June 23, 2007

It seems, that Italians are not so different from the people of Eastern Oregon. Tonight, I was invited by the sister of the mother of my family (yes, I know it is confusing) to go to a picnic/BBQ by a river. Mind you, she speaks about as much English, as I speak Italian (giving us a grande total of 20 words to communicate with), but I was promised that there would be people there who spoke English. My anti-social side (yes, I have one) begged me not to go, but my adventurous side won out. And, just as promised, there were people there who spoke brilliant English....and others who did not, but tried with all that was in them to muster up a few words....that is one thing that I love about the people here-they are so gracious and not at all afraid to try to speak to me, even though their English is not polished. Anyways, an Italian "picnic" is a bit more elaborate than those at home, although the spirit and good will is just the same. We feasted on grilled pork, chicken, and kabobs, brushed with a branch of rosemary, drenched in olive oil (Italian, of course!) Everyone was given a fresh hunk of bread, and the homegrown tomatoes, cheese, prochutto (ham), and wine was limitless. For desert, we had cherries, pineapple, and the most delicious torte of my life. The setting was so charming with the beautiful river, blankets for everyone to sit on, and citronella candles lit to keep the man-eating (or, in my case, woman-eating) mosquitos at bay. We talked and laughed for hours, and it will be a memory that will be dear for years to come.