Update on Travels, Food, and Friends

We went back to Utah for Christmas and New Year's and now we're back home in Rome. That might sound strange; but when people asked us how long we were staying, Robyn always said, "We're going home January 2nd." It didn't sound at all strange to me to say that home was in Italy--perhaps for several reasons: our house sitters live in our home and we stayed in the basement; we have a lot of fun here; and we missed our friends. I'm going to skip ahead for today's installation and then go back and cover other items of our travels later.

Our good friends from Palermo, Sicily are back in Rome for a stint at the temple. I've mentioned Alberto before--he's the guy who calls me "Alfred" because so many of the Italians have trouble pronouncing my last name. He can say "Allred" perfectly well, but he keeps calling "Alfred" to mock those who can't. I've figured out how to fix saying my last name, though, for most people here. In Italian it's essential to pronounce double letters when they appear. Italians have a dickens of a time trying to figure out how to pronounce both els in Allred since the second el is also followed by a consonant. To say "now then"--allora--you must pronounce three syllables: al-lor-a. When Italians see "Allred," they feel they have to say, "Al-lred" and it just doesn't work. Usually, they add an "h" at the beginning (we haven't figured out that part yet), and it just goes downhill from there. If they leave off the "h" it usually comes out "Alfred." When I spell my name with only one "l" they have no problem saying it right though sometimes they still slip in the "Hall" part on the front end. 

Alberto and Domenica arrived last week and brought us goodies from their garden. Sicily is more tropical than Rome and gardens continue to produce all year. He gave us a type of lemon called a "cedro" (pronouced chay-droh.) He said, "These have a very thick peel on them; but they're sweeter than regular lemons and quite good eating."

From my perspective, they looked a little dodgy, and he was right about the peel. It was really hard to open up, (I think I used pliers in the process) and the lemon inside was just as sour as any other lemon I've ever eaten.

I told him a day or two later that I didn't find it to be particularly "good eating" and that it was as sour as most lemons I've tasted. He was a little puzzled by my comment, and a day or so later asked me how I had eaten it.

I explained the process and he said, "You don't the lemon part, you eat the peel!" I remember now that "peel" was the antecedant of "good eating." I tried some of the peel when I got home, and he was right. He sent me a photo of his grandchildren eating this fruit as the Italians do: