Reality

People from home tell me I’m brave. I don’t believe that and you shouldn’t either. What I may be is stupid. Coming over here without a plan, without an idea, selling everything I owned, leaving the best family and friends thousands of miles away, abandoning my cats, and perhaps walking away from librarianship (a profession I love) is perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve done. But hopefully there is a reward for stupidity at the end of all of this.

When asked “what is it you want to do here?” the only thing I can honestly say is that I want to be able to write. I need to be challenged and maybe that is what I’m doing. I need fear to flow through my veins and I need the doubt, but most of all, I need to try and then reach the end having survived. It helps me think. Struggle saves. (ErinMcKeown says it better in her song “Aspera”.) Having to construct a life here with no language, little money, few friends and a resistant culture will make me understand things that staying in America would not allow me. Because, in the end, my life there is safe. A warm, comfortable, lovely, and safe life. My life here last year was also safe. More exotic, sure, but safe. Now the ground shifts under my feet and everything is a huge question. But in searching for the answer, I think I’ll find myself. Hopefully writing in the meantime.

So, I’m going to attempt honesty on this little blog of mine. Tomorrow I begin teaching English to Italians. I want to throw up thinking about it. At the same time, I’m ecstatic work is before me. Work. That is step one. Language will come later. But I need to work.

Amalfi pics for your pleasure

Thanks to Mendy. Sorry my pictures still seem to be hiding.

The first 3 are in the town of Amalfi.

These are in Sorrento. Naturally they were excited to see us, but we thought the party was a bit too much for two girls from Georgia. (Please note the clouds in the distance behind the church. Yes, they eventually caught up with us.)

And here are some shots of Salerno harbor, just for good measure.

Good times with a great friend. Oh, and in case everyone does not know this, I did get a job finally teaching English. Wish me luck. I start this week and would love all the calm soothing vibes you can spare. Also, now that I’m getting into more of the real life, my blog may change a bit and start revealing some of the realities. I realize I’ve been holding back on my readers and we can’t have that. Until then,baci.

Back, a bit thicker

Recently my life has allowed me to incorporate the phrase from a friend “eat the restaurant” as in, “tonight, let’s eat the restaurant.” If you can’t figure out what this means, then I can’t help you.

So in Amalfi with Mendalina, that phrase came up at least twice. And one night, we did eat almost the whole restaurant. There were starters, pastas, seconds, desserts, after dessert liquor, after dinner coffee. We closed the place down. The next day we took a bus along the entire coastline of Amalfi. There was a moment of confusion and we didn’t get off in Positano (as our plans and bus tickets thought we would) but the water was just as lovely bluish green further down the coast.

It was a lovely get away weekend. Unfortunately, once more I’m depending on Mendy for pictures because when I tried to save my pictures from my camera, the computer is not reading the disk. So, maybe in a few days. Sorry. And trust me, there is some video of Mendy in the Sorrento ferry station that really is not to be missed. You’ll have to watch it from my camera I suppose.

Now I’m tired and road weary and my stomach, for some strange reason, seems a tad bit fatter. So, off to bed. Go eat the restaurant and report back to me. Oh, and for some strange images you can imagine in a David Lynch type way: a dog sleeping in a dirt planter, confetti blowing along the sidewalk in mini-clouds, a bus driver whose eyes were poured from the sea, cantaloupe liquor in a glass, waves, white caps, darkness, and rain rolling down window panes smudging everything.

Things to do

It is a lovely day here and time is wasting. Mendy is coming Thursday and we are hoping to make a journey to the Amalfi coast. I know, I know, life is tough. I’ll tell George Clooney everyone says “Hi”.

But, before she gets here, lots to do. Mainly laundry, a much needed haircut, the actual planning of the trip, making sure I really am healthy. Oh, and I have to charge my camera. There are still tons of pictures from Grossetto and other places I need to post. This has not been a very visual blog, all apologies.

Then there are the big things. Find a job, decide where to live, guilt my parents and brother into coming to see me, discover more beauty, etc. Oh, and write. Always need to write more.

So, if any one out there is the blogosphere has words of wisdom or would like to make an agenda for me, feel free. I’m accepting all encouragement and advise.

Whispers

Recuperating from an illness allows me the luxury of naps. Thursday I took one and in what appeared to be the silence of my room I began to hear slight whispers floating from above. My logical brain realized that it was probably the upstairs neighbor treading the floor in house shoes, or maybe the slight whir of my laptop on the desk. But the other part of me hoped it was something else. I pictured my family and my friends thinking about me, not in that moment, but just on occasion. And these thoughts come filtering into my room, whispering, letting me know they are there.

It was a lovely moment. I hope you all hear the ones I send you. Be still and quiet and wait for the ruffling ripple through the air.

IKEA

After class yesterday, I had the unexpected pleasure of going to IKEA for a little home shopping. Yes, it’s nesting time. I’ve been here for over a month and realized that even when I leave this apartment, there will be another and things really have to start being more me.

So, I purchased 2 pillows, a bed cover with matching pillow cases, and had the pleasure of taking the free IKEA bus back to Florence. Now my bedroom looks more like my bedroom (even if it is just for a few weeks).

As for other home business, there are a few apartments I’m going to go inquire about today in Santa Croce. Not too pricey, but it will be interesting to see how shoddy they are. Wish me luck. And I may have a chance to teach English soon, but some force of nature (let’s call him Gigione) has decided that really I need to be editing (not to mention writing). We’ll see. Regardless, I think it will not be too difficult to get some kind of job. Still hoping for a librarian position somewhere though.

Oh, and I had the best Sunday a girl could ask for. Maybe it’s my sexy Scarlett Johannsen voice I can’t shake off? I don’t know. Whatever it is, a gentle unfolding is occuring. Tender, tender, tender and somewhat brave.

Week of weeping (wrap up)

Last night my mother heard my voice. Well, my lack of voice. She began to cry. I know how she feels. It is just as difficult for me to be here and think of all of the things that could go wrong with the people I care about. Don’t ever doubt that. I just have to keep reminding myself things happen no matter what. Living is what we attempt in the meantime.

This week has been especially trying due to my nagging illness. Living in Santo Spirito and not my old haunt of Santa Croce is taking much more getting used to than I thought it would. Case in point, there is a homeless man here who hates me. He hates me because I wear red, because I don’t give him cigarettes, because I’m not Italian. I don’t know, maybe it is just me? But every time I see him and hear the verbal abuse in my direction, the difference between now and then is worse than a slap.

My friends here have told me to not take the man personally. He is locked into some mental hell of witnessing friends die. It is rumored that it is an extended drug induced hallucination that he just doesn’t have the facilities to crawl out of anymore. Whatever the reason, at night when I can’t sleep, I occasionally hear him still yelling at some other person and the tears come. Whether I’m crying for him or for me or for all of us, who knows and it doesn’t matter. It is just that it has been one of those weeks. And I want to be able to push us all back into the lighter path. You know what I mean?

For me that is already happening. My voice is on the rebound. The doctor agreed but put me on medication anyway. I feel energetic. I’m communicating with the people I need to and I’m embracing a new era of gentleness. We all deserve a soft touch sometimes and now is the time. Healing. Thanks Lorelei for the reminder. And thanks to all of you for caring. Tender will be the night, the day, the weekend. No more tears for now.

Dreamscape

The winter brings the fog. I’d forgotten that. Everything can be very yellow, grey, pink, green and terracotta here and then when it is blurred—yet still lit by the sun, it becomes a realistic special effect. As if the place didn’t look stuck in time enough, then you ad fog and well, the question of “when am I?” rises to the surface. If you catch the top of the Duomo looming from between buildings wrapped in mist, it looks like a post card from the fantasy of your mind. As if your subconscious could send you an image and say “wish you were here.”

Maybe it is all a dream. Maybe the cold walks to class with long strides, voyeauristic damp, morning rush, dodging pigeons and angry scooters is not a part of this time over. But I suspect reality is knocking.

Not today though. Today I’m voiceless and at home missing class with books in the bed and medication at hand. If you try to call me, be warned. When I make a sound, it is a raspy bellow.