Fashion expert I’m not, but I’m pretty sure this summer’s floral fashion trend was inspired by the Italian Muumuu. You know the one…extra-large, floral, aprony dress worn by bosomy Southern Italian women everywhere.  It’s a quintessential piece of Italian summer fashion, which is why we must find the ultimate Muumuu before we’re shipped off.

The too expensive $10 Muumuus

The requirements:

• Must be one size fits all
• Must be floral and at least four colors
• Must be $5 or less
• Must have a pocket where we can store snacks like apricots and packets of squeezy Nutella
• Must accessorize well with nude colored knee-highs and orthopedic shoes

I went on a solo muumuu mission at an outdoor market in Lanuvio and found some top contenders, but they were WAY out of the jet set ZERO budget at 20 bucks a pop.  The good news is that Lynne and I are heading south again this weekend to meet up with Sarah and Perrin in the heart of Muumuu country:  CAMPANIA.

The Muumuu Truck

I went from living on a farm, to having the ultimate farm-to-table experience in my Tuscan host family.  In addition to carbo-loading, I’m getting to taste a parade of organic veggies and locally grown fruit purchased at a discount by my host family and a group of others in Arezzo who are members of G.A.S.  Not as amusing an acronym as the F.A.R.T. factory I used to live near in Treviso, G.A.S. stands for Gruppi di Acquisto Solidale and its members join together to promote sustainable farming and local growers.

Yesterday, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of two rickety crates on the kitchen table overflowing with fiori di zucchini (zucchini flowers).  I have a mild addiction to these yellow blossoms of magic (deep fried, clearly) and have never seen so many in one place before.

I heart zucchini flowers

And today, I saw this mysterious looking green stuff on the table.  I found out that it’s called agretti and to me, it tastes like spinach-flavored seaweed with an arugola bite.  In Tuscany it’s eaten with heavy hitting extra virgin olive oil and salt, to complement the unsalted Tuscan bread.

Agretti in Italian, Friar's Beard in English

This is the epicenter of freshness:

Inside my Tuscan Kitchen

Eating has ramped up since we arrived in our next stop:  Tuscany. Do you blame us? A typical eating cycle for Lynnie and I has been cookies for breakfast, pasta twice a day (with bread for scarpetta), an aperitivo squeezed in between the pasta and home made cakes for dessert. It’s excessive. It’s awesome. And apparently it’s not going to make us fat because ALL the Tuscan women I’ve seen are unusually lean. But if our pancias (italian for protruding paunch, a.k.a. belly) do decide to take things to another level, we’re tracked down a book that can help.

Easier said than done in Italy

A day in the life of an Italian farm girl is sort of amazing.  I got a whole week to play the part on my host family’s farm in Roccafranca with Lynnie as my cohort.  It went a little like this:

7AM: Still sleeping but smell espresso and hear chickens.  Snooze.

7:30AM: Chickens are back.  Attic window is starting to get light.  Walk over and see mist rising over the backyard cornfields.  How could you stay asleep?

Morning cornrise

8:00AM: Eat biscotti at a kitchen table made for 10.  Drink espresso.   Operating heavy machinery isn’t recommended before several cups.

It's my table and I'll eat if I want to

8:30AM: Ride the tractor and some broomsticks.

Harry Potter meets Old McDonald

(more…)

Maybe it’s the pace, the irony, the rules (or lack-thereof) in Italy that sometimes makes going with the flow a challenge. Although Perrin and Sarah are quite the Italophiles already, Lynne and I thought this tip sheet would come in handy for those brief moments of utter frustration:

1. Queuing – a line, or fila in Italian is a mere suggestion and cutting (chinese back-cuts or otherwise) is socially acceptable.  TIP: Elbows out, keep your eye on the prize.

2. Speak-a-da’ language- Getting by with English is manageable in big cities but not in the remote spots Jet Set Zero prefers.  TIP: A few Grazie‘s and Va bene‘s go a long way.  And “Do you speak English?”  usually falls short.  When in doubt, just gesture.

Gestures speak louder than words

3. Dry your Hair or Else: Italian wives’ tales are tall.  A popular one is the wet head farce:  Going out of the house with a wet head (even in summer) will cause serious illness.  TIP: Give yourself extra time to dry. Italian hair dryers are are not up to the task and using yours from home with an adaptor WILL blow the fuse.

4. Playing Chicken: Crossing the street isn’t as much of a death wish as Saigon, however in Italy it’s optional for cars to stop.TIP: stick one toe out to test the water. The further South you go, the riskier it gets. In Naples, you’re sure to lose a leg.

Cross At Your Own Risk

Co-Post: Sarah and Perrin

Courtney and Lynne are ACLE pros and Italy veterans as far as we are concerned.  Luckily for us they have been showing us the ropes in camp and around town in San Remo.

Today their leadership pertained most significantly to their knowledge of prime food spots. The experienced duo led us on a gelato tasting expedition across three vendors, patiently instructing us on how to say “I would like a sample taste please” in Italian (“Vorrei un campione di gusto per favore”).  Lollipop was the winner.

First samples of Gelato.

Tasting the creamy, nutmegy, nutella-y goodness for the first time, we could not stop drooling long enough to pick a winning flavor. Good thing we have six more weeks to give each option a second chance…

Here are a few of our other first impressions from our time in Italy (see photos below).

The Hokey Pokey Dance

Teaching English to non speakers is much harder than expected but we are having a blast returning to our youthful days at Summer Camp.  Here Perrin and I demonstrate teaching “The Hokey Pokey”.  Lynn informed us the proper name in Scotland is “The Hokey Cokey”.  We’ll see which name prevails with the children after the summer.

Espresso: Drink early and often. Two cups at a time if necessary.

The medieval mountain village of Bajardo, Italy has less than 200 permanent residences, but enough soul to feed the entire population of New York City.  Most of Bajardo’s inhabitants are over the age of 60 and have never ventured more than a few kilometers from the main piazza. Many work a craftsman and all take great pride in their trades.  Our teaching program’s founder has spent years tirelessly restoring the crumbling stone homes at the pinnacle of the mountain and he now offers tutors the opportunity to stay in Bajardo before or after work.  We jumped at the chance.

You don’t need a guidebook here.  You can learn everything you need to know about Bajardo by sitting down on a stoop next to a local like 1oo-year-old Yolanda.  We listened to her stories, read the untold tales tucked away in her wrinkled faces.  Touched her soft but feeble hands.  She might not have understood why we were there or what our large black alien camera was,  but she helped us understand our purpose for being there.  For being here.  In Italy.   La vera Italia.

Yolanda...still laughing at 100 years old

Courts, Lynne and Big Bog

Magic Mountain, Bajardo

Some stuff you won’t see in the episodes:

Dinner with the BF's Bro

Via Piero della Francesca

The Best Terrace in Milan

This week get an inside look at the job and lifestyle each Italy cast member is leaving behind, starting with Courtney:

It’s hard to put a finger on my job title these days.  A friend put it best when he called me a “cubicle refugee, travel writer, tv personality and full-time vagabond.”  I’ll take it.

Most of my daytime hours are spent doing what I love: writing travel articles, editing videos and cooking up crazy ideas like a season of Jet Set Zero in ITALY.  I work from my home office or anywhere that has Wi-Fi.  I set my own hours, eat home-cooked lunches and take conference calls in bed.

Where the magic happens

This one's coming with me to Italy

My Starbucks

When I’m not spending long periods on the road, I have no problem picking up part-time work to pay the rent.  A cube refugee’s paycheck just doesn’t cut it sometimes.

Lately, I’ve been working nights at Emporio Restaurant in NYC.  I set my camera loose in the restaurant this week to get some international goodbyes and JS0 shoutouts:

I work alongside artists, singers, actors, expats and other hilarious characters.  It’s like hanging out in a hostel every night… we share travel stories and learn how to say curse words in each others’ languages.

Emporio Om Nom Nom

Courtney and Aussie mate Emily at Emporio