Bathrobes

There are many differences between American culture and Italian culture. Some are more apparent than others, but there is one I would have NEVER expected:

Bathrobes.

Yes, bathrobes.

Che stranno....how strange, I know.

Sunday evening, Bea and Vincenzo went out and bought me a beautiful bathrobe. It was quite a surprise to get a gift at such a random time from them, but, I had a feeling it was coming.

Bathrobes, to me, are something I might throw on in the morning (key word here is might), when I’m cold, or after a shower before I dress. But they aren’t a necessity. 

Here, bathrobes are essential. And, since I didn’t bring one, it seemed like the end of the world that I didn’t have one to wear.

So, now I have one, and I’m gong to wear it all the time. Even if it’s weird.

Lost in Rome

Friday the 13th - you’ve done it to me again.

Actually, this one was probably the best joke yet!

After a beautiful evening eating at a very “posh” restaurant in the Piazza di Spagna, I couldn’t imagine how my evening could go wrong. I’m in Italy, everything is always perfect...at least so I thought.

Around 11:30 I headed back to the Metro station to make my journey back into Ostia - to my surprise, the trains for this one particular line had stopped working (Che palle! I knew I should have read the signs).

I asked a few people how to get back to Ostia, but I knew my time was running out - remember, this is Rome, not New York, bus lines don’t run 24/7.

I was filled with a variety of emotions; 

I could cry - but what would that do? I would just look vulnerable and ruin my makeup...

I could freak out - 

again, what would that accomplish? 

Or, I could laugh.

I went with the latter.

I laughed and smiled as I walked down the pebblestone streets in stilettos contemplating what alley I could sleep in for the night. But, I wasn’t afraid, in fact - I felt adventurous. I could either sink or swim in this situation. I needed to get lost, to find my way home, because I am alone - there is no security link for me to latch onto - independence is a must - as well as strength.

With hope diminishing, I decided to text my friend Saso, 

“Saso, OMG, I’m lost - in Rome! Aituo! (help)”

He called me immediately, and I just couldn’t help but laugh. What was he going to be able to do? He lives 8 hours from Rome, in Reggio. Hearing his voice was helpful though - comforting. A familiar voice is always helpful in times of stress. And I was grateful to have someone to talk too ( I didn’t want to look like a complete fool).

He helped me - rescued me in fact! I got to Piazza Venezia in one piece and found the right bus to take my straight back to Ostia. 

I had never felt more relieved to walk into my house and lay down in my little bed then I did Friday evening. 

Friday the 13th - you tried hard to screw with me, 

and you almost won. 

But - just like usual - I beat you again!

I was home - safely and soundly.

And I had discovered a friend I knew I could count on - even if he is 8 hours away!

Fontana di Trevi

There is a certain sparkle to the Fontana di Trevi. I can't explain it, but if you've ever seen it in person, you would understand. This spot right here is my favorite spot in Rome. Despite the huge crowds of tourists surrounding the fountain every day, I love visiting it.

When I'm near it - I feel it's strength; its magic, and power. The fountain is massive in size, but beautiful beyond words, almost as if it was sculpted by the gods as a tribute to their unending beauty and power.

Going sightseeing by yourself has its perks, so when I ventured into the city Sunday to familiarize myself with my new city - making a stop at this magical entity was a must!

Dining at Piazza di Spagna

I had the pleasure of eating at Hotel di Russie last night at

Piazza di Spagna. A client of my dad's is vacationing in Europe for a while, and we were able to meet up and enjoy an unbelievably amazing meal. 

La Bella Vita!

Bienvenuti Penn State!

Buon vino, Buon cibo, Buoni amici!

Good wine, Good food, Good friends!

The world is quite a small place! 

Thursday night, I headed into Rome to meet with three of my Italian Professors from Penn State!

It was quite a beautiful evening in Trastevere! Strange how you can meet up with people in a foreign place, and have it feel just like home!  

They were eating at a very famous restaurant, “Augusto”. My one professor, actually the first professor I had for Italian, Tom, used to live in Trastevere, back in 1972!  

It’s amazing how life comes full circle! 

I only had a little over an hour to spend with them, as I had to watch Beatrice for the evening, but I enjoyed the company tremendously!

Professor’s Gatto and Jason were my guides and professors when I first ventured to Italy last summer. I learned a lot; not only the language, but the culture of Italians. And it was because of their guidance I fell in love with this country. I remember telling them on the ferry to Vulcano that I would return to Italy as soon as possible (I made sure to remind them of that moment last night).

We drank amazing homemade red wine, 

reminisced and laughed. 

Che bella giornata! 

It was comforting to have conversation with familiar faces and I’m excited for the new group of Penn State students venturing into Reggio tomorrow.

I know what kind of experience I had, and I wish only the best for them as well.  

Loneliness

“Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.” - Henry Rollins

While drinking my succulent peach juice and taking in the warm sun in San Giovanni Saturday afternoon, my friend asked me a strange question. One that I hadn’t pondered as of yet.

With his rolled cigarettes, messy brown hair and casual demeanor, he reminded me of a younger version of Johnny Depp, or at least what I had seen in interviews and photographs.

But, I took his words and questions to heart. This wasn’t a screenplay.

He asked me if I felt... alone.

What a beautiful, yet complicated word. Alone. There are so many meanings to this word that I stumbled upon my thoughts while contemplating what to say to him in reply.

My immediate response was a definite no; how could I possibly feel alone? I have some of the best friends a girl could ask for, a family that loves me unconditionally, a job that allows me to be free, yet grow and learn at the same time. And, I’m living in place that brings me unwavering joy every day.

But as I tried to make sense of this question, my thoughts began running circles around my head.

Should I feel alone? What does he mean by this? Alone because I live in a strange place? Alone because I’m single? 

The past few days have given me time to contemplate this question.

“Do I feel alone?”

And I realize that I do feel alone. But, strangely enough, I like this feeling of being alone. It’s a strange sensation.

My friends are thousands of miles away, apart from the friends I have in Italy. My family is also thousands of miles away; and my home, the place I know the best, resides in a completely different time zone.

But, for me, this bring me excitement. I’m alone, without the support system I’m used to; the comfort I know. I live in a strange place, hardly knowing anyone, and hardly understanding a word they say. 

But, how cool is that? This is my time to either sink or swim. 

I could stay closed-off from the culture, and avoid interacting if I so choose; in six months I can hop back on a plane and return to America, and use my pictures as memories.

Or, I can take my loneliness and turn it into an opportunity. Without having the comfort of my family, friends and home, I can grow. And focus on me. Without commitments to friends or family, with the strange inability to completely engage in casual conversations,  I have time for ME. M.E. 

So yes, my friend, I feel alone. But this does not scare me. I pray that my loneliness will give me the chance to find something in me worth living for, and happiness that is never ending.

My Daily Source of Happiness

The Sun. 

Need I say more?

It brings the best out in me. 

My happiness, my energy, shoots through the roof. 

Anyone around me can feel it - it's contagious. 

My best friend told me when we were Skyping Sunday morning that I was "Glowing".

Glowing.

From happiness, from joy, from eating gelato.

But mostly, from the sun.

The world would be a much warmer place, and a much happier place if we could always have the sun. 

I guess walking along the ocean everyday, with a view like this helps too :)

Cooking In Italy!

I used to cook. A lot. I like having the control over what I’m eating and what I’m not eating. It keeps me healthy. And I used to think I was fairly good at it; I could grill, and bake, and follow recipes. And I was proud of myself when I would cook for other people; I wanted to share the fun I had in the kitchen with others.

No one ever complained, in fact, my food always seemed to be thoroughly enjoyed.

Well, moving to Italy gave me a new prospective on my cooking abilities.

I may be Italian in heritage, but I can’t cook - I can’t even boil pasta so it’s “al dente”, or make espresso without burning the coffee pot. 

Basically, I suck. 

Fail. Epic fail on my part. Beatrice will starve because of me.

Grreeat.

Francesca could see my frustration, and I knew Vincenzo was disappointed as well. An American-style breakfast, or homemade chili is all he wants, and so far, I don’t think he trusts me with a butter-knife.

Because of her understanding nature, and her desire to show her beautiful new home to her family, Francesca decided to throw a feast on Friday. 

A feast prepared by none other than me and her.

When she announced this at dinner, I thought Vincenzo would choke on his prosciutto. Francesca works late, and never has time to cook, and his live-in Au Pair chopped her finger off while cutting an olive (Brava on my part). 

Yea, right, a feast? 

He looked at me and said in his broken accent,

“You two,cooking? For fourteen people? Just let me be in charge of the wine. Once there’s wine, and lots of it. I will be ok. I’m always better with wine.”

Che Palle!! 

(What a pain in the ass!)

Well guess what? We did it! We prepared a 6-course meal, and it was delicious, and it was amazing. And Vincenzo, and the rest of the family ate every last morsel.

 Fresh produce right off the bushes, fresh fish right out of the sea.

 The first course. Salmon and veggie cakes.

 Francesca adding the finishing touches.

Vincenzo was speechless! 

Telling My Story...

Every life has it’s own story.

What’s truly beautiful is when one story crosses another...creating something new, something even more beautiful than one can imagine.

This keeps life exciting, fresh. You never know whose path you may cross, creating a new chapter for your story.

My story is long and complicated, filled with ups and downs, trials and tribulations, friendship and deception, but most importantly, it has been filled with love. Family, friends...

There are many chapters for me to share, but I have one chapter to my story that seems too good to be true. 

And it is. But, it’s such a beautiful story to tell. A complete and utter dream, that I still can’t wrap my head around.

Maybe I lived a fantasy. Or a fairytale. 

My friends say I should write a book...but do I want the world to know of my story? One that Disney could quite possibly turn into a classic? Well, if they had PG-13 movies at least...

Living in this dreamworld I’m in, its seems almost fitting. To tell a story set in Italy, filled with music, wine, dancing...love...Amore

Ahh amore.

What a sweet, and intoxicating word. Innocent - yet, completely dangerous all in one.

So I’ll share my story, piece by piece, because reliving the moments bring them back to me, and I could relive them over and over again.

So...I guess I’ll start with the grandpa’s :) 

Always Be My Baby

“I know in my heart baby,

 that you will always be mine...”

Music often speaks to me, as it does everyone. There is someway it reaches deep into the depths of my soul and can set the mood for any occasion. 

Yesterday, I was relying a lot on music to get me through a roller coaster of emotions.

But there was one song that kept playing over and over again in my head...

You ever hear a song and it takes you back to a specific moment in time? It’s like a complete and utter flashback to your past where you remember everything and anything, no matter how important or silly the moment was?

Yea...you know what I’m feeling then.

I met with someone yesterday, who has had my heart, and probably always will have it, to some extent at least. 

Meeting with this person, for the first time in 9 months was more nerve-racking for me than Lebron trying to hit a clutch shot at the end of a game...

(Ok, that’s harsh, but, I’m bitter after the Lakers lost)

During my venture into Rome, I relied on Usher to keep my feeling sexy and confident.

My insides were curling like my hair on a hot, humid day. The least I could do was try to LOOK good on the outside.

Usher worked pretty good, actually pretty awesome, until my eyes met with those all-too familiar dark chestnut eyes...

Then BAM! flashabck....immediately, music began playing over and over in my head.

I remember the first day like it was yesterday:

The first day in Reggio; the sun bronzing my completely pale skin, my friends surrounded by me screaming

“Woah baby, look at that sexy man!”

“We were as one baby, for a moment in time...”

I remember the last day. That look in his eyes as I headed through security, and boarded that plane...

“And it seemed everlasting, that you would always be mine...”

And yesterday surely confirmed these flashbacks, and added a little bit more...

“...Cause you’ll always be my baby.”

Music can do strange things to people. But when the words speak to you so perfectly, it’s like God’s way of speaking to you, and bringing you joy, sorrow, happiness, laughter...whatever you want...whenever you want it.

No matter what song remixes in my head next. This song will always have those moments in time. 

No matter when I hear it. 

No matter where I hear it. 

It won’t matter....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LfRNRymrv9k