go on the 15^th of August, on a train no less? Why Sicily, of course, the most southern part of Italy. You can’t get much more south without scampering over Tunisia’s boarder. With all this competition, it becomes very hard to get your hands on a ticket, even with a Eurail pass. I took the bus into Torino, found my way to the train station, and arrived there in plenty of time for the 11:00 am train. What happened when I try to get my ticket? No dice. They were all sold out. They were all sold out for the 1:00 pm train as well, same for the 4:00 and the 6:00. The only train with seats open was at 9:00 at night.

Great.

I dropped my bags off at the left luggage office and headed to the info center to get a map. Maybe I can just waste 12 hours of my day at some café. Of course, there was a huge line at information. I’ve come to the realization that nothing is ever easy, but everything somehow works out. Waiting on line, a pamphlet caught my eye. The Streets of Chocolate. I need not look any farther. This 27-page booklet contained all the historical cafes, pasticcerias, confecterrias, and gelaterias that made Torino the chocolate capital of Europe. I therefore had a new quest: to seek out the best chocolate in Torino. I was definitely up for the challenge.

First stop: Confecterria Roma gia’ Talmone. I crossed the threshold of this shop, stepping out of the 21^st century hustle and bustle of the Torino traffic, and entered a 1920s café, complete with wood paneling, wait staff in ties and vests, and old fashioned cappuccino machines. I ordered their “famous” cappuccino and sat outside to do some people-watching, my new favorite pastime. While I was enjoying the relaxing and charming atmosphere, I was on a mission. There was no time for dillydallying.

Onto Caffe Mulassano. It’s located in a glass and marble covered pedestrian walkway, surrounded by art deco inspired décor. The sign for the shop was a dark wood with bronze inlayed letters. It was looking like this was to be a wonderful choice. There, I ordered a chocolate croissant from an adorable old man behind the counter. It came out toasted. Why? Well, Caffe Mulassano had the first toaster in Italy. Brought over in 1925, they made the first Italian hot paninis. Didn’t know you were going to get a history lesson when you signed on to this blog, did you? However, the whole toasted bit didn’t really live up to my expectations. On the bright side, what it lacked in taste, Mulassano made up in style. A little hole in the wall, the shop had about 4 tables made of marble and cast iron, mirrored walls behind the counter, carved wood paneling, and a hammered tin ceiling. It is times like these that I wish I had Jane Austin or The Great Gastby under my arm.

Next stop: Gelateria Pepino. Since it was about 10:00 in the morning, I wasn’t really feeling gelato. I ordered biscotti and rested my feet. (Before this stop, I walked about a mile out of the way to check out a confetteria called Baratti and Milano. Unfortunately it was closed until the end of August. Holidays are taken very seriously in Italy) The biscotti was fine, but I wanted to really taste Torino. I wanted to discover it’s local favorites that put Torino on the map. Have no fear; this quest is far from over.

After a small detour of sitting under an overhang for about 30 minutes because torrential downpours, I made it to Caffe Al Bicerin. This is what I was looking for. Bicerin is a type of hot coffee, mixed with chocolate and topped with whipped cream. The drink is served in a traditional bicerin glass, which is clear so you can see the layers of drink. As the name suggests, this caffe is where bicerin was invented. It was a little pricey, but worth it. The 5-euro drink warmed me up and gave me a much needed caffeine boost. The mocha flavoring was nothing like a tall mocha latte at Starbucks. The dark chocolate Caffe Al Bicerin uses gives this drink a bite. At the caffe, I met a couple of really nice French university students and a hysterical waitress, but that’s a different post.

I walked down some original Roman roads, built under Augustus (um, this is quickly becoming the best day of my trip) to find the Mecca of chocolate: Pasticceria Caffetteria Tamborini. This is where I found Gianduiotto, a soft hazelnut-chocolate candy molded into wedge shapes that resemble cigarette buds, hence the name. Gianduiotto comes from the word givo, cigarette bud, in Italian. Here’s some history of Gianduiotto: When the Piemont region was conquered by Napoleon, cocoa powder was hard to come by, so Torino chefs ground up toasted hazelnuts to supplement the depleted supply of cocoa powder, thus creating an entirely new flavor that became extremely popular. What sprung from necessity has turned into a vogue delicacy that has been a popular staple ever since. Tamborini lived up to the hype. I got two bags full, enough to last me, well, the train ride to Sicily.

My last stop before heading back to the train station was Pasticceria Peyrano Pfatisch. Apparently it is one of the most famous pastry shops in all of Torino. I got an assortment of chocolates: pralines, walnut-chocolate, some other chocolate filled with something delicious, and another chocolate I could not pronounce but looked delectable.

I walked pretty much all of Torino, back roads and main streets, cobble stone and pavement. I put to use the Italian I’ve learned and discovered tasty bits of history along the way. With the day’s mission accomplished, I was a very satisfied passenger on the 8-hour night train to Rome, then the 14-hour day train from Rome to Palermo. 22 hours of riding in a cramped train was not what I wanted to be doing. At least I had chocolate!

The Power of Italian Gender Roles

While in Italy, I have noticed set gender roles that reoccur at every farm I've gone to. Though not necessarily forced, males and females have very distinct, very seperate roles in society: the men work out in the fields and the women stay in the house. Period. During siesta times, I sometimes head down to the town square to mail postcards or grab some coffee. I only see men. The women I encounter are the rare ones working at the cafes or magazine shops. Commercials are the best representation of this. Women get the choice between two schemas: they can be pregnant, in the kitchen, cooking, and doing laundry; or, they can be on the beach, clad only in a bikini selling something like cellphones (note: the cellphone is only shown in the last 5 seconds of the commercial. For the entire time leading up to that, I had no idea what they were trying to sell.) These are the options for Italian women? Prudent housewife or sex-machine?

Luckily, throughout my experience WWOOFing, I never really had to deal with these set gender roles. I was accepted as a strong, young, capable individual, who could manage pretty much any task on the farm: weeding, hauling, feeding animals, you name it. Because I am in Italy specifically for farming, a typical job for men, I was never put into these stereotypical situations of a female housewife, until yesterday evening.

Bruno and Milena went to the mountains for the night so that Simone, the oldest son who has been spending the past month out there on a donkey trek, could have the night off. He came home around 8:30 and, as per Milena's instructions, I was expected to have dinner on the table waiting for him. Well, if anyone really knows me, they should know two things: I like to cook but I hate gender stereotypes. So, I didn't mind cooking dinner for Simone. It was actually a nice break from the hard labor I was doing all day. However, I was very frustrated with the expectations of an "Italian Housewife." After dinner, I was expected to clean up the dishes and make coffee, even though I think drinking espresso at 10:00 at night is a little absurd. After every thing was back in its place, the plates were dried, the leftovers in the fridge, I naively expected some sort of thank you from Simone before we retired to our seperate rooms. Nothing.

I am used to the independence, but more so the respect American women have in their own homes and the workplaces. It takes time to adjust to this different way of life. While the jobs are seperate, I am still unsure whether they are equal. Bruno and Milena both put in their fair share of hard work and everything gets done. I just wonder if this is how Milena wants to live her life. Is she happy with the expectations put upon her by her sons and husband? I've never heard her complain, but is that because she is used to it or just doesn't know anything different, or maybe she actually enjoys it.

New skills, some obvious, a few unconventional

I've been abroad for about two months now and I've developed some unique skills. Some I could have guessed, but others I would not have predicted to obtain when I left the states. Here's the list:

Manual labor with my left hand
Chucking things
Hand washing clothes in various sinks
Navigating my way through Italian train stations and cities
Making myself look busy
Hurling bales of hay
Eating things I don't like
Understanding conversations in Italian
Standing with purpose
Holding my breath for long periods of time (i.e. when mucking out a chicken coop)
Falling asleep anywhere for any amount of time
Pruning tomato plants
Making playlists on my iPod to fit my mood/activity
Saying goodbye to people, I've had to do it a lot.