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.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Monday, July 14, 2014
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
Monday, July 7, 2014
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
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.
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.
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