Time flew by in a week as the classes resumed. We were pretty domesticated by now and took turns to cook, clean and go for the evening passeggiata. On venerdi, Kiyoshi the streetwise giapponese cuoco invited the class to his farewell home party because he'd be leaving for Sardegna to work for summer. By the time we got there at 9.40pm, the others had arrived and were tucking into the sushi and bbq stuff cooked by him and another korean chap. It was fun switching from italian to cinese with the 2 Cinesi guys - Gang and Tony - and the Taiwanesi gals. Gang is from Beijing and working in Italy as an engineer with Volvo for many years; he's very well versed with the italiana cultura and is also very well travelled.
They laughed and were suitably impressed when I made L speak some cinese. Soon, the conversation flowed as the vino poured, and funnily everyone's italian was better especially Yuko whose accento was sempre terribile. Naturally I taught the rest some parolaccia (swear words) such as 'sei un pezzo di merda' (you're a piece of shit), 'sei un figlio di putana' (you're a son of a bitch) and 'ti faccio un culo cosi' (I make your arse so big) which sent them shrieking. We also asked the Japanese to teach us some swear words but they told us their culture is too polite to even have an equivalent of 'fu%k you'. Incredibile! I asked the Taiwanese girls if they understood our hokkien swearword 'kanni nabu eh chao chee bye' and they giggled and giggled. Obviously they did! Without realising it, it was close to 3am so Tony gave us a lift back in his mini Mercs.
The next day we woke up late for the sabato mercato near the stadio and tried to find our way there on foot but got lost. It wasn't charming in the steaming heat so we quickly went to the bus terminal to catch the bus to Marsciano for the sagra del cinghiale (festival of wild boar). Interestingly we saw a bus to Bastardo, which is not far from Perugia - imagine if you are born there, a bastardino. Midway there to Marsciano - some god forsaken town which is not even in my guidebook, the driver told us the bus doesn't go to Migliano where the sagra is. Merda!
We have no luck with sagre at all and swore no more sagre unless they are located in an accessible place! Everything was closed at M at close to 3pm and only the old folks were chatting at a cafe on this hot day. The only ristorante we found has closed its cucina so we had to settle for a proscuitto and cheese platter, and bresaola and rucola insalata. There'd be a concerto that evening feauring Georgia, a pop singer - why she picked Marsciano we had no freakin idea. I pointed a roadsign 'Via Karl Marx' and a communist political party poster to L who said there are still many communists in Italy, especially in Umbria. Interessante. We hurried home to cook strangozzi al tartufo bianco, non รจ male, infatti it was buono come al ristorante.
Time flew by in a week as the classes resumed. We were pretty domesticated by now and took turns to cook, clean and go for the evening passeggiata. On venerdi, Kiyoshi the streetwise giapponese cuoco invited the class to his farewell home party because he'd be leaving for Sardegna to work for summer. By the time we got there at 9.40pm, the others had arrived and were tucking into the sushi and bbq stuff cooked by him and another korean chap. It was fun switching from italian to cinese with the 2 Cinesi guys - Gang and Tony - and the Taiwanesi gals. Gang is from Beijing and working in Italy as an engineer with Volvo for many years; he's very well versed with the italiana cultura and is also very well travelled. 
They laughed and were suitably impressed when I made L speak some cinese. Soon, the conversation flowed as the vino poured, and funnily everyone's italian was better especially Yuko whose accento was sempre terribile. Naturally I taught the rest some parolaccia (swear words) such as 'sei un pezzo di merda' (you're a piece of shit), 'sei un figlio di putana' (you're a son of a bitch) and 'ti faccio un culo cosi' (I make your arse so big) which sent them shrieking. We also asked the Japanese to teach us some swear words but they told us their culture is too polite to even have an equivalent of 'fu%k you'. Incredibile! I asked the Taiwanese girls if they understood our hokkien swearword 'kanni nabu eh chao chee bye' and they giggled and giggled. Obviously they did! Without realising it, it was close to 3am so Tony gave us a lift back in his mini Mercs. 
The next day we woke up late for the sabato mercato near the stadio and tried to find our way there on foot but got lost. It wasn't charming in the steaming heat so we quickly went to the bus terminal to catch the bus to Marsciano for the sagra del cinghiale (festival of wild boar). Interestingly we saw a bus to Bastardo, which is not far from Perugia - imagine if you are born there, a bastardino. Midway there to Marsciano - some god forsaken town which is not even in my guidebook, the driver told us the bus doesn't go to Migliano where the sagra is. Merda! 
We have no luck with sagre at all and swore no more sagre unless they are located in an accessible place! Everything was closed at M at close to 3pm and only the old folks were chatting at a cafe on this hot day. The only ristorante we found has closed its cucina so we had to settle for a proscuitto and cheese platter, and bresaola and rucola insalata. There'd be a concerto that evening feauring Georgia, a pop singer - why she picked Marsciano we had no freakin idea. I pointed a roadsign 'Via Karl Marx' and a communist political party poster to L who said there are still many communists in Italy, especially in Umbria. Interessante. We hurried home to cook strangozzi al tartufo bianco, non รจ male, infatti it was buono come al ristorante.
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