There’s a little shop across the street (and by ‘across the street’ I mean it’s maybe 6 feet away from the apartment) This shop sells “Freelers” brand chips and “Taste Me Up!” is their slogan, although it sounds more like a snazzy pop tune by some boy-band to me.

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Several people have emailed and asked, “Are you fluent in Italian yet?” To which I think, “Mamma mia! Aspetta un’attimo!” Actually, I think, “Thanks for your confidence in me, but I wish!” (As an aside, they really do say “mamma mia” over here - a lot!)

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When I’m in a new place, I search for the oldest tree nearby. I like to think of all the days and nights that particular tree has stood in that same exact place, through droughts and storms, hot and cold, all the changes it’s seen, and how its life cycle is so much longer than mine. I marvel at what it must be like to live on such a different rhythm.

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The first few days here passed in a blur of jet lag. I kept falling asleep while writing in my journal, which made for some surreal entries: “I thought we were zucchini, but have slept in milk.” What’s that all about? Plus, the flight made me retain water, so that every time I looked down it was startling, as though I’d put on someone else’s feet that morning.

Angelo and I napped in turns on the couch, listening to American shows dubbed in Italian. Oddly enough, dubbing actually enhances the quality of some shows. We both thought, for instance, that “Charmed” was vastly improved by the Italian voice actors. Other shows, shows that I actually watch in America, seemed strange with the dubbing. The voices for “Gilmore Girls” (which goes by “Un’Amica per Madre” or rather, “A Mother for a Friend”) were just plain wrong.

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First impressions of Napoli:

It was windy the day we arrived and all the laundry fluttering from balconies seemed like colorful banners welcoming us to town. Dryers are not common here, so everyone hangs their clothes outside. When it rains, they simply cover their laundry with tarps because showers are usually brief.

Napoli has a reputation for crazy city driving. The concept of proceeding one at a time is unknown here. Cars clot at intersections as drivers ignore designated lanes. Mopeds weave in between to fill up any remaining space. Right angles are such a rarity that how people determine who has right of way is a mystery. Then, the moment the light turns green, everyone starts honking, even if they are 8 cars back - perhaps as a courtesy for any narcoleptics who may be behind the wheel. Read more »