The House of Ricotti

Hi curious readers!

Before diving in, I'd like to send out a THANK YOU to everyone who helped me brainstorm great American folk songs to share with the Rafaela chamber choir. Many peeps suggested beautiful songs like Shenandoah, This Land is Your Land, Simple Gifts, and Oh, Susanna! If inspiration (or NPR) strikes again, let me know!

Now welcome to the House of Ricotti, a place where doggies are venerated, words are constantly tinkered with, and boys named Brian are fed mountains of delicious foods. Raul and Lelia are two free spirits who have welcomed me into their family and helped make my transition into Rafaela extra smooth. GRACIAS A DIOS that I ended up with them! There have already been many times that their affection and humor has spared me from a barrel of homesickness and feeling-sorry-for-oneself-ness.

Raul is a dean at the Tech University here in Rafaela, and Lelia teaches English (and, since the arrival of a certain Yankee boy in her home, Spanish too). They are, to mutilate a nice Spanish term, semi-jubilated or semi-retired and they have two beautiful daughters. Carola is a 30-year-old cardiologist who lives literally around the corner with her boyfriend Gabi, a graphic designer. Sonia, who is my age, studies bioengineering in Santa Fé, the provincial capital, which is about 2 hours from here by bus.

What can I tell you about the marvelous Ricottis? We bonded immediately over puppy doggies because they share their home with three clownish canines, Dulce, Grisa and Cookie, who provide a lot of comic relief and are just shooooo cute, yesh they are - jusht the most precious shweetie-pie doggy woggies in the whole wide world, except for when they... NNNNNÓ! BAD! no jumping on people! Cookie, get off the table! Stop, Grisa, Dulce, NO! Do NOT eat the pigeon! 

Well, I think you get the picture. But if you don't here are some more.

Cookie hamming it up for the cam, Dulce just chillin' out, 

D&G taking a siesta (or contemplating potential afternoon shenanigans)

Music provided another connection, as Raul used to wail on the trumpet and piano back in his days as a shaggy-haired student. They have been encouraging me to play the clarinet and were psyched when I started practicing with the municipal band. The family also spent some time in State College, PA back in the 80's so we have a do a lot of idea swapping on language and culture in the Americas. 

I appreciate most that the R fam has incorporated me into simple routines and rituals. For example: Sunday evenings we always take the poochies for a walk in the country. And by the country I mean one of Rafaela's newest housing developments on the brink of construction. We run and play and learn nature-related vocabulary there.

 

Lelia, Raul, Sonia and the 3 stooges after a Sunday walk.

Sunday afternoons are spent eating with the extended fam: Lelia's bro, sister-in-law and nieces and nephew, and Grandma Belgica. Most Argentines have some kind of corny nickname, most commonly gordo (fatty) or flaco (skinny) and although Grandma Belgica has passed the notable milestone of 90 years on earth, everyone still just refers to her as Coca (as in Coca-Cola).

One week Lelia made a special request that I cook some typical US food for the Sunday dinner, so I spent the weekend whipping up a big steamy cauldron of Chili con Carne and a pan of crumbly cornbread. Eat your heart out Martha S. The Argentines were curious indeed, and their first reaction was Oh, it looks like feijoada! which is a Brazilian bean stew made out of the reject meats. I was nervous about cooking for a crowd of strangers and questions raced through my mind; Is this enough salt to satisfy the Argentine palate? Will the spices seem unusual to them? Will this make everyone incredibly farty later on? But out of 11 dinner guests, 10 asked for second helpings. Whether they did so for yumminess, or out of sheer politeness is something that I'm not going to question too thoroughly. Bottom line - they ate it - RELIEF!

 A witch stirs the pot 

(a witch = an English professor in profesorado parlance.)

The Ricotti fam after a hearty meal of chili con carne!

They deserved their siesta that day! 

Family R. also invited me along with them on Easter vacation. We went to a gorgeous region called Traslasierras in Córdoba province. It's a picturesque region with rocky, semi-arid hills that reminded me a lot of parts of California. I took many beautiful photos to share with you, but someone robbed me, so you'll have to use your imagination and make do with this:

Here's the deal - we went to dinner in the pueblo and came back to our little house 4 hours later. I thought I should brush my teeth before going to bed but couldn't seem find my toothbrush anywhere! In fact, I couldn't find anything except some of my socks and my day planner.  My backpack, clothes, camera, sunglasses, iPod and photo-album were all gone! A quick inventory showed us that although the windows and doors were tightly secured, most of the small bags had wandered off in the night. The Po-Po came to do a little investigatory work but despite abundant clues, their devil-may-care attitude communicated that our case would rot at the bottom of a filing cabinet. I am doubtful that I shall ever see those dirty undies of mine again.

Anyway, as Norma Gonzalez said, Nowadays, people want stories and pictures, pictures and stories. So just FYI, my upcoming dispatches might be a little light on the pictures until I can find a replacement cam.

Much love, and thanks for reading!

XOXOXO
B