Tuesday, September 27, 2011

First Few Weeks in Rome...



Round Two in Rome: The First Two Weeks

Now being a sophomore here, there is no more ohh God please help me get on the right bus, or please please send me friends. Nope, I was headed back to a place I now call home; where the food is delicious, the men are sleazy, and the scenery is astonishing! Breathtaking. I have chosen at this point in time (and for the next three years I have left in my twenties) to live a breath taking life. Starting the first weekend I was back.
I have a dear English friend, Gemma, who was a part of my circle of friends from last year; she had spent the summer in Lake Baracciano and invited me up for the day. There was a small board walk around the lake, with restaurants right on the street in front of the water. The small quant little town with tiny paths and doorways, wooden window shutters, and stone steps was equally as breathtaking as the lake itself. There was one house in particular that sat on the boardwalk facing the lake. They some how managed to build a garden on the sidewalk itself, tall sunflowers, lush greens and bright red and orange Gerber daisies, yet the most amazing thing was no one disturbed it. It was made for admiring and it demanded respect, and it was granted by everyone.
Gemma and I spent the day lying on the beach and paddle boarding together on the same paddle board, falling every 15 seconds, one after another and laughing uncontrollably, I could only imagine what the people on land were thinking. Stupid Americans/English girls, paddle boards are made for one person…

Restaurant on the lake
We ended our evening at that perfect little restaurant on the lake, we had made a reservation earlier and there on a tiny white paper writen in black Sharpie sat my name on the exact table we had requested. No wonder Katie Holms and Tom Cruz got married here, and it’s simply marvelous…

Settling into my second week in Rome, I found a familiar routine with the boys back in school, making the weekends never looked so sweet. When Tia’s family is out of town we usually spend the whole weekend basking in the simple splendor of our own apartment. Acting like roommates we cook dinner, drink wine, stay up late telling boy stories, and dance around in bras. It’s my favorite way to spend a Friday night, although usually by midnight, we have found ourselves getting ready for a big night out.

Saturday morning we were up by 9, ready to hit the beach for the whole day with my surfing buddy in Ostia. Ostia beach looks somewhat like a lake, with tiny waves and mix of rock\dirt they call sand. It’s not the best beach in Rome, but it’s near and the key word is ‘beach’ and some days just the smell of the salty sea makes me feel at home.

Ostia Beach
Tia and I were lying in the sand wondering what trouble tonight may bring. My surf buddy had invited us to an outside reggae concert in the park, which had seemed to be a great idea until five minutes after Tia’s cousin called. Her cousin is a professional Bocce Player on the US National team (who knew such a team existed?) and was playing in the world championships in the small northern town of Feltre, situated underneath the Alps.(5 hour train ride)

Earlier in the week we had sought after this cousin of hers, trying to organize a day in Venice with the players; we have been unable to reach him until now. It was 5:30pm and Tia and I are lying on the beach covered in sand,
“Should we do this?” Tia asked.
“Let me check the train tickets”, still having no desire to move from the heat of the sun, I reached for my iphone and glanced at the next train time.
“There isn’t a direct ticket to Feltre, you have to stop in Padova in order to get there.” The next train leaves at 7:05! We are an hour train ride outside the city and we would still have to go toTia’s to grab our bags! At this moment we kissed our friends good bye and headed straight to the train station.

To our luck the train pulled in just as we had arrived. We both looked at each other and agreed it was a sign from God that we are suppose to go. Laughing at our current ridiculous spontaneous adventure, we started to pre-pack our bags, delegating who would grab what when we arrived at Tia’s home. As I took a closer look at the train times, I noticed that the last train to Feltre was 10 minutes after we arrived in Padova. I spent the next 30 minutes on our train ride home from the beach devising a plan to connect the Bocce players  for the night. Finally, it occurred to me that Padova must provide a more thrilling and entertaining night life than Feltre, the boys could just meet us in Padova, then we could stay up all night and catch the first train to Feltre in the morning.
Tia’s cousin agrees that Padova will provide much more entertainment for the night and promises to take the last train at 8:10 to Padova, arriving at 10, and remain in the station until we arrived at 11. Everything will work out just perfect!

We arrive at Tia’s house at 6:45, we have 5 minutes, to throw as much as we could in our beach bags, and with our partially  wet bathing suits still on, the two of us ran to the station, beach bags in one hand and our over stuffed purses in the other. My hair was in its natural curly sea-salt state, wearing a floor length white and black maxi dress that was too long on my 5’foot frame,  I had to hold the bottom of the dress so I didn’t trip. We were the epitome of tourists.  We reached the station within 5 minutes of departure.

As we approached the ticket machine I remembered that last year on my way home from Torino I was able to purchase something called a ‘Globe Pass’ it was a first class ticket incredibly discounted.  I don’t know how I was able to use it or just simply how nice the conductor was, but when he asked for my ‘Globe Pass’ I handed him my California Drivers license and he let me on, not asking a single question.  So I had the brilliant idea to test my luck again, yet when I know something is wrong and I do it anyways, there will be a little voice inside of me that asks me what are you doing? You know better!!
Often I don’t listen to this voice, so we bought the ten dollar tickets for first class and hopped on the train.

It wasn’t before long the conductor was making his rounds for tickets,
“Posso vedere i biglietti ?”
I look at Tia and in English said, “Huh, What did he say?”
He glances up and down, and through the little smirk on his Italian skin he can see in an instant we’re ‘tourist’; although I normally jump at the chance to practice Italian, in this case, I better keep my big mouth shut.
I handed him our tickets, shaking like a child who stole a pack of gum at the grocery store.
“Here’s our tickets Sir” I said and tried to smile, “and your passes” he replied.
I looked at Tia and said, “umm he needs our ID’s” so we handed him our American ID’s.
 “No signiorine, this is no Global Passes”
Wide eyed and as innocent as a little sinner could be, I said, “We entered the numbers of our passes and we were able to buy the tickets that way, you see…,” and this is when my creative imagination started to take off, as I begin to tell a story that we had been at the beach all day (true) and one of our bags was stolen (not true) that had our passes in it, and I had called Global Pass for our pass numbers so we could buy our tickets, and they told us to show you our ID’s. Starting straight at me, this man didn’t know whether to laugh or kick us off, because obviously we look like hooligans gypsies trying to get a free ride in first class (partially true).
“Ladies, la next stop a Florence, a questo stop you must buy one ticket of 50 euro.”
“Oh really? Our passes don’t work anymore?” giving my most convincing confused faced I could possibly make.  So at the next stop I did exactly that, I bought One ticket for 50 euro from Florence to Padova. I even showed the conductor on the way back into the train, “Guarda, adesso tutto bene?”, slipping and speaking Italian, with a small tilt of his head he started at the ticket and said, “Si, va bene cosi”. As I was walking back onto the train still in my bathing suit, long maxi dress and crazy hair, I see him glace at me with the most puzzling look, later as he came back around to check tickets it became evident that we knew just what we were doing, when he asked why is there only one ticket of 50 euro, and two of you? Staring straight at him I simply replied, “I’m sorry sir you told me to buy one ticket of 50 euro didn’t you? And you see Sir, I showed you the ticket before we got on the train and you told me everything was okay, so I believed you.” with a small shake of his head he mumbled, “Dai non fate niete, ciao ciao regazze..” (come on, don’t worry, bye bye girls).

Tia and I looked straight at each other and the second he walked away started to giggle, for we have known what we have done, and we are guilty as charged. We both said a prayer out loud in forgiveness promising never to lie for train tickets again. And asking God to walk with us on the adventure for we are in need of protection! Shortly there after Tia receives a message from her cousin, “I missed the F*ing train, because no one speaks English!”(that’s what we get for lying!) everything up to this moment has been in our favor. We look at each other in dismay, oh my God what are we going to do in Padova, alone? It’s shocking we are foolish enough to leave for a night knowing that it’s impossible to reach our destination until 6 am, but knowing that a male family member would be accompanying us somehow brought comfort. Now we are arriving at 11pm alone on a Saturday night.
I changed in the train bathroom and gaving myself a sponge bath, trying to de-crevice sand in not so friendly places, after all, we are going out all night we better get ready. I did Tia’s makeup in the train seats while she helped fix my rat’s nest of hair. When we finally arrived we found a bathroom nearby and tried to make the best of what we had.

For our current circumstance we didn’t look half bad, Tia was wearing a bright red summer dress and I was in a black mini skirt and heals, and both of us had two bags in our hands and no indication where the hell we were. And off we went down the streets asking everyone we saw where we should go. A friend who lives in Padavo had mentioned a few Piazza’s in the center that we should find, and so we did. Unfortunately, my tour guide couldn't make it at that time, because his knowledge would have been priceless that night. Nevertheless, we found a bustling piazza, covered with teenagers and young adults. We found a small little table near the corner end of the piazza, and sat outside with a few glasses of wine.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              
 The strangest thing started to occur, around one am, every little rigazzini started to disappear, it was as if the flood of people that surrounded the streets slowly melted away, and the vast amount of 200 or so  denigrated down to10. In Rome this is never the case, the streets are bustling with tourist all hours of the night, and besides it is only one in the morning, and in Italian time that’s equivalent to around 10pm.
Empty Piazza di Padova

“Ladies I’m sorry you must go, we are closed now” the waiter said as politely as he could, nevertheless asking that we leave.
“Where does everyone go to dance here?”
Noticing my accent he started a friendly conversation and informed us that in the center everything closes, there are no clubs, the only clubs that exist are outside the center about 6 kilomiters away.

How is that possible? We are still in Italy right? I know the north is different but every Italian city I have been to has dicotecas in the center, it’s part of their culture to stay out all hours of the night, especially on a Saturday night. Astonish we had no idea what to do, we have 5 hours before our train left for Feltre at 6:40am and we are alone in this town. Having an idea to sight see at 2am we started to walk around admiring the piazza when two somewhat older gentlemen approached us. One was short around my height in his late 30’s with tan skin and spiky gelled hair; he wore tighter jeans and a halfway open button up white collar shirt with two gold chains around his neck, and a few sliver bracelets dangling from his wrist. The other man was tall and thin, with gray hair and soft kind eyes, if I had to guess I would say he was in his late 50’s. They had a puzzling look on their faces, as if they could see we weren’t from Padova, and I returned the stare, because obviously they too were not from here.  They were from Bari, the south of Italy and they too were stumped to find nothing open past one. Four is better than two, they said, stay with us, we’ll find something to do…..    to be continued...soon I promise....xx

Monday, September 12, 2011

The End of Round One: July the last month




The End of Round One: JULY  2010 the last month…

“So what do you want to do today” I ask my 10 year-old, for we are about to spend a week just the two of us, while his brothers are away.
“I want to fart on your face!”
 “Well, let’s see, what is the punishment for farting on someone’s face?” I ask
“To fart again on their face!”
He looks up at me and bats his almond shape baby-blue eyes with a sly, yet irresistible smirk, and says, I know you can’t be mad that I just said I want to fart on your face. And he is absolutely right. I can’t, I laugh and laugh, and threaten to shoot him with a Nerf gun! These boys are special, extremely intelligent and witty little shits. After spending April May and June engulfed in my own life, running around with our group of 8 girlfriends like school children loose at Disneyland; parting at least 4 nights a week until all hours of the night,  I have taken a vow to remain at home as much as possible for the next 30 days until I leave for California on July 22nd (and accomplish a much needed detox as an added bonus).
The thing is, in Rome I really haven’t been much of a homebody. Actually I’ve never been much of a homebody. I would like to stay at home when I am at my mother’s house. It’s so beautiful there, with Friday happy hours and weekend BBQ’s with all her lovely friends, soon enough.
One afternoon Bea and I were lying out by the pool (which I found out later I was not allowed to have friends at the pool, well one time didn’t kill anyone). There was a boy in his late twenties who over heard us speaking English, he came over and in perfect American English introduced himself, he was spending the summer right in my complex with his grandma. I was shocked and incredible grateful for God blessing me with a friend at the perfect time .
Danni grew up in Ethiopia, but now lives in Australia; he went to college in Canada and loves to travel the world. He is incredibly intelligent and extremely outgoing and confident, so together you could only imagine the conversations we would have. He was staying with his 92 year old grandmother who wanted him home and in bed by 9pm, so every night after dinner, Danni would kiss grandma goodnight and pretend like he was going to bed, then this 26 year-old man would sneak out of the house and meet me at the front gate for drinks down the street at our local bar! We were like little teenagers, laughing and whispering down the street, I was so grateful to have a friend like him for the summer, and he truly was just a friend (understanding the western mentality of men and women actually being equals and friends). Leading up to my long awaited trip home to meet Milana…

Home was amazing… simply amazing.
When I was at the airport a very good looking man in his late thirties asked me to stay just one extra night in Rome. They had over booked the flight and they would give me  a first-class up grade, $600 dollars and a hotel room at the beach. The first thing out of my month was, “I haven’t been home for one year, I have not met my baby niece,  and I have not seen a single member of my family for one whole year! There is no way in hell I’m not getting on that plane today.”
Later I must admit I do regret the $600 extra dollars, and with in the first 20minutes of the flight I missed my first-class update. Oh well, all in all it was worth it.  Watching my mother’s face turn white when she saw me for her birthday surprise, and Milana crying because Auntie ColeCole was a bit to excited when I got off the plane and screamed when I saw her.

My family, is the biggest blessing in my life. The first week I arrived at home I did not turn on a computer or check a phone for 4 days. It was glorious. I made a promise that for one week I would not tell a single soul that I was home.
 I spent the first few days at my brother and Nini’s house getting to know the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. She is brilliant, and I know everyone thinks their baby is beautiful, but really she is stunning. Big round baby blue eyes and the perfect button nose (she didn’t get that from our side that’s for sure). She stops traffic in public. People comment daily on how cute she is. Her personality is showboat drama queen, Princess Milana, as she should be. She loves to be the center of attention and she will dance and laugh for you as long as you like. She is a joy and she’s going to be a cheerleader. Not that she has to be, but she likes to cheer. I couldn’t remember the words to any nursery rhymes, it was my third day with her, her mommy was cutting Jackie’s hair and she wouldn’t stop crying. So I did what any other ex-cheerleader of 10 years would do, I sang her cheers… Ohh she just loved it! And from then on, Milana and I would spend our afternoons yelling G-O let me hear you say GO, GO, that’s right unite, let me hear you say Fight… and so on…

While I was home I had a 13 day road trip with my two best Italian girl friends that I met my very first summer in Napoli 3 years ago, and my adorable friend from England I met a few months back in Rome.
Vegas
Added 2200 miles onto my car, we toured all of California ending in Las Vegas. Let’s just say, turning 27 with 8 of your girls in Las Vegas makes for a few memories, just a few. But as you know… what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, unless your Bea, then it gets published on Facebook;). With all of my girl-friends from around the world together for my birthday made me the luckiest girl in the world. Really lucky because I did lose my iphone and camera in one of the biggest clubs in vegas, and somehow found them by the end of the night. Vegas when you are 21 and Vegas when you are 27, are a world of difference.

Oh God 27, 27 Twenty-F-ing-Seven. I cannot believe that I am minus three from 30. I have noticed I am starting to mature emotionally and signs of maturity have come in little lines around my face, not to mention the new addition “heal cracking”. In which this hideous callous forms and then proceeds to brake itself at the heal of my foot. Incredibly Sexy, sorry Mom for always making fun of your feet, I guess that’s what I get.

As I prepare for Round Two of Rome, it feels different now. I have changed. How could I not, I feel stronger, very strong on my own, giving me a sense of contentment and peace in knowing that this is the perfect choice for me right now in my life. I know this is where I am suppose to be, and being confident in the decision I made comes from a greater understanding of myself and a great faith that if God can take care of the birds in the sky then surly he can take care of me. And He has, unfathomably.

Bring on… Round Two.