Italian Beer Series: Castello (Udine)

Castello, produced in Udine, recently just went through a makeover to jazz-up its image as a homely brew from the Slavic part of Italy. You can still find its old straightforward label (as I did), but the new labels are also around--more energetic, young, and for the drink-til-you-pass-out crowd. Despite all that, the beer is nothing to air-guitar about. It's characterized by a mellow hoppy smell with strong carbonation and medium body. Upon pouring, the beer has a light amber color and the froth is light and transient. Beer itself is nothing special, with a very slight sweetness and pleasant bitter aftertaste.

Busa di Novegno Snow Hike

Busa Novegno is usually known for its rolling hills, lots of malge, and WWI-related trails and caves, but we hiked today to the top of Busa di Novegno for one purpose: to see a winter wonder land when snow has not yet descended upon the Vicentino plains. We got more than we bargained for, and most of the day was spent desperately tying to keep warm, keep dry, and keep the snow from getting into our eyes. But I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, a good hike and perfect for a solitary day in the snow.

Lago di Trasimeno (Umbria)

The northern shores of Lake Trasimene is an agricultural paradise: quiet, with the surrounding rolling hills filled with olive groves and vineyards. In the morning, a thick mist blankets the quasi-valley, making the atmosphere more peaceful and quieter still. But one could tell by the names of the surrounding towns the bloody past of this small piece of flat land: Sanguineto, Ossaia, Pian di Marte. This was the location of one of the earliest and most successful military ambushes in history, in a battle between Hannibal's Carthaginian forces against Flaminius' Roman army. In a matter of three hours, almost 20,000 men died and more were sold into slavery. Hannibal's victory was decisive and have been remembered throughout history despite a persistent campaign by Rome to erase him and his aggression from history. Agriturismo owners nowadays don't sell their products with Flaminius' face--Annibale's is plastered onto everything bottled sold by these farms.

I wonder, what would he think of his legacy, now that his name is being used to sell quality wine and olive oil?

Italian Beer Series: Moretti Baffo d'Oro

Top shelf Moretti that costs as much as a four-pack of the regular stuff. According to Birra Moretti, Baffo d'Oro is 100% barley perfect for "drinking with old friends". Sure, if they like beer that smells like somebody's crotch. Immediately after opening the bottle, one instantly notices the beer's odd and very strong odor. It's barley with a side of Pepe le Pew. It has a strong, slightly cloudy amber color and a big and lasting head. The body is rich with hints of caramel. A slight bitterness holds throughout and becomes very unpleasant at the end. No matter how premium of a Moretti this one is, it's still a Moretti in its vast abilities to disappoint.

Movies in Italy: Voyages in Italy (Roberto Rosselini, 1954)

A film about the disintegration of an upper class English couple set in Naples, this film was originally considered a failure, Rosselini's cementing of his turn away from neorealism towards plotless stories about the upper class. The Italian and American critics hated it, but the French loved it, with Rivette proclaiming, "With the appearance of "Viaggio in Italia', all films have suddenly aged ten years". Although I would disagree that this film was as radical a shift from the films that came before it, it is definitely a departure from the typical products of the time. Rosselini does not use a traditional three-part narrative to portray the conflict between husband and wife. Instead, it is unfolded through their interactions with Naples: with its copious pregnant women, religious fervor, ancient ruins, and affinity for catacombs for the dead--almost a teaser for the far radical departure in narrative that will be introduced by Antonioni five years later. Some may think that the ending is abrupt and contrived, but do notice the actual ending: the film cuts away from the protagonists into a random street scene, which says a lot about what the filmmaker is really thinking about this "relationship".

Sicilian Fashion Village Advert

Pretty cool, but Filippo looks like a try-hard L.A. scalawag.

Ivrea Carnevale

Carnevale in northern Italy is more popularly associated with the hedonism in Venice or the floats in towns such as Viareggio or Verona, but the best of them all isn't the prettiest but definitely the raunchiest. Spain may have their tomato and wine festivals, but Italy has Ivrea's Carnevale, where the town takes a break for a weekend and throws an orange or two in each others' noggins, all in good fun. The tradition is said to date back to the Middle Ages, and the story goes: once there was an evil duke that ruled the city and, exercising his right to lus primae noctis, dragged a virgin into the castle on the first night of her wedding. Unfortunately for the duke, the night ended with him drunk, head cut off, and tossed off his castle's tower down to the cheering crowds below. To commemorate the gruesome event, the town threw rocks at each other every Carnevale. Shocked at what must have been a very bloody sight, the invading Napoleon decreed that only beans could be thrown and not rocks. Around the mid-19th century, the beans turned into oranges. After WWII, the event became organized to what it is today, most likely to capitalize on tourist potential.

The day of the orange fight started tense. After taking a very crowded train from Torino, participants walked the long main street of the town towards the main piazze where the duels took place. Non-participants wore silly read stockings in their heads to make it known that they were not supposed to be targets, but as we found out later on this was an illusion best left at Ivrea's city limits. Slowly, colorful carriages of aranceri (orange throwers) representing "the duke's men" start to roll down the streets, singing fight songs and some visibly drunk. As one gets closer to the squares, one starts to see aranceri camps, filled with food, booze, and ammo (oranges).

After entering the historic center of Ivrea, the streets got more packed and the crowd more squeezed. Buildings were covered in green nets so as to protect windows. The pushing increased and the crowd noticeably started to buzz. Some tourists go behind the green net. It was boring and the spots were snapped up by tourists very early, so there really was no point avoiding the ensuing barage. After an hour of waiting, the neighborhood teams arrived, ready to fight the aranceri. After their procession and their bands started to drum up adrenaline, the carts started rolling in!

First, they came slowly. A few minutes in between each cart to let participants acclimate. Some stay in the sidelines, but one slowly realizes the middle of the piazza, right in the sight line of the throwers, was the safest spot and the most convenient one for throwing oranges back. In the beginning the neighborhood teams are angry at red-hatters for throwing back, but the more beer they consume the less they cared. After a few minutes, it became an absolute melee and the whole place is covered in orange guts and blood from broken noses.

After the first few carts, the carriages start to enter the piazza in an endless stream, sometimes three or four at a time and the targets become completely surrounded. Children, pregnant women, old people: everyone was throwing oranges and getting struck back. Camraderie started to build with the neighborhood teams and even if I didn't wear their uniforms, I couldn't help but associate with one team or another. Once in a while TV cameras controlled by remote control hover the crowd, but they only became targets for the oranges. Unlike La Tomatilla in Valencia, Ivrea's carnevale lasts more than two hours. Imagine: bone cold in the middle of February hurling oranges into exhaustion.

In the end of the festivities, the whole place is covered in oranges (imagine the smell!). Horse shit and oranges mix and crying children protest in disgust as they navigate streets knee-deep in muck. The remaining intoxicated keep the random orange airborne, and some fights start to break out. Obviously, this would be the time to go and enjoy the rest of the festivities.

Afterwards there are dance demonstrations, mock sword fights, and a reenactment of Napoleon's invasion (which the town welcomed). It's all well-staged, except I think no one really had enough energy to enjoy the rest of it. The train back was horrendous: packed to the brim, with no room to move for the hour-long trip. For those lucky enough to enjoy it, Torino offered great nightlife and decent beds to delay the aches and pains surely waiting for the next day.