Pat-a-Porter

Here's Pata in her new baby carrier. (Not a great photo, I know!) It's a Kozy, which is basically a mai tei, but slightly more versatile. I ordered it a couple of months ago and had it shipped to my aunt and uncle back home. They brought it with them when they came for a visit a couple of weeks ago. I was afraid that if I had it shipped directly to Italy it would either get stuck in customs or just never arrive. I'm glad that I had my them bring it over because it was shipped in a canvas tote turned inside-out (amazing green packaging!) and I doubt Italian customs officials would have been very careful opening it. I love using a carrier because it gives me more snuggle time with Pata, and it's more convenient than pushing a stroller over stone-paved streets and up and down all the steps at building entrances. And Pata loves it too, judging from how she rests her head on my back and makes sweet sighing noises while we walk.

Olive Oil Imbroglio

This year, N and I are having the olives at Campo di Pere harvested for the first time. Not having a clear idea how much oil our trees would produce, or the money to pay the laborers fifty Euro a day, the going rate here, we decided to enter into an oil-sharing agreement. In exchange for their work, the harvesters receive fifty percent of the oil produced, a fairly typical division.

N is Neapolitan, which means that anytime money or goods change hands, he's on the look-out for a fregatura. Sometimes I find his distrust astonishing, and I'm a former New Yorker. This time, though, I shared his concerns. How could we know that the workers weren't putting some of the olives aside for themselves? There's no way either of us could monitor the work up there every day. But not being able to harvest them ourselves, we decided that it would better to be robbed of a few olives than let them all go to waste.

So far, the olives have gone to the frantoio in two batches. N wanted these trips to the press to made on Saturdays, so he could go and make sure the oil was divided fairly, and watch out for imbrogli by the workers at the press. But the olive harvesters preferred not to wait for N, saying that they wanted to have the olives pressed while fresh, and made an agreement with N's aunt to take the first batch to the press on a weekday.

N insisted that the next batch go to the press on a Saturday. This time the harvesters offered a different reason for not wanting to wait: the olives might be stolen in the meantime. Now, these olives are stored in a locked shed to which there are only two keys, ours and theirs. So it seems that the distrust is mutual.

Regardless, N prevailed, and the second batch of olives was pressed on Saturday, and at a different frantoio, because he wanted to compare prices. The difference was only one Euro, but it turns out that going there saved much more money than just that. Because at the second frantoio the same quantity of olives produced fifty percent more oil than at the first one! And the oil is superior in quality as well. What's odd is that the first frantoio is the more popular of the two. I suppose that most people, like N's aunt, simply go to the same businesses year after year, never seeing a need to compare services elsewhere. I understand consumer loyalty, but only if it's deserved!

Pata Poll

Pata's birthday is just one month away, and it's time to start planning her birthday cake! I'll be making two: one for all the party guests and a little one just for Pata, made from healthy ingredients she can eat. (I am very strict about Pata's diet.) I've narrowed down the choices for Pata's cake to three: applesauce cake, banana cake, and carrot cake. (Yes, abc. No, I didn't do that on purpose.)

Help me decide which one! Cast your vote in the first ever Pata Poll, located in the left sidebar!

Complimenti

For the sake of balance, I thought I might write about some of the nicest comments I've heard since having Pata. One of the positive things about having a baby in Italy is that Italians tend to be effusive about babies. Hearing someone tell you how beautiful/sweet/good your baby is can really brighten your day after hearing someone else say something silly like, "Signora, your baby is going to catch cold because she's barefoot."

Most of the comments I hear about Pata are fairly run-of-the-mill and about her appearance:

They tell me, "Ma com'é bella!" or "É stupenda!" (How beautiful she is! She's wonderful!) Sometimes people will simply say, "Complimenti!" (Compliments!)

Often, they address their comments directly to Pata:

"Bellissima!" (Beautiful!)
"Sei una stella!" (You're a star!) or "Stellina!" (Little star!)
"Bambola!" (Doll!) or "Sei una bambolona!" (You're a big doll!)

Others are slightly more imaginative:

"È un capolavoro!" (She's a masterpiece!)

"Siete da fotografare!" I'm not sure exactly how to render that one in English- maybe "what a beautiful picture" An elderly woman said this to us when Pata was in her baby carrier.

"Keep your eyes on that one, they'll steal her!" I didn't hear this one firsthand; N did, so I'm not sure of the Italian.

My dermatologist once suggested that Pata was so beautiful because she was the product of two cultures. A few others have said the same thing. I like to hear that.

My favorite comment was from a little girl, maybe about four or five, in the pediatrician's waiting room. "Mamma," she said to her mother, "è una bambola, voglio portarla a casa!" (Mamma, she's a doll, I want to bring her home.)

I have to admit that while it's flattering to hear that I've produced such a lovely baby, the focus on her appearance does trouble me. Yes, these are comments that strangers make, and as such, they're about first impressions, but gender roles in Italy are still quite traditional and inflexible and I don't want a daughter who'll grow up thinking that a woman's value is in her looks. So at home, whenever I tell her how cute I think she is, I always add that she's strong and good and kind and smart and sweet and funny and playful and best of all, lovable just because.

I have heard quite a few comments that weren't about her appearance, though.

Quite a few elderly gentlemen have expressed their appreciation for the baby carrier. "She's just where she should be!" they say. (Older women on the other hand, seem not to like it. "Let me help you take your baby out of that thing," one once offered. Oh wait, this is a supposed to be a positive post!)

On the same spring day I was reprimanded for Pata's bare feet, a pharmacist said, "How wonderful to be barefoot on a day like today!" (Sorry, it was several months ago, I don't remember the Italian.)

Lots of people just say, "Ma com'è buona!" (How good she is!) I like that, especially because Pata is a spirited baby and she doesn't always conform to traditional ideas of what makes a baby "good."

Pata's biggest fans seem to be other children. Girls in the eight to twelve range often stop us, squeeze her cheeks, then ask, "Che c'é piccola?" (What's the matter, baby?) The first time it happened, I thought it was odd, but then girl after girl repeated it.

Once a young teenage boy who looked well on his way to becoming a delinquent reached down as he passed us in the street and pinched one of Pata's cheeks.

A preteen girl at our villeggiatura in Tropea this summer followed us around in hopes of playing with Pata. "È irresistibile," she explained (She's irresistible.)

Everyone tells me that Pata's real name is beautiful when they hear it, even if they can't pronounce it.

I don't think we've ever gone out without hearing at least one positive thing. Maybe that's why I'm so patient about the nonsensical things I've heard.

Pata at large

Exploring in the kitchen