One thing I think I will never get use to is men in speedos. Seeing a professional swimmer wear a bikini cut, spandex material bathing suit to reduce water drag in a competition is one thing, but a beach full of white, black, blue, pink and even violet speedos, this season’s “color”, is too much. It’s not manly. It’s not sexy. In my opinion, it’s just plain wrong.
So my advice to European men: say NO to banana hammocks.
I will continue to write on a Traveler’s Terrene about general ideas and thoughts (and keep it going for when I take another big trip), but for everything related to my life in Italy you can go to my new blog: Italian Isolation.
From topics such as my passion to write a book to learning fluent italian, from whether Italian men are really stallions to where to find the best gelato–I plan to talk about it all. Think of me as your new travel spokesperson on life in Italy, and learn a little Italian along the way in the Italian vocabulary section!
Today my heart goes out to the victims of the L’Aquila earthquake. In less than 3o seconds, a 6.3 quake left 92 people dead with the death toll still rising, over 1,500 injured, thousands homeless and historic buildings dating back to the 13th century crumbled into ruins. A devastating and horrific event, only proving that life is full of unexpected events that you can never predict.
My prayers and thoughts go out to the victims, families, friends and rescue teams.
Standing outside a restaurant last week, my friend introduced me to a group of friends. While he turned to continue his conversation with another person I began to chat with one of the women.
Of course, our conversation started out by saying the introductory greetings of “Ciao/Hello…” “Come stai?/How are you?”….etc. Later in the conversation, I noticed her beautiful red necklace.
“Che bel collare!” I exclaimed.
I received a puzzled look from the woman. Then I pointed to her red necklace hanging around her neck.
“Oh!” She said a wide grin flashing across her face, “La mia collana.”
Ah yes…”collana” because “collare” means collar.
“What a beautiful collar!” …so…I basically just told the woman she looked like a dog. Awesome.
Instead of trying to back track and describe all of the amazing and incredible experiences of living in Italy for the past month and two days, I am going to simply flash forward to the present. Well, the present minus one day…last night…
I accompanied a handful of my new Italian friend to a birthday party celebration at a restaurant they had rented out for the evening. I planned to stay for dinner and afterward, while the rest of the fifty-some group of friends were going to a discoteca to dance, I was going to a fashion show! Yes, my night was beautifully planned out and I was looking forward to both occasions.
The dinner party started out great. A buffet of exquisite Italian appetizers: asparagus topped with polenta, varieties of focaccia and pizza, rice and pasta salads, veal layered with tuna spread and one of my favorites, l’erbazzone , a thin pastry bread filled with baked spinach.
The main course was on it’s way out of the kitchen and while the rest of the group had found their seats, there were four of us still standing in conversation. Unintentional, and certainly wine-induced, a fellow friend threw a piece of bread at the man standing in front of me to get his attention to join everyone at the table. Well, unfortunately he had horrible aim in hitting a large target and a surprisingly impeccable ability in hitting a bulls eye….that being my eye. Not above, below, to the left or right of my eye–but smack dab in the middle, and so quickly that my eyelashes didn’t have the opportunity to defend itself from it’s attacker: the sharp edge of a crusty piece of bread.
Time nor eye-drops made the pain in my eye go away and after a half an hour of not being able to open, or even see out of my left eye, I let a few friends drive me to the emergency room. The doctor cleaned my eye (to the point where I wanted to scream it hurt so bad) it then the pain was more or less abated. He prescribed some medicine to help heal the corneal abrasion and although I could get the gyst of what the doctor was saying, I was glad to have my friend Lucio there to translate, especially the dosage for the prescriptions. Fifteen minutes later, I was exiting the E.R. with my wallet still full of money—it didn’t cost a cent. Got to love Italian health care…I could only imagine the fees this little episode would set me back in the states.
Lessons learned: be thankful for every part of your body every second of the day as you never know when something unexpected like a piece of flying bread could change your life. Fortunately for me, this incident should clear up in a few days, but some accidents don’t. So, right now where ever you are, just count your blessing for the health you currently have.
It seems surreal that it has been three weeks since I left the States to start my new adventure: to live in Italy for a year! Last year I embarked on an 10 month around the world trip, this year I am in pursuit of fulfilling additional dreams to live abroad, learn fluent Italian and write a novel–something I have wanted to do for as long as I can remember but have never taken the time. When I look back on my life I don’t want to remember that I wanted to do something, but rather that I did that something. The fear of failure is the greatest failure in life. Why would you deny yourself the opportunity to try to achieve what your heart desires for fear that it cannot be done?
Sure, I may not achieve all of my endeavors, that is to be somewhat expected. However, with every pursuit I will certainly grow, learn and strengthen myself with the mere act of trying. The end result is a compliment for ones ego, but the passion that fills one soul in the process is the true reward. To feel alive with passionate hunger and desire is the only life worth leading, without feeling and emotion life is a stagnant line. I want to be a heart beat. A pulse. A movement in space that is always surging and never at rest.
Let the infinite possibilities of life consume me, my dreams engulf each moment I spend on earth, and give me determination and perseverance in maintaining an unwavering aim to lead a life of unrelenting passion and romantic adventure.
Building on my last post, it is no surprise that I love saying the word love. In fact, I use it constantly in my daily speech to describe things that I have a strong passion for or are very fond of. However, when I say this phrase in Italian, I get corrected on my grammar. Believe it or not, in the country known for their candid expression of love Italians don’t use this term like we Americans do. Instead of I love Florence, I love coffee, I love wine, they more often say either mi piace (I like) or adoro (I adore).
But I do love Florence I try to explain. I really really love coffee I contest. And, seriously, I not only love, but am in love with wine.
So, I apologize Italy. I love love….mi amo amore. So instead of correcting my grammar, can’t we just update the dictionary?
So I went to coffee with one of my new friends yesterday. I was quite proud of myself as he doesn’t speak any English whatsoever and I carried on 2 full hours of conversation (whoohoo, go me!). Although, definitely not without some rather embarrassing mistakes…
(Translated for you in English)
D: “So how do you like the family?”
C: “They are wonderful! The youngest girl is adorable and the twin… genitali..brother and sister are…
D: “Wait, genitali? Ha..ha…I think you meant to say gemelli..”
Ahhh…yes, because…oh, what do you know…genitali means genitals…gemelli means twins!
Ha..ha…ha…..good times! :-)
Yesterday marked my 9 month anniversary of leaving Seattle to travel around the world! It was an experience of a lifetime, an epic adventure. I freed the explorer inside me that has been restless since my childhood days when I explored the world in my backyard. I finally had the courage to say to that little voice…go on…PLAY! IMAGINE! CREATE! The world is your playground I told myself, it is a Traveler’s Terrene.
So here I am nine months later with some 50 gigs of photos, unforgettable memories, and a global network of new friends. I couldn’t have asked for a better experience. From the people I travelled with on different legs of the trip: my older brother “Mohawk Mark” (2 months in New Zealand), college friend and dance extraordinaire Brian (3 weeks in Thailand), my childhood next door neighbor and “Sister Zesma” Suzanne (5 months throughout Southeast Asia, Turkey, Croatia and Italy), my adorable Italian former roommate Ilaria (2 weeks in Milan and a long weekend in England) and the countless backpackers I met along the way where we travelled together for a few days before parting ways (you know who you are…I HEART you…and there are too many too name!)
At some point I’ll upload a wide selection of photos to Picasa and send a link, but for now, here is a snapshot of my trip as I Star Jumped and Toyota Kicked across the world!
I went to the gym earlier this month to check into prices for a membership. I took the price and class information and told them I would be back when the weather turned bad, I prefer to run outdoors. I spent the morning working on my novel, and when I got off work this afternoon didn’t dare explore country roads in the dark (boo to the sun setting earlier). I took out the flier I had picked up earlier and decided tonight was the night I would start my 7 day gym membership trial. What do you know, a 30 minute ab class starting at 8:15p.m. (which I definitely need) and an African dance class starting at 8:45p.m.
That’s kind of late isn’t it? I could stay indoors where it is warm and sit and watch t.v., I could curl up with a cup of tea and read a book or I could get on Facebook for countless hours chatting with friends–The excuses could continue…
“No, I say to myself. You’ve never taken an African dance class before. Why not try it out.” I had no idea what to expect.
After 30 minutes of ab crunching, I walked into a room with six others. It was a small class. My big smile as I entered the room lead to automatic introductions (and little did I know that the class was a progressive dance class, meaning the same six had been dancing together since June). I met Saneo, the dance instructor from Senegal, who was wearing bright red, green, yellow and purple balloon style pants. He had a contagious smile, and was ecstatic to practice the little English that he knew. Within moments, Elage, also from Senegal, was beating the hand drum with his hands, the tambourine type things connected to the drum shook in rhythm, as though a whole band was playing. Grazia, an Italian woman, stood next to Elage manning another two drums that she hit with a stick that had a ball attached to the end. The music was loud. It was fast. It made me want to dance. I removed my shoes so that I was barefoot like the others and stood in front of the mirror behind Saneo.
Within a few moments of the music starting, Saneo, started moving his body–warming us up. I watched. I imitated. I probably looked ridiculous, but in that moment I was loving life. I moved my arms, I stomped my feet in a way I have never done before. The warm up steps were liberating movements for my body–it was like a fast stand up version of yoga…stretching, pulling, feeling each muscle move.
Then, the beat changed. Each person went to pick up two wooden handsticks that had course straw-like string coming out the ends. We began to dance the KuKu, a fast paced dance. The rest of the class knew all of the moves. Me… I jumped, hopped, lunged, kicked and wailed my arms around, trying to learn in beat as I danced KuKu for the first time.
The beat changed again. As before, I mimicked my way through the second dance (can’t remember the name, it starts with a D, it sounded like Dorma). By this time, my heart was racing and I was glistening (as girls don’t sweat…we “glisten”) like I had just ran a marathon. It was one of the most fun and exhausting workouts I have ever had.
At the end of the class, I chatted with the others–they congratulated me on my dancing, amazed that this was the first time I’ve taken an African dance course. I promised to come back the following week, and am quite excited because Ejah is also bringing me a cd of African music to listen to! I had asked him about names of musicians I could download from iTunes, and he said he would burn me a cd of his favorites. I also made friends with two girls in my class who were completely thrilled when I suggested we meet for coffee in the future so they could practice their English (and of course, I could practice my Italian).
Had I stayed at home, I wouldn’t have found out how much fun and how great of a workout African dancing is. I wouldn’t be curious about listening to African music. And, I wouldn’t have made new friends, with whom I am going to meet for coffee.
I am glad I went. I am glad I challenged myself. So, my challenge to you is to take a dance class. Whether it be from your gym, a private lesson, or at the very least, get on YouTube and try dancing to the Kuku http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wuyhFuJ6IBk or any other dance you’ve always wanted to learn!
I hope many of you participate and don’t forget to leave me a note on how the challenge went!
