The Hot Pot Blog


September 18, 2014

Switzerland and an update on settling in

First trip Lugano-2
We went to Switzerland for a few hours last weekend. We practically collapsed into fits of giggles nearly every time we tried to talk about it nonchalantly. The novelty of living in Europe, of living less than an hour’s drive from a whole other country has not worn off yet.


We’re slowly settling in here. It’s hard to pinpoint that moment when figuring out our bus route stopped feeling like a calculus equation or when ordering an espresso stopped feeling like an anxiety-inducing dance step. But I do know that today was the first time I unconsciously answered a question in Italian without first having to translate my answer from English to Chinese to Italian in my head. For the record, I do not speak Italian–but at least I’m no longer using Chinese pronouns when people ask me questions about my kids.


We are getting used to city living again. Will loves the subway, the tram, the bus, the trains. I forgot how much I enjoy it too. I like the strange mix of proximity and anonymity on public transit. Smushed into a subway car with 65 strangers I feel enveloped in the rhythms of the city in a way I don’t get as we walk through our neighborhood watching fashionable friends meet and greet each other on the sidewalk. It’s nice.

So maybe this is a funny time to mention but we bought a car last week. And a couch. It was a very expensive Thursday.


It’ll likely be 6 weeks before we lay eyes on either our couch or our car (I’m told this is very Italian) but we think they’ll both be a little life-changing—not least for the people who currently have a 6 inch-tall wooden bench to sit on in our living room when they come to visit.


I think we bought a couch today (at least I hope that's what we did--our Italian is still a little rough). It will be 8 weeks to deliver but in the meantime we've got this lovely bench #interiordesign #milano
Take a seat


I doubt the car will get as much daily use as the couch but it will increase our range for weekend exploring around this part of the country. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted a car until our trip to Switzerland last weekend. Now I’m dreaming as much as my husband about all of the tiny little hillside towns and hiking trails there are to be found just a bit more easily by car than by bus or train, especially with two little kids in tow.
First trip Lugano-7


Last Wednesday I went to my first playdate in Italy with a few other expats. It was the first time I’d talked to someone unrelated to me by either blood or marriage who wasn’t a store clerk or a language tutor in weeks and weeks. Honestly, even if we had talked about nothing but watching paint dry I’m fairly sure I would have found the conversation stimulating. Luckily though it was far more interesting than that.


And just when I thought I couldn’t get any higher on human contact, I did. Will wanted gelato on our way home from the playdate and at the gelateria there was a man getting gelato with his two young kids. A banker with well-tuned English, he told me where to find the best cheese store and the best butcher in town. His kids ran off before I could ask him the name of the best bakery but he gave me my card and told me that Chris and I should get in touch any time we want to know anything about food or wine in Milan. Which reminds me, I should email him about the bakery question.


I’m learning, very slowly, how to do this Italian thing. I still feel very out of place most days but I can imagine that, with a little more language, we’ll get more comfortable here. I know how to order coffee and pick out vegetables at the market without being completely offensive (I knew before I arrived that it is technically illegal to touch fresh produce with bare hands but it took a language tutor to teach me the polite way to tell a market vendor that I’m done shopping. “Basta cosi” in case you were wondering).


I know how to haul two kids and 3 grocery bags on and off a tram at the same time now without bringing traffic to a standstill. I’ve blow-dried my hair three times in the last two weeks–which is more pomp and circumstance than my head has seen since my wedding day five years ago. I wear lipstick everyday now. I’m still a hot mess compared to three-quarters of the people around me but who knew it was possible for a little bit of red lipstick to make a person feel less conspicuous rather than more so. Through some observation I’ve also found the loophole in Milanese fashion culture: tomboy chic. Boyfriend jeans and t-shirts pulled together with trendy sneakers and great hair. It’s an unsurprisingly popular look among my peers on the playgrounds.


My boys on the canal #navigli #milano #italy


We visited the Navigli Antique/Flea Market for the first time the other weekend. When Chris was out of town two weeks ago, the kids and I took a double-decker tourist bus around town and surprised ourselves to realize we’ve seen more of the city already than we thought we had.


Because I've never photographed it yet #duomo #touristy #milano


We tried our first Barolo the other night. Not being serious wine people, I can only say that it was by far the best wine I’ve had since a very specific bottle of Tempranillo that we had Thanksgiving weekend in Charlottesville five years ago. But last weekend our friend introduced us to Valpolicella and, at 4-6 euros a bottle, it’s quickly becoming our wine of choice. We won’t dwell here on the night in our first week in town when I accidentally brought home a bottle of fizzy red wine–except to say that it reminded me of a grown up version of something you might find being passed around at a high school house party. And that’s not necessarily a damning description.
The usual suspects. #porcini #itswhatsfordinner #meatlessmonday #farmersmarket #milano #italy

Porcini mushrooms are in season right now and they are gorgeous, brown and white and covered in dirt at the market. I learned the hard way that we have to cook them the day we buy them but they are completely worth the effort. Stone fruits are just passing their peak but Shiloh ate peaches and nectarines nearly every day in August. I promise I won’t get too poetic about the tomatoes or the strawberries, but once the last of them finally leave the market in the next few weeks we will dream of them all the way until next summer. I never knew what a tomato was really supposed to smell like until we moved here. Artichokes and pumpkins are everywhere now and today I saw dark green leaves at a few stalls that may be heralding the beginning of chard and kale and winter greens season.


Fall brights #farmersmarket #italy #fall

My favorite colors #onthesidewalk #farmersmarket #italy #gettingfiggywithit

Hello gorgeous #italianfood #italy #farmersmarket #bread

This summer has felt endless. We’ve had six months of summer now across three different countries and I’m so ready for a new season. I am so ready for our first real fall in years, for the chance to make soup and wear sweaters that haven’t seen the light of day since Will was a tiny baby. There’s a tree across the street from our house that’s sporting red and orange in shy little patches across the uppermost branches. I can’t wait to watch the trees change colors. And to maybe start feeling like this place is home, at least for a little while.


Switzerland, yes I did start this post with the intention of writing about our day trip to Lugano. I don’t think I’ve seen bluer skies and greener grass anywhere. We went for our annual Labor Day Hike (albeit two weeks after Labor Day) and I can’t wait to go back, maybe in our own car next time.


First trip Lugano-10
First trip Lugano-9


P.S. This girl.


Please someone remind me of these moments when she someday turns into a teenager on me #shiloh


She takes my breath away every single day. Especially now that she’s constantly attempting to dive out of my arms. Her hair is long enough for wee little ponytails. Her smiles and giggles make me melt. She eats everything from anchovies to roasted pumpkin soup. She refuses to crawl in a traditional sense but has developed a sort of lunging/scooting version of locomotion that serves her well. She’s fiercely determined in everything she does. Will’s toys are no longer safe but luckily he’s just about the sweetest, kindest big brother that a little sister could ever ask for.
Will and Shiloh on truck sept 2014-2
True story, after I put Shiloh's hair up in a pigtail for the first time, Will thought it was so funny that he alerted us every time the rubber came out so we could put it back #shiloh #siblings


P.P.S. Last week I finally developed the three rolls of film I’d been carrying around in my purse since June. I didn’t ask how much it would cost assuming it would be only slightly more expensive than the price I paid back in Wisconsin. I can tell you now that it’s about three times as expensive as Wisconsin and that things are going to be a leetle more digital up in here for awhile. But, here are a few shots from our summer in the States and a teaser I guess from Italy.


photo 1 (3)

photo 4 (2)

photo 5 (2)

photo 2 (3)

photo 3 (3)

photo 2 (1)

August 28, 2014

Brioche and Red Lights

Light #italy #morning #milano
I’ve written and deleted at least five blog posts trying to get here and this is not the one I thought I’d be writing.


I am completely stupidly obsessed and profoundly grateful for every single beautiful thing about this country. I cannot stop looking up at the piercing blu skies. I love the coffee and the wine and the ancient hill-top towns and the piazzas. I love that the Milanese seem to eat chocolate-filled croissants (which go by the name of brioche here) for breakfast every single morning and teetering towers of gelato every afternoon. I love walking through the park at 7pm and seeing families out playing before dinner because why put the kids to bed at 7:30 when it’s still light out? I love the friendly helpful people and the fact that the Italian language actually has a whole separate verb for the action of walking through a particularly beautiful place in nature. I have a feeling Chris is going to have to drag me kicking and screaming to the airport when it’s time for us to leave three years from now.
Hasn't gotten old yet #italy

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And that’s the thing that fills me with both a sort of manic urgency and a kind of melancholy I have no right to feel in a place as beautiful as this. I’ve seen so very little of Milan and Italy so far but what I’ve seen is enough to know that three years will not be long enough.



I’m tired, all the way down to my bones, of this international moving thing. At least for now. I’m tired of knowing that as much as we like it here, it’s only temporary. Next time could be somewhere we like so much less. I’m tired of the unpacking, of the faux pas I don’t realize I’m committing until after the fact. The need to decipher a foreign language with two whimpering children in my arms in order to figure out how to get across town, get a working cell phone, and obtain the all-important grocery store cards that magically make everything from groceries to dry-cleaning more affordable. I’m drained from 6 weeks of getting my toddler acclimated enough so that we can tackle multiple outings in one day without risking epic public meltdown. No matter how amazing his Dad and I might think this place is, Will is still adjusting. It’s not home yet and, for now, it’s still a far cry right now from the constant companionship and cozy community he enjoyed back in Delhi.


I was making the bed the other morning and for a few minutes I got lost in a fantasy of what it would be like to live somewhere for more than 2-3 years. I romanticize settling down and belonging to a place the way some people probably romanticize our lives overseas. I dream of friendships without expiration dates and visiting the same coffee shops and bakeries for years on end without having to leave just when we’re finally becoming “the regulars.” I wonder what it would be like to look for a job I could stay in for longer than 18 months at a time. I wonder what it would be like to own a home and actually live in it.


6 weeks from now, I’ll be over this phase, for now we still getting settled. Hell, we are still all sleeping in one bed while we wait for the last of our furniture to arrive from the States. I’d be crazy to think we should have everything all figured out already, but sometimes I’m a little crazy I guess.


My sweet and sensitive little boy is trying so damn hard to do all of the new things we ask of him here. Like responding “Ciao” and “Buongiorno” to people on the street who, for the first time in his life, look a lot like mommy and daddy but who don’t necessarily speak a language he can understand. Difficult things like walking 2 miles to the grocery store without running into the street. As he said to me today “Mommy, I stop at all the red lights now!” He does and that’s something and we can work on everything else. Kids are resilient sure, but I can’t imagine what must go through the head of a little person who’s already lived in four countries in his first three years of life.
The post-gelato, pre-bedtime Friday night runaround. We could get used to this. #italy #milano


The long lonely August holiday is nearly over and shops are opening for business again. Kids are returning to the playgrounds. The city no longer feels as deserted as it did. Today as I was bagging our groceries at the Esselunga grocery store the cashier asked me in English why I didn’t have an Esselunga card. “Points! Sales! You need one!” he said.


“I know!” I said, “but I don’t know how to get one.”


“Here, I do it for you right now,” he said and, astonishingly, with three people waiting in line behind me, he did. It was as if the clouds above suddenly cleared and all of the beatific angels in all of the church murals across town suddenly burst into hymns of rejoicing. I nearly wept with gratitude.
I gave up Catholicism a long time ago but the well-loved churches of Italy conjure up something like nostalgia for me #italy
Was a rough day in paradise today.  But this. #italy #milano


I haven’t gotten to go out shooting around town yet. Every film developer in town has been closed since the first week of August. I haven’t found the best little salumeria or bakery or paninoteca. I’ve had at least ten mediocre pizzas since we’ve arrived from the very appropriately named “Pizza Ok” pizzeria near our house–but not a single one from the best pizzeria in town. In fact, aside from our weekend trips, I haven’t made it more than a few metro stops away from our house.


But I’ve got my grocery store card now. My kid stops at all of the red lights. That’s really all I can ask for at the moment. We are going to be just fine.
Shiloh's first appertivo #milano #italy #italianfood
Shiloh’s first appertivo

Early morning milano walk #nofilter #italy #sunrise

August 2, 2014

Varrena in the rain

Varrena in August-8
For the past two weeks I’ve spent my days acquainting the kids with the five block radius around our house and my nights doing battle with moving boxes and dirty kitchen corners. Unless you count the pediatrician, the market, the grocery store or the endless visits to the park where I look longingly at two and threesomes of fashionably-dressed Milanese mothers wishing I spoke Italian, I have not explored one iota of Milan.


But the house is nearly all put away and the kids seem reasonably well-adjusted now for three weeks in and so when Chris pulled me out from under a heap of laundry on Thursday night to ask if I wanted to take a day trip somewhere this weekend I must have said something like “yes, please, anywhere” and the train tickets were booked and purchased before either of us could stop to think “what about the weather?”


Thank goodness we didn’t though, for had we seen the forecast calling for a 90% chance of thunderstorms over Varenna, I doubt we would have made the trip. And while I’m sure Varenna, on the shores of Lake Como is a stunning place in the sunshine, I have a feeling we liked it better today for all of the mist and moss and quiet deserted cobblestone alleys devoid of all tourists and vacationers except those with either non-refundable plane tickets or possibly a few bad planners like ourselves.
Varrena in August-1

Varrena in August-3
Our excursion started out unpromisingly. We got off the train in a drenching hour-long downpour with two sleeping–the only reason I hope we ever have to pay 8 euro for the privilege of a 750 meter taxi ride. After which we promptly spent 10 euro on a cheap umbrella and nearly twice as much for some bad coffee and bad pizza (in Italy, yes, it’s true) at the closest place we could run to with two wet, disgruntled children. When cajoled into deploying the iPad not even thirty minutes into the trip, I secretly thought we were doomed.


But, buoyed by bad pizza and a little caffeine, we rallied. The rain never really let up completely, but we had miles (ok, maybe a mile) of winding cobblestone alleys to ourselves on which our little race car was free to zoom along as fast as he liked, free from the “slow down! Stop, stop, STOP! STOP RIGHT NOW!” mantra he hears so often in the city.

Varrena in August-12

Varrena in August-14

Varrena in August-4

Gosh you guys, Italy is beautiful. All of it, even in the rain. I get it now. I know I’m still very much in the honeymoon phase here but after the places we’ve been the last four years (places I’ve loved wholeheartedly–it should be noted) this kind of cobblestones and courtyard beauty is thrilling in a way I hadn’t counted on.
Varrena in August-10
Baby pines #varenna #italy
Varrena in August-9
Varrena in August-5


Also, I have a new drink of choice for those rare moments when I have time to do more than slam an espresso standing up at the counter: the marocchino. Chocolate and coffee in perfectly bitter and just barely sweet proportion.
Varrena in August-16
I brought three cameras with me to Varenna, including my phone, so eager was I to take photos after my self-imposed moving and two-children-plus-3-grocery-bags-in-my-arms related hiatus.  I can’t wait to see what Varenna will look like on the roll of black and white film I shot, but for now the instant gratification of digital feels particularly soothing to my cooped-up heart.
Will in Varrena-5
Shiloh in Varrena-6


Finding a place to get film developed is high on my list of priorities for the next week, but still competing with getting a cell-phone contract, a metro card and finding some merciful person to teach me Italian. Also figuring out how to sort the recycling without incurring a fine in the process. Oh and telling you all about Chinatown and the Italian recipe for a 7 month old’s first food and that one time we got caught in a downpour and a group of kind, wonderful nonnas fashioned a hat for Shiloh out of a plastic lingerie bag.
We were caught in a rainstorm on the way home from the grocery store and took refuge at a tram stop. The nonnas were worried Shiloh would be cold so they fashioned her a cappello out of a plastic bag. So@grateful to all of them@for taking such good care o

If I sound a bit flip or giddy it’s a bit of defense mechanism kicking in. Having done this new-country-new-city-new-language thing three times now, I wonder if I can write a single thing right now that will resonate with either you or me three months or three years from now.  What feels like a revelation right now will be taken for granted in a few months.  The road we took from the airport to reach our apartment already looks different to me than it did on that very first day.  I don’t speak the language or have pictures on the walls, I don’t have any friends right now or even enough beds for everyone in our house, but of course, in a few months, with some effort, hopefully those things that will change too.


I feel a little extra…guilty, yes that is exactly the right word for it, this time around for having landed in a place that is so often romanticized–especially by so many of our colleagues out in less hospitable places. We are so very fortunate to be here and I think in some ways I’m struggling to accept that it’s ok to live in a place with clean air and beautiful produce and a recycling system that does not presuppose a class of poor scavenger families eeking out their living by sorting trash for valuable cast-offs.  For the last two years we lived in relatively close proximity to hardship and suffering in a way that is mostly unfathomable here. Now it’s hard to reconcile what I saw everyday out my windows there with what I see outside my windows here.  I’m working on it and in the meantime just so speechlessly grateful for this opportunity we have to live and travel here.

And now this little three (three!) year old and this little almost 7 month old need me and so peace out for now. I’ll be back with some film photos soon!
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Shiloh 6.5 months-4

July 22, 2014

Like Falling In Love

20140721-225043-82243072.jpg

It’s been one week and two days since we touched down in Milan or Milano as it’s called here. I haven’t figured out which one sounds less presumptuous for me to use seeing as how my working Italian tops out somewhere shortly after “my kids are three and six months old” and “I’d like an espresso please”

Continue Reading

July 8, 2014

In Close Proximity

Can't get enough of those blue ridges. Hello Charlottesville, nice to see you again # outmyairplanewindow

The other night we pulled into a hotel parking lot across the river from Washington D.C. Chris ran inside to check us in, while the kids and I stretched and squirmed in the backseat.


“Mommy, where is home?” Will asked. Continue Reading

June 15, 2014

Lilacs on the breeze

Lilacs are the sweetest old-fashioned flower but to really love them you need a crisp blue sky, a soft bed with clean sheets, a quiet Saturday morning, an open window and a gentle breeze to carry their perfume over the roofline and into your sunlit room l


When people ask me how our time in America this summer, I hope I tell them about the lilacs. Continue Reading

May 28, 2014

Delhi the way I see it

open door single
Two weeks ago a professional photographer and a fellow FS spouse based in Chennai came to Delhi for a scheduled portrait shoot. She needed a photo assistant and I realized that I badly needed to get out of the house to capture on film all of my favorite details about Delhi–unencumbered by irresistibly kissable baby limbs and funny, if distracting, toddler antics. Continue Reading

May 21, 2014

A day in our delhi lives

Shiloh on quilt-1

I’d always aspired to do a ‘day in the life” post here in Delhi to record for the kids the banal, everyday details that really defined our lives here but that we might otherwise forget.  With only 5 days until movers show up at our front door though, I think I’ve finally procrastinated past the possibility of recording a “typical” day for us here.  Our friends keep texting with increasing urgency, our tough, no-nonsense housekeeper burst into tears last week when we tried to talk about pack-out, and our house looks like two years worth of living abruptly flew out of the closets and landed in haphazard piles across our family room. Nothing feels ordinary here anymore.


But if I had to aggregate two years worth of quiet little rituals and experiences into a single day, we’d have a day like the one I describe below.
Continue Reading

May 3, 2014

Delhi on film

light leak first roll-4
I bought an old film camera in Old Delhi a few weeks ago. It’s a Minolta with some spots on the lens and more light leaks than I know what to do with right now. But the way it makes my fingers hum with every click of the shutter and the way India looks through its anachronistic little viewfinder make me feel like I’m seeing the world here around me in a different light.


delhi on fujifilm-17
And I am seeing the world around me differently. Cameras aside, there’s a countdown now, a date on the calendar after which we will no longer be residents of Delhi and we’ll be applying for residency cards in Milan, Italy instead.


delhi on fujifilm-16
It’s not hard to conceptualize that we are leaving India, but it’s difficult for me to picture in my head what life in a country with potable water might look like. It’s not hard to understand that my dearest friends here will keep having new babies and healing from surgeries whether we are in Delhi or Millan, but it’s hard to imagine starting over in Italy without having all of them just a text message and a 15 minute drive away from me.


I’m not particularly self-aware. It’s taken me nearly a month to realize that the real beauty of my new little camera is the fantastic amount of distraction it provides from the more life-changing matters at hand. There’s a distinct appeal to not knowing how a shot really turned out until I get it back from the neighborhood dry-cleaner cum photo lab. Each roll is a series of 36 mini unknowns to distract me from all of the bigger unknowns we are facing.


delhi on fujifilm-12
We’re in that strange transition period between feeling at home in one place and soon being compelled to make a new place feel like home. I feel like I won’t know which stories or emotions or experiences will really define our last few months in Delhi until we’ve already unpacked and resettled in Italy. And until I do, the world just makes more sense when I’m looking at it through my cloudy new viewfinder.


delhi on fujifilm-18
delhi on fujifilm-13
delhi on fujifilm-9

April 13, 2014

In Between

Indian truck undercarriage
I’m on a vision quest these days.  In between potty seats and the 3am feedings.  In between the markets and the playdates and the emails about Italian preschools and the need to get dinner on the table and the need to pour a glass of wine after the kids finally go to bed.  In between failed 5am attempts to exercise and failed 10pm attempts at Italian lessons.  In between giving in to chocolate-for-breakfast requests and saying no to watching TV.  In between telling my husband to get out of my shower and wanting to do nothing more badly than run away together for 24 hours.  In between trying and failing and sometimes succeeding at being a good mother, a good wife, a good friend, a good person, I wonder why fate dealt me this weird, wonderful life of ours and what I’m exactly supposed to be doing with the gift.


How very millennial of me it must seem to assume a higher calling beyond motherhood, housekeeping and helping to pay the bills.  But I live in a country where I am surrounded by women raising children, keeping house and making money with far, far fewer resources and far, far greater hardships than I have ever born.  If they can do it all so capably with so much less, surely I should be making use of my privilege to do so much more.


A thousand times since the day he asked me to marry him, Chris has asked me whether I ever regret my decision.  I tell him and myself that I don’t.


I chose love and adventure over everything I had thought I wanted up until the point right before Chris asked me to marry him. Two roads diverged and all of that.


And someday it will all make sense. I don’t think it will be photography or cooking and maybe not even writing that will fill my days with purpose and clarity the way motherhood and moving preparations fill my days now.  But as we count our days left here in India and look forward to a new adventure and new possibilities in Italy, I find myself impatient once again to know for what purpose could all of these wonderful adventures be for.

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