Hellllllooooo!
It's been a while. But the reasons are legit. Had I been able to either halt time or add a few hours on to each day, blogging might have fit into the schedule, but even with those kind of super powers it would have still been a struggle.
Since I returned from Italy things have been insanely, nightmarishly busy. I am working Mon, Wed, Fri at my old ad agency, Tues and Thurs at the clinic, and I had 3 tough classes that I only had time to study for after a 9 or 10 hour workday. By the beginning of August I was running on fumes. Everything was suffering--my advertising work, my therapy sessions with clients, and classwork. But 3 finals later I've finished the semester from hell, while still managing to keep a 3.95 GPA. Hell yeah. I mention this not to brag or toot my own horn, but because I'm pretty freakin' proud of myself. I got divorced, travelled around the world, lived in Italy...and still got straight A's. Genius, anyone?? ;)
No, really, it is pretty astounding because had you known me in undergrad...a straight A student I was not. I majored in having fun and minored in procrastination, both of which I was summa cum laude. I still managed to get decent grades, but it certainly wasn't because of the enormous amount of time I spent studying. So this is a big deal for me, so much so that I've hung my transcripts on my parents refrigerator, proudly displaying my A's like a first grader.
To treat myself after 3.5 months of non-stop brain functioning, I spent the last 10 days in Italy visiting Paolo. I have a break between semesters, so I jumped on my only chance until Christmas to make the trip across the pond and relax in beautiful Salento.
Getting there was an ordeal (I'll write my anti-Alitalia blog next...those living in Italy can comiserate without even knowing the story yet). But once I finally arrived, things were wonderful. Again, more details and photos to come, because we went to some really cool places. But this blog is dedicated to yet another conversation with Paolo that is definitely worth documenting.
So, this conversation took place as we were laying in bed one night. We were so happy to see each other again...it had been two months. We were snuggled up, basically forehead to forehead, having a groggy, just before you drift off conversation, when he said:
"One day, can we have a family like the Robinsons?"
The Robinsons? Huh? What is he talking about? So I said:
"The Robinsons? Huh? What are you talking about?"
And the rest of the conversation proceeded like this:
Paolo: "Yeah, you know from the TV show?"
Me (racking my brain for TV Robinsons): "You mean Swiss Family Robinson?"
Paolo: "Noooo...it was a black family..."
Me: You mean the Jeffersons!?!"
Paolo: "No, remember, it was the family where the dad was a doctor and the mom was a lawyer, and they had a lot of kids...Rudy..."
Me: (lightbulb) "YOU MEAN THE COSBY SHOW??"
Paolo: "Yes, with Bill Cosby!"
Me: "Why do you call it the Robinsons?"
Paolo: "Because that is their surname."
Me: "Robinson?"
Paolo: "Yes. And the show was called 'I Robinson' "(which means 'The Robinsons' in Italian)
Me: (a bit confused) "But their last name was Huxtable..."
Paolo: "Hugsable? Huctable? Wait, what did you say?"
Me: "Ahhhh...now I see why they were the Robinsons in Italy..."
So our beloved Huxtables were the Robinsons in Italy because the Italians have a very difficult time pronouncing Huxtable. Plus,to them Robinson is about as American as Smith or Jones. And apparently the Robinsons in Italy were equally as popular as their aliases in the States. Paolo said it was one of his all time favorite shows growing up. I can just imagine Bill Cosby's voice dubbed by an Italian actor...
As for having a family like the Huxtable/Robinson clan...the thought was sweet. But 5 kids? Ha! Uh, no thank you. We might have to subtract from that number by about 3 or 4. (He did clarify later that he wasn't not insinuating that he wanted 5 children...he just wants a "happy life like they had" ...WHEW.)
You know, a happy life Robinson-style doesn't sound too bad. Sign me up.
Showing posts with label my Italian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my Italian. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
365 days later...
One year ago today I was in an airport in Qatar, by myself, looking for sunglasses in the duty-free shop. I did not find the sunglasses...but what I found instead was almost enough to make up for the fruitless search... ;)
What I found instead was something I certainly was not looking for, nor even knew if I wanted it at the time. What I found was destined by something much bigger than me; and no matter what happens, it's something that was, still is, and hopefully always will be, a bright shining light in my life. What I found instead has shown me that I can trust again when I had just about written it off as a lost cause...
What I found instead goes by the name of Paolo (or Paldo J. Fox). And today I'd like to thank him for joining me on this journey. When Paolo and I met, I was in a place where I couldn't talk about my past without breaking down. We'd be sitting in a romantic outdoor cafe in Rome or walking through the streets of Casablanca and if the topic of my marriage came up, it was still so raw that I had a hard time keeping the tears back. For most men, I would imagine this would be a major red flag, like, "call me when you've lost the baggage". But not for Paolo. He would listen, ask questions, and allow me to show myself--my real self--open wounds and all. I never felt judged because I was getting a divorce and he always told me how amazing he thought I was for deciding to handle this intensely difficult period the way I did. At that point in time, it was exactly what I needed to hear. It had been a long time since I had a man tell me that he admired me for just being me. I had spent a lot of time by myself on that trip and personally I felt good about what I was doing. I felt stronger each day. But no one can argue with some positive reinforcement--especially when it's coming with a cute Italian accent!
He understood that initially part of me was closed off and that even if I wanted to open myself to this relationship fully, I couldn't, because subconsciously I was still protecting myself. Anyone that has been through a traumatic break-up knows how terrifying it can be to allow yourself to feel again. The pain is so vivid that sometimes it's easier to just avoid altogether. Instead of pressuring me he just held space for me in his heart--wide open--for the day that I was ready to crawl inside.
He was with me the day I got divorced and the day I found out Leslie was having a baby. Both days I could barely look at him, I could barely move. But he never allowed me to feel guilty for not being able to give to him or our relationship at that time. Again, he just waited, heart wide open, waiting for me to crawl back in. He has shown me what it means to be completely accepting and his patience is unmatched by anyone I know. He just has an innate understading of human nature and is able to be completely unselfish because of it. When he knew that I was going to need time he never took it personally and he never pushed me for more. It takes a strong man to be able to do that. It takes someone who knows himself and his own worth to be able to trust that I will indeed comeback and no coersion is needed.
His stability, consistancy and eternal optimism kept me going when I didn't know if I could. Sometimes it's easier to do things for other people than it is to do for yourself, but he would never allow that. No decision I made could be for him. They could take him into consideration and ultimately benefit him, but they always had to be for me.
I have never met a man like Paolo before. The personal qualities that so many of us strive to achieve, he's been blessed with from the beginning. And somehow, in the Middle East, in a duty-free sunglass shop I was also blessed.
So amore mio, this one is for you. Thank you for making me smile every single one of the past 365 days. You've been my rock. I love you. Happy Anniversary.
What I found instead was something I certainly was not looking for, nor even knew if I wanted it at the time. What I found was destined by something much bigger than me; and no matter what happens, it's something that was, still is, and hopefully always will be, a bright shining light in my life. What I found instead has shown me that I can trust again when I had just about written it off as a lost cause...
What I found instead goes by the name of Paolo (or Paldo J. Fox). And today I'd like to thank him for joining me on this journey. When Paolo and I met, I was in a place where I couldn't talk about my past without breaking down. We'd be sitting in a romantic outdoor cafe in Rome or walking through the streets of Casablanca and if the topic of my marriage came up, it was still so raw that I had a hard time keeping the tears back. For most men, I would imagine this would be a major red flag, like, "call me when you've lost the baggage". But not for Paolo. He would listen, ask questions, and allow me to show myself--my real self--open wounds and all. I never felt judged because I was getting a divorce and he always told me how amazing he thought I was for deciding to handle this intensely difficult period the way I did. At that point in time, it was exactly what I needed to hear. It had been a long time since I had a man tell me that he admired me for just being me. I had spent a lot of time by myself on that trip and personally I felt good about what I was doing. I felt stronger each day. But no one can argue with some positive reinforcement--especially when it's coming with a cute Italian accent!
He understood that initially part of me was closed off and that even if I wanted to open myself to this relationship fully, I couldn't, because subconsciously I was still protecting myself. Anyone that has been through a traumatic break-up knows how terrifying it can be to allow yourself to feel again. The pain is so vivid that sometimes it's easier to just avoid altogether. Instead of pressuring me he just held space for me in his heart--wide open--for the day that I was ready to crawl inside.
He was with me the day I got divorced and the day I found out Leslie was having a baby. Both days I could barely look at him, I could barely move. But he never allowed me to feel guilty for not being able to give to him or our relationship at that time. Again, he just waited, heart wide open, waiting for me to crawl back in. He has shown me what it means to be completely accepting and his patience is unmatched by anyone I know. He just has an innate understading of human nature and is able to be completely unselfish because of it. When he knew that I was going to need time he never took it personally and he never pushed me for more. It takes a strong man to be able to do that. It takes someone who knows himself and his own worth to be able to trust that I will indeed comeback and no coersion is needed.
His stability, consistancy and eternal optimism kept me going when I didn't know if I could. Sometimes it's easier to do things for other people than it is to do for yourself, but he would never allow that. No decision I made could be for him. They could take him into consideration and ultimately benefit him, but they always had to be for me.
I have never met a man like Paolo before. The personal qualities that so many of us strive to achieve, he's been blessed with from the beginning. And somehow, in the Middle East, in a duty-free sunglass shop I was also blessed.
So amore mio, this one is for you. Thank you for making me smile every single one of the past 365 days. You've been my rock. I love you. Happy Anniversary.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
International "Kiss an Italian" Day
According to one of my most trusted sources for news (Facebook), today is International Kiss an Italian Day.
So ladies, if you happen to be with an Irishman, African, German or Canadian, today you are absolved. You have a get-out-of-jail-free card. You can place all the blame on me. It's a holiday afterall...
Go find yourself un uomo italiano and plant a big one on him. You won't regret it.
Or, if you are a good girl, you can do as they do here-- one on each cheek.
(but, trust me, as I speak from experience, the "each cheek" thing isn't half as much fun...)
So ladies, if you happen to be with an Irishman, African, German or Canadian, today you are absolved. You have a get-out-of-jail-free card. You can place all the blame on me. It's a holiday afterall...
Go find yourself un uomo italiano and plant a big one on him. You won't regret it.
Or, if you are a good girl, you can do as they do here-- one on each cheek.
(but, trust me, as I speak from experience, the "each cheek" thing isn't half as much fun...)
Happy Kiss an Italian Day!
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Paldo J. Fox
I haven't written about any of the funny conversations that I've had with Paolo in a while. I could write a blog a day with the material I've accumulated, but that doesn't make for exciting blog reading, and really, I gotta give the guy credit. His English is getting better each day. I am still in the phase where he can't even make fun of the things I say in Italian because, really, it's not Italian. It's more like a random string of nouns and verbs, all in the present tense, thrown together in hopes that MAYBE the point will come across. In time I might say something funny, but now it's more painful than humorous. Anyway, there are 2 conversations that I've had with Paolo that still make me laugh out loud when I think about them. I'll try to recapture them as best I can:
I
Conversation #1: "J. Fox"
Where: At my parent's house before we went to the family Christmas at my aunt's house. It continued later during the festivities.
Why: It started because I was fake-scolding him about something (probably not putting the toilet seat down...he's bad).
Me: "Paolo ______ Johnson!! (obviously, not his real last name) You forgot the toilet seat again! Hey, wait, what's your middle name?"
Paolo: "I don't have a middle name. I'm just Paolo Johnson."
Me: "Huh. But that doesn't work as well in this situation. When I'm trying to be mother-like and scold you, I need a full name. Like Paolo David Johson, for instance. We gotta give you a middle name. "
Paolo: "Ok"
Me: "And should be 2 syllables, because that flows the best"
Paolo: "Ok"
Me: "And it has to be American, because you already have 2 Italian names"
Paolo: "Ok" (you have to love that he's so willing to go along with this)
Me: "How about Joseph?"
Paolo: "No, that is your daddy's name. How about Justin?" (I knew he threw this one out because he feels that he and one Mr. Timberlake have much in common)
Me: "uh, no. "
Me: "Michael?"
Paolo: "No... Thomas?"
Me: "Paolo Thomas Johnson? Nah...."
We proceeded to come up with 2-syllable, American names for a few more minutes, but couldn't decide on one. Eventually we gave up. Fast-forward to a couple of hours later. We were at my aunt's house and I'd totally forgotten about the middle name conversation.
Paolo (out of the blue): "I've got it! How about 'J. Fox'??"
Me: "huh?" (no clue what he's talking about)
Paolo: "For my American middle name. I like J. Fox"
Me: "Paolo J. Fox Johnson?" (trying very unsuccessfully to stifle my laughter).
Paolo: "Yes. I like it."
Me: "Well, ok, Paolo J. Fox Johnson it is."
To this day, I'm still not sure if he thinks "J. Fox" is one word--"jayfox" or if he realizes that "J. Fox" is actually a middle initial and a last name. But either way, on that day "Paolo J. Fox Johnson" was christened, and is still used quite frequently.
Conversation #2 "Where's Paldo"
Where: At our apartment in Otranto, two nights ago.
Why: His sister had bought him a new sweater. It has red and blue horizontal stripes. We both liked it when we saw it, but when he actually put it on...not so much. The following conversation ensued:
Paolo (looking at himself in the mirror): "Do you like it?"
Me: Ummm, it reminds me a little of "Where's Waldo?"
Paolo: "Who's Maldo?"
Me (starting to laugh): "Not Maldo...!"
Paolo: "Oh, scusa, sorry--who is Paldo?"
Me (erupting with laughter): Paldo!!?! YOU'RE PALDO!"
It took me 20 minutes to explain what this meant, who "Waldo" is, and why it all struck me so funny. He exhorts this kind of goofy humor without knowing it, and it kills me. When I try to explain it, it becomes funnier and funnier to me and more confusing to him. Which in turn makes me laugh even harder. And in this case, even though it's not truly all that funny, it was one of those things when I thought about it an hour later I would start laughing all over again. I would just envision him standing there in his "Paldo" sweater looking confused asking "Who's Paldo?" Awww. He has no idea how cute he is.
I'll have to take a picture of him in the sweater.
So, now he's officially become Paldo J. Fox.
Oh, and speaking of pictures. I've posted the pictures of our redecorated apartment and our Valentine's party. Enjoy!
I
Conversation #1: "J. Fox"
Where: At my parent's house before we went to the family Christmas at my aunt's house. It continued later during the festivities.
Why: It started because I was fake-scolding him about something (probably not putting the toilet seat down...he's bad).
Me: "Paolo ______ Johnson!! (obviously, not his real last name) You forgot the toilet seat again! Hey, wait, what's your middle name?"
Paolo: "I don't have a middle name. I'm just Paolo Johnson."
Me: "Huh. But that doesn't work as well in this situation. When I'm trying to be mother-like and scold you, I need a full name. Like Paolo David Johson, for instance. We gotta give you a middle name. "
Paolo: "Ok"
Me: "And should be 2 syllables, because that flows the best"
Paolo: "Ok"
Me: "And it has to be American, because you already have 2 Italian names"
Paolo: "Ok" (you have to love that he's so willing to go along with this)
Me: "How about Joseph?"
Paolo: "No, that is your daddy's name. How about Justin?" (I knew he threw this one out because he feels that he and one Mr. Timberlake have much in common)
Me: "uh, no. "
Me: "Michael?"
Paolo: "No... Thomas?"
Me: "Paolo Thomas Johnson? Nah...."
We proceeded to come up with 2-syllable, American names for a few more minutes, but couldn't decide on one. Eventually we gave up. Fast-forward to a couple of hours later. We were at my aunt's house and I'd totally forgotten about the middle name conversation.
Paolo (out of the blue): "I've got it! How about 'J. Fox'??"
Me: "huh?" (no clue what he's talking about)
Paolo: "For my American middle name. I like J. Fox"
Me: "Paolo J. Fox Johnson?" (trying very unsuccessfully to stifle my laughter).
Paolo: "Yes. I like it."
Me: "Well, ok, Paolo J. Fox Johnson it is."
To this day, I'm still not sure if he thinks "J. Fox" is one word--"jayfox" or if he realizes that "J. Fox" is actually a middle initial and a last name. But either way, on that day "Paolo J. Fox Johnson" was christened, and is still used quite frequently.
Conversation #2 "Where's Paldo"
Where: At our apartment in Otranto, two nights ago.
Why: His sister had bought him a new sweater. It has red and blue horizontal stripes. We both liked it when we saw it, but when he actually put it on...not so much. The following conversation ensued:
Paolo (looking at himself in the mirror): "Do you like it?"
Me: Ummm, it reminds me a little of "Where's Waldo?"
Paolo: "Who's Maldo?"
Me (starting to laugh): "Not Maldo...!"
Paolo: "Oh, scusa, sorry--who is Paldo?"
Me (erupting with laughter): Paldo!!?! YOU'RE PALDO!"
It took me 20 minutes to explain what this meant, who "Waldo" is, and why it all struck me so funny. He exhorts this kind of goofy humor without knowing it, and it kills me. When I try to explain it, it becomes funnier and funnier to me and more confusing to him. Which in turn makes me laugh even harder. And in this case, even though it's not truly all that funny, it was one of those things when I thought about it an hour later I would start laughing all over again. I would just envision him standing there in his "Paldo" sweater looking confused asking "Who's Paldo?" Awww. He has no idea how cute he is.
I'll have to take a picture of him in the sweater.
So, now he's officially become Paldo J. Fox.
Oh, and speaking of pictures. I've posted the pictures of our redecorated apartment and our Valentine's party. Enjoy!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Train of thought...
Paolo had to work at their soccer club tonight, so I was by myself for dinner. I didn't even bother to turn on the TV--it's more stress than it's worth. And Italian TV easily deserves a blog of it's own...at another time. I'm not good at reading and eating (I have a hard time not wearing my food when I am focusing on it, let alone when reading.) So during my dinner for one, I just let my mind run away with itself, and this is the twisted road it took me down...
First. Jenn got a call from her ex-husband when we were on IM today, so made me think of Leslie. And, for some reason this scene popped into my head: One average day in Columbus, we were at a gas station filling up the car, and the man at the pump next to us had struck up a conversation with Leslie (I was in the car). The man was a black guy (relavant in a second) and he asked Les where he was from (Leslie is also black, with dreadlocks and a Caribbean accent, so this was a common question). Leslie tells the guy that he's from Trinidad. The guys response: "Really?? I'm from Africa too!!" And...get this...he then handed Leslie his pump and offered to pay for our gas. Les, being the thrifty Trini that he is, played along with the dude and allowed him to buy our gas. Apparently he has no sympathy for the stupid. He gets in the car cracking up, and explains what just happened. We decide that with the money we saved on gas the only good and kind thing we could do was to buy the guy a map...so he could see for himself that Trinidad is absolutely nowhere near Africa.
So, that line of thinking lead me to "there really aren't that many black people in Italy" and it's sad, the only ones I see are African immigrants selling fake Gucci bags on the street. In fact, there really isn't any culture in Italy aside from Italian. Granted, the regions are all pretty different from each other-the food, the dialect, the architecture. But, I miss seeing people that look different. No matter what the region, the people all look very Italian. I guess this is normal for countries other than the US...the big "melting pot" but I really appreciate our cultural smorgasboard.
Thinking about black people in Italy led me to thinking about how Paolo and I watched "Stomp the Yard" or a similar movie (can't remember), about some black colleges competing in a "stepping" battle. We both love dance movies (and yes, Paolo is straight). When we watch movies we usually try to see them in Italian with English subtitles, so I can hear the Italian being spoken while reading in English. I just couldn't handle it with this movie. You can't have Italians doing voice overs for Southern Black Americans-- they take 100% of the cool out of it. And there is no way to translate "That's whack" or "crunk" into Italian and still have the same effect.
Then I started thinking about how Paolo and I are probably the only people in the world that watch American movies that are dubbed in Italian with English subtitles. Then I started thinking about how somethings are just really "American" and no matter how close the translation is, it still doesn't capture it. When I was thinking about ultra American things, I thought about my Italian class today, in which I had a 2 hour lesson about coffee (no joke, it's a religion here). My teacher asked me about famous coffee in the US. I told her that Starbucks was easily the most famous. She just stared at me kinda blankly "Non so"...I don't know...what??? My Italian teacher had NEVER HEARD OF STARBUCKS.
I'll leave it at that folks. I know, it's a hard pill to swallow.
First. Jenn got a call from her ex-husband when we were on IM today, so made me think of Leslie. And, for some reason this scene popped into my head: One average day in Columbus, we were at a gas station filling up the car, and the man at the pump next to us had struck up a conversation with Leslie (I was in the car). The man was a black guy (relavant in a second) and he asked Les where he was from (Leslie is also black, with dreadlocks and a Caribbean accent, so this was a common question). Leslie tells the guy that he's from Trinidad. The guys response: "Really?? I'm from Africa too!!" And...get this...he then handed Leslie his pump and offered to pay for our gas. Les, being the thrifty Trini that he is, played along with the dude and allowed him to buy our gas. Apparently he has no sympathy for the stupid. He gets in the car cracking up, and explains what just happened. We decide that with the money we saved on gas the only good and kind thing we could do was to buy the guy a map...so he could see for himself that Trinidad is absolutely nowhere near Africa.
So, that line of thinking lead me to "there really aren't that many black people in Italy" and it's sad, the only ones I see are African immigrants selling fake Gucci bags on the street. In fact, there really isn't any culture in Italy aside from Italian. Granted, the regions are all pretty different from each other-the food, the dialect, the architecture. But, I miss seeing people that look different. No matter what the region, the people all look very Italian. I guess this is normal for countries other than the US...the big "melting pot" but I really appreciate our cultural smorgasboard.
Thinking about black people in Italy led me to thinking about how Paolo and I watched "Stomp the Yard" or a similar movie (can't remember), about some black colleges competing in a "stepping" battle. We both love dance movies (and yes, Paolo is straight). When we watch movies we usually try to see them in Italian with English subtitles, so I can hear the Italian being spoken while reading in English. I just couldn't handle it with this movie. You can't have Italians doing voice overs for Southern Black Americans-- they take 100% of the cool out of it. And there is no way to translate "That's whack" or "crunk" into Italian and still have the same effect.
Then I started thinking about how Paolo and I are probably the only people in the world that watch American movies that are dubbed in Italian with English subtitles. Then I started thinking about how somethings are just really "American" and no matter how close the translation is, it still doesn't capture it. When I was thinking about ultra American things, I thought about my Italian class today, in which I had a 2 hour lesson about coffee (no joke, it's a religion here). My teacher asked me about famous coffee in the US. I told her that Starbucks was easily the most famous. She just stared at me kinda blankly "Non so"...I don't know...what??? My Italian teacher had NEVER HEARD OF STARBUCKS.
I'll leave it at that folks. I know, it's a hard pill to swallow.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Super Tuesday
Tuesday is a big day for us. Us as in us--the US, and us as in us-- Paolo and I (really, more Paolo).
First, and most obvious, is that Tuesday is the day in which 24 states vote in the US Primaries, likely deciding who will be our next Democratic and Republican presidential candidates. I've found it hilariously fascinating to watch the Italian news coverage of the US campaigns. You mean, there are actually Republican candidates? And who, by the way, is John Edwards? As far as Italy is concerned, there are 2 people running for president--Hillary and Obama. There is going to be some major disappointment over here when they find out that only one of them can actually run. Every night as I struggle to understand the news, I take absolute delight in the segments that cover US politics. It wasn't until Rudy Guliani dropped out of the race that I even saw a Republican candidate mentioned. Even on talk shows, the hosts ask their famous guests "Who do you support Hillary or Obama?" as though they are the only two choices. When I asked Paolo about it, he explained that there was extra attention paid to this election because of the significance of a woman or a black man becoming arguably the most powerful person in the world. Also, the Italian public as a whole, are not big fans of Geroge W. (or "Boosh," as they say. No pun inteneded, that's seriously how they pronounce it) so they are ready for the US to have a new leader.
Second, and almost as important as the fate of the next 4 years of the USA, Paolo has a HUGE Anatomy exam on Tuesday that he has been studying for forever. So tomorrow we are packing our bags and driving north to a small town called Camarino where his university is located. College is really different in Italy than in the US, and I think the format here is a lot more difficult. I'll explain by using Paolo's degrees as examples. So, he got his first degree in Biology, and like us he had to complete course work and labs to earn his degree. But, unlike us, it was determined if he passed a course based on one exam alone, which were always cumulative, covering an entire text book. Oh, and usually these exams were both written and oral. I don't think I've ever taken an oral exam in my entire life...unless spelling bee's count. So basically, when you decide what you want to major in, they say ok, to get that degree you have to take 32 (or however many) exams, and then it's kinda up to you when you take them, and if you attend classes or not. After Paolo got his bachelors in Biology, he was not considered a "Biologist" until took the equilivant of the bar exam for biology, which was almost an additional full year of school because it consisted of another lab, written exam, and oral exam covering all you've learned in the 5 year program. Yuck. Now he's doing a second degree n Pharmacy and because so many of the classes overlap with his biology degree he *only* has to take 12 exams. Anatony is #1. And it's a killer. I'm really hoping that he passes, because we both study so much, but we cannot study together, because Paolo is an "out loud studier." Yes. He reads out loud, repeats it all out loud, and asks himself questions out loud. I can barely say hello in Italian, but I can just about tell you how the lymphatic system works--fluently.
So please send some good vibes his way. If you'd like you can say a silent "In bocca al lupo!" which is an Italian version of "good luck" but literally means "In the mouth of the wolf" (???) and the response: "Crepie il lupo!" or just "Crepie!" (which apparently means "I hope the wolf dies.") Seems strange? Try explaning why we say "Break a leg" to a preformer before a performance...
And, in my absence (I am not bringing my computer to force myself to study my Italian flashcards) you can checkout my cousin's new blog at: http://www.hindsightis20-20.blogspot.com/ I'm diggin' the fact that more and more people that I know with the ability to write and something interesting/funny/worthwhile to say are jumping on the blog bandwagon. Maren, my cousin is 18 days older than me. And, this year, that was the sweetest gift I recieved. Up till now, she had all the good birthday's first--16, 21...and now, it's my turn to gloat. Mare, you were 30 before me...and you'll be 40 before me! Love ya!
Saturday, February 2, 2008
I'm happy
It's weird, I almost am hesitant to write about my current state of happiness, because I feel like readers get bored with happy. I get more response to my painful, major life lesson, ephiphany-type blogs than I do to my "life is good" kinda blogs...
Maybe that's why as humans we seem to be addicted to pain...because happiness is boring? Contentment = lack of excitement? I dunno, but, after a couple years of serious struggles, pain, and ephiphanies, I'm tired of them. C'mon happiness, bring it on in it's full boring force...
Each day, I laugh more and more. And it's real laughing. The kind you can't stop even if you try. (Which can be unfortunate, if you are in a public area and the laughing has just caused your drink to spew out of your mouth (or nose) or you accidentally let out an inadvertant snort). And I am really beginning to I enjoy where I am, both physically and in life in general. I think about the past less and less, and the future less and less, and enjoy now--a lot.
Maybe it's being in Italy, or maybe it's being with Paolo. I'm sure both of those factors play a huge part in it. But, more than anything, it's being me. I'm beginning to like the scars I've accumulated, and the person I've become because of where my life has gone, and the decisions I've made. I've never felt brave before, but I do now. I don't feel scared anymore. I am not sure what to attribute that to other than living through my worst nightmare, and coming out better than I ever could have imagined. I am proud of myself.
And sure, I still have bad days. But that's life. You have to have the bad ones to be able to appreciate the good ones. I have no idea what the future holds, and you know, I'm ok with that, because knowing that would make life really boring.
Maybe that's why as humans we seem to be addicted to pain...because happiness is boring? Contentment = lack of excitement? I dunno, but, after a couple years of serious struggles, pain, and ephiphanies, I'm tired of them. C'mon happiness, bring it on in it's full boring force...
Each day, I laugh more and more. And it's real laughing. The kind you can't stop even if you try. (Which can be unfortunate, if you are in a public area and the laughing has just caused your drink to spew out of your mouth (or nose) or you accidentally let out an inadvertant snort). And I am really beginning to I enjoy where I am, both physically and in life in general. I think about the past less and less, and the future less and less, and enjoy now--a lot.
Maybe it's being in Italy, or maybe it's being with Paolo. I'm sure both of those factors play a huge part in it. But, more than anything, it's being me. I'm beginning to like the scars I've accumulated, and the person I've become because of where my life has gone, and the decisions I've made. I've never felt brave before, but I do now. I don't feel scared anymore. I am not sure what to attribute that to other than living through my worst nightmare, and coming out better than I ever could have imagined. I am proud of myself.
And sure, I still have bad days. But that's life. You have to have the bad ones to be able to appreciate the good ones. I have no idea what the future holds, and you know, I'm ok with that, because knowing that would make life really boring.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
La Casa Mia (e di Paolo...)
For those of you that know me, and for those of you that have had the good fortune of being my roommate over the years, know that I am pretty much a freak about where I live. My mom is a decorator by trade, and apparently it's in the genes. I can be a little fanatical, I'm learning (sorry, Erin--you lived with me and "I want my dorm room/apartment/house THIS way" for six years...the agony...). Basically, I don't stop until it's exactly the way I want it, given the restraints I have to work with (space, money, time, etc).
So, when I walked into the condo that Paolo and I are living in for the next 4 months, I saw a georgous blank canvas. Nevermind the green tile floor, old beat-up royal blue futon, green wicker furniture with a floral pattern that at one time could have been ivory but were now a dullish grey or the completely sterile white walls. Forget that the kitchen is so tiny the refrigerator is in the dining room area, and who cares that the bathroom has 4 different types of tile-they are all some shade of blue, right? What I saw was a beautiful fireplace, FIVE floor to (almost) ceiling doors with a view overlooking the city and the sea, a huge great room with a great shape, and two good sized bedrooms. Bellissima!!!
After watching much TLC (not only do I learn loads from Stacy and Clinton) I've taken a lot of helpful tips on how to decorate on a shoestring budget from "Trading Spaces" and "While You Were Out." And much to Paolo's delight, have decided that some paint, and a few pieces of furniture...and rugs...and flowers...and more paint...and art....and the place will be in top shape in no time.
Now, normally, I wouldn't barge into someone elses house and decide to redecorate it (unless asked), but, this is one of a few rental houses that Paolo's family owns, and the nicer it looks the more they can rent it for. And we've been careful about what we've chosen. The new couch is a micro-suede that folds down into a bed, so the place can accomodate more than just the bedrooms, the chairs we bought for in front of the fireplace are papasan-like (smaller, with arms), so the cushions can be easily washed or replaced. The rugs are great--all seasons, big, and were only 40 euro each. (We spent a total of 550 on furniture--couch, 2 chairs, 2 footstools, coffee table, baskets to hold wood for the fire)--not to shabby.
There was some furniture already here, that is very, uh, circa 1973. The armoir that the TV sits on is wood with the cupboard doors covered in orange felt. Yeah. But, we've managed to work them into the color scheme, and now it *almost looks like we bought the piece on purpose. We've painted the large main room in a really pale orange, and the hallway, entryway and bedroom in a sandy color (best to go light, since it's mostly a summer home). It is amazing what a coat of paint can do for a place! Slowly it's transforming from a mish-mosh of forgotten furniture, to a cohesive, fucntional, warm space. I love it. And so does Paolo--now we can only hope his mamma feels the same way.
We took down her curtains, which were very pretty, green linen with panels of sheer floral patterns. I could tell they were very expensive and good quality. We are replacing them with simple off-white ones with a embroidered pattern along the top in a neutral color. The green was pretty, but with the orange walls it kinda had an easter egg effect. It's been the only thing she seemed a little adverse to...but, Paolo said when we leave she can put her green ones back up if she wants. (Hopefully when they see the place completed, they will love it...no one except his brother Vincenzo has seen what we've done to it so far).
So, basically, most of my time so far in Italy has been working my ass off in the condo. I could write about it as though it's a romantic comedy--young couple has a dream house that is a fixer- upper, and they turn it into a masterpiece. However, this is reality, there is no music montage of paint and construction and 5 minutes later--viola! it's done. Good Lord, don't I wish. My whole body hurts from painting, sanding, moving furniture, hauling things up two flights of stairs. But it's well worth it, because I can see Paolo falling more and more in love with it (mind you, this is his first "home" outside of his parents house--yep. It's Italy, that's how they do it. Mamma's house to wife's house) He's trying to break from that mold slowly, and when I leave, I think he will continue to live away from home. Which, in my mind (and in general in America) is a good thing.
Because of the work at home, I haven't been doing much exploring yet. I've had 2 Italian lessons, and it's overwhelming. I feel like I will never be able to learn it. I'm taking private lessons 3 days a week until classes start in mid-February. Hopefully, I will have a good handle on the basics by the time classes start. My classes for my Master's program start tomorrow, and I don't have my books yet (as usual), but my parents got them yesterday and so I should have them early next week.
Next blog, I will write about Otranto, and our life in this little town. But, for now, Paolo just got home from work and we are going to make lunch, do a bit more painting, and study.
Ciao a tutti!
So, when I walked into the condo that Paolo and I are living in for the next 4 months, I saw a georgous blank canvas. Nevermind the green tile floor, old beat-up royal blue futon, green wicker furniture with a floral pattern that at one time could have been ivory but were now a dullish grey or the completely sterile white walls. Forget that the kitchen is so tiny the refrigerator is in the dining room area, and who cares that the bathroom has 4 different types of tile-they are all some shade of blue, right? What I saw was a beautiful fireplace, FIVE floor to (almost) ceiling doors with a view overlooking the city and the sea, a huge great room with a great shape, and two good sized bedrooms. Bellissima!!!
After watching much TLC (not only do I learn loads from Stacy and Clinton) I've taken a lot of helpful tips on how to decorate on a shoestring budget from "Trading Spaces" and "While You Were Out." And much to Paolo's delight, have decided that some paint, and a few pieces of furniture...and rugs...and flowers...and more paint...and art....and the place will be in top shape in no time.
Now, normally, I wouldn't barge into someone elses house and decide to redecorate it (unless asked), but, this is one of a few rental houses that Paolo's family owns, and the nicer it looks the more they can rent it for. And we've been careful about what we've chosen. The new couch is a micro-suede that folds down into a bed, so the place can accomodate more than just the bedrooms, the chairs we bought for in front of the fireplace are papasan-like (smaller, with arms), so the cushions can be easily washed or replaced. The rugs are great--all seasons, big, and were only 40 euro each. (We spent a total of 550 on furniture--couch, 2 chairs, 2 footstools, coffee table, baskets to hold wood for the fire)--not to shabby.
There was some furniture already here, that is very, uh, circa 1973. The armoir that the TV sits on is wood with the cupboard doors covered in orange felt. Yeah. But, we've managed to work them into the color scheme, and now it *almost looks like we bought the piece on purpose. We've painted the large main room in a really pale orange, and the hallway, entryway and bedroom in a sandy color (best to go light, since it's mostly a summer home). It is amazing what a coat of paint can do for a place! Slowly it's transforming from a mish-mosh of forgotten furniture, to a cohesive, fucntional, warm space. I love it. And so does Paolo--now we can only hope his mamma feels the same way.
We took down her curtains, which were very pretty, green linen with panels of sheer floral patterns. I could tell they were very expensive and good quality. We are replacing them with simple off-white ones with a embroidered pattern along the top in a neutral color. The green was pretty, but with the orange walls it kinda had an easter egg effect. It's been the only thing she seemed a little adverse to...but, Paolo said when we leave she can put her green ones back up if she wants. (Hopefully when they see the place completed, they will love it...no one except his brother Vincenzo has seen what we've done to it so far).
So, basically, most of my time so far in Italy has been working my ass off in the condo. I could write about it as though it's a romantic comedy--young couple has a dream house that is a fixer- upper, and they turn it into a masterpiece. However, this is reality, there is no music montage of paint and construction and 5 minutes later--viola! it's done. Good Lord, don't I wish. My whole body hurts from painting, sanding, moving furniture, hauling things up two flights of stairs. But it's well worth it, because I can see Paolo falling more and more in love with it (mind you, this is his first "home" outside of his parents house--yep. It's Italy, that's how they do it. Mamma's house to wife's house) He's trying to break from that mold slowly, and when I leave, I think he will continue to live away from home. Which, in my mind (and in general in America) is a good thing.
Because of the work at home, I haven't been doing much exploring yet. I've had 2 Italian lessons, and it's overwhelming. I feel like I will never be able to learn it. I'm taking private lessons 3 days a week until classes start in mid-February. Hopefully, I will have a good handle on the basics by the time classes start. My classes for my Master's program start tomorrow, and I don't have my books yet (as usual), but my parents got them yesterday and so I should have them early next week.
Next blog, I will write about Otranto, and our life in this little town. But, for now, Paolo just got home from work and we are going to make lunch, do a bit more painting, and study.
Ciao a tutti!
Friday, January 11, 2008
Endings and Beginnings
Happy 2008! I've been completely blog-dispondant, but now that I am back in Italy, and can only talk to one person (Paolo) because I don't know the language yet, the blog will be a welcome outlet to communicate, in English, when I'm desperate to say what I want to say without having to explain what I am saying. Hai capito? You understand?
Anyway, a quick recap of the last couple of months...
Since I returned from my trip I've been staying at my parents house, because it didn't make sense for me to rent a place since I was only going to be in Ohio for 4 months. Lately, I seem to do things in 4 month increments. Living with them has it's perks and downfalls, naturally, but overall we have a good time together. I got a job in Uptown Westerville at a cute little store called Encircle, which helped me to pay for my cell phone bill and go out to dinner (but not much else).
Paolo came to stay with me from right before Thanksgiving until January 2nd, when we both returned to Italy together. So it's going to be a total of 5.5 months of being together nonstop--wow. It was so fun having him around for the holidays, because he's always so happy. He loved Thanksgiving dinner, which was to be expected, as Paolo loves ALL food. He did wonderful at the chaotic holiday family get-togethers, where there are around 40 aunts, uncles, cousins all piled into one house. Not only did he have to try to remember all of their real names, they all seem to have nicknames too. It wasn't long before I looked from the kitchen into the dining room and see him tossing my cousin's daughter up in the air and her squealing with delight "again! again!" He fit right in. He was even a good sport during the gift exchange (if you can call it that)--which can get pretty intense--alliances are built, strategies are put into place, all relationships are pushed to the wayside, people will even steal from our 92 year old grandmother-figure. Paolo got his gift stolen and wound up with the laser level. Later he told me, "it's a nice gift Maggie, men always like tools." (The men I've had in my life, uh-hem, Dad, don't seem to know a hammer from a wrench, so this was new to me). And my dad's gotten a laser level before, and I think he response was "I always get the sucky gifts."
Aside from the holidays, we spent a lot of time studying, spending time with my friends, checking out the city, Christmas shopping, going to dinner--he became a big fan of sushi, thank God. I was worried about what he'd like to eat, because in Italy there really is only one type of food--Italian. Literally, they really do eat pasta everyday. So when I asked him what he wanted for dinner one night and he said "either Chipotle or Japanese" I fell in love even more. He was tired a lot, which I can understand the feeling. Even at night if we'd be watching TV, it was still work for him because he was trying so hard to understand. It's not like he could just zone out. We'd usually watch the Discovery Channel or Animal Planet where the narrator usually spoke relatively slowly, or What Not to Wear--who better to learn english from that Stacy London and Clinto Kelly????
We ended 2007 with some of my best friends, cousins, drinking, eating and dancing. For my friend Jennifer and I, 2008 really, truly marks a new beginning. Here I am, in Italy, learning Italian, living in a small coastal town, with a view of the sea. Jenn, just got a job as a Federal Prosecutor and will be moving to LA in September, where she will be living a real life Law and Order episode. Yeah, she'll be going on FBI stings and stuff--I love it. She's 5'1" and looks like she's 19. She is going to tear up that town.
But for both of us, 2007 was more than difficult. At some points neither of us could see the light at the end of the tunnel. It just goes to show you that no matter what, the future is always going to be different than today (got that piece of wisdom from my Google "quotes of the day"). I take solace in that. If today sucks, tomorrow might not--who knows? And if today is great, tomorrow might not be...but no matter what, we can count on it being different. That will never change.
So with 2007 being behind me, and 2008 at it's very beginnings, I am filled with hope, anticipation, and some almost closed battle wounds.
In the days to follow, I'll write about the town in which I am living, our crazy condo, my first Italian lessons, and what it is like to be fully immersed in a culture. I'm in the very south--the heel of the boot. There is no English spoken here, so it is sink or swim. (Or tote around a cute little translator named Paolo). He'd like to write a blog of his own, because I have had some great "Maggie-isms" where I've created my own words in Italian. What goes around comes around, and I'm beginning to pay for lauging at him calling his neck a "neckle"...
Anyway, a quick recap of the last couple of months...
Since I returned from my trip I've been staying at my parents house, because it didn't make sense for me to rent a place since I was only going to be in Ohio for 4 months. Lately, I seem to do things in 4 month increments. Living with them has it's perks and downfalls, naturally, but overall we have a good time together. I got a job in Uptown Westerville at a cute little store called Encircle, which helped me to pay for my cell phone bill and go out to dinner (but not much else).
Paolo came to stay with me from right before Thanksgiving until January 2nd, when we both returned to Italy together. So it's going to be a total of 5.5 months of being together nonstop--wow. It was so fun having him around for the holidays, because he's always so happy. He loved Thanksgiving dinner, which was to be expected, as Paolo loves ALL food. He did wonderful at the chaotic holiday family get-togethers, where there are around 40 aunts, uncles, cousins all piled into one house. Not only did he have to try to remember all of their real names, they all seem to have nicknames too. It wasn't long before I looked from the kitchen into the dining room and see him tossing my cousin's daughter up in the air and her squealing with delight "again! again!" He fit right in. He was even a good sport during the gift exchange (if you can call it that)--which can get pretty intense--alliances are built, strategies are put into place, all relationships are pushed to the wayside, people will even steal from our 92 year old grandmother-figure. Paolo got his gift stolen and wound up with the laser level. Later he told me, "it's a nice gift Maggie, men always like tools." (The men I've had in my life, uh-hem, Dad, don't seem to know a hammer from a wrench, so this was new to me). And my dad's gotten a laser level before, and I think he response was "I always get the sucky gifts."
Aside from the holidays, we spent a lot of time studying, spending time with my friends, checking out the city, Christmas shopping, going to dinner--he became a big fan of sushi, thank God. I was worried about what he'd like to eat, because in Italy there really is only one type of food--Italian. Literally, they really do eat pasta everyday. So when I asked him what he wanted for dinner one night and he said "either Chipotle or Japanese" I fell in love even more. He was tired a lot, which I can understand the feeling. Even at night if we'd be watching TV, it was still work for him because he was trying so hard to understand. It's not like he could just zone out. We'd usually watch the Discovery Channel or Animal Planet where the narrator usually spoke relatively slowly, or What Not to Wear--who better to learn english from that Stacy London and Clinto Kelly????
We ended 2007 with some of my best friends, cousins, drinking, eating and dancing. For my friend Jennifer and I, 2008 really, truly marks a new beginning. Here I am, in Italy, learning Italian, living in a small coastal town, with a view of the sea. Jenn, just got a job as a Federal Prosecutor and will be moving to LA in September, where she will be living a real life Law and Order episode. Yeah, she'll be going on FBI stings and stuff--I love it. She's 5'1" and looks like she's 19. She is going to tear up that town.
But for both of us, 2007 was more than difficult. At some points neither of us could see the light at the end of the tunnel. It just goes to show you that no matter what, the future is always going to be different than today (got that piece of wisdom from my Google "quotes of the day"). I take solace in that. If today sucks, tomorrow might not--who knows? And if today is great, tomorrow might not be...but no matter what, we can count on it being different. That will never change.
So with 2007 being behind me, and 2008 at it's very beginnings, I am filled with hope, anticipation, and some almost closed battle wounds.
In the days to follow, I'll write about the town in which I am living, our crazy condo, my first Italian lessons, and what it is like to be fully immersed in a culture. I'm in the very south--the heel of the boot. There is no English spoken here, so it is sink or swim. (Or tote around a cute little translator named Paolo). He'd like to write a blog of his own, because I have had some great "Maggie-isms" where I've created my own words in Italian. What goes around comes around, and I'm beginning to pay for lauging at him calling his neck a "neckle"...
Monday, October 15, 2007
Stuff...
I've noticed that at home I do not look at the sky half as much as I do when I am traveling. It's funny, when you are traveling you are always looking around you--seeing things that you'd never see at home. Not because they aren't there, but because you aren't looking...or, you aren't seeing. I never get excited about a sunset in Westerville--even tough recently, I am sure we have had great ones. This is something I'd like to change...you get so used to home being home that you become blind to how nice home actually is...
So, Paolo came and went...and we did it all. Literally, I ran the poor guy into the ground, I am afraid. But I wanted to prove to him that my country is just as cool as his, therefore I had to pack it full of all of Ohio's greatest sites and activities. A brief rundown...We walked through uptown Westerville, went to The Burgundy Room (my favorite) and Bar Louie downtown for my friends 30th birthday party. Went to Easton, built a bear for the new baby adorned with an Ohio State tee-shirt of course. And yes, I did get pictures of Paolo "tapping the heart to give it a heartbeat" before it went into the bear.My dad gave us a tour of the Statehouse and the Dispatch, we went to the zoo, we went to my favorite town--Athens, and visited the greatest school ever, OU. We spent 2 nights in a cabin in Hocking Hills, and hiked all around the area (Old Man's Cave, Cedar Falls, etc). For my b-day (30!) we went to Hyde Park and the opening Blue Jackets game. We carved pumpkins, made s'mores, played cornhole, saw some of the OSU game, ate Chinese, Chipotle, and cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory (my b-day cake every year)--you see, in Italy they have wonderful food, but only one kind--Italian.
He loved every minute of it. I knew he would, because that is how Paolo is. He loves seeing new things--it's like the wonderment of a little kid, mixed with the patience and desire to learn. He got along great with my parents, and held his own pretty well in most conversations--very little need for translation. When we were at a bar it was more difficult because it's so loud, it's harder to focus on what people are saying. And as for us, it was like we had never left each other. It came back so easily and naturally that we never really have to focus on the relationship. Do you know what I mean? In some relationships you have to discuss, work on, stress over, the relationship itself--and it takes up a lot of time. It's not like that with him, it is just easy.
And he felt the same way--he said, "even though I am in another country I feel like I am home" which was wonderful for me to hear. Because I know how much he loves his country, and particularly his region, so to hear how much he liked it here was a little bit of a relief for me. I think when a lot of foreigners think about the US, they think of the big cities. And being in Columbus gave him a taste of what more "normal" (if there is such a thing) life is like in America. He liked that Westerville had the feeling of a small town, yet the city was so close.
He was here for 8 days, and is hopefully coming back for Thanksgiving and staying for more of an extended period of time. I am still planning on going back to Italy to study Italian in January, so this is as far as we allow ourselves to look into the future at this point.
As for me and my life here. Well...I read A LOT. Anyone who went through grad school understands what the meaning of a lot is...3 classes, each wanting you to read 2 or more chapters per week and these chapters are not short. I am trying to get another part time job, because I am starting to feel like a recluse in the house all day by myself with only Thundercat and my books. (Plus, a little spending money might be nice...) It's hard when I am only going to be here for 3 more months, who wants to hire for that? But there is no way I could work full-time at this point with this amount of school work. Especially since I still have some very emotionally draining days. In fact, today I am headed to the courthouse to officially file all of the paperwork for the dissolution. Leslie signed and sent everything back to me (being considerate enough not to send them on my birthday), not my idea of a great present. When I am more ready, I'll write about my thoughts on closure (I don't believe there is such a thing).
A couple of random things--I just finished the book "Eat, Pray, Love" in which the author writes about her travels through--get this--Italy, India, and Indonesia...after a really hard divorce. I felt like I was reading my life story. Anyway, the book is hysterical, I found myself laughing out loud at times and that never happens for me with books. I also find myself copying down entire conversations or paragraphs to read again later. Great book--highly recommend it. Second, turning 30 was the most uneventful big event in my life. I'm just hoping that this decade can provide me with some more peace, knowledge and happiness than the last decade. Whew. Can't say I am sad to leave my 20's behind. (The only thing that sucks is actually saying "I'm 30"). I joined a bowling league with my friend Jenn and a bunch of her lawyer friends. And those that have ever seen me bowl are shaking their heads right now. My poor teammates... I am interviewing for internships positions at a few places around Columbus, and am going to try to volunteer in the meantime so I'm not totally green when internship time rolls around.
That's about it. I've been back for just over a month now. And truthfully, haven't been much in the mood to write. Externally there is not a whole lot to write about, and internally, I don't know if I am ready or able to get it down on paper yet. But it's in me...one of these days it'll all come pouring out.
And, on a cute note--a little Paolo story...A week or so before he came to the US, he said "wow Maggie, I just read your blog about 9/11, and it gave me bumps goose..." C'mon. How can you not love him?? Bumps goose. My mom has since told my aunt, and I have a feeling it will make its way around the family so by Thanksgiving time it will be a regular household phrase--"Uncle Joe, can you close the window?? I have bumps goose, it's so cold!"
So, Paolo came and went...and we did it all. Literally, I ran the poor guy into the ground, I am afraid. But I wanted to prove to him that my country is just as cool as his, therefore I had to pack it full of all of Ohio's greatest sites and activities. A brief rundown...We walked through uptown Westerville, went to The Burgundy Room (my favorite) and Bar Louie downtown for my friends 30th birthday party. Went to Easton, built a bear for the new baby adorned with an Ohio State tee-shirt of course. And yes, I did get pictures of Paolo "tapping the heart to give it a heartbeat" before it went into the bear.My dad gave us a tour of the Statehouse and the Dispatch, we went to the zoo, we went to my favorite town--Athens, and visited the greatest school ever, OU. We spent 2 nights in a cabin in Hocking Hills, and hiked all around the area (Old Man's Cave, Cedar Falls, etc). For my b-day (30!) we went to Hyde Park and the opening Blue Jackets game. We carved pumpkins, made s'mores, played cornhole, saw some of the OSU game, ate Chinese, Chipotle, and cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory (my b-day cake every year)--you see, in Italy they have wonderful food, but only one kind--Italian.
He loved every minute of it. I knew he would, because that is how Paolo is. He loves seeing new things--it's like the wonderment of a little kid, mixed with the patience and desire to learn. He got along great with my parents, and held his own pretty well in most conversations--very little need for translation. When we were at a bar it was more difficult because it's so loud, it's harder to focus on what people are saying. And as for us, it was like we had never left each other. It came back so easily and naturally that we never really have to focus on the relationship. Do you know what I mean? In some relationships you have to discuss, work on, stress over, the relationship itself--and it takes up a lot of time. It's not like that with him, it is just easy.
And he felt the same way--he said, "even though I am in another country I feel like I am home" which was wonderful for me to hear. Because I know how much he loves his country, and particularly his region, so to hear how much he liked it here was a little bit of a relief for me. I think when a lot of foreigners think about the US, they think of the big cities. And being in Columbus gave him a taste of what more "normal" (if there is such a thing) life is like in America. He liked that Westerville had the feeling of a small town, yet the city was so close.
He was here for 8 days, and is hopefully coming back for Thanksgiving and staying for more of an extended period of time. I am still planning on going back to Italy to study Italian in January, so this is as far as we allow ourselves to look into the future at this point.
As for me and my life here. Well...I read A LOT. Anyone who went through grad school understands what the meaning of a lot is...3 classes, each wanting you to read 2 or more chapters per week and these chapters are not short. I am trying to get another part time job, because I am starting to feel like a recluse in the house all day by myself with only Thundercat and my books. (Plus, a little spending money might be nice...) It's hard when I am only going to be here for 3 more months, who wants to hire for that? But there is no way I could work full-time at this point with this amount of school work. Especially since I still have some very emotionally draining days. In fact, today I am headed to the courthouse to officially file all of the paperwork for the dissolution. Leslie signed and sent everything back to me (being considerate enough not to send them on my birthday), not my idea of a great present. When I am more ready, I'll write about my thoughts on closure (I don't believe there is such a thing).
A couple of random things--I just finished the book "Eat, Pray, Love" in which the author writes about her travels through--get this--Italy, India, and Indonesia...after a really hard divorce. I felt like I was reading my life story. Anyway, the book is hysterical, I found myself laughing out loud at times and that never happens for me with books. I also find myself copying down entire conversations or paragraphs to read again later. Great book--highly recommend it. Second, turning 30 was the most uneventful big event in my life. I'm just hoping that this decade can provide me with some more peace, knowledge and happiness than the last decade. Whew. Can't say I am sad to leave my 20's behind. (The only thing that sucks is actually saying "I'm 30"). I joined a bowling league with my friend Jenn and a bunch of her lawyer friends. And those that have ever seen me bowl are shaking their heads right now. My poor teammates... I am interviewing for internships positions at a few places around Columbus, and am going to try to volunteer in the meantime so I'm not totally green when internship time rolls around.
That's about it. I've been back for just over a month now. And truthfully, haven't been much in the mood to write. Externally there is not a whole lot to write about, and internally, I don't know if I am ready or able to get it down on paper yet. But it's in me...one of these days it'll all come pouring out.
And, on a cute note--a little Paolo story...A week or so before he came to the US, he said "wow Maggie, I just read your blog about 9/11, and it gave me bumps goose..." C'mon. How can you not love him?? Bumps goose. My mom has since told my aunt, and I have a feeling it will make its way around the family so by Thanksgiving time it will be a regular household phrase--"Uncle Joe, can you close the window?? I have bumps goose, it's so cold!"
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Coming to America...and more
Friday is the big day. Watch out Columbus, (or Coloomboos, as it is pronounced in Eye-talian) here comes Senior Paolo...
This time around he is only staying for about 8 days, because his brother is having a baby (well, his brother's wife is having a baby) so he needs to be back to work when Antonio takes some time off to be with the bambino.
We have a lot planned while he is here including a friends 30th b-day party, some time in Hocking Hills, the Blue Jackets home opener, MY 30th birthday (eeek!!), meeting friends, family, and getting the official Maggie tour of Westerville and Columbus--"this is my middle school... this is my dance studio...this is where we would drink illegally before high-school football games..."I'll take him to the Short North, cause it's the coolest, possibly the zoo (I have free passes), Easton, etc, etc.
I will also force him to eat Chipotle, watch the OSU game on TV at a bar, drink Bud Light, go to Target, and sing the star-spangled banner (Ok, maybe not the last one).
I can't wait to see him, and I can't wait for him to see MY home. I've been looking at it so differently since I have been back. The other day I was in the car with my mom and blurted out "Wow, the trees here are SO big!" I got the "you are a freak" look, and have since learned to keep those types of epiphanies to myself.
I have been pretty busy since I've returned. School is back in full swing and I am taking 3 classes this semester, including statistics--which is like nuclear physics to me, so it's quite time consuming. I've also started all of the legal paperwork for a dissolution and have been in touch with Leslie, so emotionally, I am also pretty exhausted. I experience such an array of feelings on any given day, that sometimes I wish I could turn them off. In fact, sometimes I feel like I just go numb, because it is exhausting to go from one extreme emotion to another. I got lucky and found a yoga studio within walking distance from my parents house--which is convenient for me considering I live there right now, and I don't have a car (doesn't make sense to have a car payment when I am leaving again in January--oh yeah, and I am unemployed...) I have been talking to my friends at the bank and they are trying to work on a way to get my job back, so I am crossing my fingers. An income would be nice...and necessary.
Some differences I've noticed about myself since my trip...I walk A LOT more. It's funny, for example, here we will go to Target...and park in front of it. Then we want to go to Best Buy, which is 300 yards away. And what do we do? Get in the car and drive to it. Seriously. That's American insanity. Another thing I've noticed is the food. I saw a commercial the other day for Giant Eagle. It was advertising all of your "dinner favorites" and was highlighting a montage of popular dinner choices. ALL of which were in boxes!! Why does everything we eat come out of a box? Is anything fresh?
Things are so wonderfully organized and efficient here, there is a process for everything, therefore things generally run pretty seamlessly. Customer service is hands down the best in the world, and people are really, really friendly.
And fat. People in Columbus are fat (back to the food in a box theory). I've read that we have the 3rd heaviest city in the US, but you don't really notice it until you travel to other places and see that people are not overweight like they are here. I know this is something that is becoming more of a focus for us, so I hope that it's something that begins to change soon. Parents--FORCE your children to play outside. Run, kids, run!!!!
Back to myself, I know that I've changed a lot. But I can't really put my finger on how. It's just like things are different...I take things in differently and in turn, probably respond differently. I do no try to cram 300 things into one day. That's something I've learned. We tend to set unrealistic expectations of all of the things we want to accomplish in a day, and when we can't do it we feel bad about it. It's silly, and it takes so much of the joy out of each day, because we are flying through it, not really thinking about what we are doing because we are focused on what we have to do next.
Ok..so there is my current in-a-nutshell update. I think things are kinda coming to me in spurts, in regards to processing everything. I'm sure the visit from Mr. P will definitely be blog worthy. Otherwise, keep checking back...I'll continue to try to post, it just might be on a little more of an irregular basis.
Ciao, ciao.
This time around he is only staying for about 8 days, because his brother is having a baby (well, his brother's wife is having a baby) so he needs to be back to work when Antonio takes some time off to be with the bambino.
We have a lot planned while he is here including a friends 30th b-day party, some time in Hocking Hills, the Blue Jackets home opener, MY 30th birthday (eeek!!), meeting friends, family, and getting the official Maggie tour of Westerville and Columbus--"this is my middle school... this is my dance studio...this is where we would drink illegally before high-school football games..."I'll take him to the Short North, cause it's the coolest, possibly the zoo (I have free passes), Easton, etc, etc.
I will also force him to eat Chipotle, watch the OSU game on TV at a bar, drink Bud Light, go to Target, and sing the star-spangled banner (Ok, maybe not the last one).
I can't wait to see him, and I can't wait for him to see MY home. I've been looking at it so differently since I have been back. The other day I was in the car with my mom and blurted out "Wow, the trees here are SO big!" I got the "you are a freak" look, and have since learned to keep those types of epiphanies to myself.
I have been pretty busy since I've returned. School is back in full swing and I am taking 3 classes this semester, including statistics--which is like nuclear physics to me, so it's quite time consuming. I've also started all of the legal paperwork for a dissolution and have been in touch with Leslie, so emotionally, I am also pretty exhausted. I experience such an array of feelings on any given day, that sometimes I wish I could turn them off. In fact, sometimes I feel like I just go numb, because it is exhausting to go from one extreme emotion to another. I got lucky and found a yoga studio within walking distance from my parents house--which is convenient for me considering I live there right now, and I don't have a car (doesn't make sense to have a car payment when I am leaving again in January--oh yeah, and I am unemployed...) I have been talking to my friends at the bank and they are trying to work on a way to get my job back, so I am crossing my fingers. An income would be nice...and necessary.
Some differences I've noticed about myself since my trip...I walk A LOT more. It's funny, for example, here we will go to Target...and park in front of it. Then we want to go to Best Buy, which is 300 yards away. And what do we do? Get in the car and drive to it. Seriously. That's American insanity. Another thing I've noticed is the food. I saw a commercial the other day for Giant Eagle. It was advertising all of your "dinner favorites" and was highlighting a montage of popular dinner choices. ALL of which were in boxes!! Why does everything we eat come out of a box? Is anything fresh?
Things are so wonderfully organized and efficient here, there is a process for everything, therefore things generally run pretty seamlessly. Customer service is hands down the best in the world, and people are really, really friendly.
And fat. People in Columbus are fat (back to the food in a box theory). I've read that we have the 3rd heaviest city in the US, but you don't really notice it until you travel to other places and see that people are not overweight like they are here. I know this is something that is becoming more of a focus for us, so I hope that it's something that begins to change soon. Parents--FORCE your children to play outside. Run, kids, run!!!!
Back to myself, I know that I've changed a lot. But I can't really put my finger on how. It's just like things are different...I take things in differently and in turn, probably respond differently. I do no try to cram 300 things into one day. That's something I've learned. We tend to set unrealistic expectations of all of the things we want to accomplish in a day, and when we can't do it we feel bad about it. It's silly, and it takes so much of the joy out of each day, because we are flying through it, not really thinking about what we are doing because we are focused on what we have to do next.
Ok..so there is my current in-a-nutshell update. I think things are kinda coming to me in spurts, in regards to processing everything. I'm sure the visit from Mr. P will definitely be blog worthy. Otherwise, keep checking back...I'll continue to try to post, it just might be on a little more of an irregular basis.
Ciao, ciao.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Statistics...
This is what I did in the 72 hours it took me to get from Italy to New York. I am taking a statistics class this semester, so I figured I would get a head start...
A statistical breakdown of my trip:
3 Continents
A statistical breakdown of my trip:
3 Continents
- Asia
- Europe
- Africa
- Japan
- Thailand
- India
- Italy
- England
- Sweden
- Morocco
- Spain
26 Cities
- Japan--Osaka, Kyoto, Toyko, Omi Nagaoka, Kamakurra
- Thailand--Bangkok, Koh Samui, Koh Phagnan
- India--Delhi, McLeod Ganj, Bagsu/Upper Bagsu
- Italy--Rome, Lecce, Viareggio, Florence, Sternatia, Otranto, Santa Cesearia, Gallipoli
- England--London
- Sweden--Stockholm
- Morocco--Casablanca, Asilah, Tangier
- Spain--Barcelona, Girona
16 Flights (not including connecting flights--only starting destination to ending destination)
- Ohio-Osaka
- Osaka-Bangkok
- Bangkok-Koh Samui
- Koh Samui-Bangkok
- Bangkok-Delhi
- Delhi-Rome (when I met Paolo!)
- Rome-London
- London-Stockholm
- Stockholm-London
- London-Lecce
- Rome-Casablanca
- Tangier-Barcelona
- Girona-Rome
- Rome-Casablanca
- Casablanca-NYC
- NYC-Columbus
13 DIFFERENT types of transportation
- taxis-in all 8 countries
- trains-in 6 countries (including the Shinkensen in Japan and overnight trains in India and Italy)
- subways-in 5 countries
- cars-in 3 countries
- buses- in 3 countries
- Other--bicycles, ferry, motorbike, tuk-tuk, water taxi, rickshaw, horse-cart, tram
26 Hotels/Hostels/Places to stay
- Japan- 2 (1 guesthouse and 1 hostel)
- Thailand- 4 (Tiff's house, 2 hotels, 1 hostel)
- India- 3 (2 hotels, 1 guesthouse)
- Italy- 9 (2 hotels, 2 hostels, 4 friend's houses, 1 villa)
- London- 2 (Tom's house, 1 guesthouse)
- Sweden- 1 (Micaela's house)
- Morocco- 3 (2 hotels, 1 guesthouse)
- Spain- 2 (1 guesthouse, 1 friend's house)
Time spent in each place (approx)
- Japan- 3 weeks
- Thailand-2 weeks
- India- 2.5 weeks
- Italy-1 month, 1 week
- England-5 days
- Sweden-5 days
- Morocco-10 days
- Spain- 7 days
Ailments:
- 2 toenail causalities due to mountain climbing
- puncture wound in my heel from a sea creature
- staph infection in my toe
- kidney stone
- sinus infection
- dropped a marble slab on my big toe, and it took the first few layers of skin off (this was shortly before I left, at Paolo's house...I was cleaning his bathroom. From now on he cleans the bathroom...) **ALL toe problems happened on my left foot. It is a wonder I came back with 2 feet.
Miscellaneous:
climbed a mountain...got scuba licensure...went in an Onsen with a bunch of naked Japanese people...prayed at the Dali Lamas temple...swam in 4 different seas...belly danced...ate ALL KINDS of ethnic cuisine...visited a hospital (as a patient)...slept in bedrooms with total strangers (who often became friends)...got lost (a lot)...got found...met amazing people...forgave...walked A LOT...studied...fell in love...
All in all, I think I accomplished what I set out to do. My goal was to come back changed...and after a trip like that there is no way I will ever be the same. My eyes see things differently now, and they can't seem to get enough. The world is so much smaller, the people are so much nicer, going to other countries is NOT difficult. It is nothing to be scared of or nervous about. If you are careful, open to differences and can adapt, seeing the world is the best thing anyone can do.
PS.I am slowly but surely getting all of my pictures posted and writing captions for all of them. It is a tedious and time consuming process. I have finished Morocco and am almost done with Spain. Then I will go back and caption the rest of them.
PPS. Ohio is really nice.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
I'm baaaaaack...
I'm in New Jersey now, at my residency at Seton Hall...so I am finally back on US soil...but getting here was no easy feat...
I left Lecce and Paolo :( on Monday night. I took an overnight train to Rome, and my flight from Rome to Milan was delayed by an hour. When I arrived in Milan, my flight to Casablanca was taking off. So I got on the next flight to Casablanca...which was also delayed. So, I missed my flight from Casablanca to New York. (I was flying from Morocco because I had already booked that ticket from the beginning, when I originally thought I was going to Ghana--so it was supposed to go Accra-Casa-NYC). That night I had to stay in Casablanca by myself. I was frustrated because at this point I just wanted to get to New York--I wanted to shop, cause my clothes were not exactly "business casual" for school, and I wanted to have a day to breathe before diving into school again. The plan now was I was flying out of Casablanca at 10:40 AM, arriving to NYC at 2:45pm on Wednesday, I was supposed to arrive to New York at 5PM on Tuesday.
But I was ok, I figured I still had much of the day to shop, relax, etc. when I arrived. However, when I got to the airport in the morning they tell us that our flight is delayed for 12 hours, and we will not be leaving until 10pm. I was ready to cry. I had been in the same clothes for 2 days, I didn't have hot water in my shower that morning so I took a "sink bath"... and I really just wanted to get back to the US.
The flight finally takes off at 11:30pm. I arrive to NYC at 3am. I get to my hotel, with absolutely nothing left in me, I could barely walk...and they tell me that the air-conditioning in my room broke, there were no more rooms in the hotel, and they had to move me to another hotel. So I FINALLY get to my new hotel and room at about 4:15am.
I left Lecce Monday night at 10pm (4pm EST) and arrived to New York on Thursday morning at 3AM. In the same damn clothes. Gross.
The next day I took a 7 hour shower and made my way to New Jersey where we had our first session of classes. I am loving be back in school, and like each new semester feel really energized for my classes (this usually wears off in a week or two...). It is really great to see all of my classmates and friends, and its REALLY nice to speak in English and have everyone understand me.
Leaving Paolo was tough, but he is coming to visit me soon, so it was easier to just say " I"ll see you soon!" and leave it at that. I haven't yet processed that I am back because I have been so busy since I've arrived. Plus, I am still sleeping in a hotel, so I am not really home yet.
When I get back I will post our pictures from Morocco and Spain, and write a few more blogs about the trip. I am debating about what to do with the blog in general...do I put it on hiatus for now? Do I keep writing? Is it done because I am done with the trip? Should I keep it going when I go back to Italy?
Stuff to think about...but right now my brain is focused on Psychology, internships, licensure, etc, etc...so I'll come back to that when I get home...
One more day, Thundercat!!!
I left Lecce and Paolo :( on Monday night. I took an overnight train to Rome, and my flight from Rome to Milan was delayed by an hour. When I arrived in Milan, my flight to Casablanca was taking off. So I got on the next flight to Casablanca...which was also delayed. So, I missed my flight from Casablanca to New York. (I was flying from Morocco because I had already booked that ticket from the beginning, when I originally thought I was going to Ghana--so it was supposed to go Accra-Casa-NYC). That night I had to stay in Casablanca by myself. I was frustrated because at this point I just wanted to get to New York--I wanted to shop, cause my clothes were not exactly "business casual" for school, and I wanted to have a day to breathe before diving into school again. The plan now was I was flying out of Casablanca at 10:40 AM, arriving to NYC at 2:45pm on Wednesday, I was supposed to arrive to New York at 5PM on Tuesday.
But I was ok, I figured I still had much of the day to shop, relax, etc. when I arrived. However, when I got to the airport in the morning they tell us that our flight is delayed for 12 hours, and we will not be leaving until 10pm. I was ready to cry. I had been in the same clothes for 2 days, I didn't have hot water in my shower that morning so I took a "sink bath"... and I really just wanted to get back to the US.
The flight finally takes off at 11:30pm. I arrive to NYC at 3am. I get to my hotel, with absolutely nothing left in me, I could barely walk...and they tell me that the air-conditioning in my room broke, there were no more rooms in the hotel, and they had to move me to another hotel. So I FINALLY get to my new hotel and room at about 4:15am.
I left Lecce Monday night at 10pm (4pm EST) and arrived to New York on Thursday morning at 3AM. In the same damn clothes. Gross.
The next day I took a 7 hour shower and made my way to New Jersey where we had our first session of classes. I am loving be back in school, and like each new semester feel really energized for my classes (this usually wears off in a week or two...). It is really great to see all of my classmates and friends, and its REALLY nice to speak in English and have everyone understand me.
Leaving Paolo was tough, but he is coming to visit me soon, so it was easier to just say " I"ll see you soon!" and leave it at that. I haven't yet processed that I am back because I have been so busy since I've arrived. Plus, I am still sleeping in a hotel, so I am not really home yet.
When I get back I will post our pictures from Morocco and Spain, and write a few more blogs about the trip. I am debating about what to do with the blog in general...do I put it on hiatus for now? Do I keep writing? Is it done because I am done with the trip? Should I keep it going when I go back to Italy?
Stuff to think about...but right now my brain is focused on Psychology, internships, licensure, etc, etc...so I'll come back to that when I get home...
One more day, Thundercat!!!
Friday, August 31, 2007
Language
I have been wanting to write this blog for a while now. Everyday that I spend in Italy, and spend with Paolo makes me focus more and more on language. In all of the other countries that I went to, although none spoke English as a first language except in London, I was never immersed in the culture enough to start to really try to understand the language. Here it is different, especially being in the south. In Rome, Florence or even Viareggio, I could get by with English relatively easily because they are all popular tourist destinations. In Salento, it is a different story. Although this region is probably one of the most beautiful in all of Italy, it is not a big tourist destination for people outside of Italy. Mainly because the towns are spread apart, and there is no public transportation. So you really need a car to get around here, unless you plan on staying in one little town (or Lecce--which has a population of about 100,000) the entire time.
Sometimes I feel bad, because we are staying at his parents house (they are living at their house near the sea right now) and we spend very little time with them. And the main reason for this is because I can't talk to them. It's really uncomfortable in this particular situation, when you really want to make a good impression, and you cannot have a conversation. So, I can see his mom making assumptions about me--the crazy American girl who takes off around the world by herself...and me about her--the typical Italian mom who wants a woman who will treat her son exactly the same way she does...when in reality, neither is probably the case. But since we can't talk to each other, we will continue to conjure up our own ideas about one another...at least until I learn to speak Italian. I do my best to smile a lot, to help clear the dishes from the table, to offer to help with anything. And Paolo does as much translating as he can, but, until we speak the same language it will be difficult.
The same goes for social interactions. Paolo has a ton of friends, so often we are in a group of people where there might be one other person who speaks English, or a few with limited (very limited) English. I do my best to try to understand the conversations, but they talk so quickly(or at a normal pace, which to me seems like lightening speed.) Slowly I am learning more and more words and phrases, but for the most part, I am completely lost. Again, Paolo does his best to translate...but it's hard for him sometimes because it stops the normal flow of a conversation, and I don't want him to always have to stop what he's talking about to explain it to me.
What's weird is the physical toll it takes on you. By the end of each day, I am exhausted. And I often have a headache. I think it is because my brain never has any quiet time. I am always trying to understand--Paolo, his friends, the radio in the car, billboards, street signs, the TV...even when I zone out, I am still subconsciously taking it all in. Anyone that has lived in another country and learned another language can probably understand what I am talking about--it is a really strange sensation.
When we first got to Morocco, Paolo was having a lot of headaches too, and it was likely because he was only speaking in English, all day every day. And it took a few days for his brain to adjust to it. He's so cute, he tries really hard...and sometimes it is so funny. There are many words in Italian that are very similar to English, so if Paolo doesn't know the word in English, he will say the Italian word but try to Americanize it, in hopes that it's close. We call these "Paolo words" and I could probably write a dictionary of them. And sometimes he learns a new words, but can't recall them perfectly the next time, but he still tries...these are my favorite, and usually I can't help but laugh. A couple that I am particularly fond of are "nerb" (nerd) and "groge" (gross). He sometimes uses "is" and "are" the wrong way, and still has a major problem with "him/her and he/she". But what is interesting is most Italians that speak English have the same problem (at least the ones I have spoken to). He often leaves out the little words (important little words) like "to" and "of" and forgetting the "n't" that turns "can" into "can't". So a normal Paolo sentence might sound like this..."You say me that you can go in the sea because your finger hurts." What he means is "You told me that you can't go in the sea because your toe hurts." (toes in Italian translate directly to "fingers of the feet", so this is why he forgets and calls them fingers). The words "say, told, call, talk" are all synonymous to him. And the can/can't thing can pose a problem, because it changes the sentence to have the exact opposite meaning...so I always make sure to clarify.
There are things about our language that I've also never thought about...like we use the phrase "take a shower". To Paolo, this makes no sense..."but Maggie, WHERE are you going to take the shower?" The same goes for "taking a walk." In Italian, the direct translation would be "to do a shower." Which to us, sounds really weird. We also say "It drives me crazy" and as you can imagine, it makes no sense to someone who knows the word "drive" to mean either driving a car, or to have determination. And, I've learned that in English we have a word to describe EVERYTHING. In Italian they have a zillion more verb tenses than we do, but we have more adjectives than all other languages combined. For instance--cute, pretty, beautiful, stunning, georgous, nice looking, hot--all basically mean the same thing. In Italian they keep it simple...Bellisimo!
Despite all of the things Paolo still has to learn, he is obviously leaps and bounds ahead of me. And I try to tell him everyday how much I appreciate him talking in my language because I know it is equally exhausting for him. And for all the times I have laughed at a "Paolo word" I know he is waiting patiently for me to start learning Italian...
Which is what I am going to try to do. There is a class at Upper Arlington High School on Thursday nights, that I am going to take (and maybe try to get my parents to take it with me). And in January, I am thinking about coming back to Italy for a few months and living in a small town called Otranto where there is an Italian school that has very intensive courses. I don't think you can truly learn a language unless you are living in a country in which it is spoken--because if you aren't around people who speak it, how will you practice?
Paolo's family has a condo on the sea in Otranto, which will not be occupied throughout the winter, so it would make my living expenses really cheap. And being in the south for an extended period of time would leave me no choice but to speak Italian. The school I am look into into is http://www.porta-doriente.com/
Paolo is also going to try to spend some time in the US in the fall, to hopefully pick up some more English...and to meet my friends and parents, and see how I live...
My trip is almost over, but I feel like I have more to look forward to now. I have some hard things to take care of when I get home...but I am really looking forward to seeing my parents, friends (and their new babies!)...and thundercat!
I don't think I can write a reflections blog until I get home, and it sinks in that I am finished with this life altering trip...but I will try to squeeze out a couple more before that.
But, now I must "take a boat ride" with Paolo and his friends for the afternoon...
Sometimes I feel bad, because we are staying at his parents house (they are living at their house near the sea right now) and we spend very little time with them. And the main reason for this is because I can't talk to them. It's really uncomfortable in this particular situation, when you really want to make a good impression, and you cannot have a conversation. So, I can see his mom making assumptions about me--the crazy American girl who takes off around the world by herself...and me about her--the typical Italian mom who wants a woman who will treat her son exactly the same way she does...when in reality, neither is probably the case. But since we can't talk to each other, we will continue to conjure up our own ideas about one another...at least until I learn to speak Italian. I do my best to smile a lot, to help clear the dishes from the table, to offer to help with anything. And Paolo does as much translating as he can, but, until we speak the same language it will be difficult.
The same goes for social interactions. Paolo has a ton of friends, so often we are in a group of people where there might be one other person who speaks English, or a few with limited (very limited) English. I do my best to try to understand the conversations, but they talk so quickly(or at a normal pace, which to me seems like lightening speed.) Slowly I am learning more and more words and phrases, but for the most part, I am completely lost. Again, Paolo does his best to translate...but it's hard for him sometimes because it stops the normal flow of a conversation, and I don't want him to always have to stop what he's talking about to explain it to me.
What's weird is the physical toll it takes on you. By the end of each day, I am exhausted. And I often have a headache. I think it is because my brain never has any quiet time. I am always trying to understand--Paolo, his friends, the radio in the car, billboards, street signs, the TV...even when I zone out, I am still subconsciously taking it all in. Anyone that has lived in another country and learned another language can probably understand what I am talking about--it is a really strange sensation.
When we first got to Morocco, Paolo was having a lot of headaches too, and it was likely because he was only speaking in English, all day every day. And it took a few days for his brain to adjust to it. He's so cute, he tries really hard...and sometimes it is so funny. There are many words in Italian that are very similar to English, so if Paolo doesn't know the word in English, he will say the Italian word but try to Americanize it, in hopes that it's close. We call these "Paolo words" and I could probably write a dictionary of them. And sometimes he learns a new words, but can't recall them perfectly the next time, but he still tries...these are my favorite, and usually I can't help but laugh. A couple that I am particularly fond of are "nerb" (nerd) and "groge" (gross). He sometimes uses "is" and "are" the wrong way, and still has a major problem with "him/her and he/she". But what is interesting is most Italians that speak English have the same problem (at least the ones I have spoken to). He often leaves out the little words (important little words) like "to" and "of" and forgetting the "n't" that turns "can" into "can't". So a normal Paolo sentence might sound like this..."You say me that you can go in the sea because your finger hurts." What he means is "You told me that you can't go in the sea because your toe hurts." (toes in Italian translate directly to "fingers of the feet", so this is why he forgets and calls them fingers). The words "say, told, call, talk" are all synonymous to him. And the can/can't thing can pose a problem, because it changes the sentence to have the exact opposite meaning...so I always make sure to clarify.
There are things about our language that I've also never thought about...like we use the phrase "take a shower". To Paolo, this makes no sense..."but Maggie, WHERE are you going to take the shower?" The same goes for "taking a walk." In Italian, the direct translation would be "to do a shower." Which to us, sounds really weird. We also say "It drives me crazy" and as you can imagine, it makes no sense to someone who knows the word "drive" to mean either driving a car, or to have determination. And, I've learned that in English we have a word to describe EVERYTHING. In Italian they have a zillion more verb tenses than we do, but we have more adjectives than all other languages combined. For instance--cute, pretty, beautiful, stunning, georgous, nice looking, hot--all basically mean the same thing. In Italian they keep it simple...Bellisimo!
Despite all of the things Paolo still has to learn, he is obviously leaps and bounds ahead of me. And I try to tell him everyday how much I appreciate him talking in my language because I know it is equally exhausting for him. And for all the times I have laughed at a "Paolo word" I know he is waiting patiently for me to start learning Italian...
Which is what I am going to try to do. There is a class at Upper Arlington High School on Thursday nights, that I am going to take (and maybe try to get my parents to take it with me). And in January, I am thinking about coming back to Italy for a few months and living in a small town called Otranto where there is an Italian school that has very intensive courses. I don't think you can truly learn a language unless you are living in a country in which it is spoken--because if you aren't around people who speak it, how will you practice?
Paolo's family has a condo on the sea in Otranto, which will not be occupied throughout the winter, so it would make my living expenses really cheap. And being in the south for an extended period of time would leave me no choice but to speak Italian. The school I am look into into is http://www.porta-doriente.com/
Paolo is also going to try to spend some time in the US in the fall, to hopefully pick up some more English...and to meet my friends and parents, and see how I live...
My trip is almost over, but I feel like I have more to look forward to now. I have some hard things to take care of when I get home...but I am really looking forward to seeing my parents, friends (and their new babies!)...and thundercat!
I don't think I can write a reflections blog until I get home, and it sinks in that I am finished with this life altering trip...but I will try to squeeze out a couple more before that.
But, now I must "take a boat ride" with Paolo and his friends for the afternoon...
Sunday, August 26, 2007
My big fat Italian wedding
Not MY big fat wedding, but the first Italian wedding that I attended...
It was yesterday, and it began at 10AM. It ended at 9PM. Yes, 11 hours of wedding bliss. Paolo's cousin Lulu warned me that it was going to be that long, but I thought she was joking. The wedding was beautiful, the bride was beautiful and she and the groom were so happy. (Incidentally, in Italy they do not have words for "Bride" and Groom"--they use "Sposa and Sposo--or plural, Sposi") therefor they do not know what the significance of "Here comes the bride" is, which might be why they played it at the end of the wedding...
Before the wedding, everyone gathered outside the bride's house, and the groom is already at the church. (It was in a really little town) The bride walks out of her house, everyone cheers, and then follows her to the church. The townspeople were gathered on the street to see the bride. The people invited to the wedding enter the church before the bride and from there it is pretty similar to wedding ceremonies in the US.
Anyway, the wedding was Catholic, and what I would consider standard for a Catholic wedding. Actually, maybe shorter than Catholic weddings in the US, because only the bride, groom, wedding party and parents received communion instead of all of the people at the church. After the wedding, everyone waits outside for them and throws rice, and in this case, the bride, groom and wedding party (two men and two women) ride away from the church on white Vespas with balloons on them--very cute.
The wedding started at about 10:45 (Italian time is pretty relaxed...) and ended close to noon. We went straight to the reception place, and arrived there about 12:30...and sat there, in the sun, with no food until the bride and groom showed up at 2:30. The good thing was that Paolo got to see a lot of his high school friends that he had not seen for a while, so it wasn't just him and I waiting by ourselves. The couple that got married were in his class in high school-- and when I say "class" I mean it literally, like classroom. In Italy, in high school, you stay in one classroom with the same people all day, for all 5 years, and the teachers move from room to room, so needless to say, you become pretty close the the people in your class.
We were starving by that time because we had only had tea and some cookies for breakfast. But need not fear, this is an Italian wedding, and there is never a shortage of food, in fact, the food is the reason I decided to write this blog.
We began with antipasti, or what we consider appetizers. This was not a buffet, it was all served to the tables. The first round of antipasti consisted of: little fried crab puff things, another fried ball of meat and olives, two types of ham, sausages in little croissants, some type of potato quiche thing, and cheese plates. Then we took a break. The next round of antipasti was all seafood. Calamari salad (raw), octopus (raw), octopus in tomato sauce, baby fried squid, and clams with some type of cheese and breadcrumbs. Then we took a break. (And by this time I was full) then came the "first plate" which is generally pasta. The pasta was a pasta that is specific to this region (kind of in the shape of ears) with some type of meat, and tomato sauce. Then we took a break. Then came the salad, and the first of TWO "second plates". This was the seafood second plate and had some kind of whitefish in a sauce and giant prawns. Then we took a break. We were then served lemon sorbet to clean our pallets to prepare for the second, second plate, which was beef and french fries. After the beef and french fries we took another break, and returned to find that the fruit had been served--pineapple, grapes and melon.
In between each course, we would usually go outside because the reception place was pretty hot (it is August in the south of Italy, after all). So you add the heat to the amount of food, and people were basically ready to sleep on the tables. In between each course, there would also be some wedding-y type of thing, like thank yous to all of the people who helped, a poem, pictures with the bride and groom, etc. After the fruit, came the bouquet and garter toss. I of course, had to go and stand in the group for the bouquet toss, and you can bet I was in the very back making zero effort to fight for that thing...a tall girl in the front caught it. The guys were funny about the garter--the first time she (the bride) went to throw it they all ducked. The second time, they all jumped to the sides away from it...but, it still happened to touch one guy. Can you guess who that was? Yeah, Paolo. Of course.
There was a little dancing (some traditional dancing called "pizzica" and then a few slow songs) Then it was time for the cake--which was HUGE. So they cut the cake, we had one more thing to eat that night (you HAVE to eat at least a bite of cake at a wedding, or its bad luck, right?) And it was time to give gifts to the couple and say goodbye. 11 hours later. We literally ate for 6 hours straight.
Paolo's friends were all so sweet to me, even though most of them do not speak any English. His really close friend, Daniela, can speak English perfectly, so it was great to have her around. My brain hurt by the time we were getting ready to leave from taking in some much Italian--language and culture. And I was exhausted. Everyone was. It was a very long day...but no one left hungry, and the newlyweds were very, very happy...which is the most important part.
It was yesterday, and it began at 10AM. It ended at 9PM. Yes, 11 hours of wedding bliss. Paolo's cousin Lulu warned me that it was going to be that long, but I thought she was joking. The wedding was beautiful, the bride was beautiful and she and the groom were so happy. (Incidentally, in Italy they do not have words for "Bride" and Groom"--they use "Sposa and Sposo--or plural, Sposi") therefor they do not know what the significance of "Here comes the bride" is, which might be why they played it at the end of the wedding...
Before the wedding, everyone gathered outside the bride's house, and the groom is already at the church. (It was in a really little town) The bride walks out of her house, everyone cheers, and then follows her to the church. The townspeople were gathered on the street to see the bride. The people invited to the wedding enter the church before the bride and from there it is pretty similar to wedding ceremonies in the US.
Anyway, the wedding was Catholic, and what I would consider standard for a Catholic wedding. Actually, maybe shorter than Catholic weddings in the US, because only the bride, groom, wedding party and parents received communion instead of all of the people at the church. After the wedding, everyone waits outside for them and throws rice, and in this case, the bride, groom and wedding party (two men and two women) ride away from the church on white Vespas with balloons on them--very cute.
The wedding started at about 10:45 (Italian time is pretty relaxed...) and ended close to noon. We went straight to the reception place, and arrived there about 12:30...and sat there, in the sun, with no food until the bride and groom showed up at 2:30. The good thing was that Paolo got to see a lot of his high school friends that he had not seen for a while, so it wasn't just him and I waiting by ourselves. The couple that got married were in his class in high school-- and when I say "class" I mean it literally, like classroom. In Italy, in high school, you stay in one classroom with the same people all day, for all 5 years, and the teachers move from room to room, so needless to say, you become pretty close the the people in your class.
We were starving by that time because we had only had tea and some cookies for breakfast. But need not fear, this is an Italian wedding, and there is never a shortage of food, in fact, the food is the reason I decided to write this blog.
We began with antipasti, or what we consider appetizers. This was not a buffet, it was all served to the tables. The first round of antipasti consisted of: little fried crab puff things, another fried ball of meat and olives, two types of ham, sausages in little croissants, some type of potato quiche thing, and cheese plates. Then we took a break. The next round of antipasti was all seafood. Calamari salad (raw), octopus (raw), octopus in tomato sauce, baby fried squid, and clams with some type of cheese and breadcrumbs. Then we took a break. (And by this time I was full) then came the "first plate" which is generally pasta. The pasta was a pasta that is specific to this region (kind of in the shape of ears) with some type of meat, and tomato sauce. Then we took a break. Then came the salad, and the first of TWO "second plates". This was the seafood second plate and had some kind of whitefish in a sauce and giant prawns. Then we took a break. We were then served lemon sorbet to clean our pallets to prepare for the second, second plate, which was beef and french fries. After the beef and french fries we took another break, and returned to find that the fruit had been served--pineapple, grapes and melon.
In between each course, we would usually go outside because the reception place was pretty hot (it is August in the south of Italy, after all). So you add the heat to the amount of food, and people were basically ready to sleep on the tables. In between each course, there would also be some wedding-y type of thing, like thank yous to all of the people who helped, a poem, pictures with the bride and groom, etc. After the fruit, came the bouquet and garter toss. I of course, had to go and stand in the group for the bouquet toss, and you can bet I was in the very back making zero effort to fight for that thing...a tall girl in the front caught it. The guys were funny about the garter--the first time she (the bride) went to throw it they all ducked. The second time, they all jumped to the sides away from it...but, it still happened to touch one guy. Can you guess who that was? Yeah, Paolo. Of course.
There was a little dancing (some traditional dancing called "pizzica" and then a few slow songs) Then it was time for the cake--which was HUGE. So they cut the cake, we had one more thing to eat that night (you HAVE to eat at least a bite of cake at a wedding, or its bad luck, right?) And it was time to give gifts to the couple and say goodbye. 11 hours later. We literally ate for 6 hours straight.
Paolo's friends were all so sweet to me, even though most of them do not speak any English. His really close friend, Daniela, can speak English perfectly, so it was great to have her around. My brain hurt by the time we were getting ready to leave from taking in some much Italian--language and culture. And I was exhausted. Everyone was. It was a very long day...but no one left hungry, and the newlyweds were very, very happy...which is the most important part.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Spagna, Italia, e NO Ghana
For some reason lately I haven't been in much of a blogging mood. I think truthfully, it has to do with the fact that there is not a lot going on--travel wise...personally, that is another story.
Paolo and I left Asilah for Tangier on August 8, and then went to Barcelona on the 9th. Our last day in Asilah we took a horse ride (the horse pulled us on a flat wooden cart) to a beach called Paradise Beach. It took about a hour to get to, and by the time we arrived we could barely walk because our butts hurt so badly, but it was definitely an experience and that is what its all about, right? The beach was beautiful--huge, with cliffs and caves and waves to play in. We took the horse back to town, and during our stay at the beach apparently the horse ate something that did not agree with it's stomach. This was very unfortunate for me because I was sitting directly behind it all the way back. Every few minutes I would get a major toxic blast straight to my face. I couldn't move because the cart was full of people. I was green and ready to pass out, Paolo on the other hand thought this was hysterical...
We took a taxi to Tangier (only cost us 20 euro) and got extremely lost trying to find out hotel (the taxi dropped us off outside the medina, because some of it is only foot traffic). Finally an un-official "guide" led us there, after about an hour of different (wrong) directions from all kinds of people. The guide tried to demand 10 euro for his services, we gave him 2, and the hotel manager shooed him away. The hotel in Tangier was hands down the nicest hotel I have stayed in on this trip. It was located in the medina (the old part of the city) and was decorated with beautiful authentic Moroccan motif. I'll post pictures soon, so you can see this place. It was wonderful. We met a nice Canadian couple and had mint tea with them on the rooftop that night. From one side of the roof you could look over the port to Spain, and from the other side you could see the entire medina which was lit up beautifully at night. We did not eat dinner there but we heard the food was great, and the man that ran the place was super nice. If you ever find yourself in Tangier for any reason, I highly recommend Hotel Dar Jameel.
We had to get up at 3am for our flight to Barcelona. We arrived to our hotel at about 11am and slept for a few hours. It was nice because the place had a kitchen, so we could cook, keep water/drinks cold, have snacks, etc. It saved us some money to not have to eat out ever night. And, Paolo discovered an American delicacy that he is now addicted to--grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. He thought I was quite the chef and wants me to teach his mom and sister how to make this fancy foreign dish...
This part of the trip included a TON of touristy things. I think Paolo and I walked 100 miles while we were in Barcelona. And I think Paolo ate 100 lbs of Paella and drank 100 gallons of Sangria...the city probably went on a Paella shortage after we left. The first night we went to a nice (kinda expensive) restaurant and walked around Placa de Cataluna and La Rambla. The next day we decided to start with a bus tour. I recommend doing this in most large European cities. You get an idea of how the city is laid out, and you go by a lot of the important sites. You can decide from the bus where you would like to spend time. And with most of them, you can get of at any stop, walk around, take a tour, whatever, and another bus will be there for you to hop on when you are done and you can finish your bus tour. That day we took a tour of FC Barcelona's enormous soccer stadium and museum. It was really cool, it was about the size of OSU's football stadium and equally as impressive. We walked through the locker rooms, the press seats, and down on to the field. I handled it better than I thought I would, but it did stir up some tough emotions. But, I think putting myself in situations like that and learning to detach the past from things I experience now is good for me. (For those of you who haven't figured it out, Leslie played soccer professionally so that is why being in a soccer stadium was strange...same with going to the soccer match in Stockholm...). Paolo loved it. Italy and Spain have arguably the best soccer leagues in the world, so naturally he is a huge soccer fan. We were hoping there was going to be an exhibition game of some sort while we were there (The European season has not yet started) but no such luck. Had we been there this week, Barcelona is playing Inter Milan--which would have been a great game. After that, we walked down by the port, and through La Ramblas, stopping to watch some of the best breakdancers I've ever seen. It was a group of about 10 guys, all from different countries. 4 or 5 of them introduced themselves and the other dancers, and none of them spoke in their native languages to do so. It was really impressive. And they weren't just from Europe--there were 2 Americans, a Russian guy and an African guy. Very cool. We at dinner on La Ramblas that night and it was pretty bad. Over priced and not good food. Disappointing. The next few days are all jumbled in my head, but they consist of lots of walking, lots of Paella, a tram ride over the port, a couple of tours, lots of Gaudi and a Flamenco show.
I really knew nothing about Antoni Gaudi until I got to Barcelona and now I cannot get enough. He is probably the most famous artist of the modernistic movement. We went into one of the houses he designed, and I felt like I was in a real live Dr. Seuss book. It was amazing. He was a brilliant architect and artist, and he has left his mark all over Barcelona. La Sagrada Familia, Park Guell, and Casa Batlló were three of his most famous works and Paolo and I took tours of all of them. Hi most famous structure, the church--La Sagrada Familia, is still not complete. It is being constructed only on money through donations and is expected to be finished around 2020. It was started in 1882.
Barcelona is located on the coast, so there is a large beach, a lot of great food (seafood) and a TON of tourists. It was almost like New York. Each restaurant has their menu in about 6 different languages. There is a great night life, a lot of Catalunyan culture (the native language in Barcelona is not Spanish, it is actually Catalunyan) good shopping and a lot of history. It is easy to travel in because everyone speaks English, and the city is relatively easy to navigate (even if you are like me and have no sense of direction). The last night we were there we went to see Tablao de Carmen, an authentic Flamenco show. I love all kinds of dance, and I remember watching flamenco in my Spanish classes, but wow. The TV does not even begin to capture the passion of these dancers. And their feet move so fast I don't know how they do not catch on fire...
Our last day in Spain we went to visit one of Paolo's cousins in Girona. A beautiful coastal town about an hour train ride from Barcelona. Erica, his cousin is married to a Spanish man that she met in London. The two of them speak Italian, Spanish, Catalunyan and English...as does their 2 year old daughter. It was really humbling to ask a toddler a question in English, have her understand me and answer me in either Spanish or Italian and have to have someone else translate it for me. I REALLY need to learn another language...
Which I think I am going to have to do. I am back in Italy, and have a feeling this will not be my last time. Ghana fell though, and I have been having a really hard time with that. I feel like I am letting myself down by not going to West Africa, because it has been something I wanted to do for years. Tiff and I had a minor problem about it too, because since she decided not to go, I am out about $900 for plane tickets. It is just not some place I feel comfortable traveling to alone--at least without a plan--which is why I attempted to go through the volunteer organization. I had been sending email after email to the place, and not getting any response. When I finally did get a response, my last day in Morocco, they told me they had lost all of my application info and asked me to resend it. Which I did, along with a note saying I HAD to know by the next day if there was a placement for me because I had to get a visa right when I got to Spain. The next day--nothing. I emailed them one last time...and nothing. Until August 13th. When they told me they did NOT have a placement for me. Thank God I did not pay for the visa or book a ticket back to Casablanca (which is where I was flying to Accra from). So I am back in Southern Italy now, with Paolo. Tiffany and I have talked about the moneysituation...because had she not changed her mind we would be in Ghana right now (it was Tiff who originally wanted to go to Ghana so badly--to study drumming...I had been looking into going to Tanzania.) And she is going to reimburse me when she has the money. Which unfortunately could be a while because she has just enrolled in a Masters program in Italy in Tibetan Buddhism ( I know, Tibetan Buddhism in Italy??) so she is a broke college student again.
This blog is beginning to get long...and there is more to write. About Paolo, my thoughts about coming home, what the next steps are, and a sad conversation I had with a Pakistani guy that was staying in my hostel in Rome a couple of nights ago.
But, now that I am here, I have more access to a computer and more time to write, so I promise I will be better. Only 2 more weeks of this adventure...
I have to make the most of it.
Paolo and I left Asilah for Tangier on August 8, and then went to Barcelona on the 9th. Our last day in Asilah we took a horse ride (the horse pulled us on a flat wooden cart) to a beach called Paradise Beach. It took about a hour to get to, and by the time we arrived we could barely walk because our butts hurt so badly, but it was definitely an experience and that is what its all about, right? The beach was beautiful--huge, with cliffs and caves and waves to play in. We took the horse back to town, and during our stay at the beach apparently the horse ate something that did not agree with it's stomach. This was very unfortunate for me because I was sitting directly behind it all the way back. Every few minutes I would get a major toxic blast straight to my face. I couldn't move because the cart was full of people. I was green and ready to pass out, Paolo on the other hand thought this was hysterical...
We took a taxi to Tangier (only cost us 20 euro) and got extremely lost trying to find out hotel (the taxi dropped us off outside the medina, because some of it is only foot traffic). Finally an un-official "guide" led us there, after about an hour of different (wrong) directions from all kinds of people. The guide tried to demand 10 euro for his services, we gave him 2, and the hotel manager shooed him away. The hotel in Tangier was hands down the nicest hotel I have stayed in on this trip. It was located in the medina (the old part of the city) and was decorated with beautiful authentic Moroccan motif. I'll post pictures soon, so you can see this place. It was wonderful. We met a nice Canadian couple and had mint tea with them on the rooftop that night. From one side of the roof you could look over the port to Spain, and from the other side you could see the entire medina which was lit up beautifully at night. We did not eat dinner there but we heard the food was great, and the man that ran the place was super nice. If you ever find yourself in Tangier for any reason, I highly recommend Hotel Dar Jameel.
We had to get up at 3am for our flight to Barcelona. We arrived to our hotel at about 11am and slept for a few hours. It was nice because the place had a kitchen, so we could cook, keep water/drinks cold, have snacks, etc. It saved us some money to not have to eat out ever night. And, Paolo discovered an American delicacy that he is now addicted to--grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. He thought I was quite the chef and wants me to teach his mom and sister how to make this fancy foreign dish...
This part of the trip included a TON of touristy things. I think Paolo and I walked 100 miles while we were in Barcelona. And I think Paolo ate 100 lbs of Paella and drank 100 gallons of Sangria...the city probably went on a Paella shortage after we left. The first night we went to a nice (kinda expensive) restaurant and walked around Placa de Cataluna and La Rambla. The next day we decided to start with a bus tour. I recommend doing this in most large European cities. You get an idea of how the city is laid out, and you go by a lot of the important sites. You can decide from the bus where you would like to spend time. And with most of them, you can get of at any stop, walk around, take a tour, whatever, and another bus will be there for you to hop on when you are done and you can finish your bus tour. That day we took a tour of FC Barcelona's enormous soccer stadium and museum. It was really cool, it was about the size of OSU's football stadium and equally as impressive. We walked through the locker rooms, the press seats, and down on to the field. I handled it better than I thought I would, but it did stir up some tough emotions. But, I think putting myself in situations like that and learning to detach the past from things I experience now is good for me. (For those of you who haven't figured it out, Leslie played soccer professionally so that is why being in a soccer stadium was strange...same with going to the soccer match in Stockholm...). Paolo loved it. Italy and Spain have arguably the best soccer leagues in the world, so naturally he is a huge soccer fan. We were hoping there was going to be an exhibition game of some sort while we were there (The European season has not yet started) but no such luck. Had we been there this week, Barcelona is playing Inter Milan--which would have been a great game. After that, we walked down by the port, and through La Ramblas, stopping to watch some of the best breakdancers I've ever seen. It was a group of about 10 guys, all from different countries. 4 or 5 of them introduced themselves and the other dancers, and none of them spoke in their native languages to do so. It was really impressive. And they weren't just from Europe--there were 2 Americans, a Russian guy and an African guy. Very cool. We at dinner on La Ramblas that night and it was pretty bad. Over priced and not good food. Disappointing. The next few days are all jumbled in my head, but they consist of lots of walking, lots of Paella, a tram ride over the port, a couple of tours, lots of Gaudi and a Flamenco show.
I really knew nothing about Antoni Gaudi until I got to Barcelona and now I cannot get enough. He is probably the most famous artist of the modernistic movement. We went into one of the houses he designed, and I felt like I was in a real live Dr. Seuss book. It was amazing. He was a brilliant architect and artist, and he has left his mark all over Barcelona. La Sagrada Familia, Park Guell, and Casa Batlló were three of his most famous works and Paolo and I took tours of all of them. Hi most famous structure, the church--La Sagrada Familia, is still not complete. It is being constructed only on money through donations and is expected to be finished around 2020. It was started in 1882.
Barcelona is located on the coast, so there is a large beach, a lot of great food (seafood) and a TON of tourists. It was almost like New York. Each restaurant has their menu in about 6 different languages. There is a great night life, a lot of Catalunyan culture (the native language in Barcelona is not Spanish, it is actually Catalunyan) good shopping and a lot of history. It is easy to travel in because everyone speaks English, and the city is relatively easy to navigate (even if you are like me and have no sense of direction). The last night we were there we went to see Tablao de Carmen, an authentic Flamenco show. I love all kinds of dance, and I remember watching flamenco in my Spanish classes, but wow. The TV does not even begin to capture the passion of these dancers. And their feet move so fast I don't know how they do not catch on fire...
Our last day in Spain we went to visit one of Paolo's cousins in Girona. A beautiful coastal town about an hour train ride from Barcelona. Erica, his cousin is married to a Spanish man that she met in London. The two of them speak Italian, Spanish, Catalunyan and English...as does their 2 year old daughter. It was really humbling to ask a toddler a question in English, have her understand me and answer me in either Spanish or Italian and have to have someone else translate it for me. I REALLY need to learn another language...
Which I think I am going to have to do. I am back in Italy, and have a feeling this will not be my last time. Ghana fell though, and I have been having a really hard time with that. I feel like I am letting myself down by not going to West Africa, because it has been something I wanted to do for years. Tiff and I had a minor problem about it too, because since she decided not to go, I am out about $900 for plane tickets. It is just not some place I feel comfortable traveling to alone--at least without a plan--which is why I attempted to go through the volunteer organization. I had been sending email after email to the place, and not getting any response. When I finally did get a response, my last day in Morocco, they told me they had lost all of my application info and asked me to resend it. Which I did, along with a note saying I HAD to know by the next day if there was a placement for me because I had to get a visa right when I got to Spain. The next day--nothing. I emailed them one last time...and nothing. Until August 13th. When they told me they did NOT have a placement for me. Thank God I did not pay for the visa or book a ticket back to Casablanca (which is where I was flying to Accra from). So I am back in Southern Italy now, with Paolo. Tiffany and I have talked about the moneysituation...because had she not changed her mind we would be in Ghana right now (it was Tiff who originally wanted to go to Ghana so badly--to study drumming...I had been looking into going to Tanzania.) And she is going to reimburse me when she has the money. Which unfortunately could be a while because she has just enrolled in a Masters program in Italy in Tibetan Buddhism ( I know, Tibetan Buddhism in Italy??) so she is a broke college student again.
This blog is beginning to get long...and there is more to write. About Paolo, my thoughts about coming home, what the next steps are, and a sad conversation I had with a Pakistani guy that was staying in my hostel in Rome a couple of nights ago.
But, now that I am here, I have more access to a computer and more time to write, so I promise I will be better. Only 2 more weeks of this adventure...
I have to make the most of it.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Leftovers...
I tried to write this blog my last day in Asilah but apparently it did not post correctly. I wanted to mention 3 things that I had forgot in my last blog...
First, in Casablanca we went to the Hassan II mosque. Wow. Of all of the religous sites I have seen on this trip, this was by far the most impressive. It is huge...25,000 can pray at one time. It cost 1 billion dollars to build, and it was paid for stictly through donations from the Moroccan people. 30,000 artisans contributed to the handiwork and 10,000 workers built it. It took 6 years. I will try to post pictures soon.
Next, Paolo and I saw Kofi Annan, the last president of the UN, while we were in Asilah. He stopped to watch the drummers from Ghana for a bit.
And finally, when Tiff and I were in Florence, we sat a few tables away from Sean Lennon, the sone of John Lennon and Yoko Ono at a restaurant one night.
Thats it for now. We are in Barcelona and it is wonderful. We have done/seen a lot. More on that later...and more on the rest of my trip. Plans changed again and I am not going to Ghana (the organization kinda dropped the ball...)
So when I get back to Italy I will fill you in. Now we are going to seem some of Gaudi's amazing art and architecture...
adios.
First, in Casablanca we went to the Hassan II mosque. Wow. Of all of the religous sites I have seen on this trip, this was by far the most impressive. It is huge...25,000 can pray at one time. It cost 1 billion dollars to build, and it was paid for stictly through donations from the Moroccan people. 30,000 artisans contributed to the handiwork and 10,000 workers built it. It took 6 years. I will try to post pictures soon.
Next, Paolo and I saw Kofi Annan, the last president of the UN, while we were in Asilah. He stopped to watch the drummers from Ghana for a bit.
And finally, when Tiff and I were in Florence, we sat a few tables away from Sean Lennon, the sone of John Lennon and Yoko Ono at a restaurant one night.
Thats it for now. We are in Barcelona and it is wonderful. We have done/seen a lot. More on that later...and more on the rest of my trip. Plans changed again and I am not going to Ghana (the organization kinda dropped the ball...)
So when I get back to Italy I will fill you in. Now we are going to seem some of Gaudi's amazing art and architecture...
adios.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Asilah...and more
I have to try and write quickly because Paolo is sitting next to me, bored out of his head...but it is hard since the keyboard I am using is French and the letters are all in different places. We are in the beautiful town of Asilah, and have been here for the past 5 days. We flew into Casablanca, and spent 2 nights there. I dont really know what to say about Casablanca. It really isn't much of a tourist place, it is more of a real Moroccan city. It is quite dirty, but nothing like Delhi. The first night we walked through the market, Paolo bought a pair of sandals, we went to dinner, and Paolo left his shoes at the restaraunt...he did not realize this until we walked all the way back to our hotel--Hotel Central (which was so cute...very traditional Moroccan decor, and a terrace on the roof with a nice view)...so we decided to wait until the next day to go back to see if they were still there. In my mind I was quite certain they would be gone, but when we went back the next morning, the restaurant owner happily retrieved the shoes from behind the counter--and this confirmed what I had been suspecting since I had arrived...Moroccans are really lovely people. They have been so hospitable, both in Casablanca and here in Asilah. They are friendly, funny, and very helpful--especially for the two of us. You see, in Morocco they speak Aribic and French. This is a bit difficult for the English and Italian speaking couple...however, its amazing how we can always communicate what we want or need, and can understand their responses. This was one of my biggest fears before leaving on this trip, but I have come to realize that there are so many more ways of communicating than speaking alone.
In Asilah they also speak Spanish because it's so close to the border of Spain, so with my limited Spanish, Paolo's limited French, his Italian and my English we usually have most conversations in 4 languages, where we can greet people in Spanish or French, talk about the weather, or ask for the bill, but everything else is mostly in English or bits of Italiano. It is actually kinda fun.
Asilah is wonderful. It is quaint, authentic, and calm (compared to Casablanca). It is on the Atlantic Ocean, and has a huge beach. Right now there is an international arts festival going on, so there are a lot of tourists in town (mostly Moroccan, Spanish or French). We spend most days relaxing--eatich a late breakfast, having some traditional Moroccan mint tea (which is fabulous), going to the beach, reading, playing paddle ball, talking, resting, watching amazing sunsets, and looking at the new art that is being painted on the white walls of the city buildings each day. In Morocco, there is a section of each city called the Medina, which is usually the older part of town with a giant wall around it. Inside the Medina you will find all of the craft work, which is unbelievable--I could fill 2 suitcases full of art, shoes (they make leather sandals by hand along the streets of the Medina) hand painted dishes, and the coolest lamps in the world. I am trying to figure out how to get one home...I think maybe I will send it home with Paolo and have him deliver it to me in the US... ;)
I did not even think about Morocco being a muslim country and how different going to the beach would be. Many women are still completely covered, and even swim in all of their clothes. I have yet to figure out how it is decided how covered a muslim woman is. There are some that you only see their eyes, others who you see their entire faces, others who are wearing jeans but have their hair covered...and young girls and teenagers dress very western. Some even more provocatively than girls in the US. It is really interesting to see a family, the dad and children in clothes like ours, and the mother in traditinal Islamic clothing. It is like the family is living in 2 different centuries.
But, like every other country I have been to, you just have to watch the interaction amongst families or friends to see that we really are all the same. And here in Asilah, it is even easier to see with so many children around. Children do not see differences...its like they look straight into your heart, or your character, to decide if you are someone they like. It has nothing to do with religion, dress, etc. And by watching families with kids it is really easy to see that they do exactly what we do...and kids will be kids everywhere you go.
Since we have been here, I got a henna tattoo on my hand and talked Paolo into getting one on his arm (which he was not thrilled about). We also watched a drum troup from Ghana perform the other night. Wow, wow, wow. It was six guys, probably in thier early 20s, and they we so much fun to watch, it made me want to go to Ghana even more.
...But, I don't know if that is going to happen anymore. I have not heard from the volunteer organization for over 2 weeks despite numerous attempts to contact them. They have not sent me any info about where I will be staying, working, etc. If I do not hear from them by the time I get to Barcelona I will likemy not be able to go. I have to get a visa for Ghana, which I can do from Spain, but it will have to be expidited...and will cost a couple hundred dollars. I also have to book a ticket from Barcelona to Casablanca (which is where I will be flying to Accra from), but I hesitqte to do any of this if the volunteer organization does not have space for me or cannot organize things in time. So I guess I will know in the next 2 or 3 days. My other option is to go back to Southern Italy with Paolo, and meet Tiffany there. Not a bad second choice...but going to Ghana is really important to me, so I hope everything can work out.
And...now...the dirt.
Despite the fact that poor Paolo has been visited by our friend Montazuma (I think I have enough bacteria in my stomach from India and Thailand that foreign food/water does not affect me as much), we have been having such a great time together. It is so strange how easy and natural it is...and for me, it is scary as hell. It has stirred up a lot of unexpected emotions, and has actually caused me to think about Leslie more than I have in a long time. It is clear that the feelings I am having tell me that that chapter in my life is officially ending, and a new one is beginning. So, it is somewhat bittersweet...I am saying goodbye at the same time as I discover this amazing man that is here with me. Lucky for me, Paolo is so understanding, and I can tell him exactly what I am going through. He understands that a 6 year relationship is not going to be forgotten overnight, and that there will be residule emotions that arise.
The feelings that I feel now, I have only ever felt once before, but this time I know (hopefully) how to do things differently. Paolo and I do not know what the future holds, and we know that no matter what it is it won't be easy. So we can only go step by step (which he tells me on a daily basis) and see where it takes us. All I know is, I feel the happiest and most peaceful that I have in a long time. We laugh a lot, we can have quiet moments, we talk a lot--we make a good team. We will see where this leads, but I think I should probably start to learn to speak Italian...
Sorry....Paolo writing, ok now i 'm tired to wait here ........( I'm waiting for, maybe, 2 hours) i' m really apologise for you ( i know that you wanna know bunches and bunches things about us) but we'll see next days........
ciao ciao
Paolo took over the computer...and Lisa, he learned "bunches" from you thank you very much...
So I guess this is my cue to end the blog. See ya en Espana...
In Asilah they also speak Spanish because it's so close to the border of Spain, so with my limited Spanish, Paolo's limited French, his Italian and my English we usually have most conversations in 4 languages, where we can greet people in Spanish or French, talk about the weather, or ask for the bill, but everything else is mostly in English or bits of Italiano. It is actually kinda fun.
Asilah is wonderful. It is quaint, authentic, and calm (compared to Casablanca). It is on the Atlantic Ocean, and has a huge beach. Right now there is an international arts festival going on, so there are a lot of tourists in town (mostly Moroccan, Spanish or French). We spend most days relaxing--eatich a late breakfast, having some traditional Moroccan mint tea (which is fabulous), going to the beach, reading, playing paddle ball, talking, resting, watching amazing sunsets, and looking at the new art that is being painted on the white walls of the city buildings each day. In Morocco, there is a section of each city called the Medina, which is usually the older part of town with a giant wall around it. Inside the Medina you will find all of the craft work, which is unbelievable--I could fill 2 suitcases full of art, shoes (they make leather sandals by hand along the streets of the Medina) hand painted dishes, and the coolest lamps in the world. I am trying to figure out how to get one home...I think maybe I will send it home with Paolo and have him deliver it to me in the US... ;)
I did not even think about Morocco being a muslim country and how different going to the beach would be. Many women are still completely covered, and even swim in all of their clothes. I have yet to figure out how it is decided how covered a muslim woman is. There are some that you only see their eyes, others who you see their entire faces, others who are wearing jeans but have their hair covered...and young girls and teenagers dress very western. Some even more provocatively than girls in the US. It is really interesting to see a family, the dad and children in clothes like ours, and the mother in traditinal Islamic clothing. It is like the family is living in 2 different centuries.
But, like every other country I have been to, you just have to watch the interaction amongst families or friends to see that we really are all the same. And here in Asilah, it is even easier to see with so many children around. Children do not see differences...its like they look straight into your heart, or your character, to decide if you are someone they like. It has nothing to do with religion, dress, etc. And by watching families with kids it is really easy to see that they do exactly what we do...and kids will be kids everywhere you go.
Since we have been here, I got a henna tattoo on my hand and talked Paolo into getting one on his arm (which he was not thrilled about). We also watched a drum troup from Ghana perform the other night. Wow, wow, wow. It was six guys, probably in thier early 20s, and they we so much fun to watch, it made me want to go to Ghana even more.
...But, I don't know if that is going to happen anymore. I have not heard from the volunteer organization for over 2 weeks despite numerous attempts to contact them. They have not sent me any info about where I will be staying, working, etc. If I do not hear from them by the time I get to Barcelona I will likemy not be able to go. I have to get a visa for Ghana, which I can do from Spain, but it will have to be expidited...and will cost a couple hundred dollars. I also have to book a ticket from Barcelona to Casablanca (which is where I will be flying to Accra from), but I hesitqte to do any of this if the volunteer organization does not have space for me or cannot organize things in time. So I guess I will know in the next 2 or 3 days. My other option is to go back to Southern Italy with Paolo, and meet Tiffany there. Not a bad second choice...but going to Ghana is really important to me, so I hope everything can work out.
And...now...the dirt.
Despite the fact that poor Paolo has been visited by our friend Montazuma (I think I have enough bacteria in my stomach from India and Thailand that foreign food/water does not affect me as much), we have been having such a great time together. It is so strange how easy and natural it is...and for me, it is scary as hell. It has stirred up a lot of unexpected emotions, and has actually caused me to think about Leslie more than I have in a long time. It is clear that the feelings I am having tell me that that chapter in my life is officially ending, and a new one is beginning. So, it is somewhat bittersweet...I am saying goodbye at the same time as I discover this amazing man that is here with me. Lucky for me, Paolo is so understanding, and I can tell him exactly what I am going through. He understands that a 6 year relationship is not going to be forgotten overnight, and that there will be residule emotions that arise.
The feelings that I feel now, I have only ever felt once before, but this time I know (hopefully) how to do things differently. Paolo and I do not know what the future holds, and we know that no matter what it is it won't be easy. So we can only go step by step (which he tells me on a daily basis) and see where it takes us. All I know is, I feel the happiest and most peaceful that I have in a long time. We laugh a lot, we can have quiet moments, we talk a lot--we make a good team. We will see where this leads, but I think I should probably start to learn to speak Italian...
Sorry....Paolo writing, ok now i 'm tired to wait here ........( I'm waiting for, maybe, 2 hours) i' m really apologise for you ( i know that you wanna know bunches and bunches things about us) but we'll see next days........
ciao ciao
Paolo took over the computer...and Lisa, he learned "bunches" from you thank you very much...
So I guess this is my cue to end the blog. See ya en Espana...
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Never a dull moment...
Last time I wrote I was in Viareggio finishing my finals...my last day there, Tiff and I went to the beach, got massages (on the beach for only 15 euro), and had a nice dinner. The entire day, I had a strange pain in my back, which I attributed to my backpack--a pinched nerve or something. The next evening we headed to Florence, to meet up with Paolo the following day. We checked into our hotel in Florence, went to dinner and crashed early. My back was still hurting, but I had been carrying my heavy pack, so I assumed thats what it was...
The next morning I woke up, still in pain. I tried to tell myself it was all in my head, but it was getting worse by the minute, and it had moved from my right lower back to my right lower abdomen. Finally it got so bad that I told Tiff I needed to go to a doctor. We looked up english speaking doctors on the internet...and both that we found were on holiday--till September! By this time it was so bad, and it was a Saturday, that we decided to go to the nearest hospital. On the way there Tiffany called Paolo to tell him we would not be able to meet him at the train station, instead, we would meet him at the hospital. He knew immediately that it was bad when I did not get on the phone (I hurt too bad to talk). We got to the hospital and did our best to explain the problem to a nurse (thank God Tiffany speaks Italian). They checked me in, and put me in a waiting room with an old woman who was sobbing. Apparently she fell and hurt her arm. And, apparently she is a regular at the hospital...the nurses all knew her by name, and everyone kinda gently ignored her. I think more than medical attention, she just needed some attention in general...so I held her hand for a minute, and Tiffany spoke to her about the US.
After about an hour of waiting I finally saw a doctor. I (through Tiff) explained my symptoms, and the doc did some karate chops to my back and stomach. She then told Tiff to leave, that I would be getting an ultrasound and some x-rays. In the meantime they stuck an IV in my arm and started pumping some really good pain medicine into me, that made me nice and loopy--in moments I became fluent in Italian...even if I was the only one who could understand.
The hospital was not as nice as hospitals in the US, but Italy is known for its great healthcare, and the doctor seemed to know what she was doing. The weird part was waiting to be taken to get my tests done. I was put in a room with about 5 other people with various ailments, and there were no curtains between us, like in an American emergency room. So I could see the old man filling his bedpan, the woman talking to God as though he was right there in front of her, and another man, who was in so much pain that he paced back ands forth and groaned nonstop. Seeing sick people does two things to me...makes me more scared and makes me feel more sick. So I tried to not let my mind run away with itself as I waited for the nurse to call me (the pain medicine helped keep me calm).
I finally went for the ultrasound and x-ray. The woman who preformed the ultrasound saw some interesting things in my kidney, which she told me the doctor would explain. So after 2 hours of testing, the doctor, Tiffany and PAOLO come back to explain to me what was wrong. You can imagine my mortification, Paolo seeing me for the first time in weeks, in a wheelchair with an IV in my arm, practically drooling (not really), but definitely a little out of it. He translated that I had passed a kidney stone (not sure when, either earlier that day, or the day before), and my kidney, bladder and everything in that general vicinity was really inflammed; I was shocked, because I had not felt the stone when it came out, and I have always heard that they are excruciating when they pass. But the doc said it was likely a couple of really tiny ones that wreaked havoc as they made their way through me. She gave me some more really strong pain medicine, an anti-inflammatory and an antibiotic. She also said that when I was sick in Lecce (throwing up) was likely when it started.
The next two days I didnt do much except sleep and drink a ton of water...and Paolo, the angel that he is, did not leave my side. He kicked into doctor mode, and made sure I took my medicine on time, drank lots of water, rested, etc. He made me lunch, rubbed my back...was an absolute saint. We debated changing the Morocco plans, but I did not want to change my trip again, and I felt better each day, so despite not seeing much of Florence except the hospital and Paolos friends house, I was ready for Morocco 2 days later.
We are now in Asilah, and the town is amazing. It deserves a blog all of its own, so I will try to write again tomorrow--about Casablanca, Asilah, traveling with Paolo, the emotional rollercoaster of starting to fall in love again, and the closing of one chapter in my life and the beginning of a new one...its terrifying, wonderful, sad, exciting...all at the same time. But Paolo is so understanding, he allows me to feel all that I am feeling without being nervous, overbearing or jealous.
Is this really happening?
Oh! And I will also write about the muslim beaches. It is fascinating to see women swim in the ocean completely covered, even their faces...
The next morning I woke up, still in pain. I tried to tell myself it was all in my head, but it was getting worse by the minute, and it had moved from my right lower back to my right lower abdomen. Finally it got so bad that I told Tiff I needed to go to a doctor. We looked up english speaking doctors on the internet...and both that we found were on holiday--till September! By this time it was so bad, and it was a Saturday, that we decided to go to the nearest hospital. On the way there Tiffany called Paolo to tell him we would not be able to meet him at the train station, instead, we would meet him at the hospital. He knew immediately that it was bad when I did not get on the phone (I hurt too bad to talk). We got to the hospital and did our best to explain the problem to a nurse (thank God Tiffany speaks Italian). They checked me in, and put me in a waiting room with an old woman who was sobbing. Apparently she fell and hurt her arm. And, apparently she is a regular at the hospital...the nurses all knew her by name, and everyone kinda gently ignored her. I think more than medical attention, she just needed some attention in general...so I held her hand for a minute, and Tiffany spoke to her about the US.
After about an hour of waiting I finally saw a doctor. I (through Tiff) explained my symptoms, and the doc did some karate chops to my back and stomach. She then told Tiff to leave, that I would be getting an ultrasound and some x-rays. In the meantime they stuck an IV in my arm and started pumping some really good pain medicine into me, that made me nice and loopy--in moments I became fluent in Italian...even if I was the only one who could understand.
The hospital was not as nice as hospitals in the US, but Italy is known for its great healthcare, and the doctor seemed to know what she was doing. The weird part was waiting to be taken to get my tests done. I was put in a room with about 5 other people with various ailments, and there were no curtains between us, like in an American emergency room. So I could see the old man filling his bedpan, the woman talking to God as though he was right there in front of her, and another man, who was in so much pain that he paced back ands forth and groaned nonstop. Seeing sick people does two things to me...makes me more scared and makes me feel more sick. So I tried to not let my mind run away with itself as I waited for the nurse to call me (the pain medicine helped keep me calm).
I finally went for the ultrasound and x-ray. The woman who preformed the ultrasound saw some interesting things in my kidney, which she told me the doctor would explain. So after 2 hours of testing, the doctor, Tiffany and PAOLO come back to explain to me what was wrong. You can imagine my mortification, Paolo seeing me for the first time in weeks, in a wheelchair with an IV in my arm, practically drooling (not really), but definitely a little out of it. He translated that I had passed a kidney stone (not sure when, either earlier that day, or the day before), and my kidney, bladder and everything in that general vicinity was really inflammed; I was shocked, because I had not felt the stone when it came out, and I have always heard that they are excruciating when they pass. But the doc said it was likely a couple of really tiny ones that wreaked havoc as they made their way through me. She gave me some more really strong pain medicine, an anti-inflammatory and an antibiotic. She also said that when I was sick in Lecce (throwing up) was likely when it started.
The next two days I didnt do much except sleep and drink a ton of water...and Paolo, the angel that he is, did not leave my side. He kicked into doctor mode, and made sure I took my medicine on time, drank lots of water, rested, etc. He made me lunch, rubbed my back...was an absolute saint. We debated changing the Morocco plans, but I did not want to change my trip again, and I felt better each day, so despite not seeing much of Florence except the hospital and Paolos friends house, I was ready for Morocco 2 days later.
We are now in Asilah, and the town is amazing. It deserves a blog all of its own, so I will try to write again tomorrow--about Casablanca, Asilah, traveling with Paolo, the emotional rollercoaster of starting to fall in love again, and the closing of one chapter in my life and the beginning of a new one...its terrifying, wonderful, sad, exciting...all at the same time. But Paolo is so understanding, he allows me to feel all that I am feeling without being nervous, overbearing or jealous.
Is this really happening?
Oh! And I will also write about the muslim beaches. It is fascinating to see women swim in the ocean completely covered, even their faces...
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