Why Leave Italy?

Recently I’ve become interested in learning more about Italian immigration. I keep reading information on wineries, and the history is so often about an Italian immigrant coming over, getting a small plot of land, and years later turning it into a respected staple of Argentinian wine. In Argentina, you can’t turn 10 feet without seeing some signs of Italian influence. Maybe it’s the ubiquitous pizza shop, the hand gestures, or the names like “Federico” or “Di Napoli.” It’s pretty obvious that Italian immigration to countries like Argentina and the United States played a part in shaping these cultures, and there are just as many examples like this in the U.S.

Yet this all go me wondering why so many Italians chose to immigrate. I’ve been to Italy a few times, and I love it there. The small town built into hills that shine golden at sunset, the animated characters who make you laugh even as you don’t fully understand what they’re saying, and the discovery of some other ancient artifact around every corner. And hey, let’s not forget the food, wine, and women. It’s a historian/oenophile/culinary/dude’s heaven. Who would ever want to leave such a place?

So I started doing some research, just to get an idea of what caused so many millions of Italians to leave their homes for the great unknown, in search of a “better life.” I found a comprehensive university paper written by Alessandra Venturini for the Department of Economics at the University of Turin. This paper titled, Italian Migration, was written in November, 2003, but the facts haven’t changed. Here’s what the author had to say in this 49 page dossier.

During the period of 1861-1976, over 26 million people emigrated from Italy, with half of them going to other European countries and the rest going to countries in North and South America. Two-fifths of all emigrations were from regions in southern Italy. Based off of multiple sources, Venturini asserts that the main cause for mass emigration was due to the slow and difficult economic development in Italy following unification, as well as the economic expansion in other countries occurring at the same time.

So basically, as one might imagine, poorer people left their homes in search of more opportunity. What American doesn’t know that? The obvious might have been stated, but I still find it interesting from time to time, thinking of a situation being so rotten that you would leave a country like Italy for the rest of your life. To leave behind all of your friends and family, everything familiar, and just start over. Maybe it’s more relevant to me because immigration has been a big part of my life, and though I have been living abroad for over a year, I’m not an immigrant, and I plan to go home at some point.

The document had some other interesting information as well. Between 1875-1928 emigration from Italy reached its peak, with about 17 million emigrants abroad. Eventually, the government started to get worried about losing so many citizens and had to put into effect restrictions on leaving the country. After World War II, emigration was mostly to Europe, and especially to Germany. In the 1970’s there was a switch, however, as the economic situation improved, and the country became a place of immigration, rather than emigration. Today, Italy sees immigrants arriving for work opportunities from other European nations, Africa, and Asia. The majority of those who leave Italy now are specialized and skilled in a field, or go for a short period of time and return.

An equation was even created to describe what would cause someone to emigrate.

M(iod) = f (W d– Wo - C) f>0

The individual decision to emigrate (Mi) from the area of origin (o) to the area of

destination (d) is a positive function of the expected income differential in countries of

destination (Wd) and origin (Wo), net of migration costs (C). Thus, the larger the income

expected benefit from migration, the more likely the move.

If you ask me, that seems a bit over the top. I don’t think immigrants are sitting around scratching their heads and doing the math.

I hope that this information doesn’t seem too confusing or use too much jargon. The point that I’m trying to make is simply that even if you live in a beautiful country, economic situations can cause you to take a leap of faith and try for something better. Many Argentinians, as well as Americans, trace their roots to Italy. The mass migrations have stopped coming out of Italy for now, but who knows where the next wave will be from, and for how long that will last.

Is "Tourist" a Dirty Word?

I deal in a world of tourism. It started as an interest and hobby, grew into a project with my writing, and now is my profession. I work in travel and tourism, yet I hate the word tourist. I hate the word because it conjures up so many negative images and stereotypes. The out of place dad with knee-high white socks and sandals, a camera around the neck, map sticking out of the back pocket, and guidebook in one hand while another points up at some landmark, holding up pedestrian traffic. No one really wears those I ♥ NY shirts anymore, but the same sentiment is felt in wearing the jersey of the national team or the local beer company.

The more that I’ve traveled, the less and less I’ve wanted to be associated as a tourist. Though it’s impossible for me to blend in as a local everywhere, I still try to at least make it less obvious that I am there on vacation, both for security and convenience reasons. Nothing is worse than walking down a busy pedestrian street with 30 vendors trying to get you into their restaurants or to see a “special tango show.” So I take a picture quickly and sneakily, and then I put the camera away. Or I act as if I know where I’m going or have a meeting to catch, even if I’m lost or just killing time. But that’s just me.

Yet as a part of my job, I write information for tourists. In one of the guides I was writing, I found myself replacing the word “tourist” with “guests” or “group members.” Maybe it’s because to me, the word “tourist” almost sounds like an insult. You can hear it being used in so many negative sentences. “Traveler” seems to have a much nicer ring to it. A traveler goes to a place to experience something or to open up cultural understanding. A tourist just shows up for a few days to drop some coin and pull away some souvenirs. I wrote about similar sentiments while still in Cuenca in July, noting the differences seen in the gringos that passed through the towns. A lot of expats feel the same way, and as my friend Amy put it, the reason we hate them is because we see a reflection of ourselves never truly being able to blend in. So really, we hate ourselves.

No matter where I am when I’m traveling, I hate the idea of being a tourist, even though it’s basically what I am. There’s no escaping from it, because even if you don’t feel like that stereotypical tourist, in the eyes of the local, that is exactly what you are. It’s kind of ironic then, that I should be writing about traveling, working at a travel agency, and love to travel. A love/hate relationship, in a way.

I can’t say for sure if at some point the word itself took on a new meaning, or if it’s always seemed kind of rotten. Anywhere in the world at any time period, I’m sure, locals have resented visitors for being able to just show up and leave freely, and visitors have resented locals for hiking up their prices and acting superior. There are examples all over the world where this is not the case, but the larger the city you go to, the more obvious it is. Yet go to a small town in the mountains in Ecuador, for example, and everyone will treat you like a friend. It just depends on the situation.

Some people like me though continue to bear the title of tourist as a mark of shame. We are seemingly always trying to run away from it, attempting to blend in more and learn as much about the culture as possible to demonstrate that we really are different. Sometimes the locals see that and appreciate it. Other times not so much. And if not, well then all we can do is wait until we are home and back to being a local. Then we can finally be the ones to mock those damn tourists.

Above: Being tourists

What You Leave Behind

What do you gain when you spend so much time away from home, living abroad in some wild expat dream or traveling? Often enough, you wind up losing more than you think you're gaining. Ask yourself, do the long term potential benefits of leaving home really outweigh the short term actual benefits of staying in a place already familiar to you?

I'm in a weird place right now, and really I have been for a couple of months. Maybe I have been for a couple of years. When you start out traveling, everything is so new and fresh, and it's all just incredible to you. You can actually be somewhat understood in a language that isn't your own! But after you've been around enough, the novelty starts to wear off, and while it's still a terrific thing to do, you have lost that initial thrill it once gave you. Slightly, anyway.

I think of my insatiable dream to come visit Argentina, and eventually live here. It was an unreachable dream for a long time, then it seemed like more of a reality, and finally I was planning it out and ready to do it. But if you've followed along in my time here, you'll see that it hasn't been love at first sight. It's been a hard struggle with what I expected and what I found. In many ways, this has tarnished the dream I once had, and I'm left to wonder.

I wonder if I ever should have toyed with the idea in the first place, and merely left it as a dream, so that I could at least look at it and have that special corner to go to. To imagine what it would be like. You can picture living on a tropical island as perfect, but stay there long enough and the truth emerges. Tropical disease, famine, floods, monsoons, tribal issues. No place is perfect. So maybe leaving something to the imagination isn't a bad thing.

I've always wanted to travel as much as I can while I can, to see the whole world. Last year I read "The Alchemist" by Paulo Cuelho, and though I read it in Spanish, I understood it pretty well. One of the characters always dreamed of going to Mecca, but when given the chance to go, preferred to stay at home and not make the trip. His reasoning was that if he got there and it wasn't that great, his image would be ruined, and he would have nothing left to live for or look forward to. I understand that point so much better now.

However, I still want to travel to every corner of the world. But it makes me think about why. Every new place I see just takes me farther away from home, and you never truly get back. Even with Ecuador, which became my home after long enough, I wonder if I should have stayed there. I left behind some things, and some people, all of which were very important to me. Sometimes you leave a Saturday tradition, which you miss for the sentimental purposes. Other times you leave behind a person which for one reason or another you love, and know that you've blown any chance at anything ever developing or continuing. That's much worse, and it's selfish in so many ways, to take away that potential relationship from both people.

Maybe the correct answer is that once you've traveled long enough, you don't really belong anywhere, yet are uncomfortable staying still. It's an isolating state of mind, where nothing is ever good enough, and what you've already seen was so much better. What a horror.

Is Violence On the Rise in Argentina?

The question of security continues to rise here in Argentina, with more fervor in the last few weeks as a string of violent crimes have shocked the nation. Last week, former national soccer team player Fernando Cáceres was shot in the eye while teenagers tried to steal his car. An Argentinian actress’ home was recently broken into, and when the invaders saw her and recognized her, they apologized but said they had to eat. Two police officers were killed this week, and a public prosecutors house was broken into in the upscale neighborhood of Recoleta in Buenos Aires. According to the Buenos Aires Herald, 14 policemen have been killed since the beginning of the year.

The situation looks pretty bad, and when you throw in the fact that subway and tram employees have been on strike and disrupting transportation in the city, and protests in one form or another seem to be occurring all the time, you might think the country is on the bring of collapse. Many Argentinians think their country is dangerous, but in my eyes, it’s not devolved so badly just yet. I imagine that eventually we'll get to a point like in the movie "PCU" with Jeremy Piven and the anti-protesters protesting, "We're not gonna protest, WE'RE NOT GONNA PROTEST, WE'RE NOT GONNA PR..." You get the idea.
 

Obviously with my experience in Ecuador, I have a slightly different look on security than most people. Especially travelers who are merely passing through for a few days and only hitting up the touristic areas. And it would be wrong of me to say that Buenos Aires is totally safe, but in that same breath, what city doesn’t have violence and crime? Every time I check the Boston Globe there is an article about some kind of violence or trial based on violence that previously happened.

When talking to Argentinians and telling them that Ecuador is pretty dangerous, they are surprised and ask if it’s more dangerous than here. I tell them absolutely yes, and they are still surprised. Maybe it’s a narrow mindset that makes them think only their country could be dangerous, but they really have no idea. While walking down a street in Buenos Aires, I might be able to sense that it’s not the safest area, but I don’t have nearly the same amount of alarm that I would in Quito or Guayaquil. Not a chance. The trick is to not let my guard down too much, because it’s once you get too comfortable in a place that you get lazy and don’t pay attention to clear signs. And I still know people here who have been robbed at knife point.

It will be interesting to keep an eye on this situation and see if the country responds to the increasing crime or if it sinks further with it. It’s certain that the citizens are at least outraged from the thought of it getting any worse, and looking for someone to reverse the trends. Either way, I’ll be here reporting on it.

Ruba Guides

I was contacted tonight by a member of Ruba Guides, a fairly new Web site that is kind of like TripAdvisor in the sense that they work off of user reviews. I used to write for TripAdvisor when they had first started their Inside Pages section, and was on the team of freelance journalists who got the ball rolling on that. This seems pretty similar. The reviews are focused around different locations and activities around the world. Ruba Guides is looking for contributors to add helpful information and tips to their site. It looks like a pretty interesting project, and I'm glad to begin working with them as a contributing writer. Here is the first post I've written, focused around a day trip from Buenos Aires to Colonia, Uruguay.

Colonia Day Trip from Buenos Aires
Travel Guide By Jon Brandt

Llapingachos, Baby!

One day in Cuenca I went to my friend's apartment and he offered me some llapingachos. I couldn't remember having them before, though they are traditional Ecuadorian food. They were good. Damn good. And I set out a personal goal to try to cook it some day. Well, that day came today. Keeping with the Ecuadorian themed weekend, I invited my friends Valerie and Dan over to watch some football and cook what didn't exactly look like what's pictured above.

Llapingachos are pretty simple, but ultimately a bit tricky to make. They are potato pancakes stuffed with mozzarella cheese, topped with tomatoes, fried egg, onion, or basically whatever you want. My friend Lucho, who gave me the idea in the first place, also told me to check out Laylita's Recipes for the llapingachos. It was a life saver. All you really need is potatoes, onions, and cheese. Everything else is a bit extra, though you can obviously read through the explanation and recipe for better information.

Hungoverly, I picked up the ingredients and waited for my friends to arrive. Once here, Valerie was kind enough to do most of the work, and prepared the goods while Dan and I watched the Patriots game. Dan and Valerie are from Utah, but Dan has Tom Brady on his fantasy team, so that makes him a fan. Valerie peeled and chopped up the potatoes, boiled and mashed them, and diced up the onions and tomatoes to prepare a mixture with the mashed potatoes. We then had to wait for an hour as they cooled.

After an hour I pitched in my part, and rolled the dough into golf ball sized balls. They kept breaking up so to counter that, I made the balls bigger with more potato. Yes, my balls were big. Next, I pushed a little hole into each ball and packed them with the mozzarella. I wasn't sure of the next step, but I combined two balls and mushed them until they were fat patties. This left me with 7 fat patties of llapingachos.

They spent some time in the oven and I flipped them once, most of them breaking apart as I did this. It was a delicate game to play. I had the aji from the Ecuadorian restaurant out and couldn't stop smelling it, so excited for some spice. A Spanish friend of Valerie's came over as well, and Dan helped cut up the avocado, which it turns out was far from ripe and went uneaten. Dan had also cooked homemade empanadas before coming over, so once we took out the llapingachos he warmed up them up, and voila. We were ready to eat.

I sprinkled diced tomatoes on the llapingachos and we sat down to a traditional Ecuadorian/Argentinian dinner. Everything came out well, though I seem to remember the llapingachos tasting better in Lucho's apartment. Really, they are a side dish, though they can be turned into a meal with a fried egg, or emapanadas like we did. It was a fitting way to end an Ecuadorian weekend. Salsa, almuerzo, Ecuanapping, and llapingachos. I think next time I'll try patacones or ceviche. ¡Chévere, Boludo!

Above: Photos courtesy of Laylita's Recipes

Ecuadorian, Argentinian Style

I won't lie. I've been craving the old Ecuador lately. Lots of things are different here, and something about the adventure of life in Ecuador is to be desired. So I asked a friend in Cuenca who lived in Buenos Aires for a year if he knew of an Ecuadorian restaurant here. He gave me the address--a literal hole in the wall on Avenida Corrientes y, get this, Calle Ecuador. Perfect.

I finally got myself over there yesterday. It's in Once, the neighborhood known for Jewish, Peruvian, and Korean citizens. I think Once reminds me of the rest of Latin America more than any other place in Argentina, and maybe that's why I like it. Vendors selling everything and shouting anything in the streets, the hustle, the grime. I love it. I wound my way around the streets to find the place, but it didn't help that it was on Calle Ecuador. Every time I asked someone if they knew of the Ecuadorian restaurant, they thought I meant any restaurant on this street.

At a Peruvian restaurant I asked a man who said he didn't know, but as I walked past he whistled at me and pointed at a door. Just a random door that looked like someone's house. He motioned for me to go in. Awkwardly I pushed open the door and the first thing I saw was the Ecuadorian flag hanging proudly. The salsa music was blasting, and the few diners there looked up at me. I was at home again.

A group of friends took turns taking pictures by the hanging picture of President Correa, and the waitress showed me what they had. Unfortunately, they had no ceviche, encebollado, or Pilsener. Though they had Brahma, which is close enough. This was an Ecuadorian restaurant but with Argentinian prices. I ordered the seco de pollo, at a hefty $18 ARG pesos. It was worth the treat. They even had some green aji, which wasn't the hottest I've had, but it was the best I've found so far here in Argentina.

The meal came out and, surprise surprise, there was a mountain of white rice next to my chicken. It was so welcoming, and I loaded on the aji just like the old days. It was more of a relief to have this food again, listening to that music, surrounded by other Ecuadorians. It felt familiar. I wouldn't say the food in Ecuador was great, but I will say that Ecuadorian food cooked in Argentina is good. I was happy with the meal, and once I was finished a guy at the table across from me invited me over to talk.

He was from Quito and has been living here for 6 years studying, and his friend was from Argentina. We shared some beer and talked about how I knew of the place and Ecuador. And then, in typical Ecuadorian fashion, he invited me to join them at his apartment in Recoleta for a beer. Before leaving I paid up, $28 pesos for the meal and a liter of beer. That works out to about $7.30 USD, and a meal like that in Ecuador would normally cost $2. But what can you do?

We went to the apartment with a Heineken and from the terrace on the roof looked out over the city with no clouds or noise at all. It was high up but not outrageous, yet in this neighborhood the noises of the city were far away. It was good to talk to the guys, and in more traditional Ecuadorian (Ecuanapping) we went out to a free symphony performance put on by the Law Faculty of the Universidad de Buenos Aires. The performance was well done, and after the intermission we went back up top and sat down on the stairs.

The next thing I knew, my new friends had ditched me. I turned around and they were gone. How bizarre. Why would they buy me beer, coffee, and invite me to a show just to ditch me? It was head-scratching material, so I slipped out and started off for home. Later I met up with a couple of other guys and we went to a birthday party at a bar in Palermo. The birthday girl had paid for 20 bottles of champagne, and so sitting next to the water bucket, I drank a fair share of champagne. Once the 20 free bottles were gone I even bought another.

No surprise here, a hangover was in store for the day. But the day was not to be a wash...