Italian Restaurants: Osteria del Viaggiatore

I had driven past this place in Lecco many times, but it’s easily overlooked – the outside of the building is unprepossessing unpainted cement, though the large sign with a mysterious painting on it is intriguing, and we heard that it was good.

So we finally went last night. The menu is fixed-price, 30 euros for five courses, drinks extra. The first antipasto was prosciutto and raspadura – scraping – very thin slices of a local hard cheese. The prosciutto was among the best I’ve ever had: sweet and tender, melt-in-your-mouth.

After that, we had to make choices, from 6 or 7 dishes for each course. For our second antipasto, I had a tortina di zucchine in fiore, a mini-pie with cheese, zucchini, and zucchini flowers. Nice, though I would have liked it a little more salty. Enrico had cold, wafer-thin slices of turkey breast with a sauce of raw tomato, celery, and cucumber. He ate all the sauce before I got to taste it, so I can’t speak to that, but the turkey was good.

For primo, Enrico had lasagnette with fagiolini, patate, and pesto – a baked lasagna dish very similar to the Genovese-style pasta with pesto that I make at home with green beans and potatoes, and in this case, bechamel. The lasagna dough was light and airy, making this dish not as heavy as I had expected, and very tasty.

I had home-made ravioli filled with borragine (borage) with a simple dressing of melted butter, sage, and pine nuts. The bitterness of the borage contrasted very nicely with the rich butter.

For secondo, Enrico had cold roast piglet sliced very thin, very similar to porchetta from central Italy, but more tender. I had two kinds of local lake fish, lavarello (sardine-sized, but lighter in flavor) and persico (perch). Both were very lightly battered and fried, leaving plenty of room for the flavor of the fish to come through. As contorno (side dishes), we were both served a small quantity of oven-roasted potatoes.

Then came dessert. Enrico had an exquisite panna cotta (cooked cream) with a dressing of strawberries and other “forest fruits.” I had “Fondente Extra Bitter”, slices of something between a mousse and a torte, made with lots of bitter chocolate, swimming in a creme Anglaise. Wow.

We tried one of the house wines that the owner has made to order, called Aromata Coeli – basically a non-sparkling Barbera which the waitress told us had been aromatizzata (perfumed), though we weren’t clear on what that meant. It was more than palatable, and a good complement to all the variety of our courses.

Keeping Cool, Italian Style

My two weeks with the lawyers reminded me of one way in which I have become very unAmerican: I hate air conditioning. Actually, I don’t really mind A/C as such, but the way Americans overdo it. The law and support team from Florida was baffled by the relative lack of air conditioning in Milan’s hot, sticky summer weather (and it’s not even that hot yet). They kept the A/C running at full blast in the conference room where we were working, obliging me to wear long pants and long-sleeved shirts every day – which made the contrast all the more unbearable with the temperature on the streets and the non-A/C train going home to Lecco.

When I was working in the US in the summers, I never got to wear my summer clothing; it was always too damned cold in the office. But at least there I was going to and from work in an air-conditioned car.

So why don’t Italians use A/C more? The trains are in fact supposed to be air-conditioned, but often the A/C simply isn’t working, or doesn’t work very well (other times it works too well – there seems to be no happy medium). At home, it’s just too expensive. We pay twice as much for electricity in Italy as people do in the US. And the grid here won’t stand up to everyone running A/C at the same time: in last summer’s record heat, everyone rushed out to buy air conditioners. The nation’s electrical system overloaded, so we had unannounced rolling blackouts, with people stuck in elevators and so on, and nobody got to enjoy their new air conditioners very much. Personally, we use ceiling fans and, when it’s really awful, standing fans as well.

In the Company of Lawyers

I’ve spent the last two weeks interpreting (English to Italian and back again) for depositions in an arbitration between a Venezuelan and an Italian company – work that I was offered via a colleague on the board of Democrats Abroad-Milan. It was arranged at the last minute, so the hirers didn’t insist on any special qualifications beyond fluency in both languages, and an American accent (for the benefit of the court reporters coming from Miami to transcribe). The money was very, very good (and very handy right now), so I made time for the job.

It was an interesting, though exhausting, experience. It wasn’t quite simultaneous translation, but near enough, especially when the lawyer started machine-gunning questions. And I had to think hard about precise shades of meaning. In a legal situation, it’s more important to get the exact meaning of both questions and answers than to translate elegantly – which frustrated me at first, since I’m a writer, and style is important to me.

The English language skills of the witnesses varied, improving steadily as we moved up the ranks of the company (cause or effect?). Everyone we interviewed was an engineer in some sense or other, and therefore understood and used many English terms in his everyday work. (“His” is the correct pronoun – they were all men.) And there are many English words in common use in business Italian where there is no efficient equivalent in Italian, e.g. “training.”

Most of the witnesses understood English well enough to follow most of the questions, although, when a single question ran on for a hundred words, I often lost track of it myself. With some witnesses, I was a mere convenience – they spoke and understood English well enough to do it all in English, so their lawyers’ insistence that I translate both questions and answers was simply a play for time, a way of forcing the witnesses to slow down and think before they spoke. One man kept answering the questions before I had a chance to translate. His lawyers frowned at me every time this happened but, hey, he’s your witness – you tell him how to behave. He was senior enough that I wasn’t going to interrupt his train of thought to translate a question that he had clearly understood perfectly. I also didn’t want to insult anyone’s English abilities.

The last witness, a senior VP, conducted his deposition entirely in very good English, and was in no danger of shooting off his mouth.

There were two tracks of depositions going on at the same time, and in the second week professional interpreters were brought in for the other track. I learned from them that I was being a masochist – the pros work half-day shifts, and were astonished that I was doing full days, especially with no prior experience. They agreed with my finding that about 40 minutes at a time is the most one can expect to be effective – around the 45-minute mark I would begin to feel my synapses smoking. Thankfully, there were breaks every hour, to change the videotape and allow the teams of lawyers to confer among themselves.

I came away with a few observations which had nothing to do with translation. One was a reinforced belief that I would never be able to work for a typical Italian company of this type. There were six or seven levels of hierarchy among the various men we interviewed, with the guys at the top living on Mount Olympus as far as their juniors were concerned. In turn, the top guy had about 1300 people working for him, most of whose names he barely knew. <shudder> I couldn’t bear to be in an organization like that. Even at Roxio, I had direct access to the CEO (and a cubicle conveniently located outside his office). Not that that access did me much good…

I also admired the skills of the lawyers. In addition to the law (of at least three countries), they had to know the reams of documentation that had already been presented in the case, as well as the reams being generated in the current testimony, and make use of it to try to trap the witnesses into admissions which the witnesses’ lawyers were equally cleverly helping their clients to sidestep. They all brought an oratorical and actorly flair to the process, one side building up the emotional pressure and trying to cause a slip, while the other side made convenient objections and used the hourly breaks to instruct the witnesses (I presume – I was never privy to what went on between the witnesses and their counsel).

I developed techno-lust for the Blackberries that all the lawyers were so attached to. I had vaguely heard about these and knew them to be particularly popular in Washington, and had just noticed them advertised by Italian mobile phone providers. One of the lawyers told me they’re cheap in the US – as low as $120 for the device, plus $25 a month or so for the service. Not cheap in Italy, as I shortly discovered. One of the companies is charging 576 euros for the device, and after that I didn’t bother to ask how much they were charging for the service. I’ll either have to wait, or figure out whether it’s possible to use a US-purchased Blackberry with an Italian SIM card.

War is Virtual Hell

I’ve seen Michael Moore’s Farenheit 9/11. Very disturbing in so many ways that I won’t go into – whether you agree with Moore or you don’t, this film is not likely to change your mind. But one thing in particular, peripheral to Moore’s arguments, jumped out at me.

The film shows an American TV ad recruiting people for the national guard. The ad uses computer-generated characters, both men and women, looking very heroic and Lara Croft-ish as they morph between uniforms and street clothes, handling high-tech equipment, flying planes, etc.. Elsewhere in the film, Moore interviews tank soldiers in Iraq, who describe with gusto how their tanks have music systems which allow them to pipe music right into their helmets. “We put this disc on” (showing a black CD with white print, couldn’t quite see the name), “it really gets the adrenaline pumping.”

These two scenes seem to show that the US military is training its people to treat war as a video game – complete with soundtrack! You can roll along a Baghdad street, guns blazing, and not even realize that those are real people you’re killing.

But real people do die, on both sides, and several of the soldiers Moore interviewed commented on how grim and grisly the reality was. Had no one told them, in all their training to kill, what dead bodies look like?

Google AdNonSense

Everybody’s putting Google ads on their sites these days – and writing about it – so I’m hardly original. But seeing some of how it works, and wondering about the rest, has made me take sharper notice of ads on other sites.

Google analyzes the text of each page its ads are placed on, so as to place ads suited to those pages. I know that my site is tricky; each of my articles tends to bounce around several different topics, and the search engines were already confused – people arrive at my site via the unlikeliest searches. For example, my page about bras is consistently among the most-visited on my site. People arrive there via many different search terms, but most probably weren’t looking for a discourse on the difficulty of fitting bras and a rant about visible bra straps. Google has sensibly placed there ads for sites where you can actually buy bras, so perhaps in the end some of these people find what they’re looking for (and I get money when they click through – yay!).

Some of the other Google placements are odd. The Google algorithm doesn’t seem to be good at distinguishing words used in different ways or contexts. An article about the Supreme Court’s ruling on the words “Under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance had two Google ads at the bottom. One was for a Christian history site titled “Fighting for ‘Under God'” , which links to an inarguably appropriate site. But the ad listed above that in the Google box was for an offer on Pledge, a brand of furniture polish.

My article on the education of Muslim students in Italy initially came up with three links for Scientology and one for some other religious thinker. Ugh. I do not care to have my site support Scientology, a money-making scheme disguised as a religion by its inventor (who was a science-fiction author – shouldn’t that tell us something?).

Fortunately, Google allows me to filter out URLs I don’t like, so my site will not display ads linking to those sites. It appears, however, that keeping the Scientologists off my pages will be a daily task – they use many different domain names, I’ve axed five or six already. I’m filtering other things as well; apparently all sorts of loonies pay for their sites to come up when the word “Muslim” is searched. Interestingly, one of the links was to a Muslim dating service (I didn’t filter out that one).

My article on The Great Global Conspiracy predictably turns up ads for the Zapruder film, two political sites, and “American Civil Religion – Search our Database of 101,000 Essays for American Civil Religion”. This latter links to essays.com, a site selling essays and term papers, whose disclaimer disingenuously says: “The papers contained within our web site are for research purposes only! You may not turn in our papers as your own work! You must cite our website as your source! Turning in a paper from our web site as your own is plagerism and is illegal!”

Ethical questions aside, would you want to turn in a paper from a site which can’t even spell “plagiarism” correctly?

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia