Snow

“Life is like walking through snow. Every step shows.”

— Jess Lair

Weather is often a “small talk” topic for conversation; you know, when that awkward first date gets a little TOO quiet. Or, how about when you’re traveling to visit friend. If it’s an unusually sunny day, your friends will say to you “Hey, you brought the sun with you!”

When I moved back to the States two months ago, the joke between Francesca, Vincenzo and I was how cold I would be. Living in the Mediterranean for 9 months, I had adapted to the hot weather and the freezing weather I was about to encounter in DC was not the good. 

As I stare out my apartment window, with the sun shining and the thermometer pointing to a warm 57, and as I stare at the National news and see pictures of Rome covered in SNOW - yes, I said SNOW. I think: “Marissa, you brought the weather with you”.

It hasn’t snowed in Rome for 25 years. 25 YEARS.  

This year, they get hammered with snow and DC feels like Spring.

Tell me you don’t believe in coincidence. Because I sure do.

I miss Rome, I miss Italy. 

Seeing the Colosseum under snow would be magical. 

But I like where I am for now and can dream about my next

visit to the motherland.

Italian Stallions

“Italian men are like show-poodles, sometimes they look so good, I just want to applaud.” -Liz Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

I’ve had a lot of people ask me about the “Italian Stallions”. 

‘Marissa, are they as beautiful as everyone says?’

 ‘Are those ‘rumors’ true?’ 

I lived among the beautiful Italian men we all here about when we watch movies, read books, or relive stories with our Italian grandmothers. 

Many people say: “There is no better-looking man than an Italian man.” 

And I can concur that after living in Italy for a year, and meeting all type of beautiful men, some of these men look as if they were hand-carved by the gods themselves. 

So, it’s time for a guilty-pleasure blog. For all my female friends - Go ahead and gaze upon the Italian men me and my friends have had in our life and then you can be the judge if you should dump your boyfriend and fly to Italy. :)

I Can Sleep On The Plane

As you grow older, you'll find the only things you regret are the things you didn't do.  ~Zachary Scott

After a long day, with the early morning fast approaching, it often seems like the best thing to do is curl up into my bed with a good book, or movie and settle in for a relaxing evening. At least it's probably the most responsible thing.

That was my plan Wednesday night after a long day in Rome; finalizing my trip home, last minute shopping, English lessons - I was worn out. But as I sat in the living room with Bea, Francesca and Vincenzo enjoying some of our last moments together, Francesca told me to get up, get dressed and go out with Sabrina.

“You can sleep on the plane,” she told me.

Sometimes responsibility needs to take a back seat and the moment in front of you needs to be seized.

It had been our plan; spend Wednesday night at one of the biggest night clubs in Rome with our friends - and then I changed my mind, told myself I was too tired. 

Too tired?!

I had 4 days left in Rome, and I was “too tired”??!

Sabrina wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she was right. If I wouldn’t have gone, I would have missed out on one of the best night I’ve had in Rome. 

Muccassassina, a 4-story Gay club in Rome; live shows, great music, and a night I’ll never forget. 

In the end, the decision to go with Sabrina was the right one. I’m not saying every Wednesday night you need to throw responsibilty out the door, but as I’ve mentioned in the past, sometimes you need to allow yourself pleasure - allow your cares to fade away and happiness to overcome your entire being, even if just for a moment - trust me, you won’t regret it. 

Christmas Time

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world 
and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” Norman V. Peale

Christmas in Rome is unlike anything I have seen. Truly, it’s as if pages from an old-time Christmas story have been fully replicated and placed along the cobblestone roads of this enchanting city. Lanterns and golden strings of lights line Piazza di Spagna as chestnuts roast on every corner. And when the evening begins to bring a chill, Romans escape the cold by ducking into a classic, warm cafe for hot chocolate. I’ve always said how incredibly beautiful Rome is at nighttime, but the Ancient Ruins of Rome seem to come alive, and with the glow of the moon, Christmas in Rome feels victorian, classic - and for all the Christmas’ I have seen, it’s the gentlest and most beautiful when in Rome. 

 

Aperitivos: A Beautiful Italian Tradition

“In a world of disorder and disaster and fraud, sometimes only beauty can be trusted. The appreciation of pleasure can be an anchor to one’s humanity.”

Learning to appreciate the simple things in life. Something I have learned while living in Rome - Understanding how to forget about disorder and disaster and take in the beauty surrounding me. For me, taking an aperitivo with my friends under the stars in Rome is one of my favorite Italian traditions and favorite ways to enjoy the beauty of such a wonderful place . I love spending an hour or two after work, laughing with my friends, forgetting our cares and concerns, all while sipping an Aperol Spritz.

I still remember my first Aperitivo in Calabria two summer’s ago; I was with my friends Jen and Natalie when we had no idea what an “Aperitivo” was. But when the waiter came out with plates of handmade Italian food and fruity drinks, I knew I would immediately enjoy ‘taking an aperitivo’.

Even today, whether I’m with my friends, or sitting at a cafe reading a book, there is a gentleness, a simplicity in sipping an Aperol Spritz and forgetting your problems, if only just for a moment. One thing is for certain, I will do my best when I come home, to continue this age-old Italian tradition and introduce my friends and family to what I consider to be one of the most enjoyable ways to enjoy “la bella vita”. All I need is to find a way to sneak Aperol in my luggage.....hmmmmm

My Little Sister

While we try to teach our children all about life,
Our children teach us what life is all about.
~Angela Schwindt

Eight months - eight months I have spent living in Rome, doing exactly as I expected; teaching English, learning Italian, eating gelato, drinking wine.

But one thing happened that I wasn’t completely ready for: becoming attached to a 4-year old bundle of happiness who has taught me more than I may have taught her. 

I’ve learned patience; that every little moment should be handled with care and consideration. I learned to appreciate the small things; talking a walk and picking flowers, playing on the swings for hours - all these activities plus so many more have lightened my spirit, brought joy to my heart.

As I pack my bags, and take down the pictures Bea has drawn for me, I reflect on our time together, and wonder when I will see her again. How old will she be? Will she remember our time together? Having a “little sister” is something to treasure forever and I can only hope I’ve made a positive impact on her. I look forward to seeing her grow and learn and even though I’m sad to leave her, I have no doubts I will see her again, because I don’t believe in “goodbyes”, just “see ya laters”

Just Keep Swimming

“Ogni mattina, in Africa, una gazzella si svelgia. Sa che dovra’ correre piu’ in fretta del leone o verra’ uccisa. Ogni mattina, in Africa, un leone si sveglia. Sa che dovra’ correre piu’ della gazzella, o morira’ di fame. Quando il sole sorge, non importa se tu sei un leone o una gazzella, sara’ meglio che cominci a correre.” - Thomas Jefferson

I read this proverb in Vincenzo’s bathroom a few months ago. When reading it the first time, I didn’t quite understand, then as my Italian improved, and I read it again - I understoond and I felt inspired; inspired to keep pushing, keep running forward, keep swimming. That no matter the circumstances, you just have to wake up every day and give it your best.

In a few short days, I will end my time here in Rome. 8 months have gone by like a flip of a page - another chapter of my story is coming to a close. It’s such a bittersweet feeling for me; as I talk with Bea and she tells me “Ti voglio bene”, or as I run along the beach with Sabrina and take aperitivo’s with my friends in the center of Rome. I’m not 100% ready to leave, but I know I have to leave. I know it’s time to pursue another dream. 

One thing is for sure: My love for Italy, for Rome, for “dolce far niente” is never ending, and will never end. I will always long for the days I spent roaming ancient ruins, shoping on Via del Corso, Sunday lunches and afternoon naps. I will long for the hot Mediterranean sun, espresso, Aperol Spritz; I will dream of Italian men, the beautiful Italian language that I have grown so fond of, and I will always cherish the time I spent with Beatrice and her family. 

Now is not a time to fear, if a chapter of your story is changing, or coming to an end - don’t be sad, cherish the memories you mad, but rejoice in the opportunity to grow. Change is inevitable, but what we do with the change is important; it doesn’t matter if you’re the lion or the gazelle, what matters is you keep running; you just keep swimming. 

“Every day in Africa a gazelle wakes up.
It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning a lion wakes up. It knows that it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death.
 It doesn’t matter whether you are a lion or a gazelle.
When the sun comes up, you better be running.”

An Italian Thanksgiving

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” 

~Thornton Wilder

I spent my first Thanksgiving away from my family yesterday. It was a strange sensation, not heading out with my friends on Thanksgiving Eve; not waking up to the smell of a roasting turkey; not watching the Macy’s Day Parade and, of course, missing out on my mom’s pumpkin bars. When you are so used to  traditions, I think it’s often hard to adjust. However, even though I was far away from home, I felt right at home as I spent my Thanksgiving with Bea’s family.

I did it all; roasted and stuffed a chicken (yes, a chicken, turkey is impossible to find), homemade stuffing and cranberry sauce, roasted potatoes, apple crisp - the works. All day, Bea and I cooked and prepared for her first Thanksgiving. And as the doorbell rang, my nerves went through the roof. I was happy to cook, and excited for everyone to indulge in an American tradition, but, cooking for authentic Italians - that’s another story! Not only was I cooking my first Thanksgiving, but I was cooking it for a culture famous for food and cooking. 

At the end of every Thanksgiving meal, the worst part is figuring out what to do with the leftovers, but as I looked around the table and saw the chicken had been demolished, the salad had finished, the apple crisp had disappeared and the cranberry sauce was no more, I realized my meal had been a success. 

So yes, I may have missed out spending my 23rd Thanksgiving at home, but I was able to introduce my new friends to a beautiful American tradition, and the best compliment I could get was watching the food disappear on their plates and their belts get a little tighter.  This was a blessing I will always be thankful for - a moment to treasure.