I don't want to say that I'm homesick, because I haven't been crying or having vivid dreams of Canada. But I miss sleeping in my comfortable, familiar bed. I miss being able to walk around my house in a pair of Victoria's Secret boxer shorts and a white T shirt without worrying
|Cleo the model.|
A.K.A Kitty Purry.
Every time I get the munchies (which is a lot), I so badly want to go to the kitchen and grab
some smartfood popcorn, goldfish crackers, crispy minis, veggies and dip, or fix myself a plate of multigrain tortillas with
wholesome salsa. If I'm really hungry, I'll make some KD, Campbell's vegetable soup or Zoodles. But oh, no... Italians don't do that. Nothing that comes in a can or a box works over here. And Italian's don't snack. At least not the way that I do. They do have chips at the supermarkets, but they come in one flavour - original. Um, boring. Who even likes original chips when you have fabulous, delicious salty and crunchy options like salt & vinegar, dill pickle, sour cream & onion and ketchup? And let's not forget the phenomenon of raw cookie dough.
I feel a bit unconfident saying the word supermarket when defying where Italians do their
|One true love.|
Another thing I miss is salad. When I say salad, I mean healthy, romaine lettuce done up in a variety of themes. It can be an Asian theme with Asian dressing, chai main noodles, and almonds. It can be a Greek salad with cherry tomatoes, feta cheese, black olives and a vinaigrette dressing. It can be a summer salad with poppy seed dressing with diced
mandarin oranges and raspberry's. Or it can be an 'Italian' salad with Caesar dressing, croutons, and vegetables. The options of salads in my life go as far as the eye can see. But in Italy, a salad consists of small leaves, olive oil, and salt. That's it. What the hell kind of a 'salad' is that? Italians also peel the skin off of all their fruit. This is how they do it:
Step 1: Put a plate on the table. You need a plate no matter what fruit it is.
Step 2: Take the fruit, and set it on the plate. Go get a knife.
Step 3: While holding the fruit in one hand and the knife in the other, slowly and precisely cut the skin off the fruit. Banana? You need a knife. Orange? You need a knife. Apple? You betcha.
I had a discussion with my host family about it and told them how strange I thought it was
that they didn't eat the skin on the apple. The skin is the healthiest part - its where all the nutrients and vitamins are. I expressed my feelings so greatly and told them that this is not how fruit was meant to be eaten. If worried about pesticides, you run the damn apple under the tap and voila - edible. No knife or plate needed. Of course they probably thought I was a savage beast and continued eating with their three step process. In Canada, the steps to eating fruit is to pick it up, and then bring it to your mouth. That's pretty much it.
Although this final slam isn't about food, it is another strange behaviour that Italians endorse in. Before giving away what it is, let me first ask you a question. Where do you keep your PJ's? Probably tucked away neatly in your closet or dresser, right? The pyjamas that the Italians plan on wearing that night (probably the only thing they plan ever) are kept underneath their pillows. Which is actually a really cute concept, if you think about it.
PJ's under your pillow? Ok.
Not supplying Kraft Dinner or Lays Chips in your 'super'markets? Not ok.