The End of a Chapter

Do you know the disappointment that comes when you finish a really good book? The kind of book in which you fall in love with the characters, live in the setting, and feel as though the plot was your life story. That is the feeling I have now. When a chapter of my life comes to a close. The most exciting and memorable chapter so far.

My future has come to crunch time. I must make a decision on how I actually want it to go, instead of childishly dreaming of endless possibilities (definition would be according to society as opposed to my own definition in which adults still have endless possibilities.) My choices:

1. Stay in West Virginia and pursue my career in education. Live for myself.

2. Go back to Italy, where I created family and friends.  Live for myself.

You see, the most difficult part of the decision, of choosing between two lives, is knowing both were so beautiful. Both did so much for me. Both are more than good.

So the decision is......
After a few months here, I will be moving and meeting my love in New Jersey (Yes people, Italy of America.) This may become my home. I suppose only time will tell.

What I have realized about being home, becoming home, is life sometimes seems less of an adventure. Foreign languages, new foods, and strong coffees make it easy to see adventure. To enjoy every moment. But when that place becomes home the excitement dulls. Life can become a small boring box. And to be honest, I am not a small boring box kind of girl.

I must constantly remind myself to find the adventure in the everyday. Yes, the road rage can be funny, work can be rewarding, family can be hilarious, writing letters can be nostalgic, and going to the same everyday restaurant can be just a enticing as a new one. I need to renew my childish curiosity and find the joy in the ordinary. Because this free spirit will one day settle for the storybook ending that comes with a deep love from Italy (no worries no time soon.) --But as I ran into a life filled with adventure, of places, and cultures, I realize, my favorite was the friends, the family, and the memories.

Here is my final post (the 100th to be exact). After Two continents, 13 countries, countless friends, about 6 languages, a romance like no other, tears, laughs, a wedding, and lots of wine here is my last video. And just to confirm...'I Lived.'

 

This is a tearful farewell, but the adventure is sure to continue.

Updates

Yes, everyone, I am still alive. The plan to write posts about Wales and Paris were put to the way side due to life. Marco did arrive in America, met me parents, and returned to Italy.

I am still in America, teaching preschool once again in attempts to pay off the credit card bill I racked up while traveling. And my American dream life is still that. Now with distance between us, Marco and I have the opportunity to write those love letters seen in movies and great pieces of literature.

I will be returning to Marco soon, but first a few months of holidays with my family. Check back, I may update with Italian recipes or language learning tips.

Ciao for now.

Ciao o A doppo?

I only have one full day left in Italy. A place that has been my home, I must say goodbye to. However, I do not know if this goodbye is a final Ciao, or I will see you after my holiday in America A doppo. This is the hard part. Am I to say to my friends, thank you for being my friend, but I will never see you again, or let's make plans for the fall.

As I try to make plans for my future, I keep running into the same roadblock. It is very unknown. Yes, I am making it unpredictable by deciding to be wherever my love is, but as a constant planner, a resume maker, and a childish dreamer, this is very tough.

Do I shed a tear to be leaving one of the best years of my life, or do I get excited for my trip to the great US of A? This question has been driving me insane for months, but with only one day left here my heart stings to know how I should feel. Yes, I am emotional, but I don't know which emotion is correct.

I must say, I am thankful for both my job here in Italy, and my job back in the US. Both are willing to work with me, and holding there breath to know my decision. For this I am grateful.

As soon as I speak to family on the phone, or see a life event of a friend on facebook, I long to be on American soil. But as soon as I have dinner with friends here, drink some wine, and laugh loudly, I want this year to continue to another. The toughest decisions are the ones where both choices are wonderful.

But to the readers of this blog, please don't stop reading. I am not yet finished. I have a trip to Wales for Elenor's wedding, my very first trip to Paris, and Marco's "meeting of the parents." So as I pack three suitcases, on backpack, and a barely used guitar, I have to say, "Ciao,"....or " A doppo."

Reading Between the Lines...I Mean Jobs

Picture this: You have a summer, in a foreign country, you don't have to work, you get paid a bonus, you are in love, and you are only a ten minute drive from the sea. Sounds perfect, right?

Truth, I'm bored. I miss a routine. Yes, I am in between contracts, or jobs, or contracts (yeah, I still don't know which yet) And I have the entire summer to relax how I want. My wanderlust self could travel Europe, or spend everyday in a new Italian location, but I have come to travel tiredness syndrome and I just want to be still. I miss working. Waking up early. Exercising. Seeing familiar faces everyday.

I need to structure my empty days around a schedule of being better, not only cooking meals. I need some running. Some yoga. Some reading. Some studying. Some friends. Something to stop being bored other than going through TV series. (Yes everyone, I am complaining about doing nothing.) How could I possibly do nothing while living abroad. In one of the most beautiful countries in the world. How? Como?

But I think when you begin to loose the exotic, when you begin to feel normal...anywhere, you can get bored. And being bored is the first sign you are at home. Home. Casa.

So as I stay home, I will set my alarm early and put away the computer. Tomorrow is Monday after all.

Soul Mates

As young girls we spend a lot of time dreaming of the perfect wedding. As young women we spend a lot of time pinning the perfect details. We want to meet our other half, our prince, and as Disney tells us, have the fairy tale ending dressed in white.

But, as adult females we dream, plan, and prepare for the perfect bachelorette weekend. Forget the men, let's be ladies and drink pink sparkling wine.

My friend, Elenor, will be married in less than a month. A perfect wedding in Wales...yes, I'm going. So, my friend, Selene, and I decided to take her away one last time as a single gal. We planned to go south to natural thermal spas near the sea.

 

Dinner with all the girls from work earlier that week.

It was a complete surprise to Elenor. We told her to pack for any condition, grabbed the car and went with 1970's French disco music in the background.

We arrived to a cottage on the sea that smelled as if something died. Something dirty that longer resembled the original freshness.  It made me sick, of course, and I was the one with the weak stomach. But we had great views of literally dozens of kite surfers.

We decided to go to town for dinner and accidently asked a foreigner for restaurant suggestions. He immediately found the single ladies attractive and followed us to the bar. Far to easy for him due to a bright white veil worn by our bride to be.

Shortly after we forgot thanks to cocktails and white wine.  We talked, discovered differences, and learned how well we fit together.

After a night of sleeping in a stinky room, we went to the windy beach, a chilly pool, and a different village.  Dinner we were serenaded. Drinks we were smiling. Photos we were laughing.

The singing

The laughing

We were suggested to go to a party on the beach. We went. Then decided it was for 15 year olds. We even played a game to see if we could find someone older than us. We lost. Quickly we decided, although single, we are far too old for this. So we went home to have a sleepover, giggling until 4 o'clock in the morning...like adults.

The next day was the spa.  We relaxed. We spent time together. I thought and said aloud how I hope we are friends in 10 years. I thought this all the way rushing home. Through perfect countryside to see the final world cup match. More time together to end a strangely perfect weekend.

Hot bath waterfall in the south of Tuscany!

Yes, I love that I have found my man for wedding dreaming and detail pinning. My perfect half. But, I also love that I have girls I can be myself with. Far away from home I have found family. Two sisters I like to call Miranda and Charlotte. (I am Samantha.) And I know, if we are ever to find our Carrie, she would have to fit us perfectly. Because we...we are soul mates.

Us!

La Dolce Vita

The sweet life. I am starting to understand what this means. As I eat the food made for gods, olives, wine, pecorino formaggio, and pomegranate, I slowly take it in and contemplate how happy this makes me.

Italy truly has the best food. La Dolce Vita is eating food made from the best products, chatting with friends, laughing at life's oddities, and most importantly being thankful.

Italy has some of the most amazing art in the world. All of the ninja turtles were named after Italian artists. La Dolce Vita is not only looking at the art, but experiencing it, wondering what the artist was thinking and feeling when it was painted. Was a picture from the biblical stories all they really wanted to paint, or did they sometimes hope to paint life, and what they were experiencing. All the sorrow of loneliness, the joys of drunkenness, the peace of home, the triumph of a win, the hope in a love.

Italy has one of the most beautiful languages in the world. La Dolce Vita is loving every word spoken, whether it is understood or not, because it makes a song.

La Dolce Vita is something acquired slowly, but I think when you achieve it, it will last for a rather long time. When you become thankful for the little creations God has blessed us with, the tiny things that fall into daily routine, get passed by quickly, never get a second glance. When you appreciate those minor details, you experience la docle vita. (I think I could even have this in Morgantown, WV.)

I was told today by someone I knew in the US, they are jealous of my life.  I had a bit of pride, no one has ever been jealous of me before. I, the person who is never content, have so much to be thankful for, yet never noticed before. To me La Dolce Vita is a movie that has Silvia, a woman I want to be. Envy is really a strong emotion, and completely unworth it. I live in Italy, I am surrounded by old art, delicious food, spectacular people, and a fascinating language. Maybe slowly, I can experience La Dolce Vita.

MY Camino

What keeps the sacred sacred. What is it that allows a religion to last thousands of years, through generations of change, yet stay the same. Be a constant. Be a pillar. Be a reason. Be the heart. Be forever. The answer...that is the sacred part.

Last year I made a decision to walk across the country of Spain on a thousand year pilgrimage in pursuit of...well, I don't really know what I was after.

After my contract finished at the English school and I had the time, I took a plane to Madrid, a bus to Astorga and my feet to Santiago. The way of Saint James, something holy for Catholics, magical for the spiritual, and challenging to the health nuts. To me, it was a long walk to find my destination.

What I expected on this trip was much alone time, a lot of deep thoughts, meeting angels along the way in form of others. Lots of crying. Writing a novel. Nobel prize winning novel. Then becoming a millionaire. Not what I got.

I met so many people, it wasn't much alone time at all. My thoughts mainly came to my feet. My aching feet. I met people from around the world, Italians, Spanish, Brazilians, Germans, Americans, and all of them made me think of people I already knew. People that were my home.
I did write everyday, about what I experienced that day, how each day was different, yet I ran into the same people. I didn't discover one overall feeling the entire trip, but many everyday. Really the camino is life, in a short period of time.

The camino is where you meet people you will most likely never see again. For a few days they are your best friends in the world, and days later you struggle to remember their names. It is life a quick pace. People come and go.

It is a place that throws you into the unknown, and makes your motivation utterly painful. I want to learn languages, because I (the loud speaker of the world) craved talking to people.

I didn't find a profound meaning to life. I just found life. I was sad somedays. Sometimes I sang so much I couldn't stop smiling. Sometimes I didn't think of more the huge blister on the back of my foot due to ill-preparation. Stupid me. My back hurt. My skin dried. My hip popped. My feet really hurt. Also, my heart fluttered. My smile widened. My thoughts relaxed.

And while going through life so quickly was wonderful, arriving to Santiago to see people I had met only days before was a real triumph. I was extremely happy to congratulate them. Happiness for others I have only felt a few times in life. But hey this is life quickly.

Santiago was many people's destination. Some went further to the see. But my destination was not there. Not in Spain. Not within a 1000kms. My destination was home. My camino brought me home to Italy. To the food I missed. The make-up I missed wearing. The family I missed talking to. Yes, my camino, MY Camino brought me home.