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.......