Carissima Nonna, questa è per te (Dear Nana, this one's for you)

Nana - of course I miss you every day, but today I especially missed you on account of this experience:

Today I had to go to, as we say here, "fare le spese" (grocery shop) as I am currently preparing to reward myself for finishing (well...hopefully finishing within the next two days) my first ever 10 page academic essay in Italian (on the role of women in the Commedia all'italiana films of the 1960's.  I can assure you I've about had it up to here with Sophia Loren and the rest after this week of writing).  Anyway, so my planned reward: baking a cake.  Yes, you heard it here, I have officially tackled baking in the metric system.  In a "duh, of course" moment, I found a french recipe for a pear cake that looks delicious, not too unhealthy for being pre-holidays baked goods, and - lo and behold - already in metric and celsius measurements.  I love it.  Anyway, the baking part is my reward - the eating will be for my amazing roommate Melli who has agreed to proof read my awful excuse for an academic essay in Italian.

So anyway, I went to the Pam, which I regret to say is more like an American supermarket than those cute macellerie and pasticcerie at which you probably imagine one buying fresh cheese, meat, etc.  Honestly, Pam is the place to go for the basics because yes, it actually is cheaper and has some good deals, and so sue me, I'm on a student budget.

I happened to be perusing the baking items aisle when around the corner came possibly the cutest elderly Italian woman I have ever seen, saying "La pasta c'è?  Signorina, la Barilla c'è qua?" Honestly, I couldn't really tell if she was talking to me, but as there was no one else in the aisle, I felt the need to respond...so I told her it was in the next aisle over.  Basta - done, right?  Not quite...

"Voglio la Barilla numero 3.  C'è un'offerta per il numero 3."  Um, wait.  I think she is asking me to find her No. 3 Barilla pasta because it's discounted today.  Don't think she realizes that I know very little about what shape number 3 Barilla pasta is, much less where it might be in the copious amounts of pasta you find in an Italian supermarket...

So I did what I think anyone would naturally do.  I led her to the pasta aisle, bent down and searched for a good five minutes for that Barilla number 3 (which by the way happens to be generally along the lines of spaghetti), and grabbed two boxes for her.  At which point, of course, she started gushing and laying the type of praise on me that only a nana knows how to give - "Ma quanto sei brava, sei una brava ragazza, che gentile! Che simpatica! Tanti auguri signorina, buon natale!"  And on and on and on telling me how I am beautiful and kind and wonderful and wishing me and my family a merry Christmas, the whole nine yards.  I, of course, felt alternately overly flattered, a little bewildered, and extremely happy with such a sweet interaction.

And most of all - it brought to mind my trips to the supermarket with my own Nana when I was really little, and how we would have eat supermarket lunches together (like rolled up turkey cold cuts!)...

So Nana, I miss you and I love you!  I can't wait to go to the supermarket with you in the (hopefully near) future - you know I'll always get that Number 3 Barilla for you!