Bake Sale Update...!

So we had the bake sale. Now, I went in pretty unsure what to expect. I knew there were 88 seats in the theatre and I planned to be there two nights. I decided to sit outside between Winston-Salem Theatre Alliance and Bob's Big Subs and Pub at lunchtime Friday and Saturday. I set a goal of $250 for the whole sha-bang.

Some really great people donated all kinds of tasty treats, many of which I put in my fair share of donations to taste. A bunch of awesome people stopped by to get their own baked goodness. I met so many generous people over two days and WSTA and Bob's were such great hosts. And thanks so much to y'all for the the support!  So many people have been interested in the success of the bake sale and I'm happy to announce that we raised $283.32! That doubled is $566.64! All that for pediatric cancer research!

It's so crazy to think that this money that's going to help so many children came from sending a few emails and talking to some friends and sitting outside (in the most beautiful weekend weather) or at a theatre! So little effort and so much good done. If you were interested in hosting your own bake sale or are going to be a part of a holiday cookie exchange or have a couple of dollars to donate, check out Cookies for Kids' Cancer. They do wonderful work and are super helpful in planning. And now I can mark another event off of my list!

Calling all good cookies!

Alright, y'all! I need your help. Remember that 25 before 25? I'm still chugging along with that. I'm almost done with the second step of my dual citizenship (there are 29384 steps, it seems). I am working on that español, reading my Shakespeare, and working on a few other things simultaneously. But we've got a big one coming up FRIDAY and SATURDAY!

I'm working with Theatre Alliance of Winston-Salem on a bake sale and we are raising money for Cookies for Kids' Cancer on November 30-December 1 in connection with opening weekend of Sordid Lives (get your tickets here). Cookies for Kids' Cancer is a 501 (c)(3) that raises funds for pediatric cancer research. All of the funds will be matched by the OXO home supply and GLAD products companies! (If you plan on participating in a cookie exchange, check out the Cookies website to see how you can get them some money, too!) Our volunteers will be contributing their own goodies (and not just cookies!) so if you're in the area, please stop by!

On a more personal note, some people have asked why Cookies for Kids' Cancer. Well, in making my 25 before 25 list, I wanted a shout out to strong women and my alma mater Meredith College. My graduating class became extremely involved with this non-profit, the story of a Meredith sister and her heroic son, and it was a roller coaster ride I'll never forget. Gretchen Holt Witt gave the keynote address at my graduation and I remember feeling like she had make the most of what was delivered to her and went far beyond anyone's expectations. She and those working for Cookies for Kids' Cancer, formally as employees (who are all amazing to work with if you were interested in hosting your own bake sale!), or as other bakers just like my dear friends, or as donors, have made great strides towards helping children--and in an ingenious manner at that!

Relistening to Gretchen's speech and reading about Liam's all too short, beautiful life made me reflect on where I come from, the community I have around me, and the tremendous opportunities I can make for the better of others in the simplest ways. So back in August, I listed hosting a bake sale on my 25 things in an attempt to not make a completely selfish activities. It was a little gesture, but my how much I have absorbed from this moment in the attempts to serve worthily a cause so meaningful! The opportunities are endless for what each of us can do to improve the world. All it takes is that we have a little responsibility in respect to our neighbors.

I'd sincerely love to see you Friday afternoon from 12:30-3pm and before and after the shows which start at 8pm Friday and Saturday night. If you can't be there and still want to contribute to the cause, follow the link to make a donation on our giving page. A big thanks to Theatre Alliance for helping me cross another one off my list and to you good cookies for being along on the journey!

Update 29 November 2012: HUGE thanks to Robert and Bob's Big Gas and Subs for offering to donate some goodies for the cause. Y'all, those subs and baked pickles are the best!

Puglia

Recently G and I took a trip to Puglia. Southern Italy has always been fascinating to me in part because my ancestors are from there, but then again, it's a whole other Italy from the Tuscan world I've gotten so used to. The rub is that visiting the less-touristy regions is better done with a guide. And by guide I mean someone who has lived there for years. It's the only way to find the very best gems of the place. So when we received an invitation from Antonio, our dearest pugliese friend, and Bonnie, his wife--also American!--there was no way we could turn it down.

English Wiki for Puglia

We had originally planned to leave on the 7 hour car trip before the break of dawn on Wednesday morning, but after an urgent phone call from Antonio, we realized the only option was to leave on Tuesday after G's half day of work. Why? In order to eat at all of the houses and restaurants that we could not miss. At first I thought that was a little crazy, but having returned, I can see now that there really was no other way.

After a road trip filled with the Questions Game, learning tongue twisters, and watching the countryside change, we arrived at Antonio's father's house in time for dinner. The meal prepared for us was marvelous, but this night will be remembered as my official introduction to mozzarella cheese. That particular city is famous for its mozzerella and even has a big production plant where most residents work to send out their goodness to the world. I could not begin to describe how wonderful this snowy white cheese is in it's many forms. Mozzarella in milk, strips of mozzarella in cream, creamy mozzarella inside a normal ball of mozzarella wonder... I'd never had anything like it. Just trust me that it's good. Better yet, it's always fresh and always on the table.

In recovery/preparation, we planned on not doing much eating the next day, and so we started off the day with an espressino. Best. Invention. Ever. It's like a mini cappuccino that's a smidgen taller than an espresso. I usually don't drink coffee because my nerves can't handle it, but I think I had one of these nearly every morning. And so we set off on some sight seeing. Our first stop was to see the trulli. These little houses have been around since the 1700s, much more recent than I expected, but are way neat. You can see them all around the countryside, but we headed to a little town jam full of them.

Antonio, Bonnie, and the trulli!

Inside a trullo shop.

We continued on and kept eating little... unless you want to harp on that gelato I had at a world class gelateria for lunch. We explored this town Polignano a Mare and I fell in love. It's gorgeous! And on a hot day, it had the coolest breeze.

One thing I've learned this summer is that hot weather muddles the brain and makes the world a big foggy. But here, the blue water was so blue it seemed unreal. Tempted by the tons of people on this little beach, we headed to a place we never would have found called Porto Ghiacciolo to spend the rest of the afternoon. I'll let Bonnie's pictures speak here.

Smiles: what other proof do you need?

After a record cold and speedy shower and a swift change, we headed to eat, and boy, did we. This night was fish Dallo Squallo (The Shark's) and we had to go early just in case they ran out, because that's how it works. You snooze, you lose. I've eaten at places like that here in Italy before, but it's a good thing we got there when we did. We were the only customers when we arrived, but had to push our way out to a line trailing from the door only 10 minutes later. Anyway, we chose our food from here.

And they brought it to us looking like this. Although I only got a picture of the fried plate, all of it was great! We ate this wonderful meal in good company and then headed into the city. After a drink, we took a stroll around the city and found a bunch of people waiting. For what, you ask? FIREWORKS. ON. THE. SEA. Gabriele and I are the biggest firework fans and have really specific tastes about what a good firework show is all about: how the build up should go, which ones look good together, how it should feel, and when the rhythm and dissonance should play, and what the ending is like. This show was a real pleaser in all groups and it happened right before midnight... my birthday!

Now, I am not really sure how it happened, but celebrating my birthday is not something I like to do in the traditional sense. I'd prefer that it go completely unnoticed, but spent in company or celebration of something else. Timing makes Italy the perfect place for that as a national holiday is right around the same time. But after the fireworks, G and friends surprised me with a bottle of prosecco and I rang in my new year with good company.

Because we were out so late, we had a lazy start in the morning which was well enough for me. G surprised me, having Antonio and Bonnie transfer some presents and hiding the rest. Two sets of tickets to the theatre, a white board and colored pens for my organizational needs (also known as idiosyncrasies), and 12 American beers. Eventually we set off for Antonio's grandmother's house. My birthday falls on the feast day of the second patron saint of the city. We are in Italy after all, so lunch with the family is the perfect way to celebrate. We had a great meal (with mozzarella on the table, of course), but the general favorite was the eggplant parmigiana: a plate I've had many a-time, but it was just so good.

One of the funniest parts about this scene was that I felt so at home. The food was the same plates I had eaten in my family. The atmosphere around the table, so relaxed and welcoming. Quickly I was teasing and being teased along with everyone else, a quality at every table I sat down to in Puglia. My comfort made Gabriele's foreignness as a Tuscan in the South more obvious. Despite the heavy accent and very different dialect, I was understanding just as much as G, sometimes more. Looking across the table, we would translate for each other. A fun game to even out our skills: his knowledge of Italian language and culture vs. my ability to read people and to see the big picture. It was a great thing, having Antonio--the native--and Bonnie--the informed and experienced "foreigner-no-longer"-- to lead us both around. Through their tag team we were able to see things we never would have found and understand them through our everyday experiences.

After lunch, a walk around the town to see the cousins' new house, and a cool drink in respite from the heat, the four of us hopped in the car towards Matera. One of the other Fulbrighters was there and talked wonderfully of the town. Unfortunately Rebecca had already returned, so no reunion was had, but I was so glad to be able to put a space to her words. Boy, was she right! Now Matera is known for being the place where some film was shot, but let me tell you, it's so much more! We took a tour of an huge underground water cistern, then wandered around the twisting roads of the city. Just a couple of decades ago, Antonio told us, Matera was a wasteland and really dangerous. Walking around you could see some evidence of this time, but that only made the beauty even more shocking. We took a tour underground in the recently reopened cistern, which Matera was known for instead of the rocks. Afterwords, we dropped by a top-notch bed and breakfast worked into the caves. I wish I had taken some pictures, but it was stunning. After a stroll around, we headed back to the car and admired the wonderful and OLD olive trees that pepper the hills at sunset.

The valley was deep and scary!

Underground tour

The lines indicate how high the water was!

Choosing the meat...

After our trip to the sassi, the rocks for which Matera is famous, we headed back and prepared for dinner. Dinner was at a place generally called un forno to have a meat-filled dinner. The process for the oven is that there's a butcher, you tell him what kind of meat you want, he cuts it up, then it's sent to the restaurant's kitchen next door. If you hate meat, you're going to hate the rest of this post, but it's really a different experience to see the fresh meat go from butcher to plate. That trip is one of the reasons to love Italy.

Where some of it was cooked.

The super particular thing about this place wasn't just how the food was prepared, but what we ate. It was horse. Now some of you might just hate me or think I'm cannibal material like my parents did. Italy's not everything you expected, huh? But if you'll indulge me for a minute, the city we went to eat is best known for these restaurants and the meat was very lean and simply well cooked. The first plate however was a bit hard for me to swallow: raw slices of the thinnest cut meat we "cooked" in lemon juice and ate with oil, salt, and cheese. In the end, I give that plate distinction to cross off Goal #15: Eat something really different from my 25 before 25 list. The meal went on with so many different plates. I just barely lost an eating contest to G, but got applause for my American eating skills. But so much was eaten that we walked to the bar across the street for a Padre Peppe, Puglia's pride and joy, to help us digest before dropping into bed.

Our last day in Puglia was spent soaking up the sun at the beach with Antonio and Bonnie. The beach was jam packed with people, going at the heart of vacation season, but we were able to find some sand to lay out on our towels. We even got a pedal boat which we took out into the ocean. The waves were a bit much for me and we had to dodge the windsurfers who zoomed by, but it was a ton of fun! Plus getting away from some of crowds and just hanging with good friends makes any day beautiful.

That evening we had quite a meal: quartered sheep. We went to a bare house in the countryside where people had been cooking all day long in a wood stove. Fun fact: sheep can only be eaten during the summer when grass is dry and the meat is at its tenderest. It was a lot of food... again, but oh-so good. Maybe better than the sheep was the potatoes and the other goodies made by our hostess. Them, on top of the company, great conversations, and hearty laughs, lightened up the night.

We took a trip the next morning to the panificio to grab some yummy southern bread and everyone had a nice laugh when I tried to order some. Who knew how many choices and new words there were all around different types of bread?! These people take this stuff seriously. A lunch with Antonio's aunt and uncle, who graciously gave us a bed to sleep in during our trip, put a nice end parenthesis on our whirlwind Puglia tour. G and I headed back north, stopping to see some of the very best theatre I have seen in my life, Julius Caesar, at our very favorite Globe replica in Rome--a birthday present from someone who knows me very well.

Summary: Puglia is a place full of warm people who justifiably take so much pride in their food culture, but it's important to remember the beaches and other beautiful landscapes certainly add a lot. My trip to the heel, "real Italy" as Antonio calls it, was definitely a trip to remember.

Challenge Update #1

It has been over a couple of months since I started my 25 before 25 challenge. I'm back in the US of A, quite far from being settled, and long overdue for an update, so here we go:

Goal #5: Complete a half marathon.
Starting out, my central goal was the half marathon. I started out by chosing a race and conveniently found one at home. I gave myself fourteen weeks of training.. I got advice from half finishers, which is SUPER helpful. I welcome any others to just reach out and chat!I looked up a few training schedules and decided to loosely follow a few, while listening to my body. I pushed myself, but am not looking for an injury out of obligation to a program. I read a lot of articles and message boards on running conditions, eating habits, stretches, and the like.

The actual training was a roller coaster. I was really loving it for the first few weeks, running or working out 6 days a week. Then came a week which was really difficult. It started with looking over the map of my chosen race with G. Most of my runs are just intangible numbers made up of distance and a time. Looking at the map, I envisioned myself running from one place to another and it suddenly felt reallllly long. That was followed by a rough post-long run recovery.

I got over that and really enjoyed saying good-bye to Italy while running the Tuscan hills. I really don't believe there is a better place to run, even if I have to walk up the second half of a hill every once in a while. The view is worth every bit of it.

Unfortunately I got off my schedule so the half is put off until the spring. I'm running sporadically since I'm not much of a fan of my neighborhood's dog policy, but looking for new places. Going to do a 5k in a week and a 10k before winter and keep myself in shape for a good half in the spring. Suggestions?

Goal #7: Obtain my dual citizenship...
I am moving along with my dual citizen application. Some of the paperwork has already started arriving. As of today all of the other documents have been requested. I have made a (generous) timeline for when each step should finish up and an appointment at the Consulate in Philadelphia. I have chosen to go along the cheaper route rather than the quick one, which means applying by mail and waiting 4-6 weeks rather than paying $45 a pop and waiting only a few days. Considering I've had to request 9 documents total, the former plan didn't seem to be an option. This part has cost just over $200 and as a owner of private college debt who is looking for employment, I gotta be prudent, y'all. Plus I've got the time and the thrill of the chase exhilarates me.

So far the coolest thing has been playing with the original documents over four generations. We stumbled upon my Great-Grandma Rosie's birth certificate. It was written on a regular piece of legal paper, not a real form. She was born in New York, but the wildest thing--her birth certificate was written in Italian! And the calligraphy... It's GORGEOUS! And when my grandpa was looking through the papers, he told me a story about how his parents used to signal to each other that they were headed to the subway by putting the blinds up and down. Imagine a time before cell phones! Great story about "where there's a will, there's a way," huh? I've already started warning my family about sessions of story telling for Goal #24: Start a "Family Stories" project, recording my favorite family myths and memories.

Goal #1: Read the complete collection of Shakespeare's plays.
I have been reading Shakespeare, but to not burn out I have kept other books in the rotation. I have always been a big reader and perfected following several stories at a time at age 10. I re-read Midsummer Night's Dream and then finished up Measure for Measure in addition to a few more. If you are interested, find me on Goodreads, my favorite book review/networking site. I am working on Twelfth Night with my friend Sean in the most untraditional book club, and saw a tremendous version of Julius Caesar and a poorly directed, yet phenomenally acted As You Like It in Italian at the Globe Theatre replica in Rome. Both got me pumped to read them for myself.

Goal #15: Eat something really different.
In awesomely disturbing and tasty way, I completed this one. My very first challenge completed!!! I've been working on this story for a good while but I'm not quite sure how to tell you all about it. I won't cross it off the list until I've written about the experience, so stay posted.

But if you want to introduce me to any other food, read a play with me, or have anything else to say about my 25 before 25 list, leave a comment or contact me some other way. Looking forward to hear from you!

The Bicycle Thieves

If you have never heard of it, the title of this post refers to a classic Italian film I wholeheartedly suggest for those who enjoy foreign, black and white films whose ending does not resemble mine in any way.

When I arrived in this little town where G has lived his whole life, he set about teaching me the ways of the land. Where to go for this or that. How to act. The usual decorum of the land. Among these lessons, I learned that 1) a bike was necessary and 2) that it was a safe place. I had already inherited a bicycle from my friend and former roommate Linda and coming from Florence I was looking forward to using it without the super high traffic density, so we packed up my old rusty blue bike (or MORBB) and brought it to our little home. But he also told me, don't you worry about locking it up because in this small town everyone would see what happened.

Still in my big city mindset, I was a bit unsure about this idea. I tried it out at the grocery store, 5 minutes from home. All the other bikes were unlocked, I thought, so I left MORBB on the rack and kept my lock inside. I went in and when I came out, all was well. I repeated this several times, at other stores, in other parts of town, all to the same results. I started to feel safe in this small town.

People teased me and MORBB. "It's ugly," they declared. "Who would ever want that rusty old thing?" they exclaimed. "Do the breaks even work?!" they challenged. I was just glad to have MORBB. It worked--erm, well enough--and I was happy to have a companion in my exploration of the small town. Despite lacking lights, reflectors, and having only the bottom half of the bell (rendering it useless), we shared memories together and it got me from one place to another, skidding or huffing, whatever you may call it.

One day I met G "downtown" to learn a bit more about my dual citizenship goals at the city offices and I didn't lock my bike, as per usual. After the appointment, we went around, trying to escape the heat, and I left MORBB where it was. Wrapped by my security blanket this small town had become, I knew nothing would happen to it.

They say hubris ruins people. They are right. When I returned to the center to retrieve MORBB in the hot sun which I thought could only be reserved for the Sahara, MORBB was nowhere to be found. I walked home heartbroken. My solace from the sun came only from the tears on my cheeks. I already missed MORBB.

And so the search began. G called his parents right away and G's dad, a hunter, went out on his bike to find MORBB. G made trips looking for MORBB each morning before departing our small town and upon coming back from work.

Maybe someone saw MORBB abandoned and rode it a while before leaving it somewhere else. Maybe a young kid had taken MORBB, not understanding what it meant to me. Maybe--oh goodness, no!--someone had taken MORBB to another little town to be sold. G and his father the hunter continued to search. They assured me MORBB would be found. I had already said goodbye in my heart to MORBB and had little hope.

Saturday morning, G received a call from his father the hunter who said he found a dark looking bike that might be mine. My heart soared! Could he really have found MORBB?! I recollected myself and thought logically. Could he really have found MORBB??? I asked G where his father the hunter was as I slipped on my tennis shoes, just in case I could ride MORBB back home. G explained that his father the hunter had brought the possible bike home. "But what if it's not MORBB?!" I blurted. I ruminated on someone else loosing their MORBB.

My stomach tightened as we approached G's parents' house. His father the hunter was sitting outside with one of his ferocious hunting dogs just waiting for us. "If this isn't yours, I guess we'll have to take it back," explained his father the hunter, opening the garage door.

"That is definitely not my bike."

There sat a beautiful shiny new bike with a basket up front. The seat wasn't cracked or weathered from spending ages outside. Lights and reflectors were whole and attached right where they were supposed to be. And there, sitting sweetly on the handle bars, was a tiny little bell on the left and a 7 gear changer on the right.

"That REALLY is not my bike."

"But I kind of remember it that way," says G's father the hunter.

"Now that you say that," G begins, "I kind of remember it that way, too." Now since he spent HOURS changing the break pads and a tire on MORBB, I know there is no way he could mistake it for this gift from Heaven.

Slowly it starts to dawn on me. I can't believe it. I want to cry. I take my new bike, a gift from G's parents, on a ride up and down the street, beaming like an 8 year old. I couldn't be happier. My shiny new bike couldn't be more elegant.

MORBB was really stolen. Sometimes I take a little giro around the town looking for it for sentimental reasons, smiling happily on my shiny new bike. Moral of the story: Don't trust G. Lock up everything.

And don't worry. G's father the hunter bought me a new shiny lock for the shiny new bike, too.

The Challenge

I am now 24 years old. I can generally say that I'm pretty proud of myself but I have a lot of growing yet to do, so I set myself a challenge. The idea is not my own (my friends Kellie and Heather set a precedent), but I've gone and taken the brilliancy and decided to adapt it just for me. I have decided to make a list of 25 things I want to complete before turning 25. They have little rhyme or reason. Some of them are things I've always wanted to do. Others are things I think I should do or couldn't imagine doing without even the most arbitrary of reasons. Mostly I just want to get as much as I can out of this year.

I've worked the list to the bone and have come up with 24 challenges with which I feel satisfied, but I'm taking suggestions for the last one. There's no rush. I'm giving myself until mid-February to set the last goal, but if something hits you while reading this post or in passing and you say, "Gosh, that'd be a cool '25 Before 25' challenge" you know how to get in touch with me.

Also, you will read that some of the projects are small and really personal. Others are big scale and I'll be looking for support. I plan on posting updates here and will use this blog as a source to call for help. Plus I made a new page to keep track of completed missions. If there's anything you feel really inspired about helping with or want to join in on, the more the merrier! Contact me by email (samanthacibelli[at]gmail[dot]com), message me on Facebook, or leave a comment below. Looking forward to what the next year brings!

And without further ado, my 25 Before 25:

1. Read the complete collection of Shakespeare's plays.
2. Learn to speak conversational Spanish--and don't lose my Italian!
3. Travel to Budapest, Hungary.
4. Sponsor a bake sale for Cookies for Kids' Cancer.
5. Complete a half-marathon.
6. Cheer on the Carolina Panthers at the Bank of America Stadium.
7. Obtain my Italian dual citizenship... and learn their national anthem.
8. Take a trip to Paris, France with G.
9. Become a "connoisseur" of beer: how it's made, what distinguishes different types and tastes, etc.
10. Organize a community service project for U.S. military families.
11. Go on a date with Dad.
12. Write an editorial that is published.
13. Visit some people at local nursing homes who don't have regular visitors. Make new friends.
14. Conquer my fear of heights.
15. Eat something really different.
16. Surprise Mom with something special.
17. Be a part of some art form, preferably on-stage.
18. Find a way to honor Papa.
19. Get a full-time job and flesh out my knowledge about money.
20. Present/write about my Fulbright project.
21. Keep my pact to Jason.
22. Compose my personal mission statement and brand.
23. Watch the "Must See Movie List." (Suggestions invited!)
24. Start a "Family Stories" project, recording my favorite family myths and memories.
25. **To be determined.**

I long, as every human being does, to be at home wherever I find myself. - Maya Angelou

I've moved! In the interest of saving a little bit of money, I transferred to the little apartment in the Tuscan hills with Gabriele for these two months. Talk about an adventure!

Siena, the city I studied and lived in on my other sojourns to Italy, is right nearby, but I'm settling in here about 20 minutes away in a much smaller town. First up was the chore of finding some space for me and my stuff in this little apartment. We stretched our imaginations and abilities, and G transformed a shelving unit into an awesome hanging space for some old clothing for potential costume parties... Some adjustments and sacrifices were made by both parties, quite willingly, although the timely finding of this article made some moments almost comical.

But now that that's worked out, my sights have been set on getting to know this little town. It's fairly small, but there's plenty for me to explore. Where do I get a hair cut? Found a new hair dresser! Where can I buy the best quality fruit and veggies? In under two weeks, I've already been there three times. Where can I find a replacement part for the sink? Discovered that store, too. Going about trying to make acquaintances in a new place is hard sometimes, but by now I should be a pro, right?

Mostly, I get around by bike. Luckily my dear friend Linda left me her bike in Florence, which also got some tender loving care from my handy man. Going around Florence was rough though between the cobblestones and crazy drivers. Here things are a lot easier, so I don't mind going to the edge of the town, even if I look like the weirdo on the bike. Plus, I'm learning quickly how the streets flow together and how to get from one part of town to another, which will certainly comes in handy for my driving lessons.

Yup, I'm learning how to drive, again thanks to G. Of course I have my license in the US, but I never knew how to drive a standard manual shift. In order to get around here where automatic cars are difficult to find, I'm learning how to juggle a clutch, "joy stick," and hand brake. After an amount of time in deserted parking lots, I've made it to the roads in short periods of time. Working my way up, slowly but surely.

So far my only friend in our little town is our next door neighbor, Signora Adriana. For now we mostly talk about the weather and her family, but she now remembers my name so things are looking up. Plus I'm hatching a few plans in my head on how to make some more. Sometimes I feel like that makes me creepy, but I know you all have done that some time. Don't lie! Yet a few times I've met someone new only to be greeted with something along the lines of "I've heard talk about you." Certainly not the most settling thing to hear. Considering that, to my knowledge, I am increasing the town's population of United States citizens by 100%, I am assuming that's my preceding reputation, but with this being my first time living in a small town, I can only imagine what's to come.

The best day so far was a few days ago, August 10, La Notte di San Lorenzo. The Night of the Shooting Stars! When G came home from work, we made a delicious picnic of Mexican food (new recipes!), resourcefully using the black beans and bell peppers left over from other dinners. Cooking time was spent singing and dancing to some sweet tunes and then out into the countryside to eat, to drink, and to watch the stars. I definitely won on sightings, wracking in somewhere around 20 in a couple of hours. We talked and sang and talked some more. G protected me from unknown animals. We had a blast.

All in all, it's everyday life here and that's all I have to report for now about my new home. Above's a picture I took, without editing, on the way home one day. It's hard not to love something so beautiful. Keep checking back for updates!

Today is the day.

Today is July 30th.

Today is the day several months revolved around: the day I would leave Italy again.

I've blogged a lot about my life decisions, revelations, and changes here, so I figured why not add a few more? And so the story begins:

My Fulbright year could be defined in many ways, but as I reflected the most fitting word is "challenge," be it referring to both the stand taller with a puffed chest type and the "am-I-ever-going-to-get-through-this?" moments. There was challenge everywhere. Challenge in my work. Challenge in my personal life. Challenge in my path to know myself. Challenge in living on another continent. I realized, maybe later than some or just in a different way, that growing up is hard. There are lots of things to do, many more than could ever be done in one lifetime, and so with that comes priorities and hard life choices. And that became my biggest challenge.

Among the series of challenges I fell into or created for myself, I started to doubt the plans I had set. Who knows why, but it was like a slow developing bacteria. A serious talk with a friend, a family member, or an acquaintance now and then grew in number and emotion. Soon attacks came more frequently and were stronger. My resolve strengthened and imploded on itself so often that I started to doubt my whole person and that, above all, made me unhappy. The only thing I could gather was that something had to change. So I took off the cruise control and pulled off the road to look at the map. My route had to change.

So then in May I emailed the professor at Western Washington University and informed her that I would no longer be attending the Experimental Psychology program. It was one of the hardest decisions I've made to date because it meant saying goodbye to something I still found interest in, but just wasn't a priority. The fear of making the "wrong" decision filled me with anxiety because WWU was an atmosphere and a setting that I wanted, that I had worked towards. Alas, I had found in my reflection more of a desire to add to community planning or policy change than I did to grow within an academic environment. Some work here in Florence with a conference called Diversi. E Allora? (Different. So what?) really enlightened that area inside my consciousness.

After that, I realized that I had to get to work. I have student loans to pay, after all. Which brings us to another more humiliating thing to admit: after all of this time, my project still isn't done. I got lost in theory. I made my life harder. I stumbled over my ideas and got discouraged instead of cleaning them up. I wanted so much and then didn't know how to ask for help. I could skip out of town or buckle down and make things work. In reflection I realized how much I had learned reading and not, interviewing and not, writing and not. This time with some real help from Gabriele--the person who knows best how to give it to me straight... in the nicest way possible, I recognized how much of a shame to my experience and a general disappointment to myself it would be to not complete a project. Plus I would feel so much better citing things I had learned from a finished product at job interviews.

And so today is the day I didn't leave Italy again. At least for now.

If there is a purgatory, this is it.

Today I went to the post office. I've talked a lot about the post office because it's a place no one really visits while being here for a short period of time, and, well, they are really Italian. At my particular branch you enter and take a number from one of three sections (finances, where you pay bills among other things signified with the letter "A"; banking, because the Italian post office also has a bank system, which have the letter "F"; and sending, for, you know, doing normal post office things, which is accompanied by the letter "P"). When I usually go, it's always a toss up what I'm going to find, but I'm usually pretty sure it's going to be a wait. If I'm both lucky and go at really unpopular times like early during lunch time or Friday evening, I usually only have to wait for 15 minutes. Tops I've been there for 45+ minutes before being called. Trips usually lean more towards the side of eternity than not. Usually I bring a book or my journal. Often I tweet. Anything to pass the time.

Today I went around 6pm. I'd never been there at that hour and thought I'd pass by. If there were too many people, I figured I'd head there tomorrow. I scan the room and find about 5 people waiting. I go to take a number. Of course there was a choice to make. Do I take an A for the bill I had to pay, or a P for the letter I had to send? Most times I take both, but I started with A244 and found that on the list of numbers recently called my number there was A243 making mine next up. I sat myself down without getting a second number. At least the place is one of the few here that has good air conditioning. People, it's hot here.

Anyway, the time stamp on my ticket was 17:55/5:55. Around 18:15/6:15 some girl jumps toward an open counter to ask if any A's will be called. P134. P135. P136. The woman sitting next to me had P137. She came in at 17:52/5:52. Apparently in this office they mostly pull numbers by order of arrival, but that's not always the case. Certain counters have certain functions. They can do it all, but they don't. Then there are people who jump the line. Why? Because they have something "urgent" or they just have a "quick question" that turns into being helped. After all, we are still in Italy.

So finally at 18:23/6:23 my number is called. Everyone with an A number behind me is saying "Finally, we're moving." I offer my bill to pay and ask if I can also get a stamp. She said of course. I take out my cash and she asks me if I'm paying my 75 euro water bill in cash or using a bank card. I tried once using the bank card, but apparently they discriminate about that, too. I didn't have this tiny design on the back so I had to withdraw from the ATM outside. "Cash," I reply.

In the meantime, a man walks up and asks if he can have the bag. "All of it?" she whispers. "Yes, I'll take all of it." He isn't an official. I don't know who he is. The woman goes in the back room, comes back with a medium sized shopping bag from a retail store. They start talking about lawyers and contracts. I white noise them because I don't want to be privy to any information I shouldn't be. Six minutes pass in this hushed conversation. The man walks away.

The woman returns to my aid, printing out the postage for the letter. I wrote down the address exactly as my friend had given it to me. Apparently I missed something he didn't write.

The woman asked me, "This is going to Holland, right?"
"No," I said quietly, trying not to avert the other clients, "it's going to Afghanistan."
"What?"
I clear my voice and raise it half a decibel. "This letter is for a soldier in Afghanistan."
"But the state isn't written!" she exclaims.
"Va bene. Okay. I can write it. Or I can just take it back and ask him again. Either way."

Maybe she didn't hear that last part. I'm not sure what happened, but the next thing I know this woman he got up and went to the two other women with clients and is "asking" what she should do. But really this asking is more like complaining. And she's doing it very loudly. I can feel everyone's eyes on me. Especially the other A's. My cheeks get hot. Despite the cool atmosphere, sweat starts to appear on my hands. A real Italian would have turned to someone nearby and pleaded their case. I can't even turn around to face the A's. I purposely don't pay attention to the words they are saying, a skill I now realize that I have clearly perfected. I hate that Italians seek to publicly shame, but it's part of their way. Especially postal workers. I think it's a job requirement.

After another two minutes in which her colleagues scream their advice and commiserate with her about just how impossible it is to send a letter without a state, she explains to me that this letter cannot, in fact, be sent if the state to which it is being sent is not known.

"But I know where it's going. It's going to Afghanistan."
"Oh." She pauses. "And this address in the corner of the letter is yours?" she says while pointing to the address of the street around the corner, followed by "Firenze, Italia."
"Sì." I say. "That is me."
"Ah, well, we didn't understand each other."

Yeah, something like that...

A Masterpiece.

In my search of integration, I have gotten obsessed with learning about the kitschiest parts of Italian culture and recently I was introduced to some of the very best of the worst best that I just had to share it with y'all.


I decided this post needed to be written while Lindsey and Chris were visiting from Pescara. We went to a restaurant and I heard what is possibly one of my favortie Italian songs of all time: Insieme by Mina. In all honesty, months ago I wouldn't say that Mina belonged in this category. She is a wonderful artist with an amazing voice. And I'm such a fan of the lyrics on top of it all. My German friend Linda gave me some of her music and I went through periods where I would play it non-stop. Her hit Parole, Parole, Parole will really get stuck in my head sometimes, but in the good way. While talking over these songs with Gabriele, he finally showed me some of her performances on YouTube. I can't believe I had never thought to watch her before. I'd say she certainly knows how to work a camera. But the strangest part is that at some point she decided not to make any more appearances on television after a huge success there. What a character! I consider her along the Barbra Streisand persuasion, maybe because they are contemporaries with strong pipes.


Gabriele caught on to my enthusiasm for early 70s Italian music and reintroduced me to Raffaella Carrà. I had first heard one of her songs a few months back at a private concert by Pilar, which ended in a wonderfully amusing scene between the sweet voiced Pilar and the host of the concert dancing. The dance happened because the song she sang is called Tuca Tuca and is accompanied with a dance I'd consider a more intimate version of the macarena. Gabriele explained that this song was often played at school dances when he was in middle school (which just made me giggle a lot). Turns out Raffaella is a gay international symbol a la Madonna as a dancer with catchy songs that are popular not only in Italy but also Spain, Brazil, Greece, Russia, and elsewhere. She was also in trouble back in the day with the Vatican because she was the first womanin Italy to ever show her belly button on television! Che scandolo! Anyway, after hours of more clips, I knew I wanted to share a bit with you, but this video sealed the deal. Ladies and Gentlemen: Raffaella on the tour of Italy in Tanti Auguri. A masterpiece.

Say "duty" five times fast.

I have far too many things to write about that are greater adventures, but I wanted to tell a fun little story here for two reasons: 1. To remember it myself; 2. To give you all a chance into my daily life.

The theme of this story centers around the blunders one learns while learning to speak Italian.

As most of you know, today is election day in North Carolina for some primaries and a really big issue known as Amendment 1. Because I feel strongly about this issue and am even more aware of my citizenship while living abroad, I made sure to do my civil duty and get my absentee ballot. Not having a printer, I've had to visit the cartoleria, or paper shop, to do all of my printing, faxing, and scanning.

In years (let's be real, months) in the past, I was so insecure with speaking to strangers that this would have been a near-impossible task. Speaking to unknown people involves spontaneous changes in conversation, unknown words, and sometimes impatience and even bigotry. Plus my need to be right always put a damper on chatting with someone new. But after all this time here, I've mostly gotten over all of that. Some people are just not going to have the will to talk to a straniera like me.

Thankfully, though, the young and older man that work in my local paper store aren't like that at all. I've gone in about 7 times since October to handle paperwork, and although we had never had a conversation before yesterday, they were always patient and kind with me. So I walk in the store tranquillamente with my pen drive, ask for them to print a document, and say I'd like to fill it out and then I need to scan it. Both of these men jumped back a bit so I insisted that it'd be really quick, but then I needed to scan this document.

The young man took my pen drive, printed out my ballot, and I stepped to the side to fill it out while he helped someone else. When I finished, I handed over the papers to the young man and he went to the fax machine. I pointed to the scanner and said, "Excuse me, I wanted--" to which the older man interrupted, "Yes, I remember," and the young man laughed, excusing himself for forgetting. Great customer service, right?

I thought so, too. Then I got a whopping dose of humility with a language lesson:

Old man: You know why I remember you wanted a scan?
Me: No, why is that?
Old man: Because you wanted to use the word scannerizzare but said scannare.
Me: Oh, excuse me, you're right....
Old man: Do you know what scannare means? (He chuckles.)
Me: No, what does it mean?

At this point I'm getting nervous thinking of all the things I could have said.

Then the old man takes a pen in hand and holds it up to his neck, demonstrating how I wanted to skewer slaughter really quickly after having my document printed. Cue laughter and blushing. Remember that great customer service? The young man insisted it was okay. I decided his job must be really tough since he admitted it's difficult for him to hear the difference between "sheet" and, well, some other word starting with "sh" and ending with "t."

A Return Post

I just checked. The last time that I posted was in September. I'm sorry for all of you that have checked back here and those who have requested an update. October brought some struggles with my grandfather passing away. In November was my first Thanksgiving (and favorite holiday!) away from my family. And in December I missed a very special birthday, got a new roommate, stood by the phone as my brother was entered boot camp, and couldn't help but think about my empty nest parents on their first Christmas without either Jason or me. (Read: I got homesick for my people.)

Meanwhile, there was some real personal adjustment happening within me. I have been learning how to live in an apartment on my own. On the other side of the world. First time paying all of the bills. First time budgeting money. First time shopping for food and feeding myself. Not an easy adjustment to do these things for the first time, but how about in another system? I mean, you think about standing in line for at least half an hour to pay bills at the post office and get back to me if you still think I'm a wimp. Not to mention all of this living is done in another language. One that I'm getting better at, but am still quite far from being an expert. And as for making new friends? I have them and the ones that I have are great (truly AWESOME!!!), but it is a process to create a whole new network of people in a completely new place. (Which is both unsettling and exciting when I think about a move to Washington state in my future.)

And finally, there was my work. Having been out of a good, solid schedule for the almost year I spent at home, I found that I had really lost a great number of my skills as a super productive human being. Not to mention, I set out with this massive project in mind with a loose infrastructure of support on this side of the pond. Don't get me wrong, my professor is great and I have wonderful friends and colleagues in the two other ladies in my lab. But I had to teach myself a new area of the identity research that I loved and didn't have anyone to discuss some of my confusion in the theories. That left me feeling like a fish out of water for sure. As a response, I've also reached out to my professor-to-be in Washington who responds with all the patience and enthusiasm I could ask for in someone who doesn't even owe me anything.

But it's not all woes and tears! I'm happy to say that I'm well on my way to standing on my own. I feel like it all started in a crawl, I'm cruising, slowly pick up speed, and ready to storm straight ahead. Like I said, I have made some wonderful friends and am always opening myself up to new ones through a variety of experiences. My research is moving along. I started volunteering and am enjoying getting to know different women while putting some of my own life in order. I am less self-conscious about speaking Italian in general, but especially to strangers. I got over the homesickness hump and have been making Firenze a familiar place.

Here are some of the highlights during my blog black out, some of which I hope to fill you in on much better later:

Fulbright Orientation in October: Here's a picture of most of us on the Spanish Steps. I met the other borsisti, had some great laughs, and made some new friends.

 

Friendsgiving 2011: Linda and I cooked for two days and we had a feast with all my favorites--food and people alike. I was the turkey assistant at Thanksgiving 2010, but orchestrating it for the first time was a lot to handle. It wouldn't have worked without the wonders of technology and the wisdom of Grams. In the end, I filled up my plate three times and cried because it tasted like home. 

Protest against razzismo: There was an incident here in early December against some Senegalese men and the people of Firenze came out to show how they feel about that. This moment turned out to be a defining one for this city, this community, and my project.

Visit from Corinne: After a total of ten months spent in this country over three years, I had my first official visitor to Italy. Ever. And Corinne and I had a blast in a whirlwind tour of Firenze and Siena.

Christmas: I spent it with my dear boyfriend Gabriele and his family. I'm only sad that I didn't get pictures of the pheasant, dove, and pigeon we ate. I'd never have thought I'd say this, but it was so, so yummy! But easily my favorite part was his amazement (and mine!) to follow the scavenger hunt to his Christmas present in his own house.

New Year's Eve: One of my roommates Laura is Spanish and co-hosted a semi-traditional Spanish New Year's Eve feast. At midnight we ate a grape at every strike of the clock that is meant to represent the respective month of the coming year. I didn't know that until after the fact and was so busy shoving down grapes, 2012 is still going to be a surprise for me.

Private Concert with Pilar: A friend invited Gabriele and I to a private concert, but since he was playing with his band I went with my roommate Giorgia. This artist named Pilar was easily the greatest voice I have ever heard. No pictures from the evening, but here is one of the songs she sang. It was such an intimate experience to sit on the floor with 30 other people in someone's house for an unplugged performance by candlelight!

Visitor's Galore: I had an awesome overlap of friends come to visit at the end of January. First was Natasha and her husband James. Natasha is one of the friends I made during my tenure at Winston-Salem Theatre Alliance. Then one of my best friends and my very first Meredith friend Lauren came to visit. You can find her recount of some of our adventures here (which you should go see since I didn't take any pictures and would just be stealing hers).

Valentine's Day: Gabriele and I had our first Valentine's Day together. We decided that we would stay in and try our hands at some new recipes. Despite being total novices in the kitchen, we lucked out and had an absolutely delicious three course feast of seafood. He did the first course, I made the second (even though the first was way better), and then surprised each other by both having our own dessert. Plus he got me the best looking and smelling (!) bouquet of I have EVER over which everyone on the train ride home was jealous. Just look at that table!

Trip Home: I went to the land of Freedom and Liberty for two weeks. It was easily the fastest time has ever passed for me. I had no intention to return to the United States during my Fulbright year abroad, but when my brother decided to be a Marine, he was whisked away to boot camp at a time when I started to recognize just how important my family was to me. So I took a wild trip, going straight to Parris Island before even seeing home, and surprised my favorite Marine for his graduation. We are so very proud of him!

Las Fallas: Soon after my return from the States, Gabriele and I took a long weekend to Valencia, Spain. In all of my trips to Italy, I had never been outside of the boot, and after hearing the raving over the festival I was determined to go. And Gabriele wanted to come along having been there the year before. Despite being on antibiotics the entire trip, Gabriele was a great tour guide and we had such a wonderful time!

March Madness: In my desire to bring my culture to my little Florentine world and introduce it to some international friends, the NCAA tournament came to Tuscany along with some traditional game time food like the almighty Buffalo chicken wings. In respect to Thanksgiving, this spread felt like a piece of cake (the box kind you can only find in America, not where you have to start from scratch like here). And although it took a bit of trouble to find one streaming across the Atlantic, we eventually ended the night with a basketball game as advertised.


Il Trentissimo: Although I didn't get to plan the party like I hoped, my dear friend Chiara had a week long celebration for her 30th and graciously invited me to two celebrations. The first at the most beautiful Hard Rock, where we ate all-American and danced to Beatles and beach music. The second was a more intimate house party among friends and fun. How can you hate welcoming a new chapter like that?

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I'll do my best to fill these in a bit more and return far more often for your entertainment and my posterity. Can't make any promises because spring has sprung, but keep checking back and I'll see what I can do.

Baci da Firenze!