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…