While I'm sure most of you know that I've been home in the States for about three weeks now, I'm writing here because my heart is still in Italy...it never left. So while I'm no longer physically in Europe (until the summer anyway), I am there in spirit. What is the point of this blog post? Well, the new year is almost here and I have some reflections to make and share with all of you.
When I was a junior in high school, I dreamed that by the end of my senior year I would take a year off before starting college and travel the world by myself and be happy learning different cultures, different languages, and different ways of living than I had ever seen before. By the time the end of senior year came about, I was nowhere near ready to take on such a feat. I had no money, no plans, and no emotional stability, to say the least. When all of my ideas fell apart, I was so ashamed that I had made all of these boastful announcements to let everyone know how cool and different I was...that I wasn't following the normal trend of going straight off to college to get a degree at a four-year university to find a great job, get married and start a family like everyone else. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was a rebel to the system and that somehow that would make me more enticing and more mysterious to my peers...especially the boy ones. I dreamed it up for all the wrong reasons, at least at that time, but the seed of the real thing never really left. Although I wasn't aware of this at the time, it had only buried itself down deep in the very depths of my soul, waiting for the right time to climb up back to the surface again.
At this time last year (almost three years since senior year), that seed had a reason to start climbing. I was browsing my college website when I happened across the link for study abroad opportunities in four different locations, one of them being Florence, Italy. It was one of those moments in which it seemed as if time had stopped for a moment, and goosebumps and chills simultaneously crawled all over my body from the inside out. At that moment I knew I had to go on this adventure, no matter what it took. It was the first time since high school that I had ever let myself think that it was possible to follow through with my original plans and travel the world to explore. My little dream seed began the treacherous journey upward towards the surface, though we both had no idea how long and difficult that journey would truly be.
I was scared to make the first move of filling out an application and asking a teacher to write a recommendation letter for me. I stalled on writing my personal statement for the longest time because I had no clue as to why I deserved to go. I was scared to continue to think that I could actually pull this off and fly halfway across the world. I mean, how could I possibly? I still had very little money saved up, still no plans of 'how', and still very little emotional stability, though at the time I thought I had quite a bit of it. I tried to sabotage myself every step of the way, and almost succeeded in blowing the whole thing up right in front of my own eyes. I lost my job in May by my own doing, and I thought that it was going to be the end of all things as I knew it. And well, I was right. I had just lost my precious source of income and had just two months until the payment was due. I had to make a choice right then and there, to either let that break me or to keep trucking along.
A job offer to paint the outside of my house landed in my lap, thanks to my mother. I didn't like the idea very much after I thought about how much work I would really have to put into it, but I had no other options. I didn't like the idea of working for my mom very much either, but I bit my tongue and did it anyway. A large chunk of the financial burden was miraculously lifted when I received financial aid for the first time. It was the most beautiful as well as the most frightening moment of my entire life up to that point, because I knew then that it was truly possible for me to go if I had the resolve to come up with the rest. It was all up to me, and that scared the living daylights out of me.
And still I procrastinated; not doing as much work each day as I should have, sleeping in late and blaming not working on the heat of day when I could have worked before the summer sun even reared it's scorching head, skipping whole days here and there to 'take a day off'. I made almost every day a pain in the ass, dragging my feet as if there were a ball and chain attached to them. But somehow, someway, I made it. I just barely made the deadline for the full payment by the skin of my teeth, and I had never felt better in my whole entire existence. The only reason I know I made that deadline is because my desire was always greater than my fear. Every time I would doubt or want to give in to my demons, I would remember the feeling I got when I first saw that page online, and I would keep going, no matter how hard it was.
Then the second battle wave hit. I had to continue the paint job if I wanted any kind of spending money during the three months that I would be living in Florence. I thought that since I had worked so hard to make the first $3,000 of my own money, that the second time around would be a whole lot easier. That couldn't have been further from the truth, and in fact, it was even harder. That ball and chain felt even heavier than before and the heat seemed to get only more intense as the summer dragged on. I had absolutely no discipline whatsoever, and had to get raked by my mother constantly to keep my ass in gear. I would have small bursts of discipline, but they would never last more than three days at a time. My goal was to have at least $2,000 by the time I had to leave, but when that day finally came I barely had half of that number. I was scared, but for some reason I knew that it was all going to be okay...that somehow, money wouldn't be a problem over there. And then I was off on my wild adventure with $800 in my pocket, changing, learning, growing, being wrong and getting back on course again...the rest is history.
My point is, from start to finish this year has been one hell of an adventure. From it's little seedling form came a sprout, and little blossoms are starting to show, waiting to peak in the new year. I learned a lot of things this past year, but if I had to sum it all up with only a few words, I would say, "do it anyway". When fear reared it's ugly head constantly in my path, I pressed on anyway. I paid the price big time to make my dream come true, and I am so much happier for it! I am nowhere near perfect, and still have a long way to go, but I am so grateful for the ways in which the Universe has helped me create something beautiful for myself, and is still helping me to continue creating. I cannot escape fear, but I know that I have a choice, and I make the same choice every time it shows up: do it anyway, do it anyway.
I'm sure that 2011 will be full of even more surprises, new dreams, better ways of living, and more fear to conquer. I've learned also that every time I think I know something, I'm probably wrong. I have been humbled in so many ways, so I'm going into the new year not knowing anything, ready to listen for directions. I have no idea what this year has in store for me, or in what ways I will change, but I am ready; ready for the challenge of living it to the best of my abilities and getting help every step of the way. I have witnessed myself climbing the mountains and weathering the storms that 2010 had lined up for me, and I can't wait to begin the ones for 2011. Bring it on, baby!
To those of you who think that you don't deserve your dreams, you are right. Create the kind of self that does deserve them, no matter how scary it is at the time. It's not easy, but it's worth it when you can enjoy all the fruits of your labor. Ignite the fires of your soul and create the life you want to live, and when fear or anything else tries to get in your way, do it anyway.
December 31, 2010
December 05, 2010
Meeting Erica
Most people travel for the fun of it; to experience a new culture, to see how differently people around the world live, act, and speak; and sometimes to find themselves, to figure out who they are and what they want from life...what they can offer the world. I guess you can say I'm one of those deep people who learns something new just by walking out of her front door...just imagine me traveling halfway across the world to learn new things. If you can't imagine it, I look something like a kid in a candy store, staring into every jar with wide, curious eyes, filled with complete joy waiting in anticipation to taste each yummy thing. During these three months abroad, I got lucky enough to not only find myself, but to have found someone else as well.
I first met Erica (oh, and you have to roll the 'r') a little more than halfway into the semester when I went to Pisa. I had gone to Pisa with the intention of meeting an Italian family to see if I would be a good fit for them, working as an aupair during the summer. Of course, that all happened and it went great (minus being a little late...those darn trains!) and I got the job and I'm coming back in the summer, but the highlight of my time spent was meeting this woman.
I met Erica again when I went to Switzerland for a weekend to visit a dear friend of mine. Switzerland is a LOT different than Italy, let me tell you! The streets are organized, the houses are organized, the trains are organized...EVERYTHING IS ORGANIZED!! I fell in love with the snow covered mountains of the Swiss Alps as the evening sun cast it's radiant glow (which, by the way, can be seen from my friend's bedroom window). They took my breath away every time, taken aback by how much beauty there really is in the world. I also fell in love with Swiss bread; it is some of the softest, freshest, most delicious bread in the whole wide world! And no...I'm not exaggerating! I love their chocolate too, but I already knew that :)
My friend, Mara, took me to Bern (a big city about a half hour from where she lives) to show me what their version of a 'big city' is, because being from Los Angeles...well, you get the point. To our surprise, it started to snow! I was so excited, because the last time I'd seen snow I was in Idaho (which was oh, I don't know...six or seven years ago maybe?), and even then I'd never been in snow when it was actually falling. My favorite part of this snow experience was bending my knees, taking Mara's hands and being pulled like a sled in an open square next to their version of a white house. My shoes were slick enough to act like skis, and hers had enough traction to be able to run in snow, so it worked out perfectly. I felt like a little kid should feel, laughing uncontrollably with utter joy and happiness, playing in the snow with my friend, without a care in the world.
Going back to Erica, her presence was in my life once more as I entered the humble abode of Mara and her family. Apparently, it's completely normal for people that live in Switzerland to speak more than two languages, many people speaking four. Now for an American, that is completely mind-boggling because we only grow up with one main language, and of course since the rest of the world can speak English we don't bother learning others. Anyway, I experienced a mish mash of languages, ranging from Italian, English, Swiss German and French, and I absolutely loved it. I can't get over how interesting language is...how there are a million different ways to communicate the same thing. Of course, there are slight differences in construct and meaning depending on the culture, but at the end of the day the understanding is there. Mara's mother could speak [only] Swiss German and Italian, so we spoke in Italian for most of the time, and that's where Erica came in.
I realized that Erica is different than me in a lot of ways; she's more easygoing, more accepting of those different from herself, speaks and understands Italian better than I do, and gets less annoyed at the little things. When Erica is there the energy is light and happy, and the sound of laughter is ever prominent. She knows what she wants and goes after it, grounded, confident, and unfailing; there is a sense of raw power and strength about her. When I first met her in Pisa I was a little taken aback--I had no idea that I would ever run into someone like this, but I am so glad that I did.
At about this time I'm sure you're asking, who is this chick, really? And at about this time I'll tell you that she is me; she is my alter-ego, my Italian counterpart, my best friend. I found her when Giuglia (the mother in Pisa) told me that in Italian, Heather translates to Erica (with a rolled 'r' :)). My American name is difficult for most Italians to pronounce--well, make that most Europeans in general--because of the 'h' and the 'th', so every Italian that I've met in Pisa or the one I met in Switzerland calls me Erica. I have to admit that I didn't like the name at first, but it's grown on me since I've since then gotten to know this person pretty well.
Looking back at these past three months, I can see and feel how much I've grown and changed. The other day I was reading the first few entries in my journal, and I realized how much of a piss pot I was at the beginning. I complained about almost everything without even being aware of it. I thought I was better than everyone else because I was here to learn Italian and learn the ways of the culture, not to get drunk every night and act like a stupid American like everyone else. But somehow, someway, I let all of that go and changed from an angry and resentful caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly, adapt with vivid colors and wings to fly.
I've met some amazing, generous, loving people and attracted some crazy, trans-formative, healing experiences that I wouldn't trade for the world. Each of these people and experiences have both taken a piece of my heart and given one back ten times over. My heart has grown, my vision has broadened, my love for the world has expanded, and my point of attraction has shifted onto a completely new and exciting level. I've developed a deep knowing that there is no need to fear the world or whatever comes my way, that there is never any need to worry about money, that no matter what my dreams and aspirations are, they can be mine if I trust in the Universe and in myself and get busy doing what needs to be done.
So yes, my three months in Italy are up and I'm coming home to my beautiful and supportive family within 30 hours. But I'm not going back the same. I have Erica right by my side to help me practice my Italian and keep me on track when a tough day rears it's ugly head. I have my dreams to pull me forward, and people in my life to remind me of those dreams when I forget that they can be mine. I have a summer in Pisa to look forward to and friends in scattered places all over the world. Everything I love is here: the culture, the food, the language, the people...minus my family of course. Am I sad to be leaving? A little bit, but it's normal to feel that way when you leave the life you've known for three months, but I've learned that just when I think my adventure has ended, it has really only just begun.
I first met Erica (oh, and you have to roll the 'r') a little more than halfway into the semester when I went to Pisa. I had gone to Pisa with the intention of meeting an Italian family to see if I would be a good fit for them, working as an aupair during the summer. Of course, that all happened and it went great (minus being a little late...those darn trains!) and I got the job and I'm coming back in the summer, but the highlight of my time spent was meeting this woman.
I met Erica again when I went to Switzerland for a weekend to visit a dear friend of mine. Switzerland is a LOT different than Italy, let me tell you! The streets are organized, the houses are organized, the trains are organized...EVERYTHING IS ORGANIZED!! I fell in love with the snow covered mountains of the Swiss Alps as the evening sun cast it's radiant glow (which, by the way, can be seen from my friend's bedroom window). They took my breath away every time, taken aback by how much beauty there really is in the world. I also fell in love with Swiss bread; it is some of the softest, freshest, most delicious bread in the whole wide world! And no...I'm not exaggerating! I love their chocolate too, but I already knew that :)
My friend, Mara, took me to Bern (a big city about a half hour from where she lives) to show me what their version of a 'big city' is, because being from Los Angeles...well, you get the point. To our surprise, it started to snow! I was so excited, because the last time I'd seen snow I was in Idaho (which was oh, I don't know...six or seven years ago maybe?), and even then I'd never been in snow when it was actually falling. My favorite part of this snow experience was bending my knees, taking Mara's hands and being pulled like a sled in an open square next to their version of a white house. My shoes were slick enough to act like skis, and hers had enough traction to be able to run in snow, so it worked out perfectly. I felt like a little kid should feel, laughing uncontrollably with utter joy and happiness, playing in the snow with my friend, without a care in the world.
Going back to Erica, her presence was in my life once more as I entered the humble abode of Mara and her family. Apparently, it's completely normal for people that live in Switzerland to speak more than two languages, many people speaking four. Now for an American, that is completely mind-boggling because we only grow up with one main language, and of course since the rest of the world can speak English we don't bother learning others. Anyway, I experienced a mish mash of languages, ranging from Italian, English, Swiss German and French, and I absolutely loved it. I can't get over how interesting language is...how there are a million different ways to communicate the same thing. Of course, there are slight differences in construct and meaning depending on the culture, but at the end of the day the understanding is there. Mara's mother could speak [only] Swiss German and Italian, so we spoke in Italian for most of the time, and that's where Erica came in.
I realized that Erica is different than me in a lot of ways; she's more easygoing, more accepting of those different from herself, speaks and understands Italian better than I do, and gets less annoyed at the little things. When Erica is there the energy is light and happy, and the sound of laughter is ever prominent. She knows what she wants and goes after it, grounded, confident, and unfailing; there is a sense of raw power and strength about her. When I first met her in Pisa I was a little taken aback--I had no idea that I would ever run into someone like this, but I am so glad that I did.
At about this time I'm sure you're asking, who is this chick, really? And at about this time I'll tell you that she is me; she is my alter-ego, my Italian counterpart, my best friend. I found her when Giuglia (the mother in Pisa) told me that in Italian, Heather translates to Erica (with a rolled 'r' :)). My American name is difficult for most Italians to pronounce--well, make that most Europeans in general--because of the 'h' and the 'th', so every Italian that I've met in Pisa or the one I met in Switzerland calls me Erica. I have to admit that I didn't like the name at first, but it's grown on me since I've since then gotten to know this person pretty well.
Looking back at these past three months, I can see and feel how much I've grown and changed. The other day I was reading the first few entries in my journal, and I realized how much of a piss pot I was at the beginning. I complained about almost everything without even being aware of it. I thought I was better than everyone else because I was here to learn Italian and learn the ways of the culture, not to get drunk every night and act like a stupid American like everyone else. But somehow, someway, I let all of that go and changed from an angry and resentful caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly, adapt with vivid colors and wings to fly.
I've met some amazing, generous, loving people and attracted some crazy, trans-formative, healing experiences that I wouldn't trade for the world. Each of these people and experiences have both taken a piece of my heart and given one back ten times over. My heart has grown, my vision has broadened, my love for the world has expanded, and my point of attraction has shifted onto a completely new and exciting level. I've developed a deep knowing that there is no need to fear the world or whatever comes my way, that there is never any need to worry about money, that no matter what my dreams and aspirations are, they can be mine if I trust in the Universe and in myself and get busy doing what needs to be done.
So yes, my three months in Italy are up and I'm coming home to my beautiful and supportive family within 30 hours. But I'm not going back the same. I have Erica right by my side to help me practice my Italian and keep me on track when a tough day rears it's ugly head. I have my dreams to pull me forward, and people in my life to remind me of those dreams when I forget that they can be mine. I have a summer in Pisa to look forward to and friends in scattered places all over the world. Everything I love is here: the culture, the food, the language, the people...minus my family of course. Am I sad to be leaving? A little bit, but it's normal to feel that way when you leave the life you've known for three months, but I've learned that just when I think my adventure has ended, it has really only just begun.
November 22, 2010
When in Rome...
The 'when in Rome' philosophy holds a different significance for everyone who experiences the city, much like how everyone experiences life itself. In my experience, when in Rome I fell in love; with the city, the monuments, the energy, and yes, even the public transportation! As soon as we arrived, I was off to find the house I was going to be staying in for the weekend while everyone else waited to be able to check into their hotel rooms. How did I get so lucky, you ask?
Well, it just so happens that my two moms met a wonderful couple while they were in Rome last year. The weird thing is, out of the five nights they were there, they ran into this couple three times! Clearly, it was meant to be. Because of this they formed a relationship, which is how the opening for me to meet her came to be. The timing couldn't have been more perfect because she and her husband were going to Umbria for the weekend and were in need of a house-sitter. Of course, I jumped on the opportunity to experience Rome in a more authentic way!
As I walked into door of her house, an amazing energy smacked me in the face. It was an energy that was much like the one of Rome itself: sensual, creative, warm and full of life. I came to realize very quickly that Sienna is a very talented artist and business owner and has been living with her son and husband in Rome for twelve years! Learning this inspired me to dream of a life like this for myself (possibly minus the husband and kids) in the future. Unfortunately I wasn't able to meet the rest of her family, but I did get to know her cat, Spike, pretty well.
She showed me where the best stores were around her house as well as where to drink the best cappuccini! The best part? She lives about three blocks from one of the most famous monuments in Rome: the Colosseum. It was an insane feeling to walk almost right outside of her door and see the very thing that people come from all over the world to see. In my experience, it's a feeling that never really goes away completely.
We covered a lot of ground during the first tour of the city. We saw and learned about the Colosseum, the Roman Ruins, the Forum, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps, which were all very interesting and beautiful in their own ways. Of course, we all threw a coin into the Trevi Fountain to make certain that we would be coming back to Rome in the future, I'm sure on top of a few other endearing wishes. We wolfed down gelato from the best gelateria in all of Rome (according to the tour guide), and gazed at a panoramic view of the city from atop the Spanish Steps. The evening was topped off by taking a warm, relaxing shower and going to bed early to prepare for the next full, exciting day.
Saturday was spent taking a tour of the Vatican museums and the Sistine Chapel. I could not believe the breadth of these holy places! The inside of the cathedral was complete with an elaborate, winding altarpiece designed by Bernini, the original Pieta' sculpture by Michelangelo and other features of immense beauty. The energy in this building made my jaw drop and skin tingle (although the most beautiful Italian man I've ever seen probably intensified that feeling ;)) and a sense of peace washed over me like a wave spreading on the sand, simple and sure. I still can't believe how much time, intelligence, creativity and man power it took to build cathedrals like these. It humbles and inspires me on deep, intimate levels, and this only became more prominent as we walked into the Sistine Chapel. It completely blew me away; the amount of frescos and detail, as well as how well maintained and preserved they all are. Although I'm embarrassed to admit it, most of the time I had in there was spent thinking about how buff Michelangelo had to have been in order to pull off such a feat. My arm hurts just thinking about it...
The last wonderful day we had in Rome was busy and filled with joy. I got up early to go the Borghese Gallery to look at five of Bernini's most famous sculptures during the Baroque period. Of course, there was more to see other than those five things, but these were without a doubt the highlights. I could really connect with these sculptures because they represented passion, action, and emotion. I could feel them right down to my very core because they communicated such powerful and intense human characteristics. This is an appeal of Baroque art; it isn't just an interpretation of a simple figure in three dimension. They tell stories of human desire, power and sensuality while bringing real life into it's subjects in ways the art of the Renaissance could not. Bernini was the first to make sculptures come alive, and I'm so very glad he did because Rome would not have been the same without his influence. Perhaps this is where the energy of Rome comes from, and perhaps this is what fuels it. I hate to think of what would happen if all of the art and architecture was no more.
After working up an appetite exploring the city, I went to a cute little place called Caffe' Roma with two of my friends. The waitress was a very sexy, bold, and direct character who completely caught me off guard. She spoke perfect english, and as she set down my food she told me that she could tell I was a person with great inner strength, among a few other things like what my horoscope sign was. I was taken aback by how confident she was, and how well she could read my friends and I. It was possibly one of the coolest experiences I've ever had with a waitress, one that would make me want to go back again and again. I'm constantly amused by the kind of interactions I have with complete strangers. It makes me realize that there is no need to be afraid or hold back because you never know who's reading you ;)
It never ceases to amaze me how much history there is here and how far back it goes. I would love to have seen how they really lived back then, and to see how magnificent the buildings looked compared to how they look now. I wish I could truly know the ins and outs of the ancient civilizations of the Roman Empire...I think that would be so interesting! My imagination will have to do for now, at least until we invent time travel.
When in Rome, I realized that no matter where I am in the world, I am completely taken care of and comforted by strangers, but that there are never really any strangers in strange lands. When in Rome, I felt peace within the chaos of a very large city and the hustle and bustle of crowded transportation. When in Rome I felt the sensual and grounded energy of the art and locals alike; I felt what it would be like to live here someday. Everyone's experience here is different, but when in Rome I fell in love.
Well, it just so happens that my two moms met a wonderful couple while they were in Rome last year. The weird thing is, out of the five nights they were there, they ran into this couple three times! Clearly, it was meant to be. Because of this they formed a relationship, which is how the opening for me to meet her came to be. The timing couldn't have been more perfect because she and her husband were going to Umbria for the weekend and were in need of a house-sitter. Of course, I jumped on the opportunity to experience Rome in a more authentic way!
As I walked into door of her house, an amazing energy smacked me in the face. It was an energy that was much like the one of Rome itself: sensual, creative, warm and full of life. I came to realize very quickly that Sienna is a very talented artist and business owner and has been living with her son and husband in Rome for twelve years! Learning this inspired me to dream of a life like this for myself (possibly minus the husband and kids) in the future. Unfortunately I wasn't able to meet the rest of her family, but I did get to know her cat, Spike, pretty well.
She showed me where the best stores were around her house as well as where to drink the best cappuccini! The best part? She lives about three blocks from one of the most famous monuments in Rome: the Colosseum. It was an insane feeling to walk almost right outside of her door and see the very thing that people come from all over the world to see. In my experience, it's a feeling that never really goes away completely.
We covered a lot of ground during the first tour of the city. We saw and learned about the Colosseum, the Roman Ruins, the Forum, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps, which were all very interesting and beautiful in their own ways. Of course, we all threw a coin into the Trevi Fountain to make certain that we would be coming back to Rome in the future, I'm sure on top of a few other endearing wishes. We wolfed down gelato from the best gelateria in all of Rome (according to the tour guide), and gazed at a panoramic view of the city from atop the Spanish Steps. The evening was topped off by taking a warm, relaxing shower and going to bed early to prepare for the next full, exciting day.
Saturday was spent taking a tour of the Vatican museums and the Sistine Chapel. I could not believe the breadth of these holy places! The inside of the cathedral was complete with an elaborate, winding altarpiece designed by Bernini, the original Pieta' sculpture by Michelangelo and other features of immense beauty. The energy in this building made my jaw drop and skin tingle (although the most beautiful Italian man I've ever seen probably intensified that feeling ;)) and a sense of peace washed over me like a wave spreading on the sand, simple and sure. I still can't believe how much time, intelligence, creativity and man power it took to build cathedrals like these. It humbles and inspires me on deep, intimate levels, and this only became more prominent as we walked into the Sistine Chapel. It completely blew me away; the amount of frescos and detail, as well as how well maintained and preserved they all are. Although I'm embarrassed to admit it, most of the time I had in there was spent thinking about how buff Michelangelo had to have been in order to pull off such a feat. My arm hurts just thinking about it...
The last wonderful day we had in Rome was busy and filled with joy. I got up early to go the Borghese Gallery to look at five of Bernini's most famous sculptures during the Baroque period. Of course, there was more to see other than those five things, but these were without a doubt the highlights. I could really connect with these sculptures because they represented passion, action, and emotion. I could feel them right down to my very core because they communicated such powerful and intense human characteristics. This is an appeal of Baroque art; it isn't just an interpretation of a simple figure in three dimension. They tell stories of human desire, power and sensuality while bringing real life into it's subjects in ways the art of the Renaissance could not. Bernini was the first to make sculptures come alive, and I'm so very glad he did because Rome would not have been the same without his influence. Perhaps this is where the energy of Rome comes from, and perhaps this is what fuels it. I hate to think of what would happen if all of the art and architecture was no more.
After working up an appetite exploring the city, I went to a cute little place called Caffe' Roma with two of my friends. The waitress was a very sexy, bold, and direct character who completely caught me off guard. She spoke perfect english, and as she set down my food she told me that she could tell I was a person with great inner strength, among a few other things like what my horoscope sign was. I was taken aback by how confident she was, and how well she could read my friends and I. It was possibly one of the coolest experiences I've ever had with a waitress, one that would make me want to go back again and again. I'm constantly amused by the kind of interactions I have with complete strangers. It makes me realize that there is no need to be afraid or hold back because you never know who's reading you ;)
It never ceases to amaze me how much history there is here and how far back it goes. I would love to have seen how they really lived back then, and to see how magnificent the buildings looked compared to how they look now. I wish I could truly know the ins and outs of the ancient civilizations of the Roman Empire...I think that would be so interesting! My imagination will have to do for now, at least until we invent time travel.
When in Rome, I realized that no matter where I am in the world, I am completely taken care of and comforted by strangers, but that there are never really any strangers in strange lands. When in Rome, I felt peace within the chaos of a very large city and the hustle and bustle of crowded transportation. When in Rome I felt the sensual and grounded energy of the art and locals alike; I felt what it would be like to live here someday. Everyone's experience here is different, but when in Rome I fell in love.
November 01, 2010
L'Arte di Avventura
I find it funny to have just recently realized how the simplest things in life make me the happiest. Give me art, language (which probably isn't simple within itself, but the concept is), chocolate, and something to laugh about and I am a happy soul. Being able to take a short bus ride to quaint little cities outside of Florence and explore the unknown is so appealing to me; there's something thrilling yet calming about adventure, wherever it may be. This week, those adventures took place in Pisa, Lucca, and Perugia.
When you think of Pisa, what's the first thing that comes to mind? Yep! The famous leaning tower (which, by the way, was never intended). The rest of Pisa is usually overshadowed by this, even the cathedral and baptistery to some extent. Anyway, the group and I were lucky enough to have a tour of these monuments, and if you had a whopping 15 euros to spend (:O!!!) you could climb the leaning tower. A couple things about this place were unforgettable to me; first, the baptistery. By itself, it might not seem special to the carefree mind of a young student, but I can guarantee that everyone, young and old, was moved by the sounds made by one of the tour guides inside that building. As he stepped up onto the platform, he began to sing. No, not with words...they were sounds like that of "ohm" and other pleasing octaves. It is impossible to explain the full effect, but it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard in my entire life. The notes bounced off of and between the baptistery dome which caused them to become intensified in a natural, surround-sound kind of way. They entered my ears and went right down to the tips of my toes, filling my soul with vibrations I didn't know existed. Intense shivers crawled down my spine as I closed my eyes to be fully present in those precious, short moments. It was purely magical.
Since I've been here, I've become a huge fan of gold: the way it makes a painting pop and part of a church glimmer in the sun. There is hardly any masterpiece done without some kind of gold leaf work involved. What I love is the intricate detail that exists within each cathedral; the amount of time, effort, patience and talent it took to complete them. All the thought and meaning that is involved when creating something beautiful blows me away. The architecture is just mind-boggling to me--I'm so happy that people valued it so highly and were patient enough to wait 500+ years for one of them to be completed! Inside the cathedral (and the baptistery), there was a pulpit that was ornately crafted and built upon four sculpted lions. These lions represented the faith that made up the foundation for the institution and more deeply, for life. This hit me like a ton of bricks! Faith is something I have always struggled with ever since I was a child. Not only when it comes to religion, but in having faith in life itself; trusting that no matter what happens, I will be taken care of by something larger than myself. On top of this concept, the four lions were nursing their cubs, symbolizing the nurturing and mother-like nature of faith. It made me realize that even if there isn't really a God or an Allah or a Buddha, or any other religious/spiritual figure for that matter, we are all connected; we all want to be nurtured by something outside of our human-ness...we all want somewhere to look when the going gets tough. Whatever path someone chooses to reach this "being" is solely their own and highly personal, and it no longer feels right for me to judge that path. All I need to know is that I am nurtured inside and out by what I choose to believe, and that is good enough for me!
Next came Lucca, the cutest little town ever! The main features of this city are: the wall that completely surrounds it and the old amphitheater that it was built around. It was possibly one of the most relaxing and charming experiences I've had on one of our day trips. I spent the day exploring the city, eating sweet things, speaking in Italian, climbing towers and having great conversations with friends. There was something about Lucca that made it so special, but I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it was the calm and gentle dispositions of every worker in that town, or the peaceful energy resonating within the city walls, but it was different from any other Tuscan town I've visited. I can definitely see myself living there someday!
The next day I had a trip to Perugia solo. Yes, by myself. The story behind the "how" is one of great personal healing, but I have to leave it out due to the third party that was involved. Anyway, I felt compelled to go to Perugia because of the Eurochocolate festival! It was a dream come true; there was chocolate everywhere!! Now, I've had a lot of really good chocolate in my day because of how tasty my grandmother's chocolates are, but this was the best chocolate I have ever tasted in my entire life. The flavors were intense and creamy and perfect. Needless to say the chocolate I bought was gone within five days (and that's even a record for me!). Besides the chocolate, I loved my experience in Perugia because of an art exhibit I found while walking around. I wasn't planning on entering but something told me to so I did, and it was the best decision I made all day! The owner and his assistant were very kind and helpful with the language barrier. The woman showed me around the exhibit, explaining to me in Italian what techniques the artists used and how they were made. It was inspiring to me because it was a technique I had never seen before, but it is possibly the most beautiful technique I have ever laid eyes upon! The colors were beautiful and vibrant, and they all depicted nature in its various forms. My favorites of course were those that donned leaves in swirly designs with striking uses of red and gold and other warm colors. It may sound cheesy, but these pieces of art grabbed me and pulled me in; they spoke to my soul in a way that I've never felt before. I knew that I had a divine appointment with this place so that my creative soul would alight with a new kind of fire; a more intense, hotter fire. I felt alive!
My day around Perugia was rewarding to say the least, but the cherry on top of a great day happened while on the train ride back to Florence. I had grown tired after a full day of eating chocolate and walking around, so for the first half of the ride back home was spent sleeping. How I maintained a deep sleep throughout I cannot tell you--I surprised even myself. When I awoke, I realized that there was a man replacing the young girl who had been there upon departure, sitting straight across from me. I've learned to avert eye contact here, because sometimes just a quick, less-than-half-a-second glance will give a man the wrong impression, so it wasn't until he closed his eyes that I gave him a good look. What I saw made me have to hold in laughter, because he looked almost exactly like a frog. He was dressed in a shiny green jacket with brown slacks that were too short for his legs, revealing matching green socks and sharp-pointed, brown leather shoes. He wore glasses that hung down on the very tip of his bulbous nose and had a tuft of gray hair on the top of his head, and his cheeks hung down past his chin, making his mouth look very small compared to the rest of his face. When he opened his eyes, they were directed right at me, and I saw for once how bug-eyed they really were. His movements were slow and sure, and when he yawned, I half expected to see a long pink tongue shoot out of nowhere to catch a fly or two. Sadly, that didn't happen, but it was one of the most amusing things I've ever seen while riding the train, and it's never been harder to hold in my laughter. The thing that caught me the most off guard was the noise he made after his yawn. It wasn't like the normal sound you would expect someone to make, the one that sounds like a lazy lion's yawn. His was more like a sharp croak that seemed to echo within his throat two more times...exactly like a frog's would sound! The funniest thing about it was that the rest of his face made no change; his facial expression remained the same, as if he had not just made an alarming sound. I had to hide my face and bite my lips together to keep from bursting out into a boisterous guffaw. I'm laughing now just thinking about it...oh boy. He unexpectedly made my day even greater by providing me with such humor!
Within two days I experienced the best chocolate in the world, heard beautiful music, was inspired by amazing artwork, spoke more than two fluent sentences in Italian, and was graced with the presence of an amphibian. I think it's safe to say that I've learned the art of adventure.
When you think of Pisa, what's the first thing that comes to mind? Yep! The famous leaning tower (which, by the way, was never intended). The rest of Pisa is usually overshadowed by this, even the cathedral and baptistery to some extent. Anyway, the group and I were lucky enough to have a tour of these monuments, and if you had a whopping 15 euros to spend (:O!!!) you could climb the leaning tower. A couple things about this place were unforgettable to me; first, the baptistery. By itself, it might not seem special to the carefree mind of a young student, but I can guarantee that everyone, young and old, was moved by the sounds made by one of the tour guides inside that building. As he stepped up onto the platform, he began to sing. No, not with words...they were sounds like that of "ohm" and other pleasing octaves. It is impossible to explain the full effect, but it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard in my entire life. The notes bounced off of and between the baptistery dome which caused them to become intensified in a natural, surround-sound kind of way. They entered my ears and went right down to the tips of my toes, filling my soul with vibrations I didn't know existed. Intense shivers crawled down my spine as I closed my eyes to be fully present in those precious, short moments. It was purely magical.
Since I've been here, I've become a huge fan of gold: the way it makes a painting pop and part of a church glimmer in the sun. There is hardly any masterpiece done without some kind of gold leaf work involved. What I love is the intricate detail that exists within each cathedral; the amount of time, effort, patience and talent it took to complete them. All the thought and meaning that is involved when creating something beautiful blows me away. The architecture is just mind-boggling to me--I'm so happy that people valued it so highly and were patient enough to wait 500+ years for one of them to be completed! Inside the cathedral (and the baptistery), there was a pulpit that was ornately crafted and built upon four sculpted lions. These lions represented the faith that made up the foundation for the institution and more deeply, for life. This hit me like a ton of bricks! Faith is something I have always struggled with ever since I was a child. Not only when it comes to religion, but in having faith in life itself; trusting that no matter what happens, I will be taken care of by something larger than myself. On top of this concept, the four lions were nursing their cubs, symbolizing the nurturing and mother-like nature of faith. It made me realize that even if there isn't really a God or an Allah or a Buddha, or any other religious/spiritual figure for that matter, we are all connected; we all want to be nurtured by something outside of our human-ness...we all want somewhere to look when the going gets tough. Whatever path someone chooses to reach this "being" is solely their own and highly personal, and it no longer feels right for me to judge that path. All I need to know is that I am nurtured inside and out by what I choose to believe, and that is good enough for me!
Next came Lucca, the cutest little town ever! The main features of this city are: the wall that completely surrounds it and the old amphitheater that it was built around. It was possibly one of the most relaxing and charming experiences I've had on one of our day trips. I spent the day exploring the city, eating sweet things, speaking in Italian, climbing towers and having great conversations with friends. There was something about Lucca that made it so special, but I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it was the calm and gentle dispositions of every worker in that town, or the peaceful energy resonating within the city walls, but it was different from any other Tuscan town I've visited. I can definitely see myself living there someday!
The next day I had a trip to Perugia solo. Yes, by myself. The story behind the "how" is one of great personal healing, but I have to leave it out due to the third party that was involved. Anyway, I felt compelled to go to Perugia because of the Eurochocolate festival! It was a dream come true; there was chocolate everywhere!! Now, I've had a lot of really good chocolate in my day because of how tasty my grandmother's chocolates are, but this was the best chocolate I have ever tasted in my entire life. The flavors were intense and creamy and perfect. Needless to say the chocolate I bought was gone within five days (and that's even a record for me!). Besides the chocolate, I loved my experience in Perugia because of an art exhibit I found while walking around. I wasn't planning on entering but something told me to so I did, and it was the best decision I made all day! The owner and his assistant were very kind and helpful with the language barrier. The woman showed me around the exhibit, explaining to me in Italian what techniques the artists used and how they were made. It was inspiring to me because it was a technique I had never seen before, but it is possibly the most beautiful technique I have ever laid eyes upon! The colors were beautiful and vibrant, and they all depicted nature in its various forms. My favorites of course were those that donned leaves in swirly designs with striking uses of red and gold and other warm colors. It may sound cheesy, but these pieces of art grabbed me and pulled me in; they spoke to my soul in a way that I've never felt before. I knew that I had a divine appointment with this place so that my creative soul would alight with a new kind of fire; a more intense, hotter fire. I felt alive!
My day around Perugia was rewarding to say the least, but the cherry on top of a great day happened while on the train ride back to Florence. I had grown tired after a full day of eating chocolate and walking around, so for the first half of the ride back home was spent sleeping. How I maintained a deep sleep throughout I cannot tell you--I surprised even myself. When I awoke, I realized that there was a man replacing the young girl who had been there upon departure, sitting straight across from me. I've learned to avert eye contact here, because sometimes just a quick, less-than-half-a-second glance will give a man the wrong impression, so it wasn't until he closed his eyes that I gave him a good look. What I saw made me have to hold in laughter, because he looked almost exactly like a frog. He was dressed in a shiny green jacket with brown slacks that were too short for his legs, revealing matching green socks and sharp-pointed, brown leather shoes. He wore glasses that hung down on the very tip of his bulbous nose and had a tuft of gray hair on the top of his head, and his cheeks hung down past his chin, making his mouth look very small compared to the rest of his face. When he opened his eyes, they were directed right at me, and I saw for once how bug-eyed they really were. His movements were slow and sure, and when he yawned, I half expected to see a long pink tongue shoot out of nowhere to catch a fly or two. Sadly, that didn't happen, but it was one of the most amusing things I've ever seen while riding the train, and it's never been harder to hold in my laughter. The thing that caught me the most off guard was the noise he made after his yawn. It wasn't like the normal sound you would expect someone to make, the one that sounds like a lazy lion's yawn. His was more like a sharp croak that seemed to echo within his throat two more times...exactly like a frog's would sound! The funniest thing about it was that the rest of his face made no change; his facial expression remained the same, as if he had not just made an alarming sound. I had to hide my face and bite my lips together to keep from bursting out into a boisterous guffaw. I'm laughing now just thinking about it...oh boy. He unexpectedly made my day even greater by providing me with such humor!
Within two days I experienced the best chocolate in the world, heard beautiful music, was inspired by amazing artwork, spoke more than two fluent sentences in Italian, and was graced with the presence of an amphibian. I think it's safe to say that I've learned the art of adventure.
October 18, 2010
Oh, Amore: Rewriting my Script
Love scares the shit out of me. Wait, let me clarify: Love with a man scares the shit out of me. I've noticed that every time I picture having someone to love and picturing what that might feel like, a very large block pops up. Let me give you a few examples...
The other day, one of my roommates was talking about her line of work and how she gets to meet and work with movie stars on a regular basis. When she was working on Valentine's Day, she told us that when she met one of the handsome actors, he looked her straight in the eyes and held eye contact while they were talking. Right when she said that, this bubble of fear turned in my gut out of nowhere. Why?! It didn't even happen to me; but when I imagined myself in her position, I realized how scared I am of eye contact with attractive men. I don't know why. What am I scared of them seeing when they look into my eyes?
I freak out when I see someone I'm attracted to. The other night at a club, I saw someone who was exactly my type: tall, dark haired, handsome, and complete with facial hair. When all of these characteristics were put together and labeled: perfect, my mind instantly went into overdrive and flashes of mini scenarios entered my brain: what would happen if....what if I....what if HE...what do I say if...I'll look stupid if... It is EXHAUSTING!! All of these ifs and nothing ever happens because I'm so busy thinking about the ifs that I probably miss out on a lot of opportunities, with anyone! And then I wonder why they go for my friends instead of me. I'm so tired of worrying about all of it. Everything. Anything.
And why is it that our society feels like they need a relationship to be happy? Why do I feel like I need one to be complete? Why can't everyone just be enough for themselves and me for myself? I have so much confidence when I'm alone or with friends, but put one guy into the mix and that confidence gets thrown right out the window. It's annoying more than anything. It's like I'm waiting for the relationship that happens in all the movies. I'm waiting for the guy that realizes that he has to have me once he lays eyes on me, no matter what, and he'll do anything to get me. But this only happens in movies. I'm waiting for something ridiculous that will never come.
I'm also in a place where love, amore, is very important and very prominent in the culture. There are 'locks of love' everywhere: all around the river, on chains, written on walls...These 'locks of love' (literally; they take a padlock, write both of their names on it, and lock it forever onto a chain and throw the key into the ocean or river to signify their everlasting love) are extremely important because they represent the bond love has on people. I am also in a place where cheating is the biggest insult and the most painful offense, yet it happens all the time. How am I supposed to believe in these locks of love when they seemingly don't mean anything? How am I supposed to believe in love when the guy who is kissing you turns out to be married, and the guy who's hitting on your friend has a girlfriend?
I have this script with men. It tells me that I can't have the man I want. It tells me that I'm too fat and too tall and too...something to attract 'my type'. It tells me that if a guy is actually maybe interested in me, it's too good to be true. It tells me that I will never be enough for someone. What a difficult, painful script I have written for myself, huh? Poor universe, I have so many conflicting wants and needs that it doesn't know what to give me.
I've learned something really funny about scripts and history since I've been here. I've been learning in my history class that everything is just a story. History books are nothing but a series of stories, and these stories can change depending on what perspective you're reading from. To me, this means that my own personal history is also just a story, a story that I can change with a different perspective. Learning this has inspired me to make my story simple; to simply change what I do not like and what doesn't work and rewrite it. Isn't that what historians do all the time anyway?
So here is to rewriting my script! I have the power to change my perspective on the history I've obtained, and use it for my benefit. My new script tells me that I can have the man I want. It tells me that I'm perfect the way I am...I'm not too anything for anybody, especially 'my type'. It tells me that if a guy is genuinely showing interest, it's because he sees something in me that he likes and wants more of. It tells me that I am enough for someone out there, and that I am enough for myself. It tells me that when someone looks at me straight in the eyes, they will see my unguarded soul, ready to love and be loved.
The other day, one of my roommates was talking about her line of work and how she gets to meet and work with movie stars on a regular basis. When she was working on Valentine's Day, she told us that when she met one of the handsome actors, he looked her straight in the eyes and held eye contact while they were talking. Right when she said that, this bubble of fear turned in my gut out of nowhere. Why?! It didn't even happen to me; but when I imagined myself in her position, I realized how scared I am of eye contact with attractive men. I don't know why. What am I scared of them seeing when they look into my eyes?
I freak out when I see someone I'm attracted to. The other night at a club, I saw someone who was exactly my type: tall, dark haired, handsome, and complete with facial hair. When all of these characteristics were put together and labeled: perfect, my mind instantly went into overdrive and flashes of mini scenarios entered my brain: what would happen if....what if I....what if HE...what do I say if...I'll look stupid if... It is EXHAUSTING!! All of these ifs and nothing ever happens because I'm so busy thinking about the ifs that I probably miss out on a lot of opportunities, with anyone! And then I wonder why they go for my friends instead of me. I'm so tired of worrying about all of it. Everything. Anything.
And why is it that our society feels like they need a relationship to be happy? Why do I feel like I need one to be complete? Why can't everyone just be enough for themselves and me for myself? I have so much confidence when I'm alone or with friends, but put one guy into the mix and that confidence gets thrown right out the window. It's annoying more than anything. It's like I'm waiting for the relationship that happens in all the movies. I'm waiting for the guy that realizes that he has to have me once he lays eyes on me, no matter what, and he'll do anything to get me. But this only happens in movies. I'm waiting for something ridiculous that will never come.
I'm also in a place where love, amore, is very important and very prominent in the culture. There are 'locks of love' everywhere: all around the river, on chains, written on walls...These 'locks of love' (literally; they take a padlock, write both of their names on it, and lock it forever onto a chain and throw the key into the ocean or river to signify their everlasting love) are extremely important because they represent the bond love has on people. I am also in a place where cheating is the biggest insult and the most painful offense, yet it happens all the time. How am I supposed to believe in these locks of love when they seemingly don't mean anything? How am I supposed to believe in love when the guy who is kissing you turns out to be married, and the guy who's hitting on your friend has a girlfriend?
I have this script with men. It tells me that I can't have the man I want. It tells me that I'm too fat and too tall and too...something to attract 'my type'. It tells me that if a guy is actually maybe interested in me, it's too good to be true. It tells me that I will never be enough for someone. What a difficult, painful script I have written for myself, huh? Poor universe, I have so many conflicting wants and needs that it doesn't know what to give me.
I've learned something really funny about scripts and history since I've been here. I've been learning in my history class that everything is just a story. History books are nothing but a series of stories, and these stories can change depending on what perspective you're reading from. To me, this means that my own personal history is also just a story, a story that I can change with a different perspective. Learning this has inspired me to make my story simple; to simply change what I do not like and what doesn't work and rewrite it. Isn't that what historians do all the time anyway?
So here is to rewriting my script! I have the power to change my perspective on the history I've obtained, and use it for my benefit. My new script tells me that I can have the man I want. It tells me that I'm perfect the way I am...I'm not too anything for anybody, especially 'my type'. It tells me that if a guy is genuinely showing interest, it's because he sees something in me that he likes and wants more of. It tells me that I am enough for someone out there, and that I am enough for myself. It tells me that when someone looks at me straight in the eyes, they will see my unguarded soul, ready to love and be loved.
October 14, 2010
Semplice: Keepin' Things Simple
For the past couple of weeks, I've been signing up for tutoring with Monica (the boldest, most eccentric Italian woman I have ever met) to help me further my Italian understanding and skill. She assigns extra homework for me on top of regular classwork and an extra hour a week to speak and ask questions only in Italian...I love it! Anyway, the other day she told me to describe the most beautiful vacation I've ever taken, and to write a page. So of course, I did, and I was really proud of myself for writing so much! (hi this is heathers roommate...shes crazy and so much fun...sometimes.) <--message from Liz, my roommate. I was going to delete it but it was just too cute :) Ok, now back to my story. So I wrote a lot, and when I started reading it to her, about every second she gave me an ERR! (like a buzzer) sound. I let out a huff of air in frustration because I thought I had been so careful and done such a great job! What she said next hit me deeper than she could have ever imagined: "Keep it simple, semplice, you are thinking too complicated." Of course, she meant it referring to my homework and to stop thinking in English while translating to Italian, but as usual I took it a couple steps further.
For example, I wrote a sentence in Italian about letting all of my emotions out into a journal on a beach in Hawaii, word for word. She looks at me and says, "no! In English you say 'to let out' emotions. Italians already know that they come out, they just come out, we don't say this in Italian...it is implied." I couldn't keep from laughing! This is part of their culture as well...they are very open about their feelings and with their lives...everything just comes out. Emotions are complicated, but they way they deal with them is very simple--let it all out into the open! There are not enough words to express how much I love this about Italian culture. I admire the honesty, and that fact that they have nothing to hide.When they are mad, you will know. When they are sad, you will know. When they are happy, you will know. Simple.
The point is, I need to think more simply, to be more simple in my everyday life. Sometimes I make things way too complicated and over-think. If I feel angry, let it be. If I feel sad, just let it be. When I'm having the best day of my life, just accept it for it's beauty. Everything just IS. Life is very simple when I really dig deep; on the core level all we need is love and acceptance. Isn't that we're all searching for? All the other stuff doesn't matter as much as we make it matter.
I realized after that day that my life is a lot more "semplice" than I thought it to be before, and honestly, that's because it is! I made getting ready to leave for Italy extremely complicated and difficult. I worked through a lot of self-limitations and fears and feelings of unworthiness to get here. I had many bad days and days filled with immense doubt, but I plugged on anyway. It ended up being the best battle of my life, because it has paved the way for a much easier existence. Now I know that my dreams can be mine, no matter how big the dream. Now I know that all I have to do is take one step at a time towards the life I want to create and let the Universe take care of the rest. All I have to do is put the intention out there and be open to letting it come into my life...and they've been coming to me faster than ever these days. Whatever it is I want to do with my life, I can achieve it. Like Nike says, 'Just Do It.' It's as simple as that! And I am so grateful for the journey I'm taking.
It's funny how the smallest and simplest things you hear can make the biggest difference if you're really listening. I could have taken what Monica said on a strictly surface level, but I was present to how I could turn it into a miracle. When I came back the next day with more simple paragraph, she told me it was better. The amount of mistakes I made in the second paper was significantly less than the amount I made in the first one. It goes to show that life is better in its simplicity. It's time for me to stay present and live more simply, and perhaps we could all use to live a little more semplice.
For example, I wrote a sentence in Italian about letting all of my emotions out into a journal on a beach in Hawaii, word for word. She looks at me and says, "no! In English you say 'to let out' emotions. Italians already know that they come out, they just come out, we don't say this in Italian...it is implied." I couldn't keep from laughing! This is part of their culture as well...they are very open about their feelings and with their lives...everything just comes out. Emotions are complicated, but they way they deal with them is very simple--let it all out into the open! There are not enough words to express how much I love this about Italian culture. I admire the honesty, and that fact that they have nothing to hide.When they are mad, you will know. When they are sad, you will know. When they are happy, you will know. Simple.
The point is, I need to think more simply, to be more simple in my everyday life. Sometimes I make things way too complicated and over-think. If I feel angry, let it be. If I feel sad, just let it be. When I'm having the best day of my life, just accept it for it's beauty. Everything just IS. Life is very simple when I really dig deep; on the core level all we need is love and acceptance. Isn't that we're all searching for? All the other stuff doesn't matter as much as we make it matter.
I realized after that day that my life is a lot more "semplice" than I thought it to be before, and honestly, that's because it is! I made getting ready to leave for Italy extremely complicated and difficult. I worked through a lot of self-limitations and fears and feelings of unworthiness to get here. I had many bad days and days filled with immense doubt, but I plugged on anyway. It ended up being the best battle of my life, because it has paved the way for a much easier existence. Now I know that my dreams can be mine, no matter how big the dream. Now I know that all I have to do is take one step at a time towards the life I want to create and let the Universe take care of the rest. All I have to do is put the intention out there and be open to letting it come into my life...and they've been coming to me faster than ever these days. Whatever it is I want to do with my life, I can achieve it. Like Nike says, 'Just Do It.' It's as simple as that! And I am so grateful for the journey I'm taking.
It's funny how the smallest and simplest things you hear can make the biggest difference if you're really listening. I could have taken what Monica said on a strictly surface level, but I was present to how I could turn it into a miracle. When I came back the next day with more simple paragraph, she told me it was better. The amount of mistakes I made in the second paper was significantly less than the amount I made in the first one. It goes to show that life is better in its simplicity. It's time for me to stay present and live more simply, and perhaps we could all use to live a little more semplice.
October 03, 2010
(20) Twenty (Venti) Years
Two days before my birthday, I had one of the worst days since I've been here...and it wasn't really all that bad, but it was one of those days where everything pisses you off and you cry for silly and mostly unknown reasons; one where you feel the world is just out to get you and you take everything personally...Anyway, I did something I've never done before and decided to go out and sit on the bridge right next to my apartment and let my journal have it...while crying my eyes out. Well, the crying part wasn't actually intentional but it just happened. I mean, of course I've gone out and journaled in public, but never when I was feeling dark or angry or sad... Normally I would have stayed indoors for fear of looking like a completely broken mess. It was an interesting turn of events for me, for sure. It was the first time I realized I missed my family; missed the comfort of being able to be in my momma's arms and have my hair stroked; missed the unconditional love and acceptance I receive at home. I had to take care of myself half a world away, and while it was uncomfortable, it was the most empowering thing for me to do.
The "bad" day automatically turned into a great one in terms of learning to be autonomous, and writing freely in my journal released a lot of the anger and anguish I was feeling. The point I'm trying to make with telling you this story is that I am growing up. I'm no longer a teenager, and at least for two more months, I'm on my own. It's a huge shift for me. It's weird. Anyone who tells you that turning twenty doesn't mean anything is lying. Well, because my generation is obsessed with turning 21 so that they can drink their brains out and get drunk in public might be reason to have a different story...but I don't care about that stuff so every year means a lot to me. I can no longer blame any anger and angst in present or future on "being a teenager". Damnit! You mean I actually have to take full responsibility for my thoughts, feelings and actions?! Sheesh.
I feel like I just got handed a clean slate. I made it through my teen years...phew! Now I get to start over and create the life I want...as an "adult". I don't really know what that means yet, but then again maybe I never will. Being in Italy has thrown many clean slates at me...all of which I've accepted with eager arms and humble gratitude, which is probably why I had the best two days for my birthday that I've ever had in my life.
On Friday (Oct.1st) we went as a group to Sienna and San Gimignano for the day. In my opinion, these are the two most beautiful cities I've yet had the chance to visit for a number of reasons. I had the best time just walking around by myself after the tour guide was done, looking at pretty things, 'hiking' around these cute little mountain pathways, and swinging on a squeaky swing like a five year old. Everything I saw was breathtaking...These two places are absolutely gorgeous. I'll get to the details of both of these places in my next blog, because there's a whole lot more about them that would just lead me on a tangent that's different from what I want to say in this particular post...so the main thing was that I had a beautiful morning and afternoon exploring these cities!
Now mind you, I don't have a watch or a cell phone over here, so I never know what time it is. We were supposed to meet back at the bus at 4:30, and I come strolling in at 4:45, the last one there of course. Luckily, the bus had just barely arrived so no one was pissed because they had to wait for me. As I stepped onto the bus, everyone started singing happy birthday to me, and like normal I blushed and had a huge smile on my face. It was so unexpected which is what made it even that much more special! It was so cute and it made me so happy!
After we got home, I took a shower and got ready for dinner...which Liz treated me to (THANK YOU!!). It was the best dinner ever: Caprese insalata, gnocci ai quattro formaggi, and tiramisu' from Il Teatro! Everything was amazing, including the conversation and wine, and the cameriera (waitress) was a doll. It was the perfect birthday dinner. Lots of laughs and good feelings, and of course, dorky moments! We woke up at 8 in the morning to walk a friend to the train station, and he bought us breakfast (which in Italy consists of coffee and a sugary pastry). Within twenty minutes I found out some really refreshing qualities about this person that both impressed me and reinforced the fact that I'm attracting a different kind of people into my life experience these days; people who are good and surprising and who completely break down the expectations I have of this particular gender and of people in general. What's not to love about that?!
Around 9:30 Liz and I walked over to the ABC school to meet up with a small group (not from our American group) to go on a tour of the Bardini/Boboli Gardens. I had signed up for this for the exact reason of meeting people outside of the normal group and practice my Italian, at the same time walking around somewhere beautiful! And I got exactly what I wanted...people who weren't Italian but who could speak it, so for about 5 hours I spoke nothing but Italian...it was a dream come true! And I was happy that I could understand what everyone was talking about..most of the time anyway. After the tour we went to get lunch at the BEST pizzeria I have yet been to and got everyone's facebook so I could keep in touch with them. We decided on getting together to go out later that same night which got me really excited (and for those of you who know me, you know I'm not usually a 'going out' kind of person, especially late at night).
Liz and I met up with the three of them around 10pm to go to the Lion's Fountain, an American/Irish pub. We had so much fun talking and laughing and speaking different languages (although by this time my Italian was getting a little shlumpy because of how tired I was, and I started understanding less and less as the night went on hehe). I had two drinks in the 4 hours we were there, so everyone that is wondering can just relax :) We met a group of Italian men that thankfully weren't trying to get into any of our pants and we had great and funny conversations with them. It was an awesome evening!
Basically, this has been the best birthday I have ever had in my entire life, as well as the best two days I've ever lived. There were absolutely no 'bad' feelings and everything went more smoothly than I could ever have imagined. I started off my third decade in a great way, and I'm so thankful for all the wonderful people that have been in my life from the beginning, who are in it on this journey with me, and who I will eventually cross paths with. It just wouldn't be the same without any of you, because happiness is meant to be shared.
'Cin cin!!" I am going to rock my twenties...look out world, here I come! :)
The "bad" day automatically turned into a great one in terms of learning to be autonomous, and writing freely in my journal released a lot of the anger and anguish I was feeling. The point I'm trying to make with telling you this story is that I am growing up. I'm no longer a teenager, and at least for two more months, I'm on my own. It's a huge shift for me. It's weird. Anyone who tells you that turning twenty doesn't mean anything is lying. Well, because my generation is obsessed with turning 21 so that they can drink their brains out and get drunk in public might be reason to have a different story...but I don't care about that stuff so every year means a lot to me. I can no longer blame any anger and angst in present or future on "being a teenager". Damnit! You mean I actually have to take full responsibility for my thoughts, feelings and actions?! Sheesh.
I feel like I just got handed a clean slate. I made it through my teen years...phew! Now I get to start over and create the life I want...as an "adult". I don't really know what that means yet, but then again maybe I never will. Being in Italy has thrown many clean slates at me...all of which I've accepted with eager arms and humble gratitude, which is probably why I had the best two days for my birthday that I've ever had in my life.
On Friday (Oct.1st) we went as a group to Sienna and San Gimignano for the day. In my opinion, these are the two most beautiful cities I've yet had the chance to visit for a number of reasons. I had the best time just walking around by myself after the tour guide was done, looking at pretty things, 'hiking' around these cute little mountain pathways, and swinging on a squeaky swing like a five year old. Everything I saw was breathtaking...These two places are absolutely gorgeous. I'll get to the details of both of these places in my next blog, because there's a whole lot more about them that would just lead me on a tangent that's different from what I want to say in this particular post...so the main thing was that I had a beautiful morning and afternoon exploring these cities!
Now mind you, I don't have a watch or a cell phone over here, so I never know what time it is. We were supposed to meet back at the bus at 4:30, and I come strolling in at 4:45, the last one there of course. Luckily, the bus had just barely arrived so no one was pissed because they had to wait for me. As I stepped onto the bus, everyone started singing happy birthday to me, and like normal I blushed and had a huge smile on my face. It was so unexpected which is what made it even that much more special! It was so cute and it made me so happy!
After we got home, I took a shower and got ready for dinner...which Liz treated me to (THANK YOU!!). It was the best dinner ever: Caprese insalata, gnocci ai quattro formaggi, and tiramisu' from Il Teatro! Everything was amazing, including the conversation and wine, and the cameriera (waitress) was a doll. It was the perfect birthday dinner. Lots of laughs and good feelings, and of course, dorky moments! We woke up at 8 in the morning to walk a friend to the train station, and he bought us breakfast (which in Italy consists of coffee and a sugary pastry). Within twenty minutes I found out some really refreshing qualities about this person that both impressed me and reinforced the fact that I'm attracting a different kind of people into my life experience these days; people who are good and surprising and who completely break down the expectations I have of this particular gender and of people in general. What's not to love about that?!
Around 9:30 Liz and I walked over to the ABC school to meet up with a small group (not from our American group) to go on a tour of the Bardini/Boboli Gardens. I had signed up for this for the exact reason of meeting people outside of the normal group and practice my Italian, at the same time walking around somewhere beautiful! And I got exactly what I wanted...people who weren't Italian but who could speak it, so for about 5 hours I spoke nothing but Italian...it was a dream come true! And I was happy that I could understand what everyone was talking about..most of the time anyway. After the tour we went to get lunch at the BEST pizzeria I have yet been to and got everyone's facebook so I could keep in touch with them. We decided on getting together to go out later that same night which got me really excited (and for those of you who know me, you know I'm not usually a 'going out' kind of person, especially late at night).
Liz and I met up with the three of them around 10pm to go to the Lion's Fountain, an American/Irish pub. We had so much fun talking and laughing and speaking different languages (although by this time my Italian was getting a little shlumpy because of how tired I was, and I started understanding less and less as the night went on hehe). I had two drinks in the 4 hours we were there, so everyone that is wondering can just relax :) We met a group of Italian men that thankfully weren't trying to get into any of our pants and we had great and funny conversations with them. It was an awesome evening!
Basically, this has been the best birthday I have ever had in my entire life, as well as the best two days I've ever lived. There were absolutely no 'bad' feelings and everything went more smoothly than I could ever have imagined. I started off my third decade in a great way, and I'm so thankful for all the wonderful people that have been in my life from the beginning, who are in it on this journey with me, and who I will eventually cross paths with. It just wouldn't be the same without any of you, because happiness is meant to be shared.
'Cin cin!!" I am going to rock my twenties...look out world, here I come! :)
September 26, 2010
Long Overdue Gratitude
I've been debating whether or not to make this public, but obviously I've opted to. I figure I've publicized my anger towards my dad, so why not publicize the gratitude? For those of you who know what kind of drama I've been through with my dad, this will be a refreshing change for you to see. For those of you who don't, consider that a blessing ;) Here's a letter I sent him yesterday...yes, a written letter from Italy to the US.
Dear Dad,
I was walking around everywhere trying to find some nice stationary paper to write on but I couldn't find any. Apparently letter-writing is a dying art so I'm forced to write on boring lined paper--sorry! Anyway, as you might know, I'm in Italy now and have been for about two and a half weeks. It's gorgeous here...the pictures you see don't do it any justice, that's for sure! The streets are quite narrow and the cobblestone roads are a pain in the ass for the ankles, but the constant walking around makes for some great exercise (and toned legs! :)). The men are beautiful, but they're not as aggressive as everyone says they are. I feel like that's what everyone expects so they attract that into their experience--they have a bad reputation and in my opinion it's an unfair one. But maybe it's just me.
Since I've been here, I've changed. I can feel it already, and one of the things I've been thinking about lately is you. I'm really tired of feeling angry, resentful, and negative towards you, especially when people ask me about my dad. Maybe it's because I'm in Italy, but I want to see the beauty in everything, and I mean EVERYTHING.
Last week, I started a 12-week "program" called The Artist's Way (it's a book). Each week there are certain tasks assigned to be completed within that week, each with a specific focus. The major theme is unblocking creativity and allowing yourself to be creative in whatever area of life you need it for (which in my opinion is every area) in a spiritual manner. One of the tasks in this first week was to write a thank you letter to a former mentor who was a positive influence on your creativity, but when I read that, you were the first person to pop into my head. So here I am, writing you to thank you for the positive influences you've had on my life.
Thank you for always taking the time to prepare meals for us growing up. For waking us up in the morning and making breakfast, packing our lunches for school and having a beautiful dinner made every night. I've always been spoiled with home-cooked meals, and GREAT ones at that! I think it's really inspired me to cook for myself and get really good at it--you would be proud--I've become quite the cook this year. It's become a passion of mine and I owe you some credit after all those years of yummy meals. I've come to appreciate a man who can cook :)
Thank you for being such a great artist. I know it's been a really rough path for you, but I feel blessed to have been around such creativity no matter the difficulty. I feel that much of my talent has come naturally just by watching you do what you do. It's also been a bragging right for me growing up, showing my classmates what "my daddy can do!" It's always rendered "oooooh's" and "ahhhhh's" and impressed facial expressions that always made me feel proud to be your daughter. Your artistic life hasn't been a waste, at least to me.
I loved watching you be able to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere. It was fun to see how others reacted to your charisma and charm, as if it were a real rarity, a gift only a select few have--which I think is very true. Not everyone can do that, not even me! I think this is one of the reasons I've always been attracted to outgoing people, because my daddy was that way. I think it's amazing how long you could keep a conversation going and still look like you were having a great time. People love great conversationalists, and so do I.
I really appreciate your sense of humor. You taught me how to laugh without restraint and be proud of that laughter. Some of the best memories I have of us as a family are those in which we're all laughing at something ridiculous. Your laugh always made me laugh even harder because it was so gut-wrenchingly contagious. I feel like you're the reason I laugh like I do. It's real, it's loud, and it's frequent, like yours. When people give me dirty looks for it or tell me something "wasn't that funny," I just chuckle to myself and think, "you guys just don't get it." I love being able to laugh at everything, and REALLY laugh because I think life is genuinely hilarious. So thank you for being such a great example for that.
On the other side of the spectrum, I appreciate your sensitivity; for being comfortable showing pain and sadness, occasionally through tears. You wear your emotions on your sleeve, and now that I'm older and have experienced and encountered different types of people, I realize how rare that is in a man. There are so many men that are taught that it's wrong to cry and show emotion and that it's not "manly" enough, and I'm so glad you've always been open with your feelings. Thank you for not being "too manly" to show your insides.
Thank you for everything you have sacrificed for me and the girls. I realize now that you gave up a whole lot for us, and I understand what kind of a toll that can take on a person. You gave up your motorcycle, your dream, to buy a washer and dryer; to start a family with Mom. And that takes a lot of guts; a lot of love. And because I finally understand what it's like to have dreams and put everything, all of your soul, into it, I can fully understand your anger. It makes sense why, after everything was ripped out from under you, that you broke down and started resenting everyone and everything. You're hurt, and sad, and angry, and I get it. I would be too.
I forgive you, Daddy, for everything. Thank you for everything you have ever done for me. Yes, even the not-so-great things and the negative influences. I can see the beauty in the life you've shown me, and I wouldn't be the person I am today without any and all of it. I'm learning to love myself, even with the broken parts. I love who I am and I'm grateful for everything that has had an impact, great and small, on my life. I want you to know that I set you free. Free from the angry person I've known you to be; free from the life where you can't have your dreams. I'm setting myself free; from the resentment towards you and men in general, from the person I feel I have to be in order to be loved; from the pain and anger surrounding my childhood through teenage years. I love you, Dad, and I always will. I will always be your little girl. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Love,
Heather
Dear Dad,
I was walking around everywhere trying to find some nice stationary paper to write on but I couldn't find any. Apparently letter-writing is a dying art so I'm forced to write on boring lined paper--sorry! Anyway, as you might know, I'm in Italy now and have been for about two and a half weeks. It's gorgeous here...the pictures you see don't do it any justice, that's for sure! The streets are quite narrow and the cobblestone roads are a pain in the ass for the ankles, but the constant walking around makes for some great exercise (and toned legs! :)). The men are beautiful, but they're not as aggressive as everyone says they are. I feel like that's what everyone expects so they attract that into their experience--they have a bad reputation and in my opinion it's an unfair one. But maybe it's just me.
Since I've been here, I've changed. I can feel it already, and one of the things I've been thinking about lately is you. I'm really tired of feeling angry, resentful, and negative towards you, especially when people ask me about my dad. Maybe it's because I'm in Italy, but I want to see the beauty in everything, and I mean EVERYTHING.
Last week, I started a 12-week "program" called The Artist's Way (it's a book). Each week there are certain tasks assigned to be completed within that week, each with a specific focus. The major theme is unblocking creativity and allowing yourself to be creative in whatever area of life you need it for (which in my opinion is every area) in a spiritual manner. One of the tasks in this first week was to write a thank you letter to a former mentor who was a positive influence on your creativity, but when I read that, you were the first person to pop into my head. So here I am, writing you to thank you for the positive influences you've had on my life.
Thank you for always taking the time to prepare meals for us growing up. For waking us up in the morning and making breakfast, packing our lunches for school and having a beautiful dinner made every night. I've always been spoiled with home-cooked meals, and GREAT ones at that! I think it's really inspired me to cook for myself and get really good at it--you would be proud--I've become quite the cook this year. It's become a passion of mine and I owe you some credit after all those years of yummy meals. I've come to appreciate a man who can cook :)
Thank you for being such a great artist. I know it's been a really rough path for you, but I feel blessed to have been around such creativity no matter the difficulty. I feel that much of my talent has come naturally just by watching you do what you do. It's also been a bragging right for me growing up, showing my classmates what "my daddy can do!" It's always rendered "oooooh's" and "ahhhhh's" and impressed facial expressions that always made me feel proud to be your daughter. Your artistic life hasn't been a waste, at least to me.
I loved watching you be able to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere. It was fun to see how others reacted to your charisma and charm, as if it were a real rarity, a gift only a select few have--which I think is very true. Not everyone can do that, not even me! I think this is one of the reasons I've always been attracted to outgoing people, because my daddy was that way. I think it's amazing how long you could keep a conversation going and still look like you were having a great time. People love great conversationalists, and so do I.
I really appreciate your sense of humor. You taught me how to laugh without restraint and be proud of that laughter. Some of the best memories I have of us as a family are those in which we're all laughing at something ridiculous. Your laugh always made me laugh even harder because it was so gut-wrenchingly contagious. I feel like you're the reason I laugh like I do. It's real, it's loud, and it's frequent, like yours. When people give me dirty looks for it or tell me something "wasn't that funny," I just chuckle to myself and think, "you guys just don't get it." I love being able to laugh at everything, and REALLY laugh because I think life is genuinely hilarious. So thank you for being such a great example for that.
On the other side of the spectrum, I appreciate your sensitivity; for being comfortable showing pain and sadness, occasionally through tears. You wear your emotions on your sleeve, and now that I'm older and have experienced and encountered different types of people, I realize how rare that is in a man. There are so many men that are taught that it's wrong to cry and show emotion and that it's not "manly" enough, and I'm so glad you've always been open with your feelings. Thank you for not being "too manly" to show your insides.
Thank you for everything you have sacrificed for me and the girls. I realize now that you gave up a whole lot for us, and I understand what kind of a toll that can take on a person. You gave up your motorcycle, your dream, to buy a washer and dryer; to start a family with Mom. And that takes a lot of guts; a lot of love. And because I finally understand what it's like to have dreams and put everything, all of your soul, into it, I can fully understand your anger. It makes sense why, after everything was ripped out from under you, that you broke down and started resenting everyone and everything. You're hurt, and sad, and angry, and I get it. I would be too.
I forgive you, Daddy, for everything. Thank you for everything you have ever done for me. Yes, even the not-so-great things and the negative influences. I can see the beauty in the life you've shown me, and I wouldn't be the person I am today without any and all of it. I'm learning to love myself, even with the broken parts. I love who I am and I'm grateful for everything that has had an impact, great and small, on my life. I want you to know that I set you free. Free from the angry person I've known you to be; free from the life where you can't have your dreams. I'm setting myself free; from the resentment towards you and men in general, from the person I feel I have to be in order to be loved; from the pain and anger surrounding my childhood through teenage years. I love you, Dad, and I always will. I will always be your little girl. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Love,
Heather
September 22, 2010
American Roots
What does it mean to be American? So far, it means being arrogant, stupid, disrespectful, and drunk. When I look around, that is all I see. I see a country whose culture is nothing but a bad influence on others, and one that expects everyone else to get down on their level. How do I embrace my roots when I hate everything about what my country represents? How do I come to peace about being American when I continue to see people that give our country a bad name? How, when I see a McDonald's in the most delicious food capital of the world, and Italians getting wasted and passed out in front of a church (which is a completely American influence)?
Well, it's something I need to come to terms with because as much as I hate to admit it, I cannot run from my roots. As much as I want to I cannot deny where I come from. The sooner I embrace it, the sooner I can move on and attract different experiences into my life. But I also need to fully acknowledge my loathing of the country I live in before I can let anything go.
I hate that we expect everyone to speak English on our behalf, and don't even so much as try to learn theirs. The fact that most of the Florentines can speak some English due to the plethora of tourists that come year round makes me sad because if they don't, their business will suffer; it is do or die, and that kills me. What is so hard about learning the basics at least?! Apparently that is too much work for Americans.
I hate how disrespectful we are to different cultures. Instead of trying to fit in and learn their ways of life, we completely disregard anything foreign and expect them not to get mad or upset; it's easier to piss someone off than be open-minded. When foreigners are in our country, we expect them to learn how we do things, but apparently it's a one way street when it's the other way around. What is that?! We're just a bunch of damn hypocrites.
I hate that we have to get drunk in order to have fun and be crazy. For the most part, Italians don't need to be drunk or even buzzed to be having a great time (though sadly, it's becoming more and more common with Italian youth). When I was at the soccer match the other day, I was amazed at how much energy there was in the crowd, ruminating from the pores of every Italian--young and old.The best part? They were all SOBER. They have true passion for their sport, and they have respect for it. They wouldn't dream of getting drunk at a soccer match, it is their love. In America at football games, most everyone is drunk or at least getting there, and comparatively, we have minimal passion. Everyone cheers together here, as one whole entity, and they are proud of where they come from. I wish I could have the same passion for where I come from, but I can't...at least not yet.
I hate the way we do food. We put a bunch of preservative crap in everything and a disgusting amount of antibiotics and pesticides in and on everything. We treat our animals horrifically, cramming them into unimaginably small spaces and feed them the wrong food just to make them grow bigger to meet the demands we have on beef and other meats. We put an incessant amount of pesticides on our produce in order to 'protect' it because we all eat with our eyes. Everything in Italy is fresh, and I mean EVERYTHING! I love knowing that when I go to the market everything has been grown locally and has no preservatives or pesticides in or on it. I love that I can eat more here and not feel bloated or fat, and still lose weight...which I think has a lot to do with the walking and how fresh everything is. Italians know how to do food; it is truly an art form, and I love being able to take part in that relationship.
I hate the way we treat our land. We place no value on preserving the land we have and treating it with respect. We strip the earth of it's natural minerals and nutrition with all the chemicals and over-usage. When we see an open plot of land, we snatch it up and put a boring looking condo on it to get the most out of the space (and money). Everything looks the same, grossly standard. There is no originality in any newly constructed areas, and I hate looking at it. In Italy they have an insane respect for preserving their countryside. Everyone has to go through strict regulations and interrogations before anything is approved as far as building goes because they value very highly the space they live in. And I am so glad because their countryside is BEAUTIFUL!! Italy wouldn't be the same without it.
I'm sure there are a few more things I hate, but these are the main ones. For the past two weeks I have been desperately trying to avoid coming across as a stupid American, and have pissed a few people off in doing so, so I need to confront this. As much as I hate to admit it, I am a stupid American. I'll say it again just in case you missed it: I am a stupid American. I don't know everything (though I like to think I do sometimes) and never will. I will never be anything other than American. I am in a place where my roots are prominent and obvious, I can't run and hide anymore. These are my roots, and this is who I am.
I really want to be open to a new perspective...does anyone have any insight for me?
Well, it's something I need to come to terms with because as much as I hate to admit it, I cannot run from my roots. As much as I want to I cannot deny where I come from. The sooner I embrace it, the sooner I can move on and attract different experiences into my life. But I also need to fully acknowledge my loathing of the country I live in before I can let anything go.
I hate that we expect everyone to speak English on our behalf, and don't even so much as try to learn theirs. The fact that most of the Florentines can speak some English due to the plethora of tourists that come year round makes me sad because if they don't, their business will suffer; it is do or die, and that kills me. What is so hard about learning the basics at least?! Apparently that is too much work for Americans.
I hate how disrespectful we are to different cultures. Instead of trying to fit in and learn their ways of life, we completely disregard anything foreign and expect them not to get mad or upset; it's easier to piss someone off than be open-minded. When foreigners are in our country, we expect them to learn how we do things, but apparently it's a one way street when it's the other way around. What is that?! We're just a bunch of damn hypocrites.
I hate that we have to get drunk in order to have fun and be crazy. For the most part, Italians don't need to be drunk or even buzzed to be having a great time (though sadly, it's becoming more and more common with Italian youth). When I was at the soccer match the other day, I was amazed at how much energy there was in the crowd, ruminating from the pores of every Italian--young and old.The best part? They were all SOBER. They have true passion for their sport, and they have respect for it. They wouldn't dream of getting drunk at a soccer match, it is their love. In America at football games, most everyone is drunk or at least getting there, and comparatively, we have minimal passion. Everyone cheers together here, as one whole entity, and they are proud of where they come from. I wish I could have the same passion for where I come from, but I can't...at least not yet.
I hate the way we do food. We put a bunch of preservative crap in everything and a disgusting amount of antibiotics and pesticides in and on everything. We treat our animals horrifically, cramming them into unimaginably small spaces and feed them the wrong food just to make them grow bigger to meet the demands we have on beef and other meats. We put an incessant amount of pesticides on our produce in order to 'protect' it because we all eat with our eyes. Everything in Italy is fresh, and I mean EVERYTHING! I love knowing that when I go to the market everything has been grown locally and has no preservatives or pesticides in or on it. I love that I can eat more here and not feel bloated or fat, and still lose weight...which I think has a lot to do with the walking and how fresh everything is. Italians know how to do food; it is truly an art form, and I love being able to take part in that relationship.
I hate the way we treat our land. We place no value on preserving the land we have and treating it with respect. We strip the earth of it's natural minerals and nutrition with all the chemicals and over-usage. When we see an open plot of land, we snatch it up and put a boring looking condo on it to get the most out of the space (and money). Everything looks the same, grossly standard. There is no originality in any newly constructed areas, and I hate looking at it. In Italy they have an insane respect for preserving their countryside. Everyone has to go through strict regulations and interrogations before anything is approved as far as building goes because they value very highly the space they live in. And I am so glad because their countryside is BEAUTIFUL!! Italy wouldn't be the same without it.
I'm sure there are a few more things I hate, but these are the main ones. For the past two weeks I have been desperately trying to avoid coming across as a stupid American, and have pissed a few people off in doing so, so I need to confront this. As much as I hate to admit it, I am a stupid American. I'll say it again just in case you missed it: I am a stupid American. I don't know everything (though I like to think I do sometimes) and never will. I will never be anything other than American. I am in a place where my roots are prominent and obvious, I can't run and hide anymore. These are my roots, and this is who I am.
I really want to be open to a new perspective...does anyone have any insight for me?
September 18, 2010
Culture Shock
Hey everyone! Sorry it took me so long to sit down and write a blog...I would have completed one last night but I ran into an issue with my keys (haha!). Anyway, I'm here to tell you all about the adventures of my first week in Italy, except that probably won't happen. If I told you every single detail so far, well, let's just say I wouldn't be having any more adventures for a while. Enough about that! This week: culture shock.
As far as experiencing culture shock goes, I didn't have too many problems with the Italian way of life mainly because everything just excited me, but there were a couple things I wasn't used to that made me scratch my head. First of all, the DRIVING! Wow, Italian drivers are insane!! There will be three lanes on one street, and everyone ignores them. It's all just a jumbled mess, but surprisingly, it works. The conjestion doesn't last for very long, and everyone honks at each other, though it does nothing to make anything go faster or more smoothly. On the way to our apartment, I was a little bit scared for my life and the lives of my roommates, so I had to look out the window so that I wouldn't pay attention to his driving. But, we got there safely, so I can't complain too much :)
Another thing that ended up shocking me was all the walking! I'm more used to it now, but my feet can't say the same. They are blistered and bruised and wounded, especially since my red boots died in the rain and I had to break in new shoes. They are still trying to heal, but every time I wear a different shoe, a new blister pops up (no pun intended) and turns into a stinging cut that I have to put a band-aid on. Which reminds me that I should have brought a million band-aids from home because they are expensive here! Anyway, you also have to be careful when you walk around because pedestrians DO NOT have the right of way. If you don't get out of the way, you will find that you have a broken arm, crushed foot, and a face without a nose...or dead! Especially with the buses..those things are scary! The roads are also very dangerous because of all the potholes! If I would have worn heels, both of my ankles would have been broken by now. BUT, they have provided me with many a laugh due to all the tripping everyone has been doing (including me!).
The biggest culture shock for me was having to deal with forty new people, sharing an apartment with three new roommates, and socializing with a million different personalities. This is my weakness: groups. I've never done well in groups, which is why I've chosen to be independent most of the time. It's easier to be alone; I'm in control when I'm alone. But, I have to do the things that I'm afraid of, so I've been working on letting go of worrying about who likes me and who doesn't, and just being myself. It turns out that a lot of the people who I thought were spoiled, stupid, rich brats, or ignorant, bitchy, annoying girls, I was completely wrong about. I allowed myself to see a different side, which helped me even more to go with the flow instead of resist and resent. I'm doing my thing and letting everyone else do their own because that's all I can do.
The language has opened up many areas of communication for me. I've been able to meet Italian people who work in bars and supermarkets, and people who wanted me to take their picture in front of the Santa Croce (who only spoke Italian) on my morning excursions. I've been able to translate some things for my friends and ask little questions about where to find certain things or places, and I love that feeling! I even like to struggle with the language, and make a complete fool out of myself in front of Italians saying words the wrong way and mixing up verbs, etc. I've decided that I really like the learning curve, especially because all the Italians I've met have been super nice and helpful (not to mention adorable!!). For example, I was able to communicate with one of my neighbors that I had forgotten my keys and was waiting for my roommates to get home (in Italian!: ho dimenticato i miei chiavi, cosi' aspetto per le mie compagne di stanze). Even though I looked like a bum sleeping outside...it was worth it for the interactions I had. I also really love my Italian teacher. She's really funny and pretty, and she only lets us speak in Italian, and she only speaks to us in Italian...so it's a little hard to understand what she's saying sometimes, but I always feel so accomplished when I do know what she's saying. It helps because we have to ask her questions in the foreign language, so it makes me have to struggle to make her understand what it is that I don't understand about a grammar concept. I hope that made sense to you guys haha!
My apartment is adorable. It is small but very quaint, and it's homey and cozy. All the basic essentials are working, so I don't have anything to complain about; I'm living in an authentic Italian apartment in the center of Florence...how can you get better than that?! The quirks of the apartment are fun to figure out. The water heater is very small, so the hot water doesn't last very long, and I found out that you can't turn the shower on and off to conserve water because the shower thinks that you're taking twenty showers all in one, so the water turns cold. You have to go as fast as you can all in one shot so that the water stays hot. Needless to say, the first two showers I took were cold ones; they woke me up at least!!
The food really is amazing here...they don't lie! I just had the BEST margherita pizza the other day for 6 euros, and I mean the BEST! I love the way they make pizza here. The crust is thin and they don't put on a ton of sauce or cheese...it's perfect! Everything is also very fresh, which I love, especially since everything in the US is preserved with some crap unless it's specifically marked as organic; and even then who knows if it's really organic. Here, you don't have to worry about if it's really fresh or having to pay extra for organic food because it's naturally that way! Thank God they haven't caught on to the American way of doing food!! The ice cream, or gelato, here is way better than anything I've ever had in the States. It's a perfect balance of cream and flavor, and just the right portions...and cheap depending on where you go. My favorite is nocciola (hazelnut) or nocciolosa (chocolate hazelnut). They know how to do hazelnuts...just sayin' ;)
I must be on my way now to a soccer game, so I hope you've enjoyed a taste of what my life has been like so far over here! I hope everyone is doing well and is reaching out of their comfort zones! Ciao!
As far as experiencing culture shock goes, I didn't have too many problems with the Italian way of life mainly because everything just excited me, but there were a couple things I wasn't used to that made me scratch my head. First of all, the DRIVING! Wow, Italian drivers are insane!! There will be three lanes on one street, and everyone ignores them. It's all just a jumbled mess, but surprisingly, it works. The conjestion doesn't last for very long, and everyone honks at each other, though it does nothing to make anything go faster or more smoothly. On the way to our apartment, I was a little bit scared for my life and the lives of my roommates, so I had to look out the window so that I wouldn't pay attention to his driving. But, we got there safely, so I can't complain too much :)
Another thing that ended up shocking me was all the walking! I'm more used to it now, but my feet can't say the same. They are blistered and bruised and wounded, especially since my red boots died in the rain and I had to break in new shoes. They are still trying to heal, but every time I wear a different shoe, a new blister pops up (no pun intended) and turns into a stinging cut that I have to put a band-aid on. Which reminds me that I should have brought a million band-aids from home because they are expensive here! Anyway, you also have to be careful when you walk around because pedestrians DO NOT have the right of way. If you don't get out of the way, you will find that you have a broken arm, crushed foot, and a face without a nose...or dead! Especially with the buses..those things are scary! The roads are also very dangerous because of all the potholes! If I would have worn heels, both of my ankles would have been broken by now. BUT, they have provided me with many a laugh due to all the tripping everyone has been doing (including me!).
The biggest culture shock for me was having to deal with forty new people, sharing an apartment with three new roommates, and socializing with a million different personalities. This is my weakness: groups. I've never done well in groups, which is why I've chosen to be independent most of the time. It's easier to be alone; I'm in control when I'm alone. But, I have to do the things that I'm afraid of, so I've been working on letting go of worrying about who likes me and who doesn't, and just being myself. It turns out that a lot of the people who I thought were spoiled, stupid, rich brats, or ignorant, bitchy, annoying girls, I was completely wrong about. I allowed myself to see a different side, which helped me even more to go with the flow instead of resist and resent. I'm doing my thing and letting everyone else do their own because that's all I can do.
The language has opened up many areas of communication for me. I've been able to meet Italian people who work in bars and supermarkets, and people who wanted me to take their picture in front of the Santa Croce (who only spoke Italian) on my morning excursions. I've been able to translate some things for my friends and ask little questions about where to find certain things or places, and I love that feeling! I even like to struggle with the language, and make a complete fool out of myself in front of Italians saying words the wrong way and mixing up verbs, etc. I've decided that I really like the learning curve, especially because all the Italians I've met have been super nice and helpful (not to mention adorable!!). For example, I was able to communicate with one of my neighbors that I had forgotten my keys and was waiting for my roommates to get home (in Italian!: ho dimenticato i miei chiavi, cosi' aspetto per le mie compagne di stanze). Even though I looked like a bum sleeping outside...it was worth it for the interactions I had. I also really love my Italian teacher. She's really funny and pretty, and she only lets us speak in Italian, and she only speaks to us in Italian...so it's a little hard to understand what she's saying sometimes, but I always feel so accomplished when I do know what she's saying. It helps because we have to ask her questions in the foreign language, so it makes me have to struggle to make her understand what it is that I don't understand about a grammar concept. I hope that made sense to you guys haha!
My apartment is adorable. It is small but very quaint, and it's homey and cozy. All the basic essentials are working, so I don't have anything to complain about; I'm living in an authentic Italian apartment in the center of Florence...how can you get better than that?! The quirks of the apartment are fun to figure out. The water heater is very small, so the hot water doesn't last very long, and I found out that you can't turn the shower on and off to conserve water because the shower thinks that you're taking twenty showers all in one, so the water turns cold. You have to go as fast as you can all in one shot so that the water stays hot. Needless to say, the first two showers I took were cold ones; they woke me up at least!!
The food really is amazing here...they don't lie! I just had the BEST margherita pizza the other day for 6 euros, and I mean the BEST! I love the way they make pizza here. The crust is thin and they don't put on a ton of sauce or cheese...it's perfect! Everything is also very fresh, which I love, especially since everything in the US is preserved with some crap unless it's specifically marked as organic; and even then who knows if it's really organic. Here, you don't have to worry about if it's really fresh or having to pay extra for organic food because it's naturally that way! Thank God they haven't caught on to the American way of doing food!! The ice cream, or gelato, here is way better than anything I've ever had in the States. It's a perfect balance of cream and flavor, and just the right portions...and cheap depending on where you go. My favorite is nocciola (hazelnut) or nocciolosa (chocolate hazelnut). They know how to do hazelnuts...just sayin' ;)
I must be on my way now to a soccer game, so I hope you've enjoyed a taste of what my life has been like so far over here! I hope everyone is doing well and is reaching out of their comfort zones! Ciao!
September 08, 2010
Ants
The other day I was working in my backyard and had to move a loose tree stump so I could make room to paint. In order to move it by myself, I had to turn it over a couple times to get it out of the way. To my surprise, I realized that I had just uncovered an enormous colony of ants! I curiously watched them scramble around like chickens with their heads cut off, most of them carrying a minuscule portion of a solid white substance. I guessed that this was either their food supply, or they were transporting eggs to a place where they could hatch safely. I felt bad for uprooting them like that and forcing them to build a new home elsewhere.
That's when it hit me: I am in the same boat as this ant colony. I am being uprooted (although purposefully) from the life and home I've always known, and scrambling around trying to make sense of all the chaos that packing and getting ready for a three month journey entails. Instead of carrying around tiny little white things, I'm adorned with a big, black fifty pound suitcase, a small carry-on bag, and a purse with all the essentials in it.
I understand why they scramble. It's really scary when you're yanked out of your comfortable little world and thrown out into the unknown to face cultural differences and a change of environment. I'm scared. I'm nervous. I'm in disbelief. And I love it, because that means change is coming, that means growth is on its way.
I know there's hope for me because after about twenty minutes, the chaos of the colony calmed down and spread out in search of a place to call home elsewhere. Although there's only about forty of us going on this trip instead of a billion, I know that we will all spread out, calm down, and eventually call Italy home.
That's when it hit me: I am in the same boat as this ant colony. I am being uprooted (although purposefully) from the life and home I've always known, and scrambling around trying to make sense of all the chaos that packing and getting ready for a three month journey entails. Instead of carrying around tiny little white things, I'm adorned with a big, black fifty pound suitcase, a small carry-on bag, and a purse with all the essentials in it.
I understand why they scramble. It's really scary when you're yanked out of your comfortable little world and thrown out into the unknown to face cultural differences and a change of environment. I'm scared. I'm nervous. I'm in disbelief. And I love it, because that means change is coming, that means growth is on its way.
I know there's hope for me because after about twenty minutes, the chaos of the colony calmed down and spread out in search of a place to call home elsewhere. Although there's only about forty of us going on this trip instead of a billion, I know that we will all spread out, calm down, and eventually call Italy home.
September 03, 2010
Introducing My Dreams
Hey guys! I've decided to start a blog solely for my experience in Italy so that those of you who are interested in knowing how I'm doing and what's going on in my life half a world away will be able to keep updated!
As most of the people in my life should know, I'll be in Italy for three months on a study abroad program. My family can tell you what a beast it's been these past few months trying to get all the money in order to pay for this trip, but I did it!! I made my dream come true (of course with a lot of help), and it's a beautiful feeling.
Everyone asks me why I chose Italy as opposed to any other European country. The normal answer I give is what anyone else might say: the food, the culture, the men, the language...but what I don't tell most people is that it's bigger than that for me. It's something that can't really be explained. It's a pull, a yearn, a strong, unfathomable desire for this country that I don't fully understand. My heart tells me to go, so I'm listening. Simple as that!
This is my dream. To travel the world and experience a life outside of the one I've always known, and write about it is something I've known I've wanted to do for a long time. So here I am, almost twenty years old and finally embarking on a journey that will change my life forever; I am pursuing my dream, the life I know I will love living. I'm taking the plunge into the unknown and trusting that whatever comes of this experience will be for the betterment of my existence, and I am so excited!
So by all means, follow my blog and live vicariously though me as I experience Florence, Italy!
As most of the people in my life should know, I'll be in Italy for three months on a study abroad program. My family can tell you what a beast it's been these past few months trying to get all the money in order to pay for this trip, but I did it!! I made my dream come true (of course with a lot of help), and it's a beautiful feeling.
Everyone asks me why I chose Italy as opposed to any other European country. The normal answer I give is what anyone else might say: the food, the culture, the men, the language...but what I don't tell most people is that it's bigger than that for me. It's something that can't really be explained. It's a pull, a yearn, a strong, unfathomable desire for this country that I don't fully understand. My heart tells me to go, so I'm listening. Simple as that!
This is my dream. To travel the world and experience a life outside of the one I've always known, and write about it is something I've known I've wanted to do for a long time. So here I am, almost twenty years old and finally embarking on a journey that will change my life forever; I am pursuing my dream, the life I know I will love living. I'm taking the plunge into the unknown and trusting that whatever comes of this experience will be for the betterment of my existence, and I am so excited!
So by all means, follow my blog and live vicariously though me as I experience Florence, Italy!
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