An Apology

Yes, I know. Recently, I have been a very poor blogger. I have not exactly kept up with it. Haven't posted every week. But I do have an excuse. No internet in my apartment. But I do have some news. I may move into my old apartment in short time. There the internet worked well, I had the house to myself, and I had a fantastic reliable landlord. Fingers crossed everyone.

So, I have to be honest, I do not have much to update on currently. My life has been: teach English in the day, help my boyfriend apply for jobs in America in the night, and much sleep deprivation. Today, on a windy  Sunday, I have had the much needed relaxation complete with sleeping in, cuddly under a leopard print blanket, and watching Finding Nemo, (The closest thing I have to the beach at the moment.) And I must admit, this eventless day spent with my favorite man, has been my favorite in a long time. Life happens to quickly for me to keep up sometimes, which leads to long emails to my mother on work time, crying to my friends, crankiness with my wonderful boyfriend, and extreme laziness. But as Dorey says, "Keep Swimming."

Italy is my second home, and to be able to have a lazy day like this and be completely satisfied, just confirms in. In eleven months time I have went from fresh from University with a new job, no friends, and no family in my new country, to being asked to stay at a job I am good at, great fun friends, and a fantastic new family.

But don't worry my traveling readers, I will be at in again next weekend, when I take my spring break to Sardinia. An island/beach that I am in desperate need of. First trip alone since November. A much needed holiday. So stay tuned!

Bologna vs Book

One thing happens when you are in a relationship with a person you adore. You just want to be with the other person. I took a trip alone. A quick trip to Bologna. I was taken to the train, switched twice, and ended up in yet another beautiful city.

But, I took a book. My weakness. So instead of adoring the wonderful scenery, I read an entire book. And that was my Saturday.

 

I came home to a smiling face, and plans for the beach the next day. My life is simple and pleasurable. That is all I can ask for.

Ummm A Weekend

Saturday: Festa della donna

International Women’s Day. A holiday observed in many countries, for equality, nondiscrimination, progress, and solidarity.  The U.N. recognizes this holiday, often tying it to peace.  This year, 2014, the official theme is: Equality for Women, Progress for All.

The holiday began during WWII when proganda announced the death of over a 100 women in a factory in the US, (though the holiday is not observed in the US.) The holiday has political beginnings, but is not always celebrated that way.

Some countries have activist, parades, others promote education, while others have women only dinners (complete with strippers.)

In Italy, however, they celebrate best. This is no longer political, no day of partying. It is a day, however, when men, show how much they appreciate the women in their lives. It is a day with great respect. Of adoration. Of what Italian women deserve.

I must say, Italian women are some of my favorite. They are hospitable, able to cry with you, willing to share knowledge, stylish, intelligent, can eat a whole pizza, cook with both grace and divine ability, buy your lunch, love their men, kind of women, that also giggle when you talk about sex. They deserve this day!

I have a fantastic Italian boyfriend, and I get this day every day.

Sunday: To Grandma’s (San Quirico)

I was invited to Marco’s grandmother’s house, along with all the family. We took an hour roadtrip to a small mideval village high in the hills. Here we arrived to his grandmother’s house, complete with rose bush, olive trees, fantastic views, and a family meal. When we went in the house, I walked into a kitchen out of ‘Under the Tuscan Sun.’ Exactly what you think of when you think the ‘real’ Italy. Exactly what I expected my entire experience in Italy to be. We ate, all talked (in Italian), I understood about 60%. Especially when I was told, ummm…vegan, in Italy…why? I quickly love being with his family, (and his wonderful grandmother, afraid she wouldn’t satisfy a vegan.)

We walked through the vespa sized streets of the village San Quirico, we followed a band in which Marco’s brother played the drums. I smelled the sagra, the food festival of Necci.

I realized as we were walking back to his grandma’s house, how discontentment can be at ease here. Yes, I am the type of person that wants to be known by all. My name will go into the history books, I want to be special. But when it comes to thinking of when I retire, where I would like to spend the last years…a quiet village, a place no one knows. Being annonymous could be quite blissful.

San Quirico

Tuscan hills

Walking in San Quirico

View from Marco's Nonna's terrace.

 

We felt the heat of the sun, and the chill of the wind as we made our way back to the car. On the way home, Marco asked me, “Is there any song you wish you would have written?” My list is long, but the first that comes to mind is U2’s ‘I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.’ As we drove away from the quiet town, and back to reality, my discontentment again sank in. The weekend is coming to an end, and thus is life. Hmmm…

Pancake Day!

Ever wonder what I do for work? What must I do to live in such beautiful country. Well here is a peak of just and ordinary day.

 

Ok, let's get serious. I live in the land that has the pope. Guided by religion. It takes two years to get a divorce. So, I have decided to participate in a religious tradition. Lent. This is the forty days before Easter, in which you give up something. Better yourself.

 

Now usually, what is given up is food. But I am already vegan, and cannot cut out much more. I need the fruits and veggies. So I have decided to give up a combo of activities. One: Excuses. I shall not make excuses for myself, and my laziness. If I really want to learn Italian, if I want to communicate with my boyfriend, family, and friends in their native language, I must study.

 

Two: Sleeping in. My o my how Italy's Mediterranean  lifestyle has ruined me of this. I was speaking to my friend, Elenor, about this. Yes, It is Italy that does this. She is Welsh...from Wales. And in Wales, she does not sleep in. I am American...from America. In America I do not do this.  I remember well, when I first moved here, I would wake at 6:30 every morning for a run. Oh, how I felt the days were long, and filled with more than work. So again, I must wake up. Not at 6:30, let's not fool ourselves, but at 7....30. Better.

 

 

So with all this extra time, I should be able to study Italian like crazy. We will see. Happy Pancake Day. And good luck with you Lent! (...does that sound like a dryer problem?)

Una Domenica Italiana

Let me give you a run through of an ordinary Sunday in Italy. I just experienced this with my boyfriend's family, and it was quite a relaxing and enjoyable day. The way Sundays are supposed to be.

I come into a home filled with homemade pasta laid out. Very authentic Italian. I was offered to be taught how to do this. Yes, of course, I want to learn. I am in Italy after all. Dinner is being prepared and family is arriving. I meet Marco's grandmother for the first time, and understand when she calls me bella. Score. We watch cooking shows together. I am at ease.

Marco's brother's arrive. One with a tiny niece, only three months old, the other with a tinier puppy. Also three months old. 4 generations eat together. I am called the foreign aunt, which may sound as an insult, but is actually quite a compliment. Happy to be in a great family!

I quickly realize that grandmother's everywhere act the same. The speak to babies with high pitched tones, they fill the need to kiss and hug, they love being around family, and most importantly, they are cherished by all.

Marco and I watch a movie that reminds me of my home, but for today, I do not feel homesick. I feel happy to have a family here too. Before we leave I am given sauce to take home. (In the US I am often given food before I leave, as well.)

Lunch last three courses, and several laughs. Sunday was the way it was meant to be. Sunday is a day for dinner. A day for family. A day for wine. A day for laughing.

*Next weekend I meet the other side of the family. A full immersion of the Italian experience with someone I love. Fantastic.