My Little Honey

December is finally here, and my third month (of round two) in Rome has passed. November had been quite a long month…

The week before Halloween I had a 10 day vacation, which just so happened to fall equal with a visit from a dear friend I had worked with at Nordstrom, in San Diego. The truth is we didn’t plan this trip based on my vacation, I actually didn’t even know I had a vacation until a few weeks before, but at any rate I did, and seeing a familiar face was the honey I needed in my tea. Let’s call her…Sophia ;). There is something about San Diego girls, true home grown San Diego girls, born and raised, it’s like seeing a long lost cousin for the first time, you just fit as if you can sense the familiarity in each other. Sophi is my fashion diva and her over all chill domineer brought a field of memories from home. By the way, SD girls are innocent; LA is the town that corrupts you… ;)

The day the girls (Sophi and her friend, another amazing ex-Nordstrom girl) flew in to Italy they landed in Milan, I was already on the train headed to meet them. I called Sophi when I arrived, “Oh meet us at La Scale, we are with a professional opera singer that we knew from Nordstrom”.  That’s not something you hear everyday. We spent two nights in Milan, and then frantically ran to catch a train to Venice Sunday afternoon, although we had booked a hotel in Florence, we only had 1.5 hours to tour Venice. If you could picture three girls running through the tiny streets, over the bridges and pausing to take pictures with our big floppy hats and sunglasses, and an ice cream in one hand, that was us.  We ended our weekend with a Sunday night out in Florence, again running to our train, and arriving within minutes of departure. Sophi’s friend said, “Boy, we do a lot of running with Nicole don’t we?” I had laugh because each train we barely made, and litterly ran to catch it. In Florence we meet up with one of my best friends in Rome, who also had her sister visiting. It was exciting for us to be tourists with tourists, in ‘our’ country.

The next week we spent in Rome, I was on vacation and my host family was in Turkey, meaning I finally had the house to myself to sleep as long as I like! It was also the week I found out you could party every single night, if desired. Tuesday we had an amazing 15 person dinner that lasted three hours, with all of our friends and guests. This night I introduced my best guy-friend in Rome to my best girl-friend from home. And you can imagine where the story leads from here. A few nights out and a few nights away, she fell in ‘love’ with her first Italian lover boy.

If you know me at all, you know, I am100 percent against Italian men. I love their confidence and romance. There is nothing like it to wake up and hear, “Baby I made you coffee, breakfast in bed, did your laundry and drew you a hot bath, you’re so beautiful, Ti Amo…” they are the worlds best Lovers, but the worlds worst Husbands, as in, they will love you and every other girl they see. Knowing this, the reality of my little Sophia and this Italian Louvarrr, scared me to death.

But there is trust. And it was something that I have to have in both of them. Trust he won’t hurt her, and trust she knows what’s best for her.

And what they have is beautiful. Their ‘love’ story has started a new chapter in their lives, one that hasn’t finished, since after her week in Rome, she came back for another four weeks, and is currently in the Canary islands next to Morocco and Spain, with her Italian Louvarrrr bathing in the sun and taking in what living life is all about. Living.

The problem is, when I am here in Rome, I am in my own world. When Sophia was here we spent our time reminiscing of our lives together downsouth, what I found that had happened, is when I went home to my big empty Italian house each night, I was alone, and I would start to cry. I cried because I felt selfish in my desires to live here, while I have been so incomprehensively blessed with the most amazing people throughout my life, the simple reality of living away again for another year had sunk in. What am I doing away from these people? These people are my life; I have my family and friends. And in Rome? I have my desire to experience something different, but is that enough?  In life, what is it that truly matters?

 A friend in San Diego was just diagnosed with stage two lymphoma cancer, she is 24. There are things I don’t understand, there are actions that I do that I may never understand why I did. But even when things happen that I don't understand, I have to have faith.

What do I want? Isn’t that the question we all ask? Sometimes I wonder if we really have a choice. Instead of what do we want, we should ask what really matters? I’m learning how to surrender… everything in every aspect, letting go and trusting that if God can ‘feed the birds in the sky, surly he can take care of me’.

The first two weeks of November were long, not only do I want to share stories of the parties and ridiculous things we do, but also the reality of living in a different country. It’s an intricate processes which requires a certain inner strength that I don’t always have. There might have been a few long weeks in November, and funny last year I had titled my November blog entry as “Never ending November”…The thing is, it’s now December and November did end and it ended with a routine Sunday dinner with my three best girlfriends.

I really could not live here without them. They need nick-names, so why not, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte…

We do everything together when we can, coffee and tea, shopping on Via del Corso, or Sicilia Pasticeria after Italian class. There is a tradition that we had made in October, every Sunday we have a dinner/ lunch that can last hours. It began after a long Saturday night, when we finally went to bed at 7:30 or 8am, and all woke up around 3 in the afternoon. Being starving and a bit hung over, we wanted to sit outside and drink a bit of wine and bask in the most splendid part of Italy: it’s pasta. Campo di Fiori was the perfect place, but the main reason for our meeting is that somewhere around 4am we all went our separate ways, and what we want to know is what happened between the hours of 4 and 8. How do we know what time we sleep, or make it home? Well there is a wonderful yet evil little invention called Whatsapp, an instant messaging system which allows us to chat on a group chat, we chat non-stop all day, everyday. When we go out, and then go our ‘separate ways’ we must message when we get home, it’s our golden rule. So when we all message at different times, there leaves stories that are obligatory to be told.

Our first Sunday Lunner lasted five hours, starting with a simple appetizer, and two liters of water, which magically changed into wine, and a four course meal. I wish I could tell the stories that are told between 4-8am, they involve Smart cars, taxis, fences, wrong buses to the other side of Rome, skinned knees, and lost keys. We dish about Big, Steve, Harry and Smith, we laugh non-stop until our stomachs hurt, and we eat amazing homemade pasta accompanied with house red wine. After that first Lunner the owner of the restaurant approached us upon our departure, I was ready for the un-invite back to the restaurant for holding a table for 5 hours and our annoying high volume level, yet to my surprised he grabbed me and kissed me, and said, “Thank you, because of you girls we have business, come back, please come back.” Ever since that Sunday, if we are in town, a few hours after we wake up, we go to our Sunday Lunner spot and spill the dirty untold secrets of the night, and laugh at the stupidity of each other. We aren’t just friends, but we have become sisters, who know all, tell all, and cry together.

Although “What am I doing here” floated through my mind, it’s moments like these that I will never have again. It’s the joy of new relationships, and the blessing of old, it’s unexpected life of the unknown and being away from home, it’s Rome.