How To Not Sell a Locked Bike in Italian

Carried my locked bicycle, since it could not roll, to the local bike shop in Colorno and attempted to sell it to the elderly man with one eye who works there. 

What I think I am saying: I didn’t steal the bicycle. The keys do not work because the lock has rusted over. I would like to sell my bicycle.  
What I am actually saying: I stole this my bicycle. The key do not function because of the red. I would like to sell.

Good shopkeeper with one eye: I do not understand you. Gestures to dirt on my knee as if seeking an explanation for my crazy talk. You have fallen and hurt yourself? 
 
What I think I am saying: No, I’m okay. Thank you. It’s okay. 
What I am actually saying: No, thank you. It goes well. 
 
What I think I am saying: I want to sell my bicycle. 
What I am actually saying: Sell bicycles.

Good shopkeeper with one eye’s response: I sell bicycles. 
 
What I think I am saying: I have a friend who I will call so he can help translate. I will return! I will return!
What I am actually saying: I have a boyfriend. I have telephone. I am a male who has returned! I am a male who has returned!

Good shopkeeper with one eye: When? Where do you live? 

What I think I am saying: Via Milano, near the gas station.                                                           What I am actually saying: Via Milano. Gas station. 
 
Walked home, Google Translated, and wrote everything on a Post-it like I should have the first time. Returned to the store. 
He says “Ahhh! Slice.” One eyed shopkeeper slices off the lock. 

Still wanted to sell him the bike, but at that point could not possibly take any more of the man’s time or energy. 
 
What I think I am saying: Thank you very much. I apologize for my poor Italian. 
What I am actually saying: A thousand thanks. I am sorry for the Italian poor. 
 
Walked home cackling. Okay, let’s be honest, outright belly laughing at myself in the freezing rain, thus offering the good citizens of Colorno further proof that I am a crazy person. Sliced my finger open on the rusty gate. Decide to bake brownies for nice bicycle man.

I really am sorry for the Italian poor.

Mussel Farming in Friuli

I go to a school where sometimes class consists of talking about mussel semen. And sometimes that class just happens to take place on a boat in a body of water in between Italy, Croatia and Slovenia. And sometimes, in the name of education, one finds oneself murdering and eating a raw mussel. I’m just devoted to my education.

And so is Reena. 

When it comes to mussels, I was in need of alot of education. Case in point: mussel farms. Did you know that mussels grow in underwater farms? I certainly didn’t.

Farming and reproduction all take place in the sea, which in this particular case, is the Gulf of Trieste. There are 17 co-ops that work in the 15-18 meters deep water and grow mussels. They take tiny mussels, the size of a newborn baby’s thumbnail, and fill them into long plastic sacks shaped like ropes. They place them under the water where in April the males and females will both release sticky fluids that  naturally attach the mussels to one another.

Mussel ropes.

Commercial size mussels are roughly 1 year old. When ready for consumption, the ropes are hauled up using a crane attached to the boat and then separated and cleaned on board with machinery.

Mussels being hauled on board, cleaned and processed. 

In Trieste, not just anyone can be a mussel farmer. One needs special authorization from the government (the last permit was issued over 10 years ago). As a kilo of mussels sells for roughly 50 eurocents wholesale in those parts, the farmers have formed co-ops to help cut out the middlemen and increase their share of profits. Their plots are 10 floating barrels and 10 rows with 1 barrel to another counting as a field. The particular co-op that we met with produce 300 tons of mussels each year.

This is what a mussel farm looks like. Barrels as far as the eye can see!

I think the UNISG students might actually have eaten all 300 tons of them at our mussel-themed seaside lunch provided by the co-op.

The Delights of Life (and UNISG)

“One of the delights of life is eating with friends, second to that is talking about eating. And, for an unsurpassed double whammy, there is talking about eating while you are eating with friends.
”

— Laurie Colwin

For a triple whammy, try talking about eating while eating with friends while your friend’s mother teaches your class how to make Korean BBQ and kimchee.