Ciao, Venice!

5 people sat around a table meant for 4 one week ago yesterday.  Amongst these 5 people, 3 different countries were represented and 5 different birth years, ranging from 1978-1986.  The oven clock blinked 22:50 as they all sat down to enjoy their meal.  Practically every inch of the wooden, oval table was hidden by a plate, serving dish or a bottle of Coca-Cola.  Bowls of lettuce, tomatoes, caramelized onions, shredded cheese, kidney beans and taco meat were systematically arranged, each in his very own spot.  3 sets of dark brown eyes looked on as the North Americans selected their tortillas and began to fill them with precise spoonfuls of each ingredient.  Once everyone understood how the process worked it didn’t take long before the “ting, ting, ting” sound of a spoon signaled an empty serving bowl.  My 2 spanish roommates and 1 spanish friend had never experienced a make-your-own taco bar before.  On this night, my dark featured friends would experience not one but two new north american favorites.

Feliz Cumpleanos, Marta!!!

An oversized monster cookie was brought out for dessert, complete with M&Ms in the shape of a heart.  The cookie was cut up into pie slices and served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.  As the cookie quickly disappeared, so did the icecream.  Sizing up my glass of coke, Sarah said to me “Leslie, why don’t you make a coke float with the rest of the ice cream.” I had never actually had a coke float, since I always make them with root beer, but I figured it would turn out nicely just the same.  I scooped up the last remains of the ice cream and dropped them into my glass, all the while completely oblivious to the facial expressions sitting across from me.  After savoring a sweet spoonful of my coke float, I looked up and realized that I was being watched very closely.  Sarah Castrillo and Marta Cobian looked back and forth from Sarah Crooks to me and back again.  Almost simultaneously they both exclaimed in exasperated tones, “Es una broma, no? Es una broma!”  Both girls were sure that the two North Americans were taking them for a ride and playing some type of broma (joke) on them.  After Sarah and I gave our most sincere explanations, the cup was passed around the table so that each girl had a chance to taste her first coke float.  I tried to explain that root beer was a more common beverage of choice to pair with ice cream, but of course they had no concept of what root beer tasted like.  All three girls seemed to think that the mixture tasted alright, but I believe Marta’s exact words were, “This is why america is so fat.  They mix ice cream with everything!”

I honestly don’t think that cultural differences will ever cease to provide me with hours of precious entertainment.  The practice schedule of this past week was a bit different than usual because we had a buy this past weekend.  So, Charly decided to conduct practice from Monday until Wednesday and then proceeded to give us Thursday until Monday night at 7pm, off.  Charly had told Sarah and I about this little break a few weeks back, so both of us had already planned our trips.  At first we had thought about going to Paris, but then Sarah said that she really wanted to see Rome.  Well, since I had been to Rome just last year I started to think about other travel destinations.  I knew that at some point this year I wanted to go back to Switzerland and after talking it over with Cinthia and Lucas I decided that now was as good a time as any.  

I felt very much at home as I strolled through the familiar Malpensa, airport in Italy.  It was 9:45am and I had one hour to kill before my bus left for Chiasso, Switzerland.  The strong aroma of Italian coffee floated towards me as I sat outside the easyjet terminal, inviting me to come in and indulge in its richness.  Thick foam and one packet of sugar later, I sat contentedly in the cafe listening to the sing song sound of the Italians around me.  Every stereotype you have ever heard about Italians and how they talk is true, 100%.  From their intonation, to the speed in which they speak, to the loudness of their speech and right down to the hand gestures that fit their prose perfectly like a Rawlings Gold Glove.  One hour passed quickly and I dragged myself out of the cafe’s gravitational pull, boarded the shuttle bus and cursed my phone for playing tricks on me.  

I told Cinthia that I would be arriving at the Chiasso train station at 11am and that I would call her when I was on my way.  However, little did I know that my spanish phone requires that I type in a pin number whenever I turn it back on and since this was the first time that I had turned my phone off I had absolutely no idea what my pin number was.  I was also running 30 minutes late since I had just missed the previous bus to Chiasso by 10 minutes.  The bus rolled to a stop in Chiasso about 10 seconds after crossing the border.  I got off the bus and before looking for Cinthia took a moment to relish in my surroundings.  My big, colorful and inviting friends, the Swiss Alps, sprawled out all around me, waiting faithfully for my return.  Cinthia was not at the bus stop, as I had assumed she wouldn’t be since I was 30 minutes late.  So I started walking to the train station hoping that I might see her on my way, at the same time desperately hoping that I wouldn’t run into anyone else I might know since my arrival was a secret that only 2 people knew, Cinthia and Lucas.  I rounded the corner to the Train Station and at the exact time just 70 meters or so ahead of me, Cinthia rounded her corner as well.  The joy that bubbled up inside of me upon seeing her remained with me during the 4 days and is still sticking willfully to my insides now.  Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I would, some day, be taking multiple trips to Switzerland.  

The next 4 days were full of everything that is beautiful, precious, priceless and pure.  The first stop on our list was home to Caneggio for lunch with my favorite Swiss Grandma, Rosilde.  The drive to Caneggio alone, brought tears to my eyes.  The mountains are covered in the bold colors of fall, looking like a warm, soft, flowing quilt that my grandma would make.  The surprise arrival to Rosilde’s house wasn’t exactly what I had imagined.  I walked in the door and found her talking in dialect on the phone.  She took one glance at me and continued right along with her conversation, all physiological responses performing at the same even rate.  Once she was done talking, she looked at me a bit more closely and after a few speedy sentences from Cinthia the recognition appeared on her soft face.  She pushed herself up from the couch, held my face between her weathered hands and kissed me 3 times, just like I knew she would.  The table was set and ready but we were still waiting for two more unsuspecting guests so I ran upstairs to drop off my bags.  I reentered the dining room and gazed at the woman who was sitting nonchalantly on the coach reading the morning newspaper.  “Ciao” I said and upon hearing an unsuspecting voice her head turned and stared at me in a look of utter confusion and elation.  Onorina was speechless;) 

After a wonderfully delicious lunch of pizzoccheri, I accompanied Cinthia to her school where she teaches physical education.  This was the first time that I had been to this particular school and boy oh boy was it stunning.  Carved right into the mountain side, surrounded by trees and mountain mist is the place in which this school calls home.  There are no noisy trucks, cars or passerby's, only the serene sound of mother earth mixed in with the laughs and shouts of children playing soccer during their recess.  After school I went with Onorina to surprise her daughter, Anja.  From there I went with Cinthia to her cousin’s house, Lisa Mazzocchi, who is also my former teammate.  Witnessing first hand the look of someone who is thoroughly shocked and surprised is one of life’s little pleasures.  The next stop was Cinthia’s mom’s house.  We arrived at the house before Liliana did, so when I heard her coming up the front steps I went to welcome her into her own home.  “Ciao” I said once again and Liliana stopped dead in her tracks, looking at me as if I was an illusion and after 5 long seconds or so of numbness she let out a long and excited, “ciiiiaaaaaaooooo!”

The next day was spent enjoying another wonderful meal, homemade gnocchi with Rosilde, then a bike ride with Onorina and Lucas, followed by hot tea, watching Riva practice and diner at Picolo Mondo, the same restaurant where I sat with Cinthia and her family for Easter lunch last April.  Cinthia and I watched practice from a balcony where several player’s let their eyes drift up towards us, many of them taking double takes not believing what they were seeing.  Dinner was divine but what was even more incredible was the company in which I was sharing it with.  Sitting to my left was a girl that I had formerly met during the summer of 2006 when I had the opportunity to play on the Big Ten Foreign Tour Team.  Her name is Megan Skouby, she played for the University of Iowa and now she is playing for Riva! Having the opportunity to catch up with her and compare stories about playing in Europe was quite entertaining.  Cinthia and I headed home after dinner since the next morning was about to arrive rather quickly.

Cinthia, Lucas and I were out the door, in the car and heading to Venice by 7:15 on Saturday morning.  Three hours later we were parking the car, buying a map and crossing a bridge leading us onto the “Queen of the Adriatic.” The New York Times described Venice as “undoubtedly the most beautiful city built by man.”  I haven’t seen every city in the world, but Venice was not one 1/100th short of charming, stunning, alluring, elegant or any other synonym for beautiful.  We spent the next 6 hours or so, gently finding our way through the many archaic streets that make up the floating foundation of Venice.  I panned my video camera across everything while Cinthia and Lucas were in-charge of taking pictures.  We window shopped and marveled at the baroque venetian masks that filled many a shop, as well as exquisite pieces of glass art and posh clothing.  I watched with amusement as Gondolas skimmed across the water being propelled by Gondoliers wearing red and white striped shirts and wide brimmed black hats tied with red ribbons.  One gondolier floated by with his leg propped up on the side of the boat singing in a wonderfully rich baritone voice, a song that I imagined was tender, old, love song. 

Venice!

Preparing the boats.

Taking some time for R and R

Gelato;)

Colorful, Venice.

We stopped in at a quaint restaurant full of character and warmth for lunch.  I scrolled down the options for lunch and saw the typical choices, lasagna, risotto, polenta, but then there was a type of spaghetti that caught my eye.  Squid-ink pasta.  I promptly told the waiter that I had made up my mind, squid-ink pasta it is!  Not only did the delectable squid and pasta warm my belly, but it turned my lips into a wonderful shade of MAC’s Black Knight lipstick.  Besides enjoying our lunch of pasta, bread, select meats and wine we took the liberty of buying gelato later in the day as we walked along the sea and finished off the day with a frothy cappuccino.  The Grand Canal, Piazza San Marco, St Mark’s Basilica and the Ponte dei Sospiri were all sites that we marveled in.  I was a bit sad as we drove across the bridge and the distance increased between our car and Venice, but happy all the while for having the grand fortune of spending the last 6 hours with two great friends in a glorious city.  Furthermore, I couldn’t be too sad since the music we started listening to makes me smile every time.  The music on the car ride home was a combination of American, Brazilian, Spanish, Argentine and Italian.   Here are a couple of my favorites,http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qn9i1Nl2a5s, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uR9ynRtov0.  Driving through Italy as Lucas and Cinthia sing along to the music and tap out the rhythm on the steering wheel or dashboard fills my soul with a contentedness that is hard to explain.  

Squid ink pasta, surprisingly tasty.

Sunday was another lovely day.  Rosilde had prepared risotto for lunch and Lucas and I had a bike ride planned for the afternoon.  I went into the ride knowing full well that it was going to be a bit harder than the last one, and to be honest, part of me was a little nervous.  Lucas and I took off going out of Caneggio with the sun on our faces and the wind ripping past our windbreakers.  I was so happy I thought I would burst at the seams.  Switzerland is an amazingly gorgeous country, and I just can’t seem to soak enough of it up, even when my body already feels wholly saturated from it’s splendor.  We were making our way tranquilly along the curve of the mountain, admiring the river that was flowing in the ravine below us when all of the sudden with the next curve of the road my mouth dropped open and I managed to breath out an airless “Oh Mamma” and with that Lucas looked over at me and said “Buona fortuna” (good luck). An extremely steep hill stretched out in-front of me and I couldn’t see the end of it.  I gripped my handlebars a bit tighter, dug my feet into my pedals and started the climb.  After a minute or two all I could hear was the sound of my blood beating in my ears and my lungs working to suck in as much oxygen as humanly possible.  At each switchback I glanced anxiously to see the plateau of the hill, but each curve gave way to another endless assent.  When we finally reached the top, I managed to lift my noodle of an arm and give Lucas a high-five.  We did it!  

The rest of our bike ride was a bit more calm, but still consisted of plenty of hills.  At one point we started going up a path that Lucas had never been on.  The mountain path wound up and around, past small houses and grottos (bars or cafes made of stone), past grazing cows with bells, past donkeys and goats and past a patch of clucking hens.  I came around the corner and saw the rich reds and browns of the hens that were perched on the hill next to the path, when all of a sudden one of them decided to jump from the hill-side and land right in the middle of where I was going.  Upon realizing how fast I was approaching, the decently sized, plump hen started to squawk and cluck as it puffed it’s way down the path.  I let out a high-pitched shriek of surprise and managed to slow my pace as my tires skidded on the fall leaves.  It was a close encounter, but both parties rode and clucked away, unscathed. 

YEA for BIKING!

For as hot as I get while  working my way up the mountain, I get equally as cold as we descend.  Lucas sped along ahead of me, hugging the curves of the road like a pro and even cruising along side the guard rails with no hands.  I on the other hand, used my brakes a bit more frequently but still managed to reach a good clip and feel the cool mountain air as it easily penetrated through my shoes and settled right into all 10 toes.  Nevertheless, I cherish these bike rides with every once of being that I have, thank you for taking me with you.

Sunday evening was spent watching the volleyball match of a few friends and then later dining with the Mazzocchi family over several boxes of pizza.  After every morsel of pizza was taken care of, we filled up the couches and settled down to watch the movie 300 Hundred.  The fact that when I looked over and saw Megan Skouby sitting there, really boggled my mind.  There we were, Big Ten Competitors, sitting in a house in Switzerland and watching a movie.  

Monday morning came and Lucas and I were out the door heading to the Malpensa airport, but not before Rosilde in all her glory and her bathrobe, wrapped me up a piece of her apple tort.  After savoring one more cappuccino and one more croissant with nutella, Lucas and I said our goodbyes and I was off to find my gate.  Saying goodbye this time wasn’t as hard as last year.  I’m telling myself that someday I will own a house or have a time share that will allow me to spend time in Switzerland each and every year.  

Well, since this e-mail was so long I’ll cut you all some slack and skip out on “Leslie’s Loose Ends” ha, and if you don’t respond for the next couple days I will understand since you’ll probably need several days to read it all.

Happy November to you all, I hope everyone had a fun and safe Halloween!

Love,

Leslie