Una Domanda...

How is it possible to resist listening to Christmas music when it's snowing outside? Tomorrow is Halloween, yet Silent Night is playing in our house, while I sit reading a book, next to our pretend fireplace that is pretending to pump out heat, as my cat snuggles on my lap, and my daughter asks to go sledding outside.  I really feel like a Christmas Carol right now...

O is for October...

One would think driving in a car would be a nice quiet experience.  A self-contained environment where you can keep your thoughts to yourself while getting from point A to point B.  But no....not with my daughter in the car!  Whether we're driving to ballet class, or home from preschool, we usually are doing one of a few things in the car together.  1. Listening to songs of which she insists she is the only one allowed to sing.  "Mom, you can hum along if you want, but this is my song, mkay?"  2. Talking about whatever random thought pops into her head, and we must discuss in depth all the varying aspects of such topic.  "Mom, why was I born in Texas?"  Because that's where I was living when you were in my tummy.  "But mom, tell me ALL about it..."  3. Then sometimes Ava and I will play a game together in the car.  Since she's starting to read now and learn words, she will pick a letter and we'll think of as many words as we can starting with that letter. 

This game is such a common one these days, that today when I was in the car alone, I actually started playing this game by myself!  I was thinking of the more obscure letter 'O'.  What complex words begin with O?  I thought: obstetrician, orangutan, objectivism, occipital, October.  Wait....where did October go???  I faintly remember welcoming this month while I was in Italy...and now it's already gone!  It was snowing at the beginning of the month in Alaska, and now the days are getting shorter by 7 minutes every day!  Time is literally and very visibly slipping away from me now!!  If it's just been a few weeks since I was last in Italy, how much longer will it be until I can go back there again? 

Well, I found this great quote the other day by Jorge Luis Borges and feel like it fits perfectly to this concept in relation to Italy, time, and my favorite person who resides in Italy.  This amazing writer and poet who I'm just starting to explore wrote this:

 

"Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time."

 "The Threatened One," from The Unending Rose  --Borges

Oooooooohhhh October.  You were good to me even though you seemed shorter than usual.  See ya again next year, I hope.

Poveri Gatti...

Ever had one of those days where you just felt nothing was working out?  That no matter what you did, the day was just going to continue getting worse?  And sometimes you just are too overwhelmed with obstacles to see the light at the end of the tunnel?  Today I discovered a new saying in Italian.  It is "Non c'è trippa per gatti"...There's no tripe for the cats.  Apparently, this term is used when there is a situation that is hopeless, that no matter how hard you try, nothing will work out.  Even if there is a whole, yummy bowl of tripe on the kitchen table, those darn cats won't be getting a scrap of it!  Poveri gatti!  Poor cats!

These looks like some cats I know

When attempting to make a life in Italy, this kind of feeling occurs quite often.  I've only begun the process of figuring out a way to move to Italy and start a real life there.  To be honest, it can be down-right intimidating.  There are countless websites and forums full of people discussing this same problem.  (Again, a wealth of knowledge exists here at Expats in Italy)  Unless you are an EU citizen, married to an Italian, or employed by a company that sends you to Italy for work, it is....how can I say....frustratingly difficult to get a Visa that allows you to enter the country and stay as long as you wish!


Yet in a way, it makes sense that not just anyone can move there and stay forever.  If one is willing to jump through hoops, learn the language, deal with the million different types of beuracratic red tape and figure it all out...then yeah, they are the people who really deserve to be there!  They are the ones who can look at Italy and all the ridiculousness and say "Yep, that's how it is...but I it wouldn't be Italy any other way!"  Cause after all...even if there isn't any tripe for the cats, sometimes, just sometimes, if they search around long enough, they might get a little bite of fish waiting for them in a place they hadn't looked...

Aural Comprehension

Thought this was an interesting concept to try and grasp.

The other night I was filling out an application to find some part-time work while I'm still here

 in Alaska. I had to recount the long list of jobs I've held in the past (oh, the many years of customer service!), think of personal references who would say nice things about me (do people ever really call your personal references unless it's your very first job?) and give my educational history (yes, I am a college graduate applying to clean hotel rooms! gotta prahblem wit it???) There were a few fill-in-the-blank boxes where you could list any other special talents that could help me procure the desired job position. One box was about computer skills. Another was about hobbies and activities. And then a third box stood there and taunted me: Languages. The vast, four-sided shape stood totally empty.

 

I know I recently wrote about this, but it shames me that I never seriously studied a language as a child. I took French for a few years...but it's hard to teach yourself French as a 6th grader who was homeschooled. The one phrase I remember clearly in French is "Tout le monde rit!" Everyone laughs! And then there are the numerous terms I know from my many years in ballet...."plie, frappe, battement" bend, strike, beat! (hmm..ballet sounds rather violent in those terms!

I even took two semesters of Sign Language to fulfill my language requirement in college. I was the best in my class..but that wasn't really saying much considering the rest of the class could barely count to 10 by the end of the year. My greatest sucess with sign language was years ago playing a rousing game of Guesstures. I looked right at my mom (who also studied it years ago) and did the sign for the specific word when it was my turn and we won! Everyone said it didn't count, but I still consider it a small victory.

 

Well, back to this empty box just staring at me. Not that it would make a huge difference if I could fluently speak Italian in order to procure a job in Alaska. But I felt compelled to put something, since I really am, honest-to-goodness trying to learn Italian! I can understand quite a bit of what people are talking about. I can watch tv in Italian and get the gist. I'm even trying to teach Ava words throughout the day when I think of it. The problem really comes when I try to form my own sentences. So I literally wrote this in the big, blank box: "Aural comprehension of Italian" Yep...that's all I've got for now.  But hey, Alaska is a big state, and you just never know when some Italians might head over to Fairbanks and need someone to listen to them!

Che Schifezza!!!

One of my new favorite sayings in Italian: Che schifezza!!! I'm not sure how to literally translate this without getting too vulgar...but when I typed it into Google translate, it churned out "that crap". There is just something about this exclamation that makes one feel better by proclaiming that something is just nasty, gross, and utterly undesirable.  I must note that my old favorite saying used to be "Che casino!!!" meaning something along the lines of "what a mess" but on a more exaggerated level. In my opinion, this can be used equally as often and at times in accord with "Che schifezza!" when things are a down-right crappy mess.

Image I found when I googled "che shifezza"

This is how it felt when I was forced to go to an Italian ER (well, thankfully I wasn't puking like the pumpkin).  I had to head to the ER on a beautiful night that I had been anticipating all week.  Where I'd be going to a lovely restaurant, I'd be surrounded by friends, and I'd dance to the music played by my favorite musicians in Firenze.  But oh no...my body had different plans.  Basically I won't go into the details for the reason why I had to go, but I'd love to account what it was like spending the 5 hours it took to get seen, diagnosed, and treated for my illness.  I'll just say I was in a lot of physical pain.  Pain that had lasted all day, and wouldn't go away.  Pain that I had tried to convince myself (and all others who were informed) that I wasn't feeling, JUST so I could go to the party!  In fact, two amazing friends drove to our house, were ready to take me to the hospital, and I was able to talk my way out of going!  Because honestly, I've never had to go to the hospital for any emergency...not for anything!  Ok...I was in a hospital when I delivered Ava, but that's not the same thing.

So, armed with some meds to help kick the pain, we were on the way to the party.  But the pain became so overwhelming as we entered the city that a scene ensued from some kind of overly-dramatic movie.  We were just about to arrive at the restaurant with a car: a feat that within itself is amazing to accomplish.  When asked how I was feeling, all I could mutter was a feeble "Not.......good....." and the race began!  As I recall it now, some thumpin techno song (think: Run, Lola, Run soundtrack) began to play as the decision was made to turn around.  In a haze of pain, calls were made "Ho sbagliato!!" ...."lei deve andare in ospedale" ..I was wrong, she must go to the hospital!!  Illegal turns were being made, one-way streets were ignored, red lights didn't really exist.  I faintly recall apologizing for being such a nuisance, but it was clear that I needed medical attention.

I was dropped off with a friend who would take me to the hospital.  Thankfully, my medical problem had already been written out in Italian, so I could hand it to any doctors who didn't speak English.  It seemed like forever before we came to the hospital..and I can't even remember the name of it, or where it was.  Before I knew it, we were in front of the triage nurse speaking half-English, half-Italian, trying to explain my problem.  In Italian hospitals, you get assigned a color for how bad your condition is.  I think I was yellow...kinda a middle-ground.  After my friend was told she had to wait outside, I was given a gurney to lay on in the hallway.  The nurse started an IV and gave me drugs for the pain.  And this is where the fun began.

I stayed on this bed for 2 hours without anyone talking to me or asking how I was.  But you know, after the pain had subsided a bit, I knew I'd be there a while and I was okay with that.  I could wait my turn and be patient.  As long as I wasn't in pain, I was fine.  But after 5 minutes I realized there were two things that would make these two hours seem like an eternity.  1.  I really, really, had to pee.  and 2. There was an insane woman across the hall from my gurney that was alternating between moaning and yelling in incomprehensible Italian.  Both of these things lasted for 2 hours.  I mean really...I had to pee like I had a 10 pound baby pushing on my bladder.  It was so bad that I got up the nerve to call over the triage nurse, and with the most whiney Italian I could find, told her "Devo fare pipì ora!" I must go pee now!! To which she reacted as if I had told her "By george, it would be jolly good if you'd let me use the washroom at the most convenient time..." and she promptly told me "è meglio aspettare" It's better to wait.  Right.  Of course...it's better that my bladder explode and I pee myself.  But I wasn't going to try to argue in Italian...so wait, I did.

What was also great, was my gurney was positioned perfectly under a digital clock on the wall.  The slowly ticking minutes were taunting me in military time.  Everytime I opened my eyes (to roll them at the insane woman yelling and the nurses trying to shush her) I had to do math to figure out what time it really was, and how long I'd been laying there.  The pain started to come back.  Then WHOOSH...someone was pulling my bed around!  Without a moment's notice, my turn had come!!!  I was wheeled quickly (and not too cautiously) into a long room separated into three areas by green curtains.  I hoped I could soon see a bathroom!  Instead, I came face-to-face with a ridiculously handsome doctor.  Honestly, the pain meds weren't that good...I wasn't halucinating that my doctor could be so amazingly gorgeous.  We had a quick discussion, with me trying to get my wits and use whatever Italian words I could muster in my flustered state, and him casually glancing around and asking some questions in English during a short examination.  Obviously the crush was one-sided...too bad. 

Then joy of all joys, I was allowed to go pee!  But then horror of all horrors, the insane woman was wheeled into my same room and commenced her wailing!!!  It got so bad during her examination, that another docotor actually peered around the curtain and said to me in perfect English "Don't worry...we're not torturing this woman...she is out of her mind".  Uh yeah...I suspected as much for the past 2 hours.  I never got a good look at her, but I imagine she looked something like this:

Again, WHOOSH...I was being moved into another room after I was given more pain meds and fluids.  Ahh..into a room with no one.  But then I started to panic because I was sure no one would find me in this inconspicuous place.  I'd probably wait there another 2 hours before they found me!  But thankfully, no, a gruff woman came into my room and huffed out "Come si chiama?" What's your name? and WHOOSH, wheeled me into another room for some tests.  Before I knew it, WHOOSH I was back in a hallway.  At this point I think I fell asleep, considering it had been 4 hours, and was reaching midnight.  Fading in and out of a half-dreamy, half-awake state (and probably dreaming about my hot doctor Tomasso, we were on a first-name basis at that point in my dream) I wondered how it would all end.  Would I need to stay over-night?  Would it be another 4 hours until they let me pee again?  Could my friend ever come see me to tell me what was going on?  Would Dottore Tomasso propose to me, right then and there??  Well...around 1am, my real doctor came to my rescue and explained the diagnosis and plan of action.  I had a brief goodbye with Dottore Tomasso and was on my way home with a packet of papers in Italian explaining my illness.

One upside to my ER experience was that I didn't have to pay anything.  Not a dime.  Another upside was meeting Dottore Tomasso and him giving me the good news that I'd be okay.  Besides that, I'd really love to never see the inside of an Italian hospital again!  Che schifezza!  And not to get all political, but it makes me wonder how things would have progressed if my condition was more serious.  My problem was minor, so I wasn't going to die waiting for 5 hours in an ER.  Yet it concerns me that this is a faint glimpse into America's future of free healthcare...it could just be un casino...

Pictorial Italian Dictionary

Before I recount my experience in the Italian ER, I wanted to share this little thought:  Some days I feel like I'll never learn Italian.  Learning another language has been one of the biggest thorns in my side...it's just not something I'm ever going to be great at.  Kinda like algebra, or geography, or resisting goldfish crackers.  Mostly, I think I'm a visual learner and so sitting in front of an Italian grammar book is intimidating and makes me sweat like a pig. Well, I saw this on a blog I've been following and just had to share it...hoping there will be more soon!  At least if I can't speak the correct words, maybe my gestures can fill in the blanks???

I got this Italian lesson From Francesca at Burnt by the Tuscan Sun

A City Like a Village

Piccoli piccioni

I find it really hilarious that on my recent trip to Italy, I took one photo.  Seriously.  One photograph.  Me, the one with a minor in photography...who takes photos almost everyday of random moments...I only took one picture the entire 10 days I was in Firenze!  And that's it above...it took my single, solitary picture of a few pigeons.  And why, one may ask?  I honestly have no idea.  The only explanation I can give is that this trip to Italy was a trip of rainy days and sicknesses.  I didn't feel so inspired to take lots of photos, I suppose.

But that's not to say my trip was a flop.  Not at all.  I'm proud to announce that I was able to accomplish a little bit of what I hoped this trip could be for me.  I previously wrote about seeing new areas of the city, walking new streets, getting another view of the city I love.  And I can boast that this happened in my short vacation.  Well...okay...I did go to some of my favorite places in il centro (the center).  I sat with the elderly Italians in Piazza Republica for a good hour and watched the bambini riding the merry-go-round.  I walked through my favorite stores (oh Zara, Calzedonia, and the numerous shoes stores...I missed thee!) and made sure to note some new aspects of the Duomo's fascade everytime I walked by it.  Believe it or not, I actually had to smile and laugh each time an Italian male made some sort of comment as I passed by (a grand total of 5 times)...and maybe it's wrong to admit it, but I kind of missed that kind of attention!  Is that wrong???

So besides the normals activities, (such as my 2 hour naps in the afternoon) I was able to see some new places.  I had a lovely, most elegant, and very entertaining dinner at a beautiful restaurant called Riflessi.  We were dining with a rather elderly gentleman who couldn't (and wouldn't?) speak a word of English, and my "translator" was having a very good time with that fact.  The best part of the dinner was the wine and the waitstaff.  Both were pleasantly delicious...a nice blend of classic Italian flavors combined with modern flair.  Our waiter was the most attentive I've ever had the pleasure of meeting (and that's saying a lot, considering this is Italy we're talking about)...but this was probably due to the fact that this elderly gentleman we were with apparently dines at this restaurant nightly.  The other younger waiters were equally attentive and charming and humorous throughout the evening...it really was a lovely dining experience!

Another hightlight of my trip was finding a new church in the center that I'd probably walked by a million times, but never even noticed!  The reason I discovered it this time, was because I just happened to be walking by a side street and happened to hear an organ playing.  Since I had nothing but time to kill, I allowed myself to transition into tourist mode, and I began poking my head around the church door to see if I was allowed to enter.  By reading a big board written entirely in English I found this was the Church of Orsanmichele.  It once was an area used as a grain market (think early 1300s) and then after a fire was rebuilt into a church (around 1400s).  The church has some artistic highlights I appreciated and it had an overall Gothic style.  I loved listening to the old woman playing the organ while devoted followers kneeled in contemplation.  I mean really...how often does one stumble upon this kind of church in the States?  You just don't.

One other lovely memory was one morning we decided to take un giro (a ride) around the city.  This is something we do often.  But this particular day was a fabulous giro!  It started around 11am, going to our local open air market.  We walked around, shopped for cheap things we really didn't need, and bought our daily bread.  We headed towards the center and stopped unexpectedly when we saw a friend on the street who owns a little bar along the Arno.  Chatted with him a few minutes.  We then went to visit with a friend who owns an art gallery on the Oltrarno.  He just happened to have a new painting by an artist that he insisted we see, but it was at his house.  This led us up into the hills past Porta Romana into a beautiful area with luxurious houses lining a wide boulevard.  I'd never been to this area of Firenze before!  Our friend showed us into his house and insisted we then stay for lunch.  Of course!  Only after we'd eatten pizza, pasta and wine were we allowed to see this new painting.  As we were leaving, another friend called to say he'd love us to stop by for a minute to say hello.  Why not?  Again after chatting a few minutes, we headed to a nearby favorite sports club to refuel our energy.  With a quick coffee we were headed back home, literally making an entire circle of the city, seeing friends at every stop.  This prompted a comment that I'll never forget, something along the lines of "Firenze is a city that looks like a village...one where you can meet a friend at every corner."  I love that image of Firenze...a place that is large, and ancient, and filled with history, but is current, and intimate and alive!

Up next: my 5 hours in an Italian ER...

Only in Italy

Another reason why I love Italy:
The Italians' incredible ability to maneuver motorini!!  It is a true art form...

To the East and Beyond



Sunrise in NC over the Atlantic

 As I'm writing this blog entry, it is 3am.  No, I didn't drink coffee too late last night...and no, I wasn't out partying all night, returning home at the light of day.  Nope, I'm awake at 3am because it's really 1pm.  Italy time, that is.  And I'm back in Alaska, fighting off the massive jet-lag that comes with a 10 hour time change.  Sure, it could be worse than 10 hours, and I hear that flying to Australia is no walk in the park as far as traveling goes either!  But to be honest, I could care less about the jet-lag because it means one wonderful thing:  I was just in Italy!

Before getting to that, I'll say this journey East from Alaska actually began the beginning of September.  Ava and I headed out of Alaska just as the Summer was turning into Autumn, an even that leasts exactly 2 weeks, signifying the commencement of the long, cold winter.  Not wanting to witness this sad demise of summer, we flew to the East coast to visit my siblings.  One week in CT, one week in ME, and a lovely week in NC on the beach!  It was chaos with all our family members, but a great time.  And it helped me get that much closer to the Atlantic, the major barrier that separates my native country from my adopted country. 

Thankfully all went well for my flights to arrive in my beloved Italian city in the last week of September.  Flying from NC to NYC to Roma to Firenze.  It felt like a quicker trip from the East coast rather than from Seattle or Texas as I'm used to doing.  It was also my first time flying with Italy's own airline, Alitalia.  Hmmm...well....I've heard many a nasty things about this airline, but this first experience wasn't so bad.  The seats were certainly smaller, and the food and entertainment on the 8 hour flight were more like 1 1/4 stars.  But at least the flights were on time and my luggage arrived in one piece!!  I will just say, if at anytime possible in the future, I will certainly take AirFrance for the long flight over the Atlantic.

The first thing I noted upon arriving back in Firenze, was that I must have been in some kind of time warp. Sincerely, I could not imagine it had been 9 months since I was last in Italy. So much was the same, so much was familiar, so much was exactly the way I remembered it! And so I felt that it had only been a few weeks, a month at best, that I had been away from the city I love as well as the people I adore.  Though I only had 10 days to visit, I already knew I wanted to see and do new things in this place where I feel I'm no longer just a tourist...
To be continued...

Something old, something new

The first photo I took, on my first day in Italy, 2005

Just over a week and I'll be headed back to Italy.  Can't even begin to explain how happy I am to have the chance to return again.  This will be only the 4th time that I fly to this incredible country, but a part of me feels like I'm going back home.  (Can I credit this to the fact that I'm a very proud 1/4 Italian in my otherwise northern European heritage?)  Yet, in a much larger sense, I am only beginning to explore Firenze, let alone the rest of the country!  Sure I have done the big-ticket tourist attractions in the city I adore.  I've walked the halls of the Uffizi, I've stood at the feet of David, I've walked along the Arno and I've watched sunsets from Piazzale Michelangelo.  I've shopped the boutiques, bought pannini for lunch and drunk wine before noon.  I have my favorite spots, the never boring "passegiatte" on my favorite streets, and I think I may finally have mastered the art of ordering the perfect coffee from the many cafes.  Cue the music from Austria and the happy brood of children singing: "These are a few of my favorite things!!!"

But I think this time, I'm going to be looking for something new in the something old.  A part of me longs to get cozy with the city and really be able to sit down and have a heart to heart with it.  I would love to hear it's secrets, to understand its hopes for the future.  It may sound silly, but I want to court Firenze.  I fear the first few times I've visited, I was a greedy lover who only wanted to see it's best features.  Don't show me the previews, I want the main attraction, thank you very much!  And it's an easy temptation for every traveler to create their little lists and check off each item that was achieved.  In a certain way, this is perhaps just what travel must be for many people.  We haven't the luxury to canoodle a city when the love affair can only last 4 days and 3 nights!  Admittedly, even in the 3 months I spent as a student and the 3 months I spent with Ava, I only achieved a vague understanding and recognition of Firenze...even if the physical attraction was set deep in my heart from the very beginning.  The emotional attachment seemed to come later, in a more complex manner, and it left a desire to deepen my crush into a real romance.   

And so...even if it's just 10 days and 9 nights for me this time, I'm hoping to enhance my relationship with the City of Flowers.  I want to seek out new places that are off the beaten path.  I want to walk new streets that reveal more of the hidden treasures throughout the area.  I don't want to allow my first amorous impressions of the city to jade the other essences that can be found within its innermost being.  I want to learn to love Firenze just as it is...to see that it's as beautiful on the inside, as it is on the outside.  I mean really...can I hope for anything more romantic than that?