Io presento Valentino Rossi!

Hello my dear friends! As you lay awake at night pondering the meaning of...so many things, so...very...many...things, one question you must surely have is this: Who is the best motorcycle racer in the world as we know it? Fortunately, Blogiorno has the answer to this particular question, though few other answers to much of anything else. From a small town in Italy called Urbino, located near the Adriatic coast, comes World Champion Valentino Rossi. Valentino Rossi is an Italian professional motorcycle racer, and he is one of the most successful racers of all time, with 7 Grand Prix World Championships to his name. There is another racer with more than 7...that is the great Giacomo Agostini, also of Italy, who has 15 GP World Championships!

Rossi rides in MotoGP. MotoGP is a worldwide series that takes place on almost every continent in the world, with rounds in China, Turkey, Spain, Australia, Germany, Japan, Italy and several other countries, including the U.S. Simply put, MotoGP is the pinnacle of two-wheeled track racing. Every racer aspires to be in MotoGP.

Thankfully, only an hour and a half north of my villa in San Luis Obispo, California, a round of MotoGP takes place: the U.S. Grand Prix at Laguna Seca. I have attended this international event twice to watch "The Doctor"--Valentino's nickname--compete. [See photo, right.] What an event. Alas, Valentino has not been able to win in the U.S. yet. Why? Is it a major flaw in his 200+ MPH, 220 horsepower Yamaha M1 motorcycle? No. Is it jet lag? No. Is it Pamela Anderson--who attends, along with many other "stars"--distracting him by shamelessly trying to hurl herself at him from the pits? No. It is the crummy Michelin tires that the Yamaha team is contractually bound to use; they are just not up to the task. THANK YOU FRANCE. Hopefully a U.S. victory will come in the future for Valentino.

So, cara amici, Valentino Rossi is considered to be the greatest motorcycle racer of our modern age. He is not particularly imposing, but when he gets on the bike, no one can touch him, equipment being equal, which it never is. It is said that Valentino races lines like no other racer, and that his heartrate is astonishingly low when he rides, barely breaking 100 beats per minute.

Currently, Valentino lives in London, England, simply because he is mobbed in Italy almost immediately and cannot walk down the street. Such is the love the Italians have for their humble son. But make no mistake about it, though quite humble in demeanor, he is a superstar. On a worldwide scale, he is much better known than any American athlete, with perhaps only Tiger Woods rivaling him. His success has also earned him tremendous riches: According to Sports Illustrated, Rossi is the 7th highest earning sports personality in the world, 2nd outside the United States, earning an estimated $30 million a year, not including endorsements. Mamma mia!

Grazie mille for reading...until next time!

Italia: Campioni del Mondo!

Every four years, the sporting world as we know it is turned absolutely upside down. No, I'm not speaking of the Olympics, where perfectly acceptable concepts such as "goodwill" and "world community" are mercilessly jammed into our auditory canals by tanned American sportscasters for two weeks. Rather, I am referring to that glorious, gritty worldwide brawl known as World Cup Soccer. If you're American, you're probably as familiar with the great sport of soccer as Europeans are with Nascar, but believe me, soccer is monumentally colossal worldwide. In fact, according to "the internets", the 2006 World Cup stands as the most watched event in all of television history. Wow. It achieved an estimated 28.29 billion non-unique viewers over the course of the brawl, and the final match scored an estimated audience of 715 million people.

Now, what's great about World Cup is this: Pure, raw nationalism rules for a month, with no apologies whatsoever from players or viewers. It is a beautiful thing. Unless you're speaking of the French, who I must single out because they made it to the final with Italy. France did indeed have an excellent team, yes. But like it or hate it, French nationalism seems to be almost universally questioned. Why? Perhaps because in the history of world affairs, the French cannot escape their penchant for the color white, which obviously detracts from stout nationalism. Fair statement? Who can say? On the one hand, the French government did in fact collaborate with their Nazi occupiers in World War II; on the other hand, the common citizens of the French Resistance are the stuff of legend, and should held up in high esteem. And let's not forget France's role in the founding of our great nation, the United States of America.

Anyway, for me personally, I have a problem with French nationalism for a different reason, and here it is: When was the last time the French fans had the internal fortitude to start a 100,000 person riot in a stadium, complete with flying seats, fires and collapsing fences? I rest my case. I mean, the Italians and Germans and Brits do it all the time, and with great ease. (Now that I think about it, I'm not so sure that's a good thing for the Degos, Krauts and Limeys.)

Anyway, in 2006, a blessed year, Italy took the World Cup from the many other capable teams, a list in which I of course include the French team. In fact, as I said before, the final match was between Italy and France, and it will not be soon forgotten. The final started with each side scoring within the first 20 minutes, and from there on, it was a topsy-turvy ride to the penalty kick shootout, which Italy won, 5-3. Si!

Before the shootout, the match was tarnished when France's excellent player Zinedine Zidane headbutted Italy's Marco Materazzi in the chest and was subsequently shown the red card and sent back to the City of Lights. The French press whined--shocker, I know--that Materazzi insulted Zidane. True, he did, but let's get real: trash talking is often part of the psychological match, and not just in soccer.

In 2006, the World Cup was held in cities throughout Germany, and they put on a fine show for the world in the Berlin final. Plus, you have to hand it to the Germans--they know how to riot. It was the first all-European final since Italy won the World Cup in 1982. It was also Italy's first world title in 24 years, and their fourth overall, putting them only one behind Brazil, widely regarded as soccer specialists. Sadly for the German fans, their team did not win the cup, and that is a shame. But the most important thing to Italy, to Italians, and to you, my wonderful Blogiorno readers, is that Italy gave France das boot in Berlin, triumphing in overtime, as no doubt wished for by our pal Pope Benedict, and perhaps even ordained by THE highest power, our Lord Jesus Christ, Who reigns supreme.









Ciao! We'll see you in 2010 in South Africa!

Beauty in Italia

*** Disclaimer: This entry is an observation of different perceptions of "beauty" and is "tongue-in-cheek", designed to prove that Italy reigns supreme. It is not meant to demean anyone, but rather to showcase Italian beauty, inside and out, and how Italy views beauty, as opposed to how America views it. Obviously, there IS NO "most beautiful" person in the world. But since People magazine is obsessed with this topic, here at Blogiorno I don't want to fall behind, seeing as how my readership rates are about the same as theirs, give or take the population of a few continents. Anyway, there is no need to send me email about the sins of lust or idolatry; please, this blog entry is not about that at all. For you gals, you know how you have late-night slumber-party talk where you opine over Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt and Jack Black, often imbuing them with impossibly perfect character, demeanor and hygiene, without actually having any evidence? Okay then. I think I've covered everything. Now, onward with the beauty, cara amici. ***

Every now and then you see the headline on a magazine whilst waiting to purchase your groceries at the supermarket: "The Most Beautiful Woman In The World..." Typically, this headline is accompanied by a twenty-something-year-old girl of ridiculous proportions, computer-enhanced liquid-blue eyes and golden-highlighted hair. Such a headline is, of course, somewhat silly because a claim like that is completely subjective. Who makes these decisions about who THE most beautiful woman in the world is? Why do they feel so bold and free as to announce it to the world? I would really like to know. And why do various magazines differ on who THE most beautiful woman is? One would think if it were that certain, then all of these high-quality magazines (e.g., GQ, People, In Style, Truckin') would reach the same conclusion.

Alas, it is not that simple. In fact, for the magazine editors it surely must be an incredibly complicated selection process, accompanied by complex opinion polling (i.e., their teenaged sons and daughters) and perhaps even intense, personal wining and dining (i.e., courtesy of slippery L.A. and NYC agency execs). Ironically, however, it is the ever-changing, subjective nature of the bold periodical statements which allow me to contrast them with the following universally objective announcement:

The most beautiful woman in the world is from the great country of Italy, and that woman's name is Monica Bellucci.

Ms. Bellucci is an Italian model-turned-actress, who can actually act quite masterfully. She is perhaps most well known as Mary Magdelene from "The Passion of the Christ", and she has appeared in the two most recent "Matrix" films. Of course, she has also appeared in numerous Italian films. She is probably the most well-known Italian actress in Italy.

If you look closely at the photograph of Monica Bellucci, you'll notice a few things:
1. She has no blonde highlights. 2. She is not 18-25 years old. 3. She weighs more than a cantaloupe. 4. She does not roast in the sun but has natural--and untattooed, thank God--fair skin. 5. She is the most beautiful woman in the world.

On that last point, note the use of the word "woman". Ms. Bellucci is a woman. "Of course she is," you may perturbedly say, perhaps as you embarrassingly recall the Maxim magazine your heathen roommate slid onto the counter whilst purchasing tough actin' Tinactin and the family-sized bottle of Albertson's rum in the plastic container. (Please recycle.) Ah, but let's juxtapose her with a few of the shamelessly self-promoting, headline-grabbing females of late: Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, Britney Spears, to name a few. Does anyone really consider any of these to be actual "women" in the course of random conversation? Probably not. They are usually referred to as "babes", "hotties", or "girls". But make no mistake about it: they are merely pretenders. They are not women.

You may also notice that Ms. Bellucci breaks all of the traditionally held ideals of what makes one attractive in the American market: She is a dark, classic Italian beauty, she appears to eat food and, in fact, she is well over 40 years old.

On her age, a special note: In Italy, a woman is considered to be at the peak of her womanly powers no earlier than age 30. As she reaches her thirties, forties and fifties, she is considered to be at her most beautiful. I applaud that way of thinking, and this makes sense to any rational, thinking person.

So once again, the Italians have it right, and American "culture" has it wrong: a woman cannot be considered beautiful until she begins to mature, inside and out. If time is kind to her in that process of maturation, she becomes more and more beautiful. But it isn't about just physical beauty; Italians also know that as a woman matures physically, so she does emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Thus, "beauty" takes on a completely different meaning in Italy, and, in my humble opinion, a much deeper meaning.

Therefore ladies and gentlemen, God, Italy and Blogiorno give to you The Most Beautiful Woman In The World, Ms. Monica Bellucci.

Bravo! Buona fortuna Signora Bellucci!

Spaghetti Alla Carbonara...Manga!

Hello again my friends. I would like to share with you one of my favorite Italian dishes to make. I've read that this pasta recipe comes from the Lazio region, which is where Rome is. I had this dish in a hotel in the town of Orte, Lazio. They used a touch less egg, perhaps 2 instead of 3...at least, I think so...it is kind of hazy-slash-dreamy to recall because the hotel owner's daughter, who served us, was a real Italian beauty with dark hair, large, dark eyes, light skin and a no nonsense way about her. Mamma Mia! After serving us and others, she and her equally-as-beautiful mother sat off to the side and watched in amusement as a group of Italian men cheered a soccer game on the television, several of them inebriated out of their minds, but happy as Liguria clams. Classic. Anyway, uh, back to the ingredients...ummm, where were we? Eggs...oh, yes, you might experiment. Two eggs work, but three makes it totally deggadent, har har.


Spaghetti Alla Carbonara

2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup diced bacon (I use Pancetta instead of American bacon)
1 garlic clove, peeled
14 oz spaghetti
salt and fresh ground pepper
3 eggs, beaten
6 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
6 tablespoons grated Pecorino cheese (use all Parmesan if you can't find Pecorino)

Melt butter in large, heavy pan, add bacon and garlic, fry gently until browned, then remove garlic from the pan.

Cook spaghetti in salted water until al dente, drain, add to bacon. Stir well and remove from heat. Add eggs, a pinch of pepper, half the Parmesan and half the Pecorino. Toss until eggs turn creamy, then add remaining cheeses. You might put over heat again, but be careful that the egg doesn't start to cook too much. Add a touch more salt and pepper if desired. Toss again and serve. (Serves 4.)

Enjoy this rich, GUILT-LADEN dish!

Short Story: All Is Right With The World (Tutto E Adatto Nel Mondo)

pioggia a Firenze
Originally uploaded by aabitia.

Hello again my faithful readers. (I thank you for that loyalty, by the way.) So far all of the entries in Blogiorno have been "commentary" in nature. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed them as much as I have enjoyed authoring them. However, as you may know, there are other avenues down which a writer can travel in his "literary journey". To wit, fiction. Now while I do not consider myself a fiction writer, I decided that it would be an interesting exercise to write (and actually finish) a "short story" for Blogiorno. I have done so here. I would sincerely like to hear your thoughts about it; however, if you will kindly permit me, I would like to enumerate a few "ground rules" to keep in mind as you share your thoughts with me and the blogging world:

1. Please be honest.
2. Please be polite.
3. If you cannot be polite, please substitute "colorful" words with socially acceptable ones.
4. Please be as accurate as possible, as this will help me create more of "my art" in the future. Example: Instead of, "you suck man", you might more accurately state, "I did not actually read your story, as it necessitated an extra precious click of my mouse; said clicks are normally reserved for online gaming. After evaluating the title of your story and finding it lacking [any mention of girls with AK-47s], I respectfully navigated away from your blog".
5. You may not refer to the main protagonist as "Vinnie" or any disrespectful iteration thereof.

Influences: One, actually--John Cheever. I personally like his writing quite a lot, and while some might consider his work to be outdated (he wrote from the 1930s to the 1970s), I say he's one of the best ever at short fiction. My favorite work of his is "The Country Husband". Really excellent.

*** Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The main character is an amalgamation of many people, real and imagined, and my observations of them. Finally, while there are intense thematic and spiritual elements in this story, they are by no means "correct" or even reflective of my personal beliefs. Again, my friends, it is fiction and should be taken as such. See? Now you don't have to send me an Angry-Gram. ***

The title of this short story is "All Is Right With The World" (or, in Italian, "Tutto E Adatto Nel Mondo").



Download the PDF here