90 days

 Today marks the beginning of 90 days to wait in the Alaskan winter until our 90 days of Italian Spring!  Three months till our next three months!  And what better way to celebrate than having a Christmas-movie-hot-chocolate-pajama day at home!  Well, Ava's school is closed today and tomorrow because of dangerous ice conditions here...something that apparently never happens.  I mean, they allow Ava to play outside for recess until -20 degrees, and would never think of canceling school!  But I guess it's so dangerous outside, they don't want anyone on the roads.

I feel confident that the next 90 days will move along quickly.  This week is Thanksgiving, soon it will be the Winter Solstice (I think we get about 4 hours of daylight at that point) and before we know it, Christmas will be here!  Quickly the New Year will be upon us, Ava will finish up her school in February, and on Valentine's Day we'll be in Seattle!  One week there, then we're off to Italy!  I don't know about you...but it seems like Spring is just around the corner!

Driving through Glitter

Two interesting things I noted today.

1.  It was -8 when I drove Ava to school this morning (that would be -22 celcius).  Brrrr and more brrrr.  I'm quickly realizing I need a full-fledged face-mask if I need to be outside more than 2 minutes.  But that's not the main thing I noticed this morning.  Recently I've heard some newly initiated Alaskans talking about how sparkly the snow is here, compared to other places.  I didn't really believe it...snow is snow right?  And after an additional 4 inches of snow the other day, we're just happy when it's out of our way so we can get where we gotta go!  But while I was driving, at 8:30am with darkness all around, I saw that it was snowing very lightly.  So lightly, that you could only see it falling in front of the car headlights and under the still-shining street lamps.  And it looked like minuscule diamonds.  It looked like we were driving through silver glitter.  Now, I'm not thrilled to be here in Alaska for the next 3 months, but if that's the beauty I get to see every morning, I don't really mind at all.  I will never doubt or forget how the snow really does sparkle here.

2. And then, funny enough, my Italian Rosetta Stone lesson was 'Caldo e Freddo' today...hot and cold.  Perfetto! Just what I needed to be reminded about: how cold I was, and how warm I wish I was!  hehehe!  Now I can confidently proclaim "Fa freddo in inverno!"  It's cold in the winter! and "Fa freddo e questa gente porta cappelli e sciarpe"  It's cold and these people wear hats and scarves! and "La gente gioco nella neve quando fa freddo"  The people play in the snow when it is cold!  Like I said...perfect lesson for today!

Tippity tapping to Tango



Painting by Andre Kohn

 So for anyone who hasn't seen all my updates on FB, yes...the somewhat repetitive videos of tango dancing and music, it's safe to say that I'm quickly becoming a serious, full-fledged tanguera.  My little fingers have been tippity-tapping all over the internet, looking for inspiring and educational information about this new obsession of mine.  But where did this new love, or rather...love affair, come from so suddenly? 

I've begun dancing ballet again, and it feels great (and terribly painful at the same time!) to get back into the studio and do something I've always loved.  But I couldn't help but jump for joy when I saw there were going to be Argentine tango lessons for 4 weeks this month!  I had always been intruiged about tango and when I went to my first milonga (meeting of tango dancers) when I was in Italy, I knew I had to learn this form of dancing.  There is just something so different about tango that I wanted to understand, to feel, to experience.  I've never done any form of partner dancing like salsa, so this whole idea of dancing with another person and having to be led by my partner is totally foreign to me.  I'm used to standing on my own two feet in ballet, going where I like, when I want, how I feel like moving! 

Well, I am in no way going to be a tango expert anytime soon, but I have a feeling all my years of ballet will help me progress quickly.  Some say tango just looks like walking, yet it takes years to become a great tanguera.   I really hope to continue learning this art form in any way possible.  One encouragement will be getting out of Alaska and finding another place to learn tango, of which I'm confident I'll be able to find in Firenze.  There seems to be a rather active tango life in Italy, and I'd love to learn from teachers who actually have studied proper Argentine tango in Buenos Aires.  Just today I found this on-line and again I had to jump for joy:

                                           You better believe I'll be there!!!

E' Ufficiale!!!

Tira Via!!!  Gnamo!!!  Ancoraaaaaaaa!  3 in Italy is happening again!  We have just bought tickets to return to Italy for another 3 months, and I couldn't be more happy.  It will have been over a year since Ava and I first traveled to Firenze together, and now we're headed back.  And this time we'll have the opportunity to experience the city in the Spring.  Yeah, it will probably be rainy and chilly, but hey...it won't be -20 and snowing non-stop like it will be in Alaska!  Well, I can handle rain with the right outfit, and it's just about time I find a cute pair of Italian-chic-rainboots.  (But seriously, do I ever really need an excuse to buy another pair of shoes?  Uhm...not at all.)

While the climate and weather will be different from our last experience, I'm thinking many things will be somewhat the same.  That's a comfort for anyone with a kid in a new place...some familiarity and routine always help get things settled!  I'm hoping there will be an open place for Ava at the same school she attended last year.  And then while she is at school, I'm hoping to finally take some formal Italian lessons!  For the past year I've been fiddling around with Rosetta Stone, a version that is at least 10 years old.  It's helped me learn a lot of great nouns and verbs, but I still don't feel like I can form my own sentences correctly without taking 10 minutes to translate a phrase in my head!  Maybe if I have a real instructor, I'll finally get on my way to starting the long journey towards my most difficult hurddle of learning a second language. 

And so what's with the pig statue above?  It's the famous porcellino  in Firenze's Mercato Nuovo.  Many travelers go up to this wild boar and rub his nose to ensure they will return to Firenze again.  Hence the nice, shiny snout!  So the question is: was I ever superstitious enough to rub his little nose in the past times I've visited?  How have I had the good fortune of returning to such an amazing place where I've met incredible people and had indescribable experiences?  Hmm...maybe like the porcellino, I'll just sit here and smile and contemplate luck...and...what I'm going to pack!

Sweet life?

After indulging on yummy Halloween candy over the weekend, I'm not really looking for anything sweet for the next few days!  But I heard an interesting bit today on PRI while driving around.  They were talking about the iconic film "La Dolce Vita" and the face-lift it has recieved after 50 years.  The image of the sweet life in Italy still lives in the hearts of foreigners everywhere, exemplified in this artfully eccentric film that continued to open the eyes of Americans to 'the sweet life' the Italians claim.  And I think we, as Americans, commonly idolize the Italian ability to enjoy life, wine, food, and art.  To acknowledge simplicity with passion.  To combine family and tradition with a side of modernity.  But how true is it all for Italians today?  With reports of the current Italian economy and politics swimming in my head, I'm curious how the image inside as well as outside of Italy has changed over the years.  Check out this link, clicking on the small play button (next to the tweets tag) to listen to the report... here.

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...