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.

Goin' Stag in Poland

Kudva! Poland is freezing!

I've only been here since last night and already it's bringing me back to the winters in Wisconsin. There's no snow yet, but the lady at the front desk of my hostel said to be expecting some 'sometime soon.' Whenever that is.

I arrived in Warsaw late last night- and after taking a 3 hour train from Krakow I was absolutely wiped out! Last night I saw most of Warsaw through the inside of my eyelids, safe and warm in my hostel bed.

I began my excursion on Tuesday night in Florence; after leaving my opera class early (damn, I sure regretted that) to hurry to the train station. I caught a train to Milano Centrale- the Central Train station, and quickly found out that the airport was actually outside of the city. Go figure! After walking around the train station a few times trying to find an open ticket booth to buy a bus ticket, I asked numerous people in my perfected " Itanglish" (don't laugh- it's an art form) how to get to the "damn Bergamo Airport." Throwing "catzo" in there a few times must have made people take me more seriously because someone finally told me that there was a train that left for the airport in 5 minutes. I bought a ticket, hurried to platform 10, and hopped on the train. It always amazes me when people ask ME for directions (I got stopped 3 times as I boarded the train asking me if it went to Bergamo)- because I guess in my mind I physically look exactly how I feel on the inside: somewhat like a mix between Edvard Munch's "The Scream" and that lady from Poltergeist. At least when I'm traveling. But apparently I just look Italian.

Getting off at the Bergamo station surprisingly took me no where near the Bergamo Airport. Who would have thought?? I met a guy who looked just as puzzled as I was and found out that he had to go to the airport too. I suggested we split a cab (it was past 12 and the busses weren't running anymore for the night) to which he accepted. Splitting that cab saved me E7.50! Thanks random guy, whereever you are.

Since my flight didn't leave until 10:30am I just crashed at the airport- along with all the other gents & ladies sleeping on cardboard boxes and (the more brilliant ones) those who brought a sleeping bag. (See, dad- you always give me a hard time about packing so much, but since my suitcase was so full it made one hell of a pillow :).

I woke up to an airport carabinieri's foot on my leg telling me "Signorina, il giorno e qui! Non puo dormire qui piu!" Which was basically a nice way of telling me to get off the floor.

I checked into my flight once I woke up, made it through security (always a treat) and boarded my flight. And bam! In 3 hours I was in the land of Chopin, Pope John Paul II, and Marie Curie. I flew into Krakow, took a 3 hour train to Warsaw (my first train ride in an actual cabin on a train- made me feel like Harry Potter), and by the time I was at Warsaw Central the sun had already set. Actually, the entire time I've been in Poland so far I've pretended that I'm Italian. Even though most people speak English here I think it's fun to watch their faces as they try to figure out what I'm saying (....this must be how the people in Florence feel when I ask for directions!) But anyway, I walked around with a map that a lady had given me at the train station, trying to find my hostel, when I passed by the Hard Rock Cafe. Normally this wouldn't have been an event worth mentioning, but as I passed by 20 or so Polish guys dressed in Alvin the Chipmunk mascot costumes came out of the restaurant and walked into the street. To get to my hostel I had to cross a park right next to the Clock Tower. Let me say that I've learned that my over active imagination becomes even more over active when I'm hungry and tired, but having 20 something Chipmunk Mascots follow me through a poorly lit park in a country I'm not familiar with when I'm hungry and tired and all by myself is probably not the best thing. The only sound I could hear was the shuffle of 40 big mascot feet behind and around me as I walked through the sidewalk. Oh, and I was the only person in the park. FREAKY!

But, since I'm here in my hostel writing this blog I obviously made it safely to my hostel. Right now I'm looking up things to do in Warsaw before I leave tomorrow morning for Krakow. And it's time to find some breakfast/lunch!

So until domani!

Ciao for now.

Jigsaw falling into Place

I've been wondering lately where I would be if things had turned out differently. What if things had worked out 2 summers ago? What if I had moved to a different state? What if I had ended up transferring colleges? What if I had taken a semester off and moved back home? What if I had had the guts to finish my application to Marquette? What if I hadn't had the guts to study abroad?

I don't know if life is simply a random series of events, or if everything is left up to fate. Maybe predestination dictates the end, but how we get there is up to us.

Or, maybe none of it matters. Maybe our life can be summed up as a group of atoms randomly bumping into one another; we're born, we live, and we die. What happens in the middle is of no real significance- at least compared to the scale of the multitude of planets and galaxies and universes that are out beyond our reach. In that scope, we hold no importance to that which is happening around us. We have no impact on the flow of whatever is out there. We tend to forget that there are different levels- our lives may be important to us, here, now, but it won't always be so.

Being in a city where there is so much history only reaffirms my point. We learn about the big things- Dante lived here, DaVinci worked there, this statue is this many years old, this building was built in.... etc. etc.

But somewhere in Piazza San Marco someone had their heart broken. On Via degli Alfani someone once greeted a friend in passing and at Santa Maria Novella someone saw their mother buried. Things that were once so important in someone's life hold no significance now... so what was the point of it all? It mattered to someone, somewhere, at some time... but eventually, we fade. And then life just goes on without us. We spend our lives searching for the 'big picture' when it's in front of us all along: there is no big picture. Life is just life, we have to deal with what comes and then move on. No amount of critical thinking, reading self-help books and studying new religions is going to change that fact.

We have no control over life, it's going to be there whether we're ready for it or not. The only thing we can control is how we choose to react to things.

So why stress about something that's not going to change the structure of the universe? Getting that C, being rejected for a date, your car breaking down may seem like huge, important, life-changing events now, but in the grand scheme of things they won't matter. That's just life. You deal with the problem and move on, because that's what life is. It's all we can do.

I don't believe that there's a God watching over us. I don't believe that there's a heaven, and I don't believe that there's a hell. I don't believe in fate. I don't believe in soul mates.

I do, however, believe in being a good person for your own personal reasons. I don't mean for this blog to sound pessimistic and hopeless, because that's not the point I'm trying to convey at all. Our lives are somewhat significant through their insignificance--- although my life may be inconsequential compared to the scope of the universe, I can still walk down the street and enjoy looking at all the people. I can still find a rose beautiful. I can still appreciate a good song and I can still get that feeling in my heart when I'm about to see someone I care about. Even though my life is a small blip on the radar- for some reason I'm able to feel all of these things- good things. That has to mean something.

Just because we are specks floating somewhere in space doesn't mean that our lives in our world don't serve a purpose to those living them. I have consciousness. I don't know why, I don't know how I was created and I don't know what purpose I'm supposed to serve- if any at all. But what I do know is that my life is significant to me, because I am living it. Just as yours is to you.

And maybe all that we can do is try to be the best person we know how to be. Even if it doesn't matter in the long run, it matters now, because we are living it now. We have the ability to create happiness. Once our lives surpass us our slate is wiped clean in a sense- it won't matter if you smiled at someone on the street, or you let someone go ahead of you in the grocery line, or you made dinner for your neighbor. The things that we did will be gone, in order to make way for new generations, for new lives. Yet we will have the satisfaction of knowing that while we lived, we did the best that we could. That we spread happiness to other people. And even though other people might not recognize the value in the little things, we spread happiness somewhere, to someone. I don't need someone to tell me that my life matters. In that sense I already know that it does.

If anything, that's what makes our lives significant. Perpetuating sanctity & felicity.

The rest of our big fat greek vacation

What is it about time that refuses to slow down? Our vacation to Greece came and went, and already we’ve been in Italy for almost 3 months. It seems like yesterday I was packing, and then unpacking, and then repacking again, wondering what it would be like to live in another country.And now I know! (sort of).

There’s still so much left for me to discover, but I don’t know how to begin discovering it all. I feel (I know) there are things that I’m supposed to learn (both about myself and about other people) while I’m here but I don’t know how I’m supposed to go about learning them. I guess all you can do is take things day by day, and see where you are at the end of it all. And in the meantime enjoy all the little things (like the fact that chocolate is only 30 eurocents here!)

………….

We only stayed in Crete for one day and one night; just enough time to begin to realize how much we wouldn’t be able to see on the island! We found a hostel in Heraklion, a city nestled right along the shore of northern Crete, and we even were able to wear- wait for it- SHORTS. At the end of October! It was a nice reminder of what it’s like back home (and a nice reminder that I’m not 150 lbs. when I’m not wearing my winter jacket).

At any rate, it sure beat the 50-degree weather we’d been having in Florence. (I’ve learned that cold weather is novel only when you have working heat in your apartment. If you don’t….. it kind of sucks.) After spending the day walking around Heraklion, finding the Archeological Museum, and discovering some unwanted guests in our oil & vinegar at a restaurant,

we spent a few hours sleeping at our hostel and then it was off to Santorini on yet another ferry. The ferry ride to Santorini was of a different caliber than the one to from Athens to Crete… no bugs in the furniture, and it was during the day so we got the chance to see the water and some of the surrounding islands. While Amanda, Chelsea, and Emily spent most of the time playing cards and watching out the window, I went up to the deck and braved the winds (accompanied by my iPod, of course. And as a side note, In Rainbows really is the best album I’ve ever heard.)

We arrived in Santorini early afternoon, and were pleased to find the owner of our hostel waiting for us right at the port. We piled into his van and began the ascent to our hostel (if he hadn’t been waiting for us at the port we would have had to hike up 300 meters worth of winding, dirt road (which, according to Google is 984.251969 feet. Which, according to me is much to far for an almost vertical climb. At least when we’re on vacation.))

Our hostel was beautiful, and since they accidentally gave our room to someone else, they gave us two separate rooms for the same price. Emily and mine even had access to the roof- which, of course, we all took full advantage of. That night we sipped wine and watched a lightning storm over the ocean.

Santorini was my favorite of all the places we visited- definitely because of Oia (the city known for it’s white buildings and blue roofs), our discovery of an authentic Mexican restaurant (maybe my favorite part of the whole vacation), or the fact that we rented ATV’s and rode them around the island! I only ran into a wall one time throughout the whole 2 days! I’m definitely improving my driving skills (Look dad! No speeding tickets this time!) We hiked along red beach (called so because of the abundance of pumice stone – who knew Santorini was an active volcano??) and found even more animals who adopted us for our short stay… a cat who we fed milk too every morning and a black lab who looked more than ready to give birth to her puppies.

Sadly, it all had to come to an end, as all good things eventually do. Getting back to our own beds was an adventure in and of itself- taxi rides, a 2 am ferry, airplanes, trains, and walking back to our apartment all included. The creepiest part? Sleeping on the floor on our ferry back to Athens and waking up to a complete stranger who had his face on my bare feet! Lesson learned: next time I won’t worry about my bag when I’m sleeping, I’ll worry about my shoes, instead!

And so we made it home, safe and sound, with all of Sunday to relax before we started our first semester of classes (which now we’re a week and a half into).

I’m sitting here writing this because my Opera class was cancelled tonight (sorry mom, I know it’s way overdue!), but I still have 136 pages of reading due tomorrow. How does that work? Who knew there’d be reading involved with a literature major….

But a quick update of the latest happenings:

I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to do what I THOUGHT was to help out in English classes for an Italian elementary school, but apparently I’ll be actually teaching the lesson instead! One hour a week, Thursdays from 10:30-11:30. I was assigned first graders, and I even get to come up with my own lesson plans. Who ever gets the chance to do this?? I feel so lucky to be able to be a part of something that I’m passionate about, and maybe learn some Italian from the kids while I’m at it! Also, Paola (our campus’ librarian, resident hippy, and the woman who organizes volunteer opportunities for the students) asked me to tutor her other daughter (her 6 year old is in the English class I’m teaching) who’s 13 on Monday nights. So (if everything works out) I’ll go over to her house once a week and help her daughter with homework, and get to sit down to a real Italian dinner with a real Italian family. In Italy! Imagine.

It’s amazing what opportunities present themselves if you open yourself up to new experiences. Heyyy…. that’s life lesson #1.

Ciao for now!