Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Shameless Self-Promotion and Candy Bars

Check it out:, the article entitled "Cara Napoli." I think Il Foglio is a conservatissimo newspaper...does that make me a conservative by association? I'd better send a check to just to cover my bases.

The writer, Jeff, sent me an email apologizing for the edit, for the fact that The Husband comes off as a guy who doesn't shave regularly and who is chain smoker. Don't worry, Jeff! The description is half right (he's not a chain smoker) and I know how the editing game goes. Remember that editor we both knew in California (I won't get specific here), the one you said had a tin ear? Snicker, snicker, someone pass me a Snickers.

I actually ate a Twix bar today. I remember when Twix came out. I bought my first one at the candy store on the corner of Avenue R and Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn. I thought the cookie-caramel-chocolate combo was divine. Now it tastes like plastic and I don't believe it provides the health benefits of dark chocolate. I bought the Twix at a tabacchaio where there was an older woman and a younger woman sitting behind the counter, the cigarettes stacked neatly behind them, the older woman puffing away in the tiny space. I could just make out the name brands behind the cloud of smoke. I was buying chocolate and cigarettes (for The Husband) because we needed change because we needed gas and no one was working at any of the gas stations except for one where the guy had no change. We waited behind plumes of diesel fumes only to arrive at the pump and be told either we buy 20 euros of gas as opposed to the 10 euros we wanted or find a 10 euro note because the dude had to give a 10 back to the guy in the Mercedes...are you still awake? I wasn't.

La Bimba did it again! 11.5 hours of straight sleepage. Go Bimba Go!

Italians do not touch their cornetti. They always eat them wrapped in a napkin, maybe because they think their hands are dirty or maybe because they don't want their hands to get dirty. Same in Naples as in Rome or Milan. However, Italians will touch La Bimba on the face, all over her precious little unsuspecting face. They do not seem to be concerned about getting her dirty (or giving her germs...luckily she is still getting hits of antibodies from breast milk every day) or about getting her snot on them (I am pretty diligent about cleaning her little schnoz, but still, a booger has been known to get away). Once, here in bella Napoli, a pasticciere (baker) came up to La Bimba, stuck his flour-covered index finger in front of her mouth and said, "This is how a baker tastes. Dai, assaggia!" Baker from Planet Clueless or just your average Napoletano baby mauler?

1 comment:

nikinpos said...

Grrrrr, and what about the horrid old biddys that pinch babys cheeks hard enough to make her cry and then declare "ma che c'e? Eeeh, capriciosa questa bambina eh? O stanca...deve dormire!" I had to stuff my hands in my pockets to stop pinching their cheeks...