Beginning to Grow

I feel myself changing here, but in a good way. I will always be the same, impulsive, irrational, passionate (I prefer this choice of word over dramatic) person, but something in me has changed. I can not particularly put my finger on it, but I feel like a certain spark I once had, has sparked again. Through the excitement of a new city, new job, new language and new friends, I rest assured in finding God’s love, finding a peace in my soul that was missing for the past few years. I breathe easier, and not only in Yogo class: since I have yet to find a yoga studio in Italy that doesn’t cost an entire car payment a month, but now I stop, breathe and live. Living in the present moment of my life, whether that moment brings laughter or embarrassment, I take it for what it is and embrace it. 

They say “Laughter is food for the soul” and “a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”, so when there is a combination of both, the world stops to enjoy this miraculous moment. The night before Rosie left for Napoli, we had dinner with her cousin, and her cousin’s ‘guy’. This guy met her cousin a week ago, he lives in the north of Italy, and he flew down, booked a hotel room for one night just to see her again. In what world do I live in, that a first date consists of this extreme action? We ate steak that was cooked at the table to the temperature of our choice, two different types of Roman thin crust pizzas, platters of grilled veggies, and plenty of appetizers. Their first date was dinner with us, and he took all three of us girls out to dinner. I’m sorry California boys, but they know how to work it in Rome. Dating is a serious game here and there is nothing that could be more cliché than Italian men playing games. And the fact that they are actually concuss of the game they play?? This makes the comprehension of men in Italy… ‘To be determined’, yet through experiences the past few years, I have come to understand a few consistencies: They like to have their homemade cake with ice cream on the side, or a long term girlfriend, with a girl… on the side…

This concept is one I know all to well, but in life, we must take all that is given us, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and take responsible for our own decisions, as well as the decisions of others. It just so happened that my dearest and best friend in Rome, Birdie (this is a code name, but it must be said in an old English accent) that I just met, experienced this feeling first hand, this past week. To go through such betrayal of the heart, something that is only recognizable if it has been felt before. It’s an indescribable numbing feeling that penetrates to the soul. Birdie and I have Italian class together, and from the moment we met we hit it off. We have something simple in common, we love to laugh, we can laugh and laugh over the same stupid things over and over, and they never get old. We actually have many things in common, for instance, we both live with a family and we both share a love for Italy: good red wine, good food, dancing, the language, and of course, the men.  Secretly, I have been praying for a girl-friend who thinks the same as me. I know that this is a selfish request, but in order to have a ‘new life’ here I needed that relation. A few days ago, Birdie and I were walking home from class and she said, “You know Nicole, nothing is by chance, I believe that we are meant to be friends.” I couldn’t agree more. This past week we went out almost every night. It’s not because we are crazy party girls who don’t have anything better to do, but it was more of a bonding experience, and a band-aid on a freshly wounded heart.

Not all the men in Italy are cheating whores. My Italian guy friends are actually really great! I have an assortment of friends each with different personalities and interest. I have a wonderful speaking partner who takes me to fantastic dinners all around the city, including our last adventure to Sushi, although it really can’t compare to Mikumi’s, it was nice to eat something other than pasta! When we are out he only speaks in English, and I try to respond in Italian, great practice, but sometimes by the end of the night I have a pounding headache.  I have a few party friends that have seen the worst and the best of me…I have a great friend that looks more American than me, but he is like a little ray of sunshine, with his bright blond hair. I have my bar tender friend, who knows exactly how I feel about everything, and he can hardly speak English, but can rap every Lil’Wayne song ever written. I have a friend I call my brother, who stays very busy ruining his own bar, but when it comes time to party, he knows exactly where to go. Then, there is my first friend Lorenzo. One night took me to Tresevera, where the Romans say the ‘real Rome’ is. We had dinner outside on the patio. The street was cozy, tucked into a corner; to my right was the back of a very old church, straight ahead was another outside dinning area, and to my left stood a bass cello player and a woman in her 30’s singing deep Italian jazz. It was a scene from a romantic movie; each thing was perfect in its place, creating the most memorable night. After, we strolled around the city glancing and awing at the sights.  I can never forget the first moment I saw Saint Peters at night; the way the lights hit the fountain is breath taking, and the most remarkable thing is that it always remains… breath taking. 

Last night, I adventured back to Tresevera for a few drinks with my New Zealand friend, Kiwi. Heading home from a great evening down the tiny streets, I heard a mix of R&B, I followed the music and found myself in "G-Bar", I guess it's a bar for gangsters, perfect, that's me. So I went in. By myself. To the Club. With in 2 minutes I met the professional Rugby Team of Rome. They were such gentle men, and I had a great evening with my new friends and for now, friends are currently all I want in my life, because the longer I am here the more I am humbled by my own self insufficiency.

I have always prided myself on being a very independent person. I am the one that must stand on my own two feet and I must hold myself up, yet the thing is, if you are holding yourself up, what happens when you stumble? What happens if you trip over the rock in your path of life? No one is there to catch your fall. Like I said before, I can feel myself changing. I have spent the last eight years of my life doing whatever I please, hardly thinking of another person. In laymen’s terms, I have lived an unfulfilled selfish life, which most people my age (especially in Orange County) do, but in defense to the OC, it's beauty is what it is known for. We live there to be by the ocean, and we have a reputation of perfection. Being taken out of an environment I have grown accustomed to, helped me gain prospective of my own actions. Now, for such a time as this, I’m finally starting to grow and gain a passion for something different;  I want something great out of this gift of life, each day my eyes are opened to the rest of the world, and this is only the beginning of what's to come.......

Under the Influence

 It wasn’t long before I learned to book my Saturdays to the rime. One Saturday my schedule looked something like this: 10:30 English lessons and Cappuccinos down at the bar, 12:30 lunch date with a motorcycle ride around the city, and at 7:30 a motocross show. I was diving head first into Roman culture, starting with the boys.

            There is something about Roman Boys, at all ages they are captivating. My little guys at home have become significantly more comfortable with me. I find myself growing very fond of them as well. They are very smart and active, challenging me to create more difficult and entertaining lesson plans. This takes a great deal of time, but the reward is almost as tasty as the gelato I win after an hour run. We have created our own traditions we do each day. On Mondays, after school we spend a little extra time at the park, which is always entertaining. These little Italian boys live for soccer, wearing their uniforms to school and playing a pick up match whenever they can. I particularly love to play with them, although the boys do get embarrassed when I beat them. On Wednesday, we have Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, good’old’american food! The boys love them! The youngest was telling his mother the other day how I make it, and his exact words were, “Mama, a la verita, Bounisma” (Mom, I swear it’s wonderfully good”). They always keep me amused, and busy. Staying busy is not hard in this city, there is always something to do, or trouble to find.

Lately, for some reason trouble has found me. I don’t know why at this particular point in my stay that I have found trouble, or yet it found me, but at any rate, it has. It’s not too bad, but there was a few nights that I honestly had to stop and thank God for sending angels to protect me when my thoughts and actions where not as elegant as usual. A few weekends ago I went out with my ‘new group’ of Roman friends. Fascinated by culture and longing to taste the true ‘Roman way’, I jumped at the chance to partake in their lives. We went to a fantastic dinner, we had at least 5 different appetizers, ranging from a pesto eggplant parmigiana, pure raw beef on pineapple, and fresh homemade ricotta, and for dinner I had Fire Roasted Rotisserie Pig and rosemary potatoes with a glass of prosecco and red wine. After our fabulous dinner, we headed to a small bar named Carrot, kid you not. The name is Carrot, and yes it’s orange inside. There we had to celebrate with a bottle of prosecco. I have no idea what we were celebrating, or if we even were celebrating, but I opened that bottle like it was New Years! I had another glass of prosecco. Then we were off to the club, oh and Italian boys do not just ‘go to the club’ and wait in line. Oh no, they have to do it big. They have to have a table and bottle service. I had a few more glasses of prosecco. Although I love each person I went out with, I over estimated my confidence and self assurance of being the only non Italian with my new friends. The though of the night being a bit of a challenge for me did not cross my mind, like maybe you might feel nervous, or awkward Nicole. Me Nervous? Never… Until this night. I was nervous, and so awkward, so I drank. And Drank…and drank a bit more. Humility has never been a gift of mine, but after this night, I felt like someone slapped me on the face with a bottle of wine and said, “Wake up! This isn’t Cali anymore, you want to be here, you have to try, and this isn’t supposed to be easy.” You humble me Lord, you make me call on your name and you teach me to grow… I really don’t care what people think about me. I never have, but I always care about how I make other people feel. I never wanted to embarrassed anyone or put someone in an awkward situation, and I felt that in this particular situation I might have done that to a great friend. And what great friends I do have. This was my way of ‘breaking the Ice’. I don’t recommend it, but it did work for me.

The next day I was in need of some girlfriends. Just in time, my dearest friend from Naples was visiting Rome. Rosie is a doll, I first met her last summer in Naples at the town’s local bar. Our favorite activity consisted of poking fun at the Napolitano boys. They are such an easy target, it’s better than George Lopez and Mexicans. In truth, I needed to see her, especially after last night; it’s great to see someone who knows me long than a month. We were meeting at one of the hottest clubs in Rome around 1:00am, so I left my house around 11:50pm, to insure I wouldn’t be late. I had to take the bus, the metro and a short walk to get there, dressed in a light silky black one shoulder dress and black heals, I headed down the street to the bus stop. I decided to take a quick nap on the bus before my long night out, until I was awaken by the stillness of the bus. It had stopped with all doors open, and alone I sat, on a bus and on a street I had never seen before. My heart started to pound. Where am I? I immediately hopped up and started questioning the bus driver. He had said that this bus was headed to the depositary for the night and he was unable to take me anywhere. Inside I was freaking out, what am I going to do. I have no idea. He must have been able to see the distress in my face, because the next thing out of his mouth was “non ti preoccupare”, (don’t worry), “Ti portero” (I’ll take you). What did he say? He’ll take me? I can save money on a 20 euro cab… Now this is when I hear my parents voice, “Nicole, do not talk to strangers, Nicole do not get in the car with strangers, Nicole, do not EVER RIDE A BUS ALONE TO THE BUS GRAVE YARD AT 12:30 IN THE MORNING IN A BLACK DRESS AND HEALS with a stranger.” Yes, Mother and Father at this very moment I heard your voice, and at this very moment, like always, I did not listen. I have constantly considered myself a good judgment of character (minus one poor judgment this past year of an ex-boyfriend). I feel that the Holy Spirit impresses on my heart an indescribable feeling, I honestly believe I can feel if a person’s spirit is good or not. This isn’t a new concept, but something that I have felt my whole life. Not in anyway do I ever recommend heading down a small road, 12 miles outside of the center, on a dark cold bus alone, but I did. And there I was, once we arrived at the bus depository, the driver told me to wait by the street corner. Again, not very good places for a girl in a black dress, so I sat down on the curb and prayed for an angel and a gun. I got in this 42 year-old bus driver’s WV black Golf hatchback, and headed down the road. The very first thing out of my mouth was, “How old are your Children?” “Tell me about your wife?” I figured, if I could keep his mind on his family, it would keep it from wondering other places. He was very kind and respectful, only once did he ask for my number to take me for coffee or pizza, and I politely reminded him of his pregnant wife, and asked him if he would like it if she went out with another man for coffee? He smirked and replayed, ‘no’, as if through my broken Italian, he understood my point. I made it safely to the bar, and took a tax home that night.

Living in the Present

I did say Dating ROME, not dating IN Rome or Dating a Roman...

I just date the city of Rome...   :)

Current love affair with Rome...

Dating Rome isn’t easier than dating a male, but it is defiantly more enjoyable…

He wakes me up with a smile and gently reminds me of the daily blessing from God, Oro Gold Lavazza coffee. With the sweeties aromas of coffee one could ever smell, I slip on my brown rainbow sandals and head to the table. There glowing with gold shinny lines on the 6 burner stove top stands, my personal, double shot espresso maker, steaming hot waiting for our good morning kiss. At last my love has saved me and he is perfect in his original form, which is never the case for a man, but this man needs no sugar, he slips down with ease.

Rome and I went hand and hand on a walk, with no map, I wanted to explore and see his creative side. Through the tiny stone streets at the bustling time of 8:00am I was determined to find untouched ground. I stumbled upon a tiny corner shop. There were two old wooden doors, one on each side of the corner, they almost touched. Looking though the open door my heart skipped a beat at what my eyes saw. Beautiful breads of all kinds, and pastries that added ten pound with the glance of an eye… I bought three things and ate them through out the day.

Skipping down the cobble stone road wearing black leggings and an oversize pink tunic, and carrying my white goody bag in my left hand, I was determined to be a local, not a tourist. I turned a corner and there stood the Pantheon, oh the camera was out faster than an Asian at Disneyland… I am a tourist. In my previous trip to Italy I never saw the Pantheon, and what a mistake that was. It really is a magnificent sight, dating back to 120AD. The first thing I did was walk though the yellow and pinkish marble floors, straight to the very center of the dome and look straight up. A local boy told me that no matter how hard it rains, it never rains in the Pantheon. When we have our first day of full rain, I am testing this Roman theory and its validity. Every couple has their spot, and this will be OUR spot as long as we are together.

Finding the Pantheon without looking for it.

Roaming around Rome

We are all created with a hole that needs  'love'. That is how God created us as humans. We are made to crave love, and find things to love and eventually God comes and fills the cracks of every part of our hole so that we may feel whole. Milana is our family's new love. She has brought a joy to everyone around her, even for me. Although my heart is broken and longing to hold this precious gift God has given Sebastian and Denise, her pictures bring me sweet joy. What an amazing creation and beautiful gift you have blessed us with. Forever she will be part of our family, and a joy to us all. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1M0flYf1rg

Thursday night I decided to adventure out of the house to a near by pub, I was in need of a drink…after two full days of travel, a new set of parents (as if the 2 sets I already have weren’t enough) and 3 new little brothers (as if the 5 I already have weren’t enough!) a glass of procceco seemed like bliss. So off I went in my navy blue JCrew dress, gold sandals and a scarf to have one drink. I get down to the bar and there in all of his glory was 50 cent and Lil Kim singing Candy Store on a 60” flat screen tv, and a man sitting in a San Diego Charger football shirt drinking a beer. Ahh home, I found my ‘posto’ (spot).The setting was very posh for such a tiny bar. It has a very clean sleek look, with white illuminating plastic everywhere and clear barstools and chairs. I order my glass of procceco in Italian, because I am determined to improve my skills. The bar tender, which looks like the black curly haired guy from Gym Class Hero’s, entertained my idea of ‘Italian only’ and started conversing with me. Three minutes later into our Italian conversation a group of American students came stumbling in. Francesco, the bar tender looked at me and rolled his eyes as the girls said… “shots…Vodka…molto economico”. I just laughed trying to contain my composer and said to Francesco, ‘Si, loro sono di Americano”(yup, they’re American). Next the girls started to speak to me in Italian! I couldn’t take it any longer, I blurted out, “Where are you girls from?!” Next thing I knew I was given 2 shots of vodka and a glass of procceco. By this time I was yelling BASTA (enough for me). My bill was only 6 Euro, thus my first night out…

            Friday it finally hit me. I was dead tired; I took a nap in the afternoon for almost four hours, and then awaited my call for the news concerning Milana. As soon as I heard the great news, I was out cold, dead asleep. The best part of houses in Italy is the shutters that pull all the way down to the ground, and make your room literally pitch black! I could sleep for days and never know what time it was. Saturday I woke up at noon and ready for adventure! I packed my bags, grabbed my things and was on my way…within two minutes it donned on me that I have never been alone in my life. It’s a weird, but fun concept; I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. As Jackie told me before I left, “get used to it sister, it will be good for you”.  Such wise words from my 21 year-old sister, although she is speaking from her own experience, she was right.

            I went looking for something different, a nice quiet spot away from tourist, you know somewhere for locals. I went exploring at Villa Borghese, the park I had described before. I found a somewhat hidden pond with beautiful cast iron benches and adorable duck families. The trees were aged and over grown hitting the top of the water with their branches. It was the perfect distance from the street and a tiny café-grab-and-go sort of place on the corner, I felt safe at my pond. Feeling very proud of my discovery I sat down to take out a map and plot my next adventure, when I heard a man say, ‘Heeelloo’ in his deep Italian accent. I turned my head to look and there stood a partially balding man with his person part in hand peeing! Yes PEEING! I was so grossed out, I screamed OH MY GOD and ran off!! That was the end of finding a personal spot; according to Italy personal things do not remain personal!!

Walking at such a brisk pace I hopped on the first bus I found and headed down to The Trevi Fountains. Just when I was sick of being alone, I met two girls from San Diego. We grew up 15 minutes away from each other, which made me realize how small this world really is! The three of us continued to tour all of Rome until it was almost 11:00pm and time for me to catch the bus home. On the busses they do not post the up and coming stops, it is the riders’ responsibility to remember where they are going. I choose the stop that said ‘Balduina’ which is the name of the city I live in, except it was completely wrong. I was lost at 11:45 at night, in Rome. Mom cover your ears…Across the street was a gas station so I walked over to the man pumping his gas and asked him if he had any idea where my street was. He stared at me, and then it hit me, he was the same boy I had met the first night who was wearing the San Diego Chargers tee shirt!

I know someone is watching every step I take When in Rome.

P.S. I would like to make a contraction in my previous writing ‘Here I am’ the adorable lifeguard who be-friended me is named Lorenzo not Leonardo… He is now my Italian teacher (whether he likes it or not :)

Here I am...

The first two days have passed by like a dream. So far I have ate 9 different cheeses, 3 different type of prosciutto, a french quiche, and a German curry sausage... not to mention the veal Marsala and pasta and rice salads......Needless to say, I love Italy, and their food...

The house is beautiful and the children are very educated and well behaved, for the most part. They love to fight with each other, which is completely normal to me. Their school is located inside the Villa Borghese which is the 'central park' of Rome. Imagine an enchanted forest with trees that create tunnels and wild bamboo, little double hinged green doors, and rod iron stair railings. It is a prestigious private French school for children ages 3 and up. Today was their first day of school and my fourth time driving to the school. Last night, Mary, (the mother, who is french/italian) gave me a crash course in driving in Rome. Although the Vespa's and scooters drive me nuts, I have found a comfort behind the wheel because of the similarities to downtown LA or Santa Monica. Mary told me that I am the best driver they have ever had, Yes MOM and JACKIE did you hear that? If any of my family heard that they might die! I guess I have been driving in the wrong city my whole life :) I am a crazy and agressive driver, the perfect fit for Rome. There are three habbits I did have to give up while driving...No Make-up or Cell Phone that's forsure, and driving shoes only; which do not include my rainbows, or sandals of any kind. I have to rock my cute outfits with my white nike tennis shoes. I hate my driving shoes, so I now BYOS...bring my own shoes where ever I go.

As for my social life I have not adventured out...yet. I want to be completely acclimated with my new home and family, and practice my Italian before I start to make friends. There is a Lyola University (American) one block from my house, but I have the best American friends in America, why do I need more? I want Italian friends!! I did meet one new friend, Leonardo, who is the lifeguard at the pool and speaks perfect English, he is a sweetie, around 20 years old, and will remain a great friend.

I am driving alone this afternoon to pick up the children from school and continue our English lessons. The boys' English is very impressive and I have enjoyed our 'classroom' times. Ciao, A Presto!


p.s
I forgot how much I hate mosquitoes, right now I am currently sporting 11 bits, and believe I just received one more right now!!

p.s.s
Milana my Niece is coming tomorrow!!!! n:)

All my ducks but one...

Getting your ducks in a row for a trip like this is some what difficult, especial if your most important duck won't fall into place.

As most of you know, I am off to Rome for one year! This has been a dream for as long as I  remember! I love to experience different culture first hand, and that doesn't mean taking a 10 day vacation to a country, but actually immersing ones self into a country and understand the way that culture operates is what fulfills my passion of 'travel'.

I have four days....
I can do this! Right? I mean, I have been there before and I know what it's like, there is just one duck that's missing....

BABY MILANA!!!! Everything will be perfect if I can hold my baby niece before I leave. Missing my first niece's birth would be like going to Rome and never seeing the Colosseum, or not eating pizza in Naples, who would do such a thing?

With four days left, I feel ready, I am ready... all I need is a baby come...