Roots & Wings

So here we are. I'm 24 blog posts in and my trip is two weeks from being over.

what can you do

when the curtain falls

what will you do

when the curtain falls

you'll

left, right

I've been listening to "After the Curtain" by Beirut a lot lately and I think it's because it's so relevant to my situation right now. Things are almost over- what way am I going to go now? Now that everything is ending, what direction am I going to choose?

Going out to dinner with a friend tonight really got me thinking about the things I'm going to miss the most (and the things I'm not really going to miss) about living here. I'm sure after a month of being home again I'm going to kick myself for saying this, but I think at this point a big part of me is ready to go home.

Let's start with the not-so-missable stuff first!

I'm not going to miss being bumped into every time I walk on the street. I'm not going to miss how this city completely ate all my shoes. I'm not going to miss how everything seems like it's a struggle here; there's no such thing as convenience. You want a special ingredient for cooking? You need a certain medicine? Sorry, you're pretty much SOL. I'm not going to miss not having any personal space. I'm not going to miss the stupid Ryan Air announcement when your flight arrives on time! I'm not going to miss having to take an Italian class. I'm not going to miss how every time I want to buy something, I have to do a conversion of dollars to euros in my head, or the damn mosquitos, or almost getting hit by a bus everyday. And I'm not going to miss the fact that everything in our apartment is slowly (but surely) falling apart!

But there are a lot of things I'm going to miss.

I'm going to miss the 80 people that I've seen almost every day for the past 10 months. I'm going to miss the ease of traveling to a completely different country. I'm going to miss the trattoria across the street from the De Neri house and the gorgonzola gnocchi. I'm going to miss our weekly Thursday dinners! I'm going to miss being able to see the Duomo from my apartment. I'm going to miss walking up to Piazza Michelangelo whenever I needed a minute alone to think. I'm going to miss dreaming about where my next vacation is going to be. I'm going to miss just how awesome our apartment really is (even though everything is old). I'm going to miss being able to get my family stuff from the places I go. I'm going to miss recognizing the street performers. I'm going to miss rocking out to karaoke at Old Stove. I'm going to miss my 2 euro/month texting plan! I'm going to miss cooking for people. I'm going to miss Jiuliano at Il Teatro who always gives me free champagne whenever I pass by. I'm going to miss all of the construction workers looking like Roman Gods. I'm going to miss not stressing about being a little late to my classes sometimes- because honestly the professors just don't care!

I'm going to miss..... a lot, actually.

But I guess all good things have to come to an end, right? As of this week I've tied up all the loose ends that I wanted to tie up, which makes me feel a lot better about leaving. I was worried that I wouldn't get to say all of the things that I wanted to say; but I did. It's a good feeling.

When it all comes down to it, I'm proud of the things I've done here. I'm proud of the experiences I've had, I'm proud of how much I learned about myself and about other people, and I'm proud of all the things that I've seen. Three continents before 21 isn't bad!

So, until after finals!

Ciao.

Morning Revelation

I promised myself that I wouldn't do this again, and I'm not going to. Moving on; that's all you can do.

How it ends

I'd like to think that I've made an impression on this city; or, at least, that this city has made an impression on me. I've been here for long enough that I've started to recognize some of the main players. There's the guy with the accordion, who is on a different street corner every time I see him. The tall man with two prosthetic legs who I always see walking down the street. That African Immigrant who always tries to shake my hand and sell me books on the way to school. The guy in the newsstand who is there from sun up to sun down. The lady at the Cafe by school who hasn't liked me ever since I came in and was talking to her son. The man that works at Il Teatro who's name I still don't remember even though he gives me free champagne every time I order a Margherita pizza to go. And then there's the woman at the flower stand, the security guard at the bank I pass when I'm going to teach my kids, the fans who stand outside the soccer stadium waiting for the players to come out of practice, and the lady at the 99 cent store who I haven't seen in a while.

Everyone has their place. Everyone is somebody to this city, and I guess it's that way with most things. It makes me wonder who I am? I'm probably seen as the crazy girl who's always wearing flip flops in the rain. Yup, sounds about right.

It even works the same way with the kids at my school. There's the class clown, the guy who's always late, the girl who is pretty on the outside but not so nice on the inside. The girl who tries to fit in, the guy who tries to fit in. The quiet ones who are really funny when you get to know them, the person who tries to direct everything, the Player.

Even though we all know each other better by now, it all comes down to superlatives.

It's funny, though, I know that I'm more than my "title." I'm more than "biggest flirt," more than the girl who wears flip flops. I'm sure everyone else feels the same way too. It makes me think that maybe we should take more time to get to know people before we put a label on them. Before we classify them as something and refuse to see them as anything more than that. People don't fit neatly inside of a box, it doesn't work that way. And maybe we should start giving people more credit instead of being so quick to judge.

Yeah.

Players only love you when they're playing

Listening to Stevie Nicks always makes me nostalgic for home. It reminds me of being little and doing dishes with my dad (of course, his version would be that he was the one doing dishes and I was just watching); he'd always stop what we were doing and put me on his feet and dance with me around the kitchen. Sometimes out of nowhere, if he was listening to a really good song, he'd call me downstairs (or upstairs, if we were in the Wisconsin house) just to dance with me. Thinking of stuff like this makes me realize how lucky I am to have the family that I do. Of course, it's stuff like this that also makes me miss home the most.

I guess it didn't really help that I found a bunch of pictures from high school on my computer yesterday, either! Things here are kind of at a standstill, and I don't really know what to think of it all right now. I have two papers due, two presentations (one this week and one next week), a makeup class on Friday, and I still have to get the travel section together for the yearbook. The two girls that were working on it with me are both going to be gone this weekend and no one but me has in-design on their computer. 12 page travel section, here I come!

I wish I felt more productive lately! All I want to do is travel- I'm completely over school, I don't want to do it anymore. I feel like I could be learning more by meeting new people and seeing new things than I could by reading Tarchetti's "Tosca."

I think I'm ready for a change of scenery- and it couldn't have come at a better time, my life is going to completely change again in 6 weeks.

6 weeks. That's what this entire adventure has come down to.

6 weeks to finish classes, 6 weeks to get my stuff packed, 6 weeks to say my goodbyes.

I don't really know how to feel about that.

I'm sure not everything is going to be better about the states, just like not everything is better about living in Italy. But I'm going to miss this place when I'm gone. Life just goes on I guess. And maybe going back to the states will help me clear my mind! I feel like my thoughts are stuck on the same things lately and I'm definitely ready to get out of that cycle. I just want to feel like I can breathe again.

On a MUCH lighter note, I'm headed to Morocco for my birthday! I thought my adventures were all over after Ireland but due to an extremely generous fiscal donation from my parental saviors for my birthday I'm back again and going strong. Once I hit up Morocco we'll see where my funds are at- I still want to go to Switzerland! Or back to Austria! Or to Istanbul! Or to Sicily! Who knows what the future holds. Depends on what's cheap! I would also like to return to the states with more than $100 dollars in my bank account (which is where I was BEFORE the generous fiscal donation) so maybe I'll save it so I have gas money to get to work when I get back.

Maaaaaybeeee.

Anyway, I'm trying my hand at meatballs for dinner- everyone says that they're super easy but I've messed up cookies before so we'll see how they come out. If I don't post something new in more than 7 days something probably went wrong.

Got to go start being productive (yuck).

Phantom Limb

Tuesday night brought the weekly "Beatles Night" at Bebop; one of the only live music venues in Florence. Although I have been known to frequent the nights when Led Zeppelin and The Police are being paid tribute to, I am sad to say that I've never been on Tuesdays when Lennon comes back from his grave. Long story short; it was amazing- if you can look past the extremely small space, the fact that you're probably going to get sweated on by someone, and the possibility (probability?) that an extremely butch mexican girl will grab you in your most special of regions (I'm not speaking from personal experience or anything....) it's a grand ol' time. The Italians pretty much know all the words (which is extremely entertaining to watch during "I am the Walrus") and the band really brings the songs back to life. Dancing/ singing/ laughing the night away was just the beginning of an excellent mid-week experience.

Wednesday I made the educated decision to skip my Dante class in favor of going to the Uffizi for free. Since I missed going to the museum during Woman's Week (when it was also free) I decided that this was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I woke up super early to beat the crowds (which, thankfully I did by a hair!), waited my turn for an hour and a half, and got to go explore. I didn't really mind the wait, Fleetwood Mac kept me company the entire time.

The museum itself is not the best I've ever been to, but some of the pieces that I didn't know were there I recognized. (Not being an art history major I couldn't tell you anything about them, but there was one by Rosso Fiorentino that was on a postcard my grandma sent me once!)

I can now check La Primavera and The Birth of Venus off my list. I'm glad I got around to seeing them before I left! I wrote down the names of some artists and pieces that I liked-slash-recognized on my hand but I came home and washed dishes after the museum and forgot to write them down on a piece of paper. Easy come, easy go!

Later that night Nikki and Molly came over for pizza, and then we went out to Yab since it was only a euro to get in. We made a pit stop at Old Stove in Piazza Signoria so Nikki could see her favorite bar tender/ object of her affections/ whatever-he-is-guy and we ended up meeting some Brazilians outside. Around midnight we left for the club and stayed until 3:30 when we braved the surprisingly-not-as-cold-as-usual weather and walked home. And now Nicola is taking us to the outlets to go shopping!

Yeah, it's been a pretty good week. And it's only half over!

Ciao for now.

another piece of the puzzle

I think that nothing really ever comes out how you plan it. Things change, and that’s okay. Good things happen when you work for them; great things happen randomly. I guess you just have to be open to change. The end always brings a new beginning, and you have to accept the fact that one can’t come without the other. A chapter is closing in my life but another one is just beginning. And it’s only going to be as good as I make it.

I’m sad to see some things go, and I’m excited for others to begin. All the loose ends that aren’t tied up really won’t matter in 5 short weeks; I think things will be different when I’m 6211.37 miles away from this place (yes I google mapped it). Sometimes things just come to an end on their own, no need to make a big show about it. Eventually you just move on and pick up new ties somewhere else.

It’s all just another part of the adventure!

Uncorked/ It Always Rains in Galway/ The Longest Blog Post Ever

The next day in Dublin brought the exploration of the Guinness Factory (a must see) and more walking around the city. I can't say I've ever been more educated about beer than at the Guinness Factory tour! (What do you want to know about? Hops? Water? Barley? I can remember it all). To top it all off they gave us a pint of Guinness at the 'Gravity Bar' which has a 360 degree view of the city. After drinking half of our glasses the 'proper' way, I challenged Rosie to a 'chug it' contest. And hell yeah, I won. Sometimes I impress myself with how dainty I am.

That night we ended up going out with the two Spanish guys in our hostel (you know, the ones who brushed their teeth really loud) who were studying in France and were switching between English, Spanish, and French all night. Luckily I don't know any Spanish (besides "tapas") or French ( besides "Omelette du Fromage") so it didn't get confusing. The guys (ironically named "Esteban" and "Nacho"...yes, "Nacho", I didn't believe him at first either) met some of their french friends at the bar we went to. The French guy (ironically named "stuck up jerk"...go figure) wanted to pick a fight with me about American Politics so I definitely gave him a piece of my mind. He was so snooty it was almost unbelievable! His little brother was nice, but that's probably because he was only 17 and was just happy he could sneak into a bar. Oh yeah- what's up with the legal drinking age being 18? Rosie and I got carded everywhere we went, but it was definitely satisfying to prove to people that we WERE over 18, even if we don't apparently look like it.

After a few beers with the guys I got a call from one of the people from our program in Florence. There was a group who was flying to Egypt but were in Dublin for a few days; Rosie then made the decision that we were leaving our newly acquired friends to go meet the CSU kids at another bar. How exciting. Who wouldn't want to hang out with people we see everyday over some losers with stories about France and Spain??

But ANYWAY we met them at a bar and we did have fun. I talked with Augie the entire time while Rosie tried to flirt with Irish men. After the bar, (and after a stop for some bomb ass chili cheese fries) Augie walked us home so we could get a few hours of sleep- and then it was off to Cork!

The bus station we left out of was right down the street from our hostel; so we only had to brave the wind and the rain for a few minutes before we got to sit on a warm bus. The rain stopped pretty soon after we left and it was nothing but beautiful views of the countryside for 4 hours! Once we got to Cork we hiked up a damn mountain to get to our hostel (okay, not really a mountain but I could definitely feel my butt when we got to the top of the hill) and dropped off our stuff because we couldn't check in still for another couple hours. Then it was off to the Blarney Stone!!! A mere 10 euro later and I was hanging upside down with some random guy holding my legs (so I wouldn't plummet 13 stories to the ground). What a rush! Definitely one of the highlights of my trip, although I'm not really sure the gift of gab has kicked in yet. Maybe I already had it and that's why I'm not noticing any change! Hey, Emily's parents did call me "very charming." (ha).

After the Blarney stone we took a bus back to Cork and checked into our hostel. After fumbling with our door for a bit we stepped into our room, only to find.....KEVIN! (Another kid from our program). Although he was going to Egypt with the rest of them, he decided to stay in Galway for a day and then head to Cork. Same town, same hostel, same room! It's definitely a small world. So, the newly formed Three Musketeers braved the torrential downpour and the cold to walk around in Cork. We covered a lot of ground, saw a lot of things, until it started to rain a bit too much for our taste and we took refuge in an old Gothic Cathedral. When we stepped up to the front doors to go inside, two irish guys kindly informed us that the church was closed to visitors as the afternoon Easter Mass was just starting. All three of us took one look at the rain and I asked if it would be okay if we sat through the mass (not wanting to get any wetter than we already were) to which he replied, in an extremely Irish accent, "Far be it from the Church of Ireland to prevent the lady from goin' to 'er mass." Thanks, Irish guy. I like you too.

An adorable little round nun who reminded me of Fionnula Flanagan (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001217) but way fatter and way cuter gave us our bibles and song books and we were stuck in the Church for an hour and a half. It wasn't so bad- all three of us were raised Catholic so we knew the deal with the whole standing/sitting/kneeling thing. We didn't get free crackers and wine though, which is what we were looking forward to. What a jip! After the service it had stopped raining, so we went back to the hostel to get cleaned up and then went out for a real dinner (no bag o' soup that night!) at a real restaurant. Then Kevin went to bed (he had a 6 am flight to Amsterdam the next day) while Rosie and I hit up the bars. The first few we went to were jam packed with old people but we eventually found one with live music and cheap pints. We talked to some Irish guys for a few hours who were absolutely HILARIOUS- not to mention one of them loved the American version of "The Office" so we had LOTS to talk about. They also taught us how to drink Guinness the "real" way- none of this "sipping stuff" he told us. "You've got to chug it! Like a man!" Thanks for the tip! All in all it turned out to pretty much be my favorite Easter yet, even if we didn't get to hunt for easter eggs. You know you're an adult when you get beer instead of candy!

We listened to the bar music for a while (and sang loudly along to The Kooks song the guy played), and afterwards left to go to bed. We had an early bus to Galway in the morning that we wanted to be sure we caught- I think Galway was the part in the trip that both Rosie and I were really waiting for.

So, we did just that- made sure our stuff was packed before we went to bed, tried to sleep through the incredible amount of extremely drunk people coming in and out of our room, and attempted to ignore the guy singing the Titanic song down the hall at the top of his lungs. (Out of all the songs he had to choose from? Really?) And the next morning we were off bright and early!

At the bus station we ran into a bit of a dilemma- Rosie only had a 50 euro bill and since it was a bank holiday on Monday there was no one at the ticket desk. Before we left our hostel we asked the guy at the front desk if we could buy tickets on the bus, to which he replied with a reassuring "Of course you can!" But, when we got to the bus station, the bus driver rudely informed us that we were "wrong" and had to buy tickets inside. The only place people could buy tickets was from the machine inside of the station.....which had a big sign above that said it did not accept 50's. Since I was running low on cash myself, I didn't have enough for my own ticket and to spot Rosie for hers, so we went back to the bus driver to ask if he had change for a 50. He asked us if he looked like he worked at a bank, because he didn't, he was a bus driver. I decided to let his comment bounce off because I really didn't feel like fighting with a bus driver, when an old Irish couple came to our rescue. The old lady marched right up to the bus driver and told him that was a "smart" comment he just made to "these young ladies." The bus driver said something else that was pretty rude, and she went off on him (in a composed, matter of fact way....there wasn't a WWF smackdown or anything, which, actually might have been awesome) and told him that we were tourists in their country, and it was important to show to us that the Irish are nice people and that the country is a nice country. She then told him that it definitely wasn't our fault that the bus station didn't take 50's ("This is a bus station! You should of course have a change machine!") and then I think the bus driver must have pushed an alarm button or something on the bus because his supervisor came rushing out of the building. The guy didn't exactly apologize but he took Rosie's 50 as well as another woman's 50 and told them that he'd get change...he came back with the one woman's ticket and her money but he told Rosie that he didn't have enough change for her. "Sorry." He then turned away from us like he was going to go back into his office, and I got his attention with an "Excuse me, then what do you propose we do?" He shrugged his shoulders and gave us a blank stare, until the nice lady who had gotten change pulled her and her mother's wallets out so they could give Rosie 20's and a 10 for her 50. Sheesh! We both unanimously agreed afterwards that we both hate 50 euro bills.

(Is anyone still reading this far down?)

But after that little excursion we got to Galway without a hitch, checked into our hostel, and walked around the city. To make a long story short, Kevin had warned us the previous night not to get room number 5 as there was a sketchy bag lady who lived there. We requested not to get room number 5, so the guy moved us to room number 4, which wasn't much better. Instead of a sketchy bag lady we had a sketchy old man, who was apparently very fond of walking around in his tighty-whities and rubbing cream all over his legs. Yeah, it definitely was even more gross than it sounds. There was also a really weird chinese girl who wouldn't talk to anyone but me, and chose to do so when I was trying to read my book (which was getting really good, by the way) in our hostel room. She reminded me of the asian girl from "knocked up"- super awkward, said really weird things, and asked me extremely random questions (like, "am I silly?" and "do you find that people don't understand you?" and, "do you want to go get an apple with me?") WTF.

We also met some nice people too, and the hostel was clean and had a really nice common area. We talked to some Irish guys and two Canadians. Eric and ...that other guy. They asked us to go out with them our first night there, but I was super tired and Rosie didn't want to go out by herself so we just called it a night. After an extremely noisy night in the hostel (apparently our room was directly over a night club, and the old man had a super bad cough which made me think he wasn't going to wake up in the morning) we asked to switch to a different room. They ended up accidentally overbooking the room they switched us to, so we got upgraded to a four person room. We walked in and- surprise!- there were the Canadian guys who had gotten switched too. That day we ended up going to the Cliffs of Moher- it was an absolutely beautiful day and the bus ride was amazing (the hills were SO GREEN!) and our bus driver even sang us an Irish jig on the way home over the loud speaker. We stopped at castles and other ruins on our way to the Cliffs so we got to see a lot of stuff for the small 7.50 we paid for the tour (which included the bus ride, by the way. Who says I can't penny pinch??) After the tour we went out to dinner in Galway where we sat next to a couple having the most awkward first date EVER. It was an American girl and an Irish guy...she was going on about how she didn't believe in living with someone before she's married, and how it's so sad to see her little sister drinking at 16 because "she doesn't waste her time with smoking and drinking and all that other shit." wowzaaa talk about a stick up you know where. I think it wasn't the fact that she didn't drink or smoke that made things awkward, it was the fact that she was so super intense about everything. After she said that the Irish guy took a big swig of his beer and just sighed. Lighten up, lady!

We went back to our hostel room, and ended up teaching the Canadians how to play Kings Cup (Rosie and I didn't really remember all the rules, because we're so used to just following other people's lead). But we made them up as we went along, and all in all it was an extremely successful game (especially since we didn't have to pay for any of the beer involved). They took us out to a bar afterwards where the one guy actually agreed to karaoke with me (to a Queen song even!). Last call at the bar was at 2, so we went to a club afterwards where we sat on the upstairs balcony and watched people (try) to dance downstairs. After a while we all got tired and turned into bed. The next day we made it back to Dublin Airport to catch our flight home to Pisa. After getting in at midnight to Pisa we had to wait a few hours for a bus to show up and take us back to Santa Maria Novella and then we walked the rest of the way home!

It was certainly a whirlwind adventure; some parts were what I was expecting and other parts weren't. We met a lot of people, had some interesting encounters in our hostel but I definitely am glad that we went when we did- the weather was beautiful and we pretty much got to do/see most of the things we wanted to. As for now, we're both back in Florence taking it easy until school starts tomorrow. It feels good to be home though.

Ciao for now.

remember when we went to Ireland for spring break and all the bars were closed?

We're in the land of Ire! Our adventure began the minute we woke up at 2 in the morning to catch our flight at 6...getting to pisa wasn't difficult- after sidestepping a few annoying american tourists to get on the bus we ended up sleeping the whole way anyway. We got to Pisa without a hitch, got on our plane, and we were off; playing the mission impossible theme on my ipod as we left the runway. When we got here it was- surprise!- raining and cold; we never thought we'd miss the current Italian weather but apparently even Italy is warmer than here.

Finding our hostel was an adventure in and of itself- it was super windy and when my umbrella decided to reveal how cheaply made it was (it turned completely inside out!) a nice man stopped and helped me fix it. Everyone kind of looks like a leprauchaun here- there aren't too many gingers (rosie and I have been counting every one we see) but other than that all other stereotypes have been found to be entirely correct. Everyone is extremely friendly and there are bars on every corner!

At our hostel we met some interesting people- when we first went up to our room (on the very top floor, mind you), a naked Korean man randomly came out of the bathroom. Great start to our vacation! Very soon after we left the room (no offense naked Korean man, but we have better things to to than stick around to see your you know what) and wanted to get a beer. We found the first bar we could, sat down on the stool, only to find out that- surprise again! It's good friday here and so they aren't serving any alcohol. Who would have thought the Irish were THAT Catholic?? I think Rosie was more upset than I was but I'm pretty sure they're serving beer today. I have a feeling everyone's going to stock up before tomorrow when all the bars shut down again!

The rest of the day was spent finding our way between all the sights; we paid to see the Book of Kells where I blessed Rosie with the history of the book recited in Lord of The Rings style. She also found out where the Ring of Power came from, thanks to yours truly. Some guys who were walking in front of us thought it was funny but someone else shh'ed us for being too loud. sheesh, lighten up!

We also found a Tesco right by our hostel, and to save some money that's where we've been eating. Last night for dinner Rosie bought a packaged pizza (like we haven't had pizza before) and I got some soup in a bag for 60 eurocents. cheap and easy! We went back to the hostel to cook our dinner and- third surprise!- everyone who was staying there was LEGIT cooking- yeah, that's the real thing- instead of using the microwave in the corner. People were making chicken, omelettes, hot dogs with tomato sauce (yeah, I don't get that one either) and everyone was staring (and probably internally laughing) at my bag o' soup. Hey, I'm traveling, leave me alone.

We went back up to our room after dinner only to discover that more people had moved into our room- there's Extremely Hairy Guy (who sleeps right below Rosie) who had no problem flashing me his testicles this morning. That was a great wake up call! There's also the two Spanish guys (one of whom brushes his teeth super loud) and another Spanish girl who I was looking at this morning when another head popped out of her covers. Surprise again! There's two people sleeping in that bed; which is a lot better than the alternative that I considered. I thought she was one of those conjoined twins or something. At breakfast today we met two Italian women (who I practiced my Italian with for 4.23 seconds before I realized that hey, I don't have to speak Italian here) and Weird Brochure Lady who's an extremely obese American woman passing out brochures to everyone. She kind of smells funny too but that's okay because so does the entire hostel.

So, that's where we're at right now. We're headed to the guiness factory today because it's closed tomorrow (in my humble opinion Jesus didn't plan his ressurection very well- couldn't he have waited until NEXT weekend?) and right now we're at a little internet place where everyone is playing WOW and checking their facebook.

Can't wait to see what adventures we're going to find today!!!

Ciao for now.

Sitting on the fence

Talking with my grandmother the other day brought up an interesting topic of conversation... and it really made me think. If it all was going to end right now, what would you want to have done differently?

I know that I would have wanted to spend less time worrying, and more time going with the flow. I would have wanted to tell people how I actually feel instead of pretending that everything is ok all the time. I would have wanted to tell my family that I love them, and I would have wanted to finish reading all the books I put down.

I would have wanted to talk to more people, to write more, and to learn how to cook. I would have tried that cafe on the corner I always pass but never go into. I would have wanted to go more places and to see more; even though I know that you can’t do it all. I would have wanted to spend less money on things and spend more on people.

I would have wanted to judge people less and to stop assuming the worst. I would have wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt more instead of just assuming that they didn’t come through.

good thing I still have more time.

broken promises, broken bones

The things you buried long ago

Indentations, once were red

Company you kept between your sheets

But never in your head

You spread your wings and tried to fly

At least that’s what your mother said

Your life displayed upon the wall

Picture frames and dirty glass

Distant drums of memories past

You wish you knew but never asked

And oh, your weathered and wrinkled skin

bones dissolve, Begin again

The grapevines grew in twists and turns

Pushed and pulled, pierced, removed

Reminiscent of the way

Our mouths and bodies used to move

And oh, your weathered and wrinkled skin

bones dissolve, Begin again

And now you’re one plus eighty three

The mirror shows what you can’t see

Touch the lines upon your face

Deep avenues of woven lace

And oh the things you’ve seen

Four walls and a tambourine

And oh, your weathered and wrinkled skin

bones dissolve, Begin again

You're Now Leaving: Your Comfort Zone

Today I decided to disregard the weatherman, break free from the bonds of winter, and bust out my shorts for old time's sake. Despite the constant double takes and stares I received from the ever-so-proper Italians (although it might have been because my legs haven't seen the sun in 5 months) I was definitely happy with my decision. Something about not dressing like a nun makes me excited to go home! Although by wearing something other than a shiny black jacket and scarf I made it painfully obvious that I am nothing but a tourist, no one on the street today came up to me and asked me to sign something, asked me for money, or obscenely placed their hand on my ass (which was a nice change of pace from normal happenings around this city). That's enough incentive for me to continue looking like a tourista! Maybe I'll even add flip flops next time to add to the effect.

I've been having trouble concentrating lately and I think it's because the last class with my 6 year olds is tomorrow. I wonder how I'll feel- rushing off to the school after my morning class, frantically ringing the bell at the gate to be buzzed in, calming down Chiara, Neri, and Lavinia when they don't win BINGO; for the very last time. Ever. It feels so final. I know that the end to something always brings the beginning of something else, but I can't help but feel a little melancholy when I think about teaching those kids. I guess this is just the first goodbye of many to come and I'd better get used to it. Some other stuff needs to end too but I can't bring myself to do it.

Only 2 more months to go and then my parents will be picking me up at the airport. I know it sounds strange but I kind of want to live with my parents next year- not because I feel comfortable at home, not because it's the easy decision, not because I actually want to live under the same roof as my parents, but because I don't think I'd be able to handle going from walking past the Duomo everyday to living in Fullerton again. If I have to be anywhere I'd rather be in a place that I enjoy; a place that has more scenery than the Del Taco across the street from the Baseball Stadium. And while I absolutely lived for Taco Tuesday last year I'm pretty sure Ventura's Del Taco will have it too.

I just need to tell myself not to stress about it; that what's going to happen will happen without any help from me. Part of me is definitely a control freak and I need to let that go: in this, and in one main aspect of my life right now. Just relax! Trust that everything will be ok, and it will be.

Anyway. I need to make cookies for my class tomorrow and it's already 12:30. Past my bedtime! Nikki and the girls made me dinner tonight (hamburgers with mashed potatoes? yes please?) and we went out for a few drinks afterward. Definitely worth staying up, but I need to get to bed soon if I'm going to convince myself to go to my 8:30 class tomorrow morning.

Ciao for now.

Things in your Pocket

I saw a woman carrying sun flowers today. Normally this wouldn't be something memorable enough to commit to memory, however the bright yellow (a connotation of Tuscan Spring) contrasted nicely with the snow falling everywhere.

Yup, the winter weather is back for another round. Thanks a lot, stupid groundhog.

I suppose the dismal weather is (in a sense) something good- I think (and I'm not trying to be negative) that it will make it easier to go home when the time comes. I'm definitely ready to go home as it is, but I think the novelty of being back in the States will eventually wear off just as the novelty of being in Italy did. In other words, I know I'm going to want to come back once I'm gone; but the harsh reality of winter will help keep my memory in check- instead of remembering Italy for only the good parts (as I tend to do), I'll remember it for what it was; the good and the bad. This weather is just too damn cold to forget!

Tomorrow morning we're headed to Southern Italy for our longest field trip yet- we'll all be together for a whopping four straight days. It might be nice to get out of Florence for a while, and when I was in Napoli for the first time I didn't get a chance to try the pizza! Although I never finished the book, "Eat, Pray, Love" had some good suggestions for where to go.

I also need to figure out what I'm going to do for the nine days in June I'll be here. I've got a lot on my plate right now. I missed my 20th Century Authors course this morning; I slept right through my alarm (I'm not going to lie and say that it wasn't on purpose) so I'll have an "extra project" to do when I get back. Will 8:30 class ever get any easier?

What an interesting post, huh?

The trivialities of life are all that's on my mind right now.

I need to go veg.

Ciao.

Don't look back.

Last night marked the 5th (6th?) Thursday in our weekly dinner tradition; this week's theme being "food we like to eat and want to share." (Very well put, Emily.) I meant to take pictures, really, but somewhere in the midst of all the wine, cheese, food and conversation I got sidetracked. I tried my hand at cinnamon rolls of the homemade persuasion- even the bread was delicately created by yours truly. Who knew domestication could be fun!? Amanda made strawberry cream-cheese wontons, Emily and Chelsea whipped up their hummus with verdure and a fruit salad, and Rosie put together a salad inspired by the deliciousness of the one at Capriccio in downtown Ventura. YUM! Gwenyth and Michael brought over their standard (but incredibly amazing) cheese plate with olives and prosciutto, and the newcomers brought over wine, torta, and Jason's famous mac n' cheese.

I suppose last night's influx in food intake is the inspiration for my newest attempt at Dr. Gott's No Flour No Sugar diet. It's a bit easier to do when you're sick of looking at pasta; bread is really the only thing I'm going to miss. Amanda's doing it too so at least I have some moral support at the apartment. Emily and Chelsea have been going vegan lately and I give them mad props because there's no way I could cut barbarism out of my diet. I like meat, 'nuff said.

I've been running lately (yes, still, shocker) but I haven't been keeping up with it as much as I'd like to. While it sucks complete ass having to leave the apartment to go for a run, I always feel better when I'm coming back. Once my shorts actually fit like they used to I'll feel a lot better too!!! Plus the weather has been absolutely beautiful lately, and I want to get in the habit of running before it gets super hot again and I can't find the will to go outside without a fan. Maybe I'll even get to wear my flip-flops soon! Cross your fingers.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm hopping on a 4 am train to Venice! I'm cleaning all my shit up now so I don't have to worry about it later (Friday is definitely turning into my room cleaning day). I'm super excited to cross this one off my list, Venice is a place I've always wanted to go... the girls said I'd better bring rainboots- I knew the city was 'sinking' but who knew St. Mark's Square floods every afternoon? Maybe we can even take a gondola ride into the church. Ha-ha.

Adios, Adieu, and most importantly....Ciao!

Windows into Florentine Life

It was another beautiful day in the city! I'm home alone (again). Everyone left for their whirlwind vacations yesterday which means that I get to walk around in my underwear until Sunday. Freedom!

Let's face it, I need money. But who doesn't? My travel plans will have to be cut a little short- Ireland is (fortunately) already booked, so I can't talk myself out of that one. But for the remainder of my time it looks like I'll be sticking around Tuscany! If I had to be stuck somewhere because I'm completely destitute, I think I chose a pretty good place to do it.

I went for a run today- actually kind of a run/walk/jog (not necessarily in that order) and I went back to the "oasis" I discovered a few days ago. Running past the embassy on Monday gave me an extra boost of energy (there's definitely something to be said about hot soldiers in uniform) and I went further than I have before, only to discover a little slice of nature right in the middle of Florence. The setting definitely makes me feel like I've stepped back in time- there's neatly trimmed hedges lining the dirt road, and antique streetlamps surrounded by flowers and grass and trees. Plus, the Arno's dam breaks off at a certain point which makes the river look something like a waterfall. People lay around sketching and reading by the river, and Italian women take their dogs for a walk while Italian men walk their mothers. (Yes, that stereotype is entirely correct).

I found peace in my solitude, and laid for a while on the grass listening to a brilliantly crafted playlist on my Ipod. Until an Italian man (mid 40's at least) stopped by on his bike and poked me with his foot so I would wake up and we could "chat." I gave him "yes" and "no" answers to his questions for a while, but after a few minutes I couldn't contain my creeped-out-ness and told him that I was tired and was going home. What is it with these Italians??? First I get followed by a man on a bike (the first day I started running again) and now another one is under the impression that it's ok to stop and strike up a conversation by poking me with his foot? I'm certain these men aren't drawn to me by my looks- I have a hard time fathoming that a sweaty, red, round face is a sign of attractiveness even in Italy. Maybe I should keep my newly acquired tummy, it seems to be driving these Italian men crazy. On second thought...

On a lighter note, my class is going extremely well! Teaching the one hour a week that I do is the best, most rewarding thing that I'm doing/ will do while I'm here. I'm learning my way around my kids just as they're learning their way around me. We tried to play Bingo the other day (they're learning colors in English) and half the class ended up sobbing when they didn't win. There's something to be said for competition in this country- it's obviously instilled at a very early age! So I'm hoping that if there's no more bingo there won't be anymore crying, screaming 6 year olds to handle. Actually, the walk to and from the elementary school is one of my favorite parts; it gives me a chance to move around a little before I have to get back to class. Luckily in this semester's schedule I have the same time slot open which means that I get to keep my same class.

On Thursdays I go to Mythology (this semester it'll be 20th Century Italian Authors) from 8:30-9:50 and sprint out of Aula 2 as I have to make it to the elementary school by 10:30. First it's past Sister's Bar, then I walk to the train station. Once I'm over the bridge that crosses the tracks, I pass by the soccer stadium, then the REAL men's soccer stadium where the professionals play. All I have left to look for is the carousel right next to the outdoor market. Left at the Carousel, Right onto Via Cento Stelle (Street of 100 Stars) and a straight walk until the school. I love passing by the fisherman's store on the way, the old men who work there remind me somewhat of the Italy that I expected when I first moved here. They're always fighting with each other (a battle of hand gestures) while they're smoking outside. Old women are always out walking their dogs in their finest furs, and I pass by the same Security Guard standing outside of the local bank every Thursday. I think he's even starting to recognize me- the girl who always rushes by, listening to her ipod, with a silly grin plastered on her face. Sheesh, she must be weird. The same African Immigrants offer me the same umbrellas and lighters and hats every Thursday, and the same man passes me on his vespa.

Who says I don't have roots here?

Anyway, I'm going to get back to my book. Edith Wharton really knows her stuff.

no title. just thoughts.

Is it really so bad not to know what you're doing?

I've been feeling blindfolded lately- like I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing or where it's going to take me. I don't know what I'm doing here anymore; I don't see why I'm doing the things that I'm doing and I don't understand why people only long for what they can't have. I spent all of my time wishing that I could leave the place that I was and now all I want to do is go back.

Why do things have to change? If you find a good place in your life why can't it just stay that way? Or do we only realize that it's good after we've left it?

I don't know what's right anymore. Actually, is there any such thing?

I love being here; I do. I love having the ability to drop everything and go to London for the weekend. But I can't help but wonder...is everyone I meet and everything I do only going to amount to impermanence? Temporariness? Life is transitory enough, I don't need to add any more ephemerality to the equation. When all the romantic notions about wanderlust have worn off... how much significance can week-end acquaintances really have? What happens when you reach the point where you really need someone? A shoulder to cry on? And what happens when you realize that everyone you care about is half a world away?

Italian life, as it is right now

So, it's been a while since I've sat down at my computer to write a blog. I feel like I can't even keep up with myself, let alone keep up a blog. It's thrilling how fast things are changing...and maybe it's just temporary change- maybe I feel like things are such a whirlwind adventure because I'm over here enjoying myself so much. Maybe things will change right back to slow-paced reality when I move back to Fullerton. I don't know.

But I feel like the changes I go through here are changing me drastically as a person- they aren't just changes pertaining to lifestyle. I remember writing in my journal a few years ago on January 1st, wondering what changes the year would bring. Now that I'm past that time in my life, I know exactly what changes were in store for me because I've already been through them. And I can't help but wonder where I'll be another two years from now, reflecting on that one time in early 2010 when I was wondering what life had in store for me next. Life's funny that way- we can try to plan and micromanage but life will always find a way to interfere with those plans. Almost as if to keep us in check.

Poland finished with a "bang"- Krakow was an adventure all by itself; probably my favorite trip I've taken yet. The people I met were awesome- right away in my hostel room I met three australians who I went out with that night, and later on met another aussie and a few americans. I don't know if it was the fact that we were all in Poland, pretty much traveling by ourselves or if it's just because we all clicked as people; but we all had fun just hanging out and listening to each other's stories. Mischief definitely found me in Krakow, I'll just leave it at that.

It's always nice to meet people you get along well with- one of the people I met in Krakow came to visit for a week. It was definitely a welcomed visit, as my family left on the 2nd and having him here helped to keep the homesickness at bay. I didn't realize how much I missed them until they had come and gone! I remember saying goodbye to them at the airport in Spain; I felt sad (like I had expected to) but not completely heartbroken. And then when I got into Rome it hit me like a sack of bricks- I was on the train to the Termini station to catch another train back to Florence, and I started sobbing my eyes out like there was no tomorrow. I had already made a complete fool of myself- when I got on the train I put my purse on the seat and tried to lift my 50 pound bag up onto the overhead compartment which I'm sure must have looked ridiculous. My purse then (for whatever reason) fell off the seat and my $1,000 Nikon camera fell out and the lens flew across the floor. I (trying to appear calm and cool) collected my camera (which thankfully didn't break permanently) and reached into my purse to get a pen. I had both hands in my bag, digging around for my pen when I felt something wet- I pulled out my hands and found out that my pen had completely exploded over everything. No, not leaked, I mean EXPLODED. My hands were completely black, soaked in ink, and I was getting ink all over my bag and my clothes and my camera...a girl sitting across from me, chuckling, asked me if I wanted a handy wipe. Thank god!

It was about this time that I started sobbing- thank goodness people had the sense to look away as a dirty, weary, frazzled traveler with ink all over her face and hands sobbed her eyes out for her mommy.

Maybe I'm not as much of an adult as I thought?

But anyway, we finally got to the termini station, I went into the bathroom stall (after having the bathroom attendant yell at me for not having the exact .80 eurocents for the bathroom- I only had a 1 euro coin instead), pulled myself together, and caught a train back to Florence.

I think things will get easier as I get into the swing of things again- starting school and keeping busy will help me realize that it won't be as hard as I think to last another 6 months out here.

I also just booked my trip to Ireland with Rosie in April and we're still planning trips to Switzerland, England, and god knows where else. Not necessarily in that order. That definitely helps keep the nostalgia away!

And I had pizza for dinner tonight.

So now you're completely caught up to where I'm at right now!

Ciao for now.