Everyone's excited about their plans for ferragosto so it was especially hard to focus in classe when Rita's boring us with her dreary tales again. We managed to finish condizionale and finally started on congiuntivo. It was a good idea to refresh my italiano, as it seemed clearer the 2nd time round - I even liked imperfetto and imperativo! Anyway L and I caught the coach on a 5-hr long journey to Napoli - which was definitely cheaper, more comfortable and direct than the treno. His dad Raef picked us up at P. Garibaldi and mamma Melina started stuffing us the minute we entered the door.
There was pasta with baby mussels and zucchini, insalata di polpo (octopus) and my favourite fat green olives from their family friend Enrico. I peeped into the well-stocked frigo with food to last a month as most shops and markets were closed for ferragosto. After dinner, his cugina Linda and hubby Massimo (who has since trimmed down a lot) came over with their 3 lovely kids - Felice, Valerio and Michela - all golden brown like a typical italian famiglia. It was great to see them again, after nearly a year. A shame the 2 zitelle zie were on a cruise holiday, but 'meglio cosi', said L who didn't want to deal with their insistent questions.
The following morning, Mel was up early frying zucchini fritters for me which drove L crazy. Ahh, family. We hurried to catch the 11am+ ferry (10e) to Ischia, also known as the green isle among Capri and Procida, for some sun and sea. The bus no. 2 was packed to the brim and we managed to hold on tight untill our stop at Citara. Every spot along the spiaggie was taken up by the sun-worshipping hordes of tourists; infatti L said the population here swells up to 5 times in summer. The water's not bad but couldn't compare to the Sicilian seas - anyway I turned brown in an hour while L turned a slight roasted pink. Luckily we decided to leave as the heat got unbearable, and managed to wave down the packed 4pm bus in time for the 5pm ferry back.
That evening, we moved into Linda and Massimo's house as they had gone for a family beach getaway. They got a spacious top-level flat with a bigarse terrace which overlooked the bay. We had some of L's old friends for drinks and to admire the ferragosto fireworks. I was quite proud of myself, chatting with Mario, Cristina, Alessandro and his friendly Spanish ragazza Nora. I don't like being the dumb Asian chick, handicapped by the language and social skills. At times I feel frustrata and disadvantaged by italiano because it doesn't allow me to fully express my point of view and 'argue' on equal terms. I'd ask L, why can't the stupid italians speak english??
Sabato, we drove to Napoli to pick up Michele who agreed with me that the citta is the underbelly of Italia, where the rejects of societa' fit in. Nothing shocks anyone here, esp the gypsies, homeless, drunks, drug addicts and illegal overstayers. The best thing to do is to mind your own f*ckin' business and try not to stare at anyone. Perhaps that's why everyone seemed to maintain an air of indifference, yet at the same time cultivate a quick reflex for criminals, beggars and bad drivers. L's a great example, he seemed very chilled here but I could sense he's always on guard. We went to see the amazing Duomo again (this time I brought my camera) and then the richly frescoed Cappella Sansevero for its masterpiece - the Cristo Velato marble scultura with its intricately carved details.
We then drove to Zio Rino's 'La Vigna' agriturismo /ristorante/ vineyard (
www.lavignaagriturismo.com) for a sumptuous pranzo at its shady courtyard under a thick cover of green grapevines. There were antipasti of salumi, formaggi, olives, fagioli beans, mushrooms, bruschette, fritters and crusty bread washed down with chilled vino bianco. Rino then arranged a tasting platter of 2 pasta and 1 risotto, and a big slab of grilled bistecca with rucola e patate which made us groaned with protests.
Rino then showed off his 5 new camere and farm where they grow their own vegetables, vines, fruit trees, and reared rabbits for meat and chickens for eggs. He didn't want to give us the bill at first but we insisted because it's after all a business. When we left, it was close to 5.30pm already so we walked off the calories at the new long jetty and soaked up the tramonto at Parco Virgiliano.
We did niente on Sunday as L was feeling the effects of sleeping in an air-con room; the poor guy's very sensitive to change in temperature and pollution. Mel whipped up a satisfying lasagne, parmigiana, and surprised me with a tray of my fav aragoste alla nutella! Everytime she'd have a gleam in her eyes and cut open the familiar blue-wrapped pasticceria tray. Grateful, I gobbled down 2 with some espresso. His cugini - Paola, Fabrizio e Angelo - came over to hang out, followed by Zio Adolfo, his wife Margherita and 2 kids Vincenzo and Alessia. In the evening, we went to throw the trash and decided to go for a quiet passeggiata around town. But Pozzuoli's such a small town, it's impossible not to run into a family member or friend.
First, there was Enzo's amico Arturo (who thanked me for recommending them Sirocco bar at Bangkok), then Angelo at the dodgy carpark, and poi Mario, Aless, Nora and Pablo at the nearby parco. L was wheezing a lot by this time and his eyes watery so we hurried home and walked by nonna's flat, where Zia Silvana was at the balcone. We then saw Zio Rino and their figlia Federica stepping out of the car and decided to pop in for a minuto. Just as we were leaving, nonna and all the other zie and zii came back much to L's dismay, and it was a madhouse at the streets below. Everyone started talking at the same time, and coming forth to kiss me on the cheeks. There was a flurry of faces - Zia Giovanna, Zio Pepe, Zia Maria, Zio Mimo, Zio Matteo (whom I've never met before) and his snobbish wife Anna.
After lunch the next day, we took the treno back to Perugia and were actually quite glad to have some peace and quiet in our own home. Classes resumed and that mercoledi, we went to a student concerto and held an impromptu festa at the balcone above the stage area, but were asked to take our party somewhere. Bo. The standard was not fantastico but the studenti put up a good, varied show and everyone started dancing to the last act.
I got a brainwave one lazy afternoon and proposed a weekend getaway by car to Toscana and San Marino to L, who was surprisingly up for it. Una buona idea, specialmente when the car costs only 95e for 2 days. We thought 'the more, the merrier', so we invited Gang and Michele, our vino kakis to join us on this roadtrip. They took the bait subito after I mentioned keywords in our itinerary like 'vino tasting' and 'sagra di bistecca (steak)'. Si, we haven't given up on our sagra chase and are determined to hunt down our meat this time. A stake or no steak. 
Sabato started out great when we got upgraded from a Fiat Punto to a sporty Volvo S40 - we teased Gang that Hertz knew he was our guest so they changed it (Gang's from Beijing and an engineer with Volvo in Italia). Michele was already busy chatting with the parrucchiere next door when we arrived to pick up the car. Germans are very punctual indeed. Our nickname for Mic was sindaco (mayor) as he's the oldest among us at 56 years old and very distinguished-looking with his Bavarese full beard. We looked like a mismatched squadro; a German, a Chinese, a Sporeana and Italiano, so our make-believe roles were respectively driver (L), tour guide (me), bodyguard-cum-photographer (Gang) and sindaco VIP (Mic). 
Our first stop in Toscana was at a vineyard 'La Ciarliana' (www.laciarliana.it), close to Montepulciano - a hilltop town which is known for their nobile vino. Along the way near Cortona just as I was telling the guys about 'Under The Tuscan Sun', we zipped past Frances Meyer's casa 'Bramasole' that happened to be up for sale. Allora posso comprarla ora, haha. At 10.50am, we sipped 4 diversi vini with the kindly owner - also named Luigi who gave us a tour of his facilities - and went away brilli with 4 bottiglie (I got a yummy 2001 Nobile Vino for just 15e). 
We reached Montepulciano easily and toured the quaint town on foot. The colourful bandiere (flags) of the diverse contrade (clans) were already up, in time for the upcoming medievale race 'Bravio delle Botti' next Sunday, where the different team members have to roll 80-kg wine barrels (botti) around a 1.8km corso. Mamma miaaa, not an easy task considering the narrow uphill cobbled pathway. We zipped to nearby quiet Arezzo for a late pranzo at 2pm and snacked on antipasti platters with more vino rosso and cantucci dipped in the sweet golden vin santo. Piazza Grande was closed for renovation in preparation for the upcoming annual highlight 'Giostra del Saracino' (www.giostradelsaracino.arezzo.it).
Contenti and pieni, we embarked on our hunt for the sagra but took some time to locate Civitella in Val di Chiana (it's this tiny village off a discreet turn). When we got there, it was dead quiet and no burning charcoal was in the air. Errrh. An old lady pointed us to Badia al Pino 10mins away (si, it was super ulu, man) ma finalmente we saw a tent for the Sagra della Bistecca' (festival of the steak). The chefs were busy chopping up the thick cuts at 7pm and the cool evening breeze carried the greasy profumo into the packed tent where we chopped down on wonderfully charred steaks among the locals, some probably never had Asians in their fold. 
We had paid 17e for the set menu of bistecca, pane, pomodoro or fagioli and frutta, and an additional 3,50e each for the vino rosso. A bit expensive, we thought for a bicchiere (glass) but to our surprise the waitress brought us 4 bottiglie, all opened already and corks thrown away, so we had to drink them all. Non c'e nesun problema. Needless to say, we were molto felici after the 2nd bottglia. 
Michele tried to chat up the lady next to him being his usual kaypoh self and asked her if the salsiccia is grasso but she seemed offended by his inquiry. We whispered to him not to talk to any local married woman cos they are propably not used to stranieri asking them about sausages. A stage was set up for a band (like our getai set-up) and the old folks dressed in their best jiggled their bits happily in sync to the tune all night long. 
The next morning on domenica, L found the way to San Marino (an independent state like the Vaticano). I imagined a fascinating state with ancient peaks and uniformed guards but didn't expect the hordes of tourists, cheap eatries and trashy shops. The only saving grace was the breathtaking 360 degrees panaroma, especially the vista of the Rimini coastline and the misty blu Adriatic sea. 
Usually the local culinary delights will cheer me up but even the specialty of piadina, a dry insipid tortilla-like crepe, filled with cheese, ham and rucola was a letdown. Pui. Sad to say, San Marino lacked authenticity and anima (soul), just a disguised Disneyland with real towers for buon mercato merrymakers. We drove to nearby Rimini for a spot of sea breeze before heading home; it certainly felt like Gold Coast in Australia with its many hotels, restaurants, bars, and shops catering to the millions of summer holidaymakers browning themselves at the beach crowned by the various bathing establishments. L said Rimini is probably where Italians have the most sex fuelled by the caldo sole. 
