Bring me back!

I'm back from a month of vacation, well rested and dreaming about the next time I can go back to Europe. When I scheduled my tickets, I thought a month seemed like a long time, but as always, it was so full that the time flew by and after two weeks, I was already evaluating how I might be able to extend my stay. But here I am, back in ol' NC and I want to share some of the highlights from my vacation to remember living after grad school. To edit the list, because I could go on forever, since my mini-trips worked themselves out like this, I limited myself to highlighting the B's from it all. Buon viaggio!

From one of my manual shift driving lessons with Anna & Ermelindo.

• Breath taking views. In case you didn't know, G lives in Tuscany, where they forget what beauty looks like because it's everywhere around them. I missed the greenest greens of the hills when it was rainy but got to see the green change into gold. On the bus route to the city or out on the country roads, like where I practiced driving (shifting gears is TONS more work), these hills are better than the movies.

• Bologna. I decided I wanted to take a trip alone. Solo travel is a really exciting way to see a new place. 

Bologna's Two Towers. The one in the foreground is actually leaning!

But it doesn't hurt when the city is gorgeous and the food is fantastic! I even got to catch up with my friend Megan from my Fulbright cohort who gave me all the best tips about what to do and where to eat (SUPER imperative) and made a new North Carolina friend at the hostel where I was staying. How does that song go again...?

• Buds. It's always wonderful visiting friends, especially since you don't get to see that often. My time in Italy is full of reunions of this type, whether it's over a dinner with lively conversation, on a stroll through the streets, or sitting side-by-side on the couch, I've learned that it's really my people make the place home. This time I was also visited by one of my very best friends, Filippo. It had been two years since I had seen him last. For offering a bed in his kitchen, I was happy to return the favor.

•  Bold patriotism. Out of curiosity, G and I went to the US Cemetery in Florence the day I flew in. We had talked about it several times, and I'm glad we went then. There couldn't have been more than 4 people there with us and we were really able to soak in the space and pay respect for the lives given. But I returned about a week later with Filippo for the Memorial Day service. The ceremony was done in both English and Italian, there were veterans and active service members from both countries, and even the US Ambassador came from Rome. For such an important day, it was uplifting to see so many people, Americans and Italians alike, honoring the service members to which we owe so much.  

Zia Sam with Sofia--I'm in love.

• Basketball: After I shared the Cameron Crazie experience with G in Durham, he wanted me to see what it's like to be an Italian fan in the curva. I arrived at the beginning of the playoffs and Mens Sana, Siena's team, was ranked #2. We went to the first game together and I returned with some friends for the third. I think an average Crazie would feel pretty comfortable in the middle of the biggest fans--as long as they learned the songs. All four quarters are non-stop cheers, on your feet, for your team with big flags and a drum to keep time. You can see a couple videos here. Mens Sana made it through that series and the quarter finals, and are currently playing their hearts out in the finals against the team from Milan, owned by the fashion mummy designer Giorgio Armani. Did I mention that Mens Sana is going bankrupt after the season? Only in Italy. Forza Mens Sana!

•  BABIES! I saw three newborns in a month and it was heaven! Sean, Sofia, and Samuele. They were all between 3-8 weeks when I visited so it was glorious.

• Budapest. 

This city was one of the most wonderful places I have ever been. It was beautiful, full of history, and a place where you can eat and drink well for sure! If you like art nouveau architecture as much as we do, you certainly won't get bored simply walking around this city! Although we are told it wasn't hot, I was thrilled to finally pull out my shorts and G didn't mind the fountains much.

Plus we met friends, old and new, which always makes traveling the best! Not to mention I knocked off another goal from my bucket list!

• Baths. Budapest is known for its Turkish baths. We went to two and they certainly didn't disappoint.I was surprised how refreshing the 30°C/86°F water was after a day in the sun. But I also redeemed my Christmas present from G and we went to some in Tuscany. Considering how rarely I get to go to a place like that, I certainly had my fill of rejuvenating waters.

• Belly full of food. Culture, art, love, whatever. Don't listen to any of that. The reason you go to Italy is for the food. On this trip--who am I kidding?! Every trip I eat my weight in cheese, olive oil, and the artichokes. But really. Artichokes.

For those of you who use the service: Follow my blog with Bloglovin!

La vie en rose.

It's already ... April! Geeze, I just can't keep up. But after my amazing trip to Europe in February I was welcomed back with a mallet to the forehead, a job offer, and wedding season. Needless to say, it's been pretty busy around these parts. My forehead is fine beyond the unsightly scar that's getting fixed up. I'm on spring break from my position as an assistant in a kindergarten class. It's quite a way to pay the bills, but the laughs are a'plenty. And thankfully I love weddings. My little brother Jason tied the knot with his love (and my new sis-in-law!) in an intimate family affair. 

Then last weekend was the fiesta of the YEAR when my dearest college friend Lauren donned her stunning dress to get hitched with Tim-Bo! SO. MUCH. FUN.

But really I wanna talk about February with my love since I'm finally getting around to looking at the pictures (and posting them on Facebook, naturally). We visited with so many friends while I was in Italy but took a little retreat just the two of us to Paris of all places during Valentine's Day of all times. Back in August when we decided to visit La Ville-Lumière that really wasn't the plan, but it sure was convenient. Anyone who knows anything about long distance relationships will tell you that a little bit of effort goes a long way! Staying in an apartment ended up being so much cheaper than any other options and our home base was in the best part of town: Le Marais. I wanted to go to every little cafe', art gallery, and vintage shop on the street, but without that much time or money (Paris isn't the cheapest city there ever was...), it makes for great window shopping. The first morning we stopped in the Rodin Museum to examine art and think our own thoughts.

Then we visited Napoleon, or really his tomb. Walking into Les Invalides, I couldn't see the bottom of the hole, for far too long, where his 7-times entombed sarcophagus was. You can't fathom how huge it is from this picture, but not being able to see to the floor, my stomach dropped. 

Why? Because this shorty is scared of heights. But we had a nice visit and then headed to the heart of it all: the Eiffel Tower. 

The line was super long so G went to investigate. He had been there before and went to explore. Upon his return, G explained that we can cut our wait time tremendously... by taking the stairs. The Eiffel Tower is 1063 feet (324 meters) tall--which meant nothing to me until I stood under it. Thinking to my 25 before 25, I recognized an opportunity to conquer my fear of heights. I mean, what better way? It was cold and windy and I was moving slow up to the first level. After some hot chocolate, we started up to the second level. As soon as I got there, I felt free! I was practically doing cartwheels (gross exaggeration) and definitely freaking out G. I made it up the 674 steps! But if I'm going to be honest, the elevator up to the tip top was the worst part. It moves so fast and the whole thing is glass. The view is impressive but G and I spent the ride up clutching each other in silence.

Valentine's Day was dreary and rainy. G brightened it up with breakfast and flowers, then we spent all day at the Louvre. The rooms were massive. 

My favorite was definitely the Winged Victory of Samothrace, and Canova's Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss, but La Giocanda wasn't too bad too, I guess. Ha!

And we fell in love with all the Egyptian stuff. (It surely played into my bid to get Egypt on our travel list.)

My favorite sites were Sainte-Chappelle, the Pantheon, and Musée d'Orsay. Seeing those breathtaking windows on the one sunny day was lucky.

Foucault's Pendulum and the French heroes' graves was overwhelming. I mean, Marie Curie...! (Ignoring the radiation I imagined coming through her tomb, of course.) 

Manet's Olympia and the ENTIRE Impressionist section were real highlights at the Gare. Introducing G to art nouveau furniture was a big win, too, but the old train station museum is full of awesome things!


We really just loved walking around. When we could handle the cold (long johns on, naturally) we explored the streets and feasted on the sights that Hemingway, Stein, Picasso, and Fitzgerald lived. Shakespeare and Co., under the shadow of Notre Dame, was a sweet visit. Plus the French onion soup and fondue I convinced G to share in the Latin Quarter topped off the experience.

 

In all honesty, the Parisians really do dress better and I felt like I could see different styles from one quartier to the next. I had only good experiences with the Parisians which was a pleasant surprise as a child who lived through the Freedom Fries movement. I picked up the tiniest bit of French, all of which I've lost again except how to ask for the check. Their food was phenomenal. I practically lived off of cheese and baguettes the whole five days. And looking back, nearly missing our flight back to Italy for a brunch at Hotel du Nord and a stroll by the Saint-Martin was worth every blister. 

We did a lot more exploring but the synthesis is: Paris is not just a must see, but an experience.

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.

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.

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!