i guess i need to wrap this up. flew home and kept meaning to do it, but ive been either too tired, or forgotten about it, or just didnt know where to start. i'll keep this short and sans sentimentality, or try to.
the last day in rome i wandered around by myself, doing those little things i love to do that give me great pleasure. a cappuccino here, petting a kitty there. had the nice man at the cart in campo dei fiori make me a pork panino, and i sat in piazza farnese and watched the people, and the spot where it all started. when i first came to rome back at the beginning of all of this, antonio had me meet him by the fountain in piazza farnese (actually an ancient roman bath tub that they turned into a fountain, so beautiful). i was looking at it the other day while i ate, and i could see myself there, a hot august morning, my calvin klein outfit on in an attempt to feign composure and youthful elegance after an overnight flight, my ginornous backpack cracking my shoulder blades with its weight of excess provisions (soon to be sorted and ditched in greece, but we werent there yet...), and such a feeling of excitement and...confidence in my little tummy. i think it was real, this memory i have of being totally confident. i wasnt scared at all, i was excited mostly. i was standing there when antonio came out to greet me, securing my lack of nerves, securing that, as they say, tutto era a posto. i walked over after a time and stood there, in that spot. did a mental check of both physical and spiritual changes that may have occured. maybe a little bit heavier in the mid section, but i dont think so, my clothes fit just the same. my hair is definitely shorter. maybe im taller, but i doubt it. i dont have any fingernails, and when i arrived i was in a weird pocket of self-discipline and had grown them to a point of being able to paint them. more or less the same girl, though. and mentally, emotionally...i dont know.
after dinner that last night i broke away from aunt harri and uncle c, sending them on their way while i attended to some business. came to the trevi fountain, where be it out of sentimentality or superstition or something deeper, i knew i had to make a little peace. threw a .5 cent piece into the fountain for my father. then threw a whole euro, and said a prayer for myself, asking rome to take me back one day. threw another whole euro in there for my love, leaving it nameless and spaceless and ageless and general, but hoping...and finally a .1 cent coin, just for good measure. figured i had all my bases covered, and rome needs me as much as i need her, so i feel confident in our spiritual contract.
the flight home was so long, i was awake over 28 hours by the end. ate too many pistaccio nuts and got ill. arrived in atlanta to find cooper and parker and aunt kathi awaiting me, precious as always, like not a moment had gone by (though it definitely had, way too many moments, and parker made sure i knew it). went to late-night steak and shake and got my burger fix, and then came home, to my bedroom, just as i left it, and my kitties, just as i left them, and my mama, just as i left her. home is home, and always will be.
so in conclusion i will say only: thank you. thank you for reading, thank you for the support, the comments, the love. i hope you enjoyed reading this even a fraction as much as i enjoyed writing it, living it. She Considers Light and Heat will come to a close now but, who knows...maybe one day...
arrivederci!

iPhones are cool. I want one. Also, stocking sized, so... Am typing on aunt Harris, which makes blogging a bit tiring but I will persevere. Florence was gorgeous! And David is bigger than I remember (har) and just astounding. We found a market with organic local cheeses, ham, wine, olive oil and crafts, so I was in heaven for a bit. Aunt harri was super adventurous and tried the cheeses and hams, and bought a bottle of montipulciano wine. Was so proud. Aunt h and uncle c are proving to be wonderful travel partners, totally laid back and open. Uncle c basically just lopes along behind us and looks either amused, tranquil, or amazed depending on the situation, always completely composed and pleasant, and offering finely tuned 8-word-max observations when needed. Totally chill. Aunt harri is amazingly proficient with decifering and pronouncing Italian, showing great interest in, like, everything: signs, train station announcents, the behaviors of homeless people and their dogs, architecure. V. G. Is fun listening to her point out odds and ends that I fail to notice anymore. We left the apartment at 7:30 this morning and returned 8 hours later after an extremely full day of movement. Is 9 and they are both in bed, and I'm not far behind them. Will find Internet tomorrow and blog properly. Love.

oh, my lovely roma! the weather is holding up beautifully. spent the morning walking about, drinking cappucino, haggling for a good price on an orange belt. came home to find sweet aunt harri and uncle c had gifted me a beautiful gold pashmina, which i am now wearing around my neck. didnt know gold suited me so well. a whole new world of opportunities! all here is going well, today was a rest day. yesterday we walked for ages (as is the norm) to the bigger sites, and over to the colosseum. aunt harri and uncle c discussed the architectural procedures involved in building such a structure, and i dreamily watched pigeons fly and felt along the aged stone with my hand. dinner was made in-house by yours truly. i pan roasted some chicken with herbs and leeks, and made a rather yummy pasta with ricotta, brocolli, and tiny tomatoes. uncle c ate most of it, and it was decided that i should just cook again tonight. its actually pretty tough to find good food at restaurants in roma, as it is all tourist based. have picked up some good techniques, though ("piu simplice, piu italiano"), so i think i do a pretty good job. dragged myself out of the apartment afted dinner last night and over to trastevere, to say hi to the boys at the cook book bar. first glass of red wine i'd had in months nearly knocked me flat, some super strong varietal from sicilia, and after an hour of sipping on it and twirling it around in my glass i gave up and walked home. tonight i'll make another chicken dish, this time wrapped in prosciutto and stuffed with sage and ricotta (we had bought too much), try some lame white from orvietto, and go to sleep early, try to dream. and tomorrow: FIRENZE!

left cormons bright and early wednesday morning, my suitcase packed to the gills and tears in my eyes. before i left i went up to say goodbye to FL's mom, give her the parting gift i got her (a pineapple. she likes them and they're hard to come by) and a hug. as soon as i saw here i couldnt even talk, just shoved the present at her and gave her a hug and nodded repeatedly, trying not to cry, while she wimbled about how they'd miss me and how shes sure shell see me again, blah blah. backed out of the kitchen and down the stairs, closed the door, and lost it.
the night before i had gotten home from tutoring the babies (god, i will miss those kids, their english had gotten so good!! such angels!), to find FL already home from work, which was odd because he usually doesnt get home till 6. figured hed taken off early for our last night, which was going to involve cocktails at Paradise (the other when-porchis-is-closed bar), and then dinner at our favorite spot, Giat Neri. he was all dressed up in a nice shirt, and clean, and suggested we go get a coffee first. went to some random bar down the road from porchis, played the lottery, drank a couple of coffees, and chatted for a bit. the air smelled of grapes at the beginning of the fermentation stage, sort of moldy and forresty, a good sign. could see out the window that there were lights on at porchis, and i sighed a deep sigh and said, "oh how i will miss that place". FL looked at me sympathetically and said he knew it, how sad was it that my last night was a stupid tuesday, so we couldnt go there? went to Paradise for a bit, but no one was there, which was also odd. FLs phone rang, and when he got done talking he said fabbio (proprietor of porchis) had called and said that before i leave i should stop by and pick up some cotechino, one of the sausages that we made, so i could at least try something from the pusitar. since we had time to kill before dinner time, we said we'd run right over and grab it. got there to find the lights inside on, and some of our friends, sitting around drinking spritz. there were champagne glasses lined up on the table, and music on the stereo. gave nadia a big hug, and asked what gives, it's stupid tuesday, right? she said she bought a new car, and they were doing a dinner to celebrate. i said, "oh, congratulations! is it in the parking lot?" and everyone burst out laughing. FL took my elbow and said gently, "no, silly, this isnt a party for nadias new car, it's for you", and everyone cheered. burried by head into his chest and held him tight, both because of that same mortification that comes at birthdays when everyone is looking at me and my face goes all red, and because i didnt want everyone to see me cry. as the night went on, more and more people showed up, till it was everyone, a private wonderful party with all of my friends, gabi and condor, and luca and federica from this summer at the pool. FL had arranged everything, all the drinks on the house for everyone, and a big dinner of pasta and cotechino, plates of ham and cheese. a totaly surprise. i was gifted tiny trinkets of love and parting, and pictures were taken. Fabbio brought out the cotechino, basically a giant sausage that merely gets boiled in water and sliced into thick burgers. he let me do the honors, as it was a profound moment in friulian history, he said, for an american to make and slice their precious cotechino. FL piped in that when they write the history books on cormons, there will be a chapter dedicated to my time here, the age of the merecan, and everyone raised their glass in salute. kept bursting into tears all night at random moments, and was hugged and pecked by everyone, giving and receiving promises of my return, and giving and receiving thanks for my time there, for these friendships and the memories. the party was wild after a bit, and even fabbio was giddy with grappa and telling jokes in friulano (condor was watching me and laughing histerically during this, and when i went over and asked what was up, he said he had been watching my face, and thought it was hilarious to throw someone a going away party, and then sit there and tell bad jokes in a language they cant understand).
at one point i was standing with FL, watching the party, and i looked up at him and told him thank you, for this, for everything, every single thing. he sighed and said, "piccola, don't you know that the only thing i care about is whether or not you're happy? more then i care about work, about my friends, about Valentino Rossi racing on saturdays, it's you, and what i can do to make you happy. the only thing that matters is you, and i try my hardest every day, since that very first day, to make sure you have what you need, and what you want, and that you know how much you're loved. and thats what makes me happy." there were no words, still arent, from me, after hearing this. it was just gratitude and love, only those emotions and realities, that i felt then, and that i still feel now. i took his hands and kissed them and nodded that yes, finally, i know that.
around 1am we bid our fairwells (the hardest was gabi, the argentina girl whom i got very close to these past few weeks. we bonded in such a specific way, that saying goodbye to her was nothing less than profound) and went home, where i managed to about break my hand by falling out of bed while trying to plug in my cellphone (sort of thing that could happen to anyone after a gallon of spritz). when we woke up the next morning i saw a package at the foot of the bed that i hadnt, um, noticed, the night before. opened it and burst out laughing, crying, "your mother is a genius!". FL rolled over and said, "oh god, do not let me see what is in that bag". was a t-shirt with his baby picture on it, and the words (bascally) "kisses to eleanor, love the cecots". the baby picture is so absurd, i dont blame him for hating it, but i think the shirt is incredible. got another shirt also: the one that reads "Versace un altro litro", the greatest shirt in the world that i have coveted for months. so now my suitcase is packed with tiny treasures, and i have enough memories to make a lifetime. watched cormons fade out the window of the train for as long as i could. the mountain was green and red and yellow, the castle ablaze in the sun, and all behind it the dolomites icy white. was the most beautiful sight id ever seen, and ill keep it with me always.
as for now, is about dinner time. oh, lovely roma. will blog after florence! so excited, havent been in years!
love, e

am partially ok and partially want to die. rome is beautiful, as always, the weather is wonderful. i think aunt harriett and uncle charlie like it alot, so far, except for the beer. wanted to blog but feel too tired. will try to sleep and perk up and write tomorrow. i think we do the colloseum, and maybe saturday take a day trip to capri or florence, we havent decided.

i leave really soon, and i'm trying to remember now exactly why i thought that that was the best option. is so sad. do not want to leave this wonderful place and these wonderful people, and especially not him. must remember that life is an open book and that i do not need to be afraid of leaving (the fear is, of course, that once i leave i'll realise that oh my god i had it made and want to come running right back but when i turn around cormons and italy and my love will be dissentigrated into a pile of smoldering sulfur, smelly and foggy and everything ive done and worked for and loved these past 15 months will be gone, only an illusion, and ill cry and dry up and die finally, old and alone, blabbering about this magical land full of dimples and pork products that i once came from and everyone will laugh at me and think i'm crazy), but know that i need and really want to finish school, and that is a good thing, and that there were other reasons anyway for this decision and that i know in my heart it is the right one. also do not need to be afraid of going back to scary athens because it is not scary, it is lovely, and full of education and people and life. told FL how actually kind of oddly terrified i am about returning, because most of my friends have move away and ill be all alone. is so strange. feel like i was one person when i left athens, with a life and a place, and now that i'm going back its all sort of entirely different, i'm different. not sure where ill fit in this time. FL told me not to be ridiculous, that ive been all alone before and that i am always terrified before i go someplace new but that it always works out wonderfully. pointed out that i came to italy hardly speaking a word and with no one i knew and no point of reference what so ever as to how to live, and look at me now, i have a real home. so athens? please. i can do that.
had my last night at porchis last night (is closed mon and tues). nadia, the beautiful blond proprietess whom i am possibly in love with, was in tears off and on all night, trying to convince me not to go. we decided to leave it merely as a temporary glitch, that i have to go finish school but that ill be right back, and really it wont take that long. in the meantime she'll do her best to keep FL afloat and hold down the fort with all of those silly boys. who knows, maybe i will come back and start a friuli-america export wine company, or an agrotourism travel agency for the masses of americans who have never experienced this beautiful place in thier dreamy italian vacations, or have pretty blue-eyed babies plop plop plop with FL while we open a bed and breakfast in a gorgeous, ancient farm house where i can make cheese and prosciutto and give wine tours and have a horse (his idea, was quite impressive). or maybe not. the best way to think of it, obviously, is that there are nothing but possibilities and i must follow my heart. yes. am trying to keep this in mind so i dont completely lose it. how did i get myself into this situation?
saw all of the salami that we made last night, took pictures. there's already mold on it, muffa, and a type of mold that only grows in friuli thanks to the mountain\sea air. it gives the salami and other cured products here a special flavor. we bought 4 sausages from fabbio last night, as there are some that we made that are better cooked than air-cured, and tonight we'll make a wonderful dinner. FL has requested steak au poivre (as well as sausages with kraut, the boy can eat), as he says my steaks are the best he's ever had and he loves the pepper sauce and watching me masterfully wield a flaming skillet. this is a good request, because it means i get to go to bonelli's, the butcher down the road from our house. bonelli's is an old family-run butcher shop (they also have a pasticeria e panificcio), and the boy, the son, is too adorable for words. i had never seen him before, or at least not in his butcher uniform, so the first time i wandered in there i was a little surprised when his face broke into a huge grin when he saw me. "girl friend of pierpaolo!", he shouted, "i'm so honored, what can i get you?". helped me pick out the perfect cuts, and gave me some pointers on my recipes. go to him all the time now when we want meat, and it is always so fresh and good. the family bakery is next door, so i pop in there, too, for warm pumpkin bread, and then there's a little vegetable shop where the old man always gives me an apple for free.
the weather is kind of grusome right now, cold and rainy, but the vineyards look unbelieveable, each row a different shade of red, yellow, orange, or beige. we took a long drive through collio saturday and the land for miles and miles looked striped and patterned with colors. went up into the mountains, where there was snow, and watched the sunset as we climbed. such a beautiful autumn. in this weather, the cold, the mountains are more beautiful than ever, stark white and grey and blue, and blinding when the sun hits just right. love marion for getting me good boots, my feet are staying warm and dry. no pnemonia this year.
i go to rome on wednesday morning. aunt harriett and uncle charlie are coming over for 6 nights, and we've found an apartment near campo dei fiori. they've never been, so im excited to show them around, see the sights again myself. i decided that it might be a good idea to go to rome for a bit before i fly home, as going directly from cormons to marietta might be too much of a shock. roma, i think, being what it is for me and my soul, will do nicely as a buffer, give me some time in a neutral place to think, help me to ease out of my life here, remind me what it was i came for (have found and done more than i ever imagined, more than i have ever dreamed, so: success!) and who i am, how wonderful it has all been here, and how wonderful it will be to go home, to my family and friends. the truth, i know, is that i never have to worry; rome can be a metaphor in it's eternity, and proof that sometimes all that's needed to go back to a place you love is to toss a coin into a fountain, or to have someone there who loves you, too.

btw, saw Shindler's List for the first time the other night, and i found it surprisingly uplifting.

PURSITà (the "à" key doesnt do capitals)

**details of carnage ahead, stai attento

ugh. completely disgusting. arrived at porchis 9am tuesday morning, to find it dark and cold inside. a sign on the door read, (i pieced together because it was written in friulano) "private party today! come back tomorrow and reap the benefits!", and 4 already grungy and jolly friulian men were sitting inside on bar stools, sipping espressos splashed with grappa. Fabbio, who is always robust and adorable, shouted, "merecàn! the pig is almost here!", and passed me an espresso and grappa as well, which i drank greatfully, both out of respect for tradition, and as an attempt to regulate my body temperature, which had dipped below normal in the frigid morning air. the butcher arrived and unloaded an already dead, already partially disassembled pig, nice and cleaned (boiled a bit) and pink. it still had its eyeballs and curly tail and internal organs intact inside the rib cage. fabbio pulled out the organs first thing and hung them on a hook, slicing the lungs with a long knife to release the blood. did not realize lungs held blood. thought only oxygen? my god, those things dripped blood in a slow steady stream for 8 hours. ok, am fine. trying not to think about it. anyway, the men went to work cutting the pig into probobly 800 little parts, meat and fat (good and bad) and bones, and every tiny piece went into one of five piles, and the bones went in a big bucket on the floor. this took a long, long time, but the norcett (friulian word for the guy who does the pursità, in charge of how to cut and trim and seperate and season and spice and grind and case and hang), a legendary cormonese norcett named Eric (FL told me i wasnt allowed to go to the purstià when he found out eric was going to be doing it, cause he's too pretty, but i told him not to worry, theres no other boy for me...especially not one who spends every day up to his elbows in dead animal. i bet the smell never leaves him, acidic sort of, sour, bloody...ok, i'm ok) knew exactly what to do, and did it with precision and an almost 6th sense, his hands just moved as though he wasnt even thinking about it. the pig seemed to just fall apart, parts connected by tissues and tendons that fell away like puzzle pieces when the knife came down. the talk was jovial, and fabbio explained wonderfully why each piece went into each pile, and what was to be made, and how. we were making salami, salsiccia, something in friulano that i had never heard of before that i can't remember how to spell, lardo, and pancetta. for the lardo the fat was cut out of the animal, and in some places there were slabs of fat 4 inches thick! fabbio explained the necessity of cutting off the bad fat from the good fat, which was obvious enough to see with the naked untrained eye: the good fat was pretty, white and firm and made a sound "thwok" sound when it was layed down on the metal table. the bad fat was gross, gooshy and pink and i guess just cellulite-type nastyness. with the good fat some was dispersed among the other piles, and some was layed out in giant blocks, then seasoned heavily with salt and pepper (some people use rosemary as well) and layed in a cool storage room, where it would sit for only 3 days before being ready to eat. the pancetta came from the meat in the ribs and chest area, good red meat and fat cut directly from the bones. it was in beautiful slab form as well. eric put the slabs piece by piece in a bucket, and seasoned each side with salt and pepper and white wine vinegar. after a could of hours the slabs were rolled into thick fat tubes, tied with string, and then cased in intestines. tiny airholes were punched (by yours truly) and the pancetta was taken to hang in the storage room, where it will stay for a year or two until its ready to eat. the salami was made by grinding the good parts from the rest of the body, the legs and thighs and back. seasoned with salt and pepper, coriander and cinnamon, and a little white wine vinegar, it was all mixed together by hand, like a ginormous hamburger, something like 101.3 kg of ground pork. while all of this was going on, the room was full. not only fabbio and the three norcetts and myself, but all the local youth and friendly porchis faces kept popping in, drinking beers and cracking pig jokes. it was really a community party for the porchis VIP. music was playing out in the restaurant and the grill was going, fabbio tossing the boys good cuts of tenderloin and ribs as he saw fit for them to grill and snack on. we ate a feast of fresh sausage and the livers (ew, but a friulian classic so i tried it), spritz and light grappa for lunch. when it came time to make the salami, it was like a crazy assembly-line of porchis kids, all of us finding a job. il biondo con il accindino (not so cute anymore, poor thing, puberty caught up with him) was there soaking the casing skins, and some others helped to grind, others to season. i did the hole punching and string tying. we knocked it out in 4 hours, other boys bringing beer and aqua as need be. every part of the pig was used. the bones were made into soup last night, and the bad fat shipped off to some lady in cormons who does god knows what with it. ears and feet and snout were pickled, and the chewy parts and other organs are made into a special salami, solely for the norcett, as a gift at the end.
FL came in at the end to retrieve me, and i stunk like blood and ground meat, but i was happy as a clam and ready for a bath. fabbio asked if i wanted to come the next day, to see the actual killing of another pig, but i told him no. id seen enough.

ooh, tutoring time! and tonight i think im talking FL into taking me to Al Giardinetto, the restaurant where the iron chef of italy works! will try and be real sweet and see if i can persuade him.

FL bought his ticket to come for christmas!! i am so so so so so so happy! we must all spoil him and be super kind and feed him lots and love on him and try to be as good to him as all of his friends and family were to me! he's so excited, he can't wait to meet mimi, and everyone. oh lalala!
comunque, is halloween! tonight we're throwing a little dinner party and i'm cooking autumnal american style cookout fare including hamburgers!
can't stop using exclimation points!!!!

just wrote this message to a few of my closer friends and family members on my facebook, and wanted to put it up here as well:


hi dearest adult friends and family,
just wanted to get the word out that my friend angela and i will be available for holiday parties or family events (obviously not my own family, wouldnt charge yall for my presence, har har) of all kinds this season. we've decided to offer our culinary services for food, drink, and party planning to the masses, as we know that these times are often more stressful than strictly jolly. angela has a degree from a culinary institute and has worked for years in the catering business, and together we are just fabulous (and willing to work for cheap). menus can be planned according to the event, large or small, and we are capable of making a number of international cuisines (new italian secrets, and shes picked up some in spain!) as well as our local southern fare. so please get the word out to your friends and other family that is not on my side that if anyone is in dire straits over food, we'd be happy to supply it!
love,
eleanor



i.e. i need stateside employment. also available for babysitting, night or day, so let your friends know about that, too!

well good grief, "m", i dont think that it's a sad story without a happy ending. infact, i think it's just the opposite. how wonderful to have had such a beautiful romance, with nothing but passion and adventure and hopes, that does not end one day in a drift of boredom and cruel words and unrealised fantasies, but instead with love, and gratitude, and wonderful memories. and how brave of us, i think, to both aknowledge our fears of seperation and our grief of parting as a blessing of possibly the best kind. romance stories like these do not come along except by the whims of fate, and for that reason they are best kept untrifled with, as fate is fickle. i always knew he wasnt for keeps, as i recognized in even my most selfish moments that i did not invent love (as those in its new-found clutches often believe) and that if the lessons of the sultry dream-world which G. G. Marquez inhabits have taught me anything, it is to accept love affairs with a literary stoicism for what they are, leave them at that, and learn from them for future jaunts. because they all have their say, and the more the merrier. the best part is that i have no fear for the future; i have no doubts that this was just a taste of the adventures to come in my life, of the affairs to be had and filtered, not sponged. and besides, i'm 24. who in the world really wants to meet the man they are going to marry at 24? the world is huge and my oyster. or, as my saying-of-sadness went when i first thought him lost from my life (i.e. july), "there are plenty of blue-eyed fish in the mediterranean". as for FL and i, i will sum it up with our v. favorite mode di dire: "bravi! bravi! bravi!".

anyway. what kind of life am i living, i ask you, when the mere task of buying film takes over a week to accomplish? has been on my to-do list for like, 8 days. today when i finally held in my clutches a pack of 24exposure kodak ultramax, i felt like i had truly acomplished the near-impossible. as i detailed earlier, my morning routine takes hours to complete, regardless of how hard i try to speed it up. im fine with that now, except that the film store closes at 11:30, and reopens at 4, and these hours arent conducive to my down-town shopping-time window. by some freak chance FL's little brother diego came BURSTING through the door to our apartment this morning, singing a song about his lost extension cord (which he found in our closet), woke me with a shock from my coma, and set my heart racing to the point in which a red-hot rose-petal bath was the only way for me to regain physiological normalcy. when i finished my toiletè, i looked at the clock and realised that i was done a whole half-hour earlier than usual. "oh my god!", i exclaimed outloud, "it's 11:20! i can buy film!" i raced to the shop just in time, and now have the power to capture the beautiful changing of the leaves on the mountain vineyards forever.
reminds me of this night in rome, when i was talking to a boy from pittsburg, who had been living his life's dream of living in amsterdam. he'd been there for 8 months, and though at his departure he had made sure to tell everyone that he was never coming home, he was about ready to throw in the towel. "it really comes down to the fact that that i want to be able to buy my contact solution and my tomatoes in the same store. i think americans, in general, are too pragmatic for the european lifestyle". this tidbit stayed with me, and i always wondered if the inconvenience of european store hours would one day lose its charm and catch up with me, too.
is back to being pretty hot here, which is annoying. other than that...not much is going on. made ragù last night, and it took all of my self-control to not strangle FL when he flat-out refused to let me put mushrooms in it. he said the idea was absurd, and totally not italian, and that i had asked to learn the strict italian recipe, and he was happy to teach me and let me put as much pepperoncini as i like (only done in ragù down south, but he said he'd make an exception because he loves things spicy, too), but that he drew the line at mushrooms. grumbled and fumed and balked when he then insisted on putting carrots and celery into the mix. the end result, however, was astounding: it was, infact, ragù. real, italian, deliciously meaty, perfectly savory, splash-of-house-merloty, ragù. was so, so pleased. FL apologised for denying me my mushrooms, but said that he trusted his roots, and my taste buds, enough to stand storng against my wrath and await the final product, which he knew i would adore. ate 2 big helpings and went to bed clutching my tummy happily. also learned the recipe for carbonnara from a guy named gianni who owns a bar downtown, whom everyone says is the go-to-big-gutted guy for authentic and perfectly italian cuisine. can't wait to try. the motto, my friends, is: più simplice, più italiano.
so tonight i go to udine and chitchat with sweet dario for an hour about whatever and feel guilty for taking his money after such a lovely evening. tomorrow is Mortadella Party part due, friday is Pepperoncini Party part uno, and sabato is halloween! still not sure what we're gonna do, but i'm sure it''l be great.
e

am making adorable picture flashcards of halloween things for the little girl i tutor in english this afternoon. so far i've drawn a black cat, a witch with a mole on her nose, a vampire with a bad haircut, a monster that can only be called a monster because it literally looks like nothing that ever existed and therein, by default, i bet you anything the girl will say, "um...a monster?" when i hold up the card, a jack-o-lantern, a ghost, and the cutest sketch of babies trick-or-treating in costume with a little bubble above their heads that reads their collective shout of "trick or treat!" had no diea i was such an amazing artist, to be honest. i'm really making a killing doing this tutoring thing, and its about the easiest job ever. just talk about things and have the kids draw pictures of vocabulary words. is sort of sad that i've met all these wonderful families and found such a nice nitch of employment just as i'm about to leave...
that's another thing i havent detailed, gentle readers. the FL love affair and my time here in cormons has come to a self-imposed close. after weeks of thought and careful consideration (i.e. madness and psychological collapse) i realised, or maybe admitted (or maybe my brain reached a crescendo and exploded and in that way i found some clarity), that though there is a wonderful, heady love in my life, in a place that i adore and cherish, it is not for me, and not conducive to what i need to do, and where i want to go. it hurts, but its right. so next month i will come home, i will manically decorate the house with christmas decorations and buy a too-big-for-the-livingroom tree and try to immerse myself in yuletide cheer and family and long-lost friends, and probobly find myself every once in a while slumped onto the steering wheel of the car parked in the driveway, blasting mariah carey "all i want for christmas is you" and sobbing drunkenly over that boy i left. but it will all be ok.
in the meantime! have made a friend, gabi, a girl from argentina whom i have known the entire time ive lived here, but with whom i had never become friends. she lived at my dorm and we always said hi to each other, but, i dont know why exactly, we just never talked. but one day i was here and saw her walking down the street, obviously past the point of classes being in session, and therefore i knew she must have found a place to live, alone, or with someone. turns out she met a boy at porchis, too, some cute young'un' named carlo. when school ended in august she was pretty much in love, and they decided to co-habitate while she found some work. v. familiar. so one day i was sitting at my favorite cafe enjoying a glass of ribolla gialla, when it occured to me, like a bolt of lightening, that gabi is probobly in the exact same boat that i am: lost, confused, a little lonely, trying to weigh the pros and cons of making a life here when all signs pointed to maybe-not-quite-right. i decided that day to become friends with her, once and for all. three nights later i was at porchis for a Mortadella Party (the best kind of party ever!), and i looked over and saw the pretty gabi sitting outside, which was odd because she never comes to porchis. figured it was a gift. walked right up to her, and before i could get a word out she said, "oh, eleanor! i have been looking for you! we shold be friends, i figure we're both in need of someone here to chat with". was wonderful. we talked and talked, and are both going through the exact same thing, exact same thoughts and fears and wishes. the only regret we both have of our time here is that we didnt become friends sooner. but theres a reason for timing, and timing is everything, is it not? anyway, shes a total blast, and tonight we're going chestnut harvesting on the mountain, and then carving pumpkins!
oh, tutoring session in 10 minutes, got to run!
e

oh my goodness, i am so nervous! FL's mama has taken a day trip to venice with un'amica, and left the kitchen, and 4 hungry boys, with me. am going to make a roasted chicken, the closest my little hands come to alchemy and love potions, and maybe mashed potatos and oven-roasted vegetables. italians in general are v. particular and do not like to sway from their national, or local, diet. FL is one of the few exceptions to this rule, as the boys loves anything ethnic, spicy, and creative, leaving me with free-reign most nights to do as i please (depending, of course, on whether or not i can get my hands on the ingredients). the other men in his family, and especially his mother, are not so keen on anything outside of the norm. which is fine with me: there is always a plethora of delicious italian cuisine in the fridge, from seafood to vegetables to beef to dolce. FL's mom is, as the term describes, a "desperate housewife", and more often than not her days objective is cleaning up after and cooking mass quanities of food to feed her boys, all of whom eat like carnivorous horses. actually...i dont know that i have gone into any detail on FLs family, with whom i am living. odd, surely?
FL has 2 younger brothers, matteo (25) and diego (23). they are both adorable in completely opposite ways, and all three of them are in different ball parks all together. Diego is wonderful, and was introduced to me for the first time when i saw him launch himself up and over a car and onto a brick wall, which he then scaled with his bare hands. at the top of the wall he let out some sort of "whoop", or cry of glory, and then jumped off the other side. "he's a bit...how do you say...hyperactive", explained FL. the second time i met him was at a little city fair, where diego had set up a "sink the soccer coach" booth, one of those wooden structures that dunks the person into water when a hackey-sack is lauched at the target. he was sitting there, perched over the tub of water, taunting gaifully the line of children laughing and waiting to try their hand at dunking him. Diego is always cheerful, always goofy, makes odd noises with his mouth, and studies chemistry. he and his mom are like peas and carrots, being the only two members of the household who speak regularly and at a raised volume.
Matteo is, if i were to come up with a completely stereotypical adjective, "italian". he's dark and handsome, stocky and built, and takes himself very seriously. when i first met matteo it was at the festival on the mountain, the big cormons party that goes all the way up mt.Quarin, stopping at the different wineries and aziendas for music, wine, and food. FL and i sat at a table at one of the houses, and this "stud" with aviator sunglasses and a popped-collar ralph lauren polo sat down opposite us, two blond girls with obviously-aided-by-victoria-secret monstrous cleavage on his arms. they were drinking sangria and laughing into one anothers faces. i noticed that his teeth were very white. later that night we were at the final post where there was a big concert. i was watching the stage when i saw matteo hop up, take off the once delicately pressed ralph lauren polo, and begin waving it over his head while he danced like, well, a drunked fool. "oh look, there's your brother", i said, and FL just laughed, and said this was pretty normal. matteo in public is always dressed suave, and generally only nods in recognition to me and his brother. at home he's super nice though, and always offers me the cheese, bread, etc at the lunch table. He hardly says a word, though as far as i can tell, at home at least, he talks more than his father, or FL.
the dad, giorgio, is adorable, though i swear he's only said like, 4 words to me. one time he said "hello", in english, and i got so excited i went running to FL and told him all about it. hes not a talker, and it seems like when he does talk its either about work with his sons, or at night with his wife while they watch soccer on TV. he is so, so nice, and incredibly hospitable to me, and always smiles in a way that puts me at ease and reminds me that it can be super nice to not have to say anything. FLs mom does enough talking for both of them. the word for "to chatter, to prattle" in italian is "spappagallare", which is what she does. i dont blame her, though; her boys would sit peacefully in absolute silence day and night if she let them. she's a pretty funny lady, a little goofy, always making bad jokes (she and diego whoop it up, and the dad and matteo snicker. FL generally rolls his eyes). she spends her days, as i said, working as a "slave" for her hosehold, doing far more work than i really think is necessary (martyrdom complex, maybe. for example, she does all the laundry for all the boys, wash, dry, fold or iron, and put away. FL said he tried one time to insist that he could do his own and she almost had a break down, so he reckons shes both pretty bored and in need of something to make her feel needed). the house is always spotless, the soap dishes are always filled, and the kitchen is always amassed with food, both classic recipes and new experiments, some of which fail (ex: one time she was going to make gnocchi, but instead she made one giant gnocco, filled with spinach. it was basically a giant log of intestinal death, and no one touched it). when her food is good, though, it is very, very good. she prattles through meals and babbles through housework and FL thinks shes crazy, but i get it. she has been incredibly kind to me, incredibly hospitable, takes into account what i like to eat and fixes it up, offers me socks and jackets and hands me new recipes to review. she drives FL absolutely crazy, but i like her.
so anyway, tonight shes off duty and as the house was purged of left overs at lunch it is now my job (i gladly have taken it upon myself) to prepare something. hope it turns out well!
my italian tutoring job from last night went great, and i sort of felt sorry taking the boys money afterward, as all we did was sit and chat about food and recipes and art and drink spritz. his name is dario and he speaks great english already, but want to buff up for his job, something related to landscape architecture. came back to cormons armed with my greatest success-find ever: Steel Magnolias, which i found shoved on the back of a video store shelf in udine. have been wishing, hoping, dreaming of finding this movie with italian subtitles so FL could watch, as i have told him all about it and he always refers to me as his "real-life steel magnolia". victory! FL LOVED it, cracked up and teared up and kept hugging and kissing me every time ouizer or dolly said something funny. now he wants to go to lousianna, as well as mississippi and georgia. we'll have to do a real tour of the south.
oh, and the good news (the very best news!): Fabio, the adorable co-owner of Porchis heard about my freakish desire to attend a pursità, or pucitare in italiano-friulano, the ceremony of killing the pig and making the various salamis, pancetta, etc. Porchis, named thus after their sacred mascot, a pig, makes their own ham every year in just this type of friulian traditional ceremony, and fabio, now my hero of all heros, offered the other night to let me help! he said we begin next week, with two very early morning slaughters, and after that the cold-air hours of the day are spent making salami, prosciutto, mortadella, salsiccia, etc. almost choked on my spritz with excitement! he said, "you can come help make salami, you dont have to worry about watching the pig get killed". but i told him no: am an anthropologist and a weirdo and it is my deepest desire to watch this unfold, beginning to end. so he complied. am thrilled.
suddenly so much stuff to do!
ok, must run to the grocery store and get things for supper.
love

ok, will begin first with grant. watched the video of his performance at tasty world, and about 5 seconds into the first song my entire body goose bumped and i burst into tears. i dont know that i have ever been so proud or positively blown away by anything than the sight and sound of my little brother singing and playing his songs, like that. its incredible. just watched with my hand over my heart and my mouth sort of ajar (a pose which atticus finch would describe as "common"), thinking that it's probobly a good thing i wasnt there in person or i would have commenced to make a fool of myself in public, as i ran about grasping at people's lapels and wobbling, "thats my sibling! we're womb related!", in manner of angelina jolie's crazy brother (though, come to think of it, that might not be a good example). so bravo, grant boy, bravo!

italian lesson for the day:
"bravo" is a term that we have adopted from the italians, and it is used frequently in the english language when we want to let someone know that they have gone a good job by, say, writing a hit play, or picking up chick-fil-a without even asking if we wanted any nuggets, or knowing the correct answer to the trick question asked by the police man who wanted to know where yall were 45 minuts ago (at blockbuster, debating whether to rent "pineapple express" or "knocked up", and not at the seven11 dribbling stolen red bulls into water bottles of vodka). in these instances, "bravo" is ligit. but only if it is being said to one boy. if it is being said to a girl, you say "brava", feminine. two girls or more, "brave" (pronounced brav-eh), and two boys or more, or to any group of people in which there is at least one boy, "bravi". i love "bravi", thats my favorite. when FL and i do something successful (in any sense...), we say, "bravi, bravi, bravi!", to congratulate ourselves on a job well done. anyway, just thought what with all the awesomeness going around these days it would be fun to know the correct use of that word. because i can say for sure, when one speaks proper italian, one is immediately the coolest person in the room (i tell myself this for motivation).

anyway. in 1.5 hours i go and give my very first english lesson to those sweet pre-teens. a bit nervous actually, as i'm not sure exactly what it is i should do, though i'm sure something will come to me. probobly just talk to them about the weather and what they like to eat. we'll see. mimi emailed me a bushel of good tips and ideas for lessons, which i will put into action. bought a new notebook and pastel sheets of paper in order to seem more professional yet child-friendly.
had a very bridget jones style moment this morning, in manner of "3 hours and 15 minutes between waking and leaving the house is too long", the part where she details her morning schedule (my favorite is: "7:15-7:30 stare out of window"). had to be at class at 11 this morning, which seemd easy enough. arose at 8:00 (or became conscious anyway), and went about getting ready in the same way that i have been since returning to friuli. took a hot bath with rose petal black tea, selected my outfit for the day, fed the cat, texted FL. was just starting on my hair (realised it was drying in weird shape) when i checked my phone and saw that it was 10:30. had not done mascara or gone to Caramello for my cappucino. began to get sort of rush-like, shoving papers and keys into purse and snapping at the cat for standing in my way, the whole time still convinced that i was first going to go downtown and have my cappucino, then hightail it up to school. when i realised this i started to giggle, as it was aparent that at least some part of me has finally adapted to the italian lifestyle. this ambling, oh-weve-got-all-day mindset has gotten into me, and i've started to take 30 minute soaks in the tub every morning. and the thought of going to school senza espresso didnt even register as an option. then remembered, on top of this, that the professor for this course is the same guy i had last semester, who either came to class an hour late or not at all, leaving only the foreign students confused. so i slowed my pace back to the way it was, and wandered into town, saluting old ladies and petting puppies. had my caffè and a brioche, read the paper for a mo', and showed up to class half an hour late, just in time to write a bit before the professor showed up. the course is viticoltora tecnica, or basically how to assemble a vineyard. something everyone should know, according to the ancient romans.
oh, i have the best news(best news for me, yall might think its weird)!!!!! but now i have to go to my tutoring thing, ill write tomorrow!
e

have found employment! or a slice of it, at least. 1.5 hours a week of intensive english tutoring for two adorable pre-teens. just beer money, maybe, but it's a start. a nice lady named orietta found my flyer for english lessons and called me up, had me over for tea and a little meet and greet with the fam. they have a fat kitty named Bianca Neve (snow white). the first lesson is on tuesday, and if it goes well i'll have myself a regular gig! also, came to my university today and saw that all the slips that i had put up for english lessons here had been taken. checked my email and found 3 emails so far from students, so maybe some of those will work out as well. with my italian lessons starting next week i'll actually have somewhat of a schedule, huzzah!
my mood has wandered back to the realm of jubilance, which is a relief. had a long chat with mama the other night, in which i detailed my fears and anxieties, and layed out all the possible disasters that might occur if i dont, like, run off to sevilla and take a spanish lover and learn to dance the flamenco right this minute (you'd be surprised how fatalistic my thoughts have become regarding this issue these days). mama was cool as a cucumber, as usual, and advised me to remain calm, focus on the peace and possibilities in this tranquil life of mine, and find activities that suit me while my quest for employment is under way. example: have found a cute bakery in town, and will go ask if i can learn to make bread. or, good old gabriele is teaching another enology course at the university. perhaps i can come and sit in, and learn some stuff. yes.
has gone from indian summer to frigid in a matter of days. just sunday FL and i were sitting outside at porchis, me in a cotton sundress, shielding my eyes from the blazing hot sun, and now suddenly i'm sleeping, not in a cutsey pink slip, but in flannel pajama pants and a thick wool sweater with a diamond-pattern print, wondering what kind of person doesnt own a pair of socks (who am i??). the upside to the brisk weather is the clear air; the mountains looks stunning, positively imposing, and there's snow on the tops. i forget how very surrounded we are by the dolomites, how close those mamouth rocks are to us, all pointy and shiny and severe, and these days on all sides is a gorgeous wall of white and stone. the sunsets have been spectacular, and the leaves are all still green these days, so the effect is breathtaking. cannot wait for the leaves to change.
---cut to: 2 hours later---
ah, simone. or swoooooon, as it was. went to my professor's office to pick up my certificate of completion for his viticolture course (side note: marion was concerned because it seems that i conveyed in my blog that i had failed my courses. i did not fail my courses, infact i did very well, all As and Bs. the blog about failing was written in a moment of panic, which i have alot of, though naturally, as i am a genius, i managed to pull things off). wandered in to see ol simone, whose office is right next door. still so ding-danged cute. miss those long hours slaving over grape skins for no other reason than a raging crush. would do it again in a heartbeat, probobly. anyway, professor peterlunger asked what in the world i was up to these days, and when i told him i wasnt quite sure, but that i was still interested in studying wine, he gave me the schedule for his classes. he comes to cormons 2 days a week for viticulture part 2, and said he would love for me to attend if i wish. think i will. UGA wouldnt take the credit now or anything, but education is education, and i could sure use some more of that. also, there's like students and stuff. social edification as well as viticutural. anyway, tutto a posto, moving right along.
am currently searching for a good recipe for chestnuts, something like a chestnut ravioli, ooh, or maybe chestnut-encrusted grouper or something...hmm...FL and i went to the mountain sunday afternoon and harvested chestnuts. you pay a bundle for them in the stores, but we filled up the saddle bags of his motorcycle in no time. was so beautiful, the forest, all shady and cool, hidden vineyards in the valleys. that night we roasted them (over an open fire!) and sat huddled under a blanket, watching the stars and eating our chestnuts with a glass of ribolla gialla. was just perfect.

ugh, am so depressed now. the magically free yoga course i was going to take is actually not all that free after all. obviously. only the first session is free. is cold and am not going to walk all the way to the yoga studio in this drizzle to take one yoga course in my pajama bottoms when know will not be returning because do not have 200euro to shell out to some dude in a robe. will just do stretches on the floor or something. there goes my independent night. was so excited that i had found an activity. on tues and thurs FL plays basketball with his boys, which is wonderful, but leaves me with nothing to do. have no job, no friends, no money, no mode of transportation, nowhere to go if i did as no friends or money, no real kitchen to cook in or house to call my own, no books to read or records to play, no tennis shoes to jog in, nothing. must remain strong and know that all will fall into place if it is meant to and full-life-for-self is not going to magically appear over night. patience and time. but feeling a bit lost. maybe will cook coq au vin and watch The Pianist.
on a positive note, had a wonderful night last night. was date night, and i spent all of yesterday pouring over a local travel guide to the restaurants, trying to find a great, very friulian one that we had never eaten at before. got all dressed up and went to porchis for a cocktail, where the whole gang gave their two cents as to our gastronomical destination. Nadia, the beautiful blond proprietress with the beautiful blond baby, suggested a place in gorizia where there was both yummy sea food, a good house wine, and steak for the boy. after a glass of sauvignon and lots of kisses on the baby, FL and i departed (to the amusement of everyone because by this time it was 10pm, but we assured them that we always eat this late). the restaurant was lovely, but very posh and the portions were way to small for our neverending tummies. it was agreed, after our plate of sauris ham and pomegranate marmelade, filet of swordfish and perfectly executed prime rib, that in about an hour we would need a snack. went to a local pub and shot the shit for a while, which is always so much fun, as our language barrier has made it possible to very slowly get to know each other. this way, there is always a chldhood story or interesting fact that we had never shared. last night was The Night of Q, in which i detailed my little sister, her strange eating habits, her aversion to physical contact and how, for some unexplained reason, she speaks in ebonics. rounded it all up by recounting the story of the chicken pot pie. i made it sound much more grusome than it was, adding that still to this day you can see a slightly crinkled burn scar on her precious cheek.
anyway, an hour was killed, and we went to the local kbob shop. gorged ourselves on late night turkish food and rambled home, almost full and perfectly sleepy.
ooh! just found that ina garten has a coq au vin recipe! will try that. oh, and saturday we're going on mini break to Carnia, in the alps, to eat ham and maybe ski! probobly wont, actually, as is october, so probobly will just drink grappa by the fireplace. but will be wonderful and pre winter wonderlandy.

aha. just wrote a mildly bullshit email to a local travel magazine expressing my desire to write for them. i think the best approach is not to say "i wish to become an anthropologist and a writer", but just go ahead and say, "i am a writer and an anthropologist". mind over matter, and by matter i mean a college degree, prior experience, actual knowledge, former published pieces, etc. as far as condor's concerned i could at this point write a seven volume diseration into the psyche of friuli, with specific regards to the use of the word "porchit" in a variety of deragatory and sacreligious customary phrases. its amazing the way these people cuss, and culturally significant. have a list a mile long of all the random words that i know in friulano, my favorite being the word for "bottle opener". these people never tire of hearing me say it. so very david sedaris, it cracks me up. what a weird place.

so now that i know that everything is ok, i will recount the craziness from this weekend. didnt want to say anything and was trying to pretend that it never happened for a few days, as i was convinced that i had destroyed the wedding and made myself out to be total white trash in front of EVERYONE. but it seems that that is not the reality at all, and that actually it is sort of a funny story and legendary as of now, so i dont have to worry.

the wedding was lovely! a nice little ceremony next to a lake, maybe 20 guests total. FL looked dashing, and my dress totally fit (just needed a firm hand to zip me up). matching pink accents, etc. the reception began around 11, which is way too early. lots of spumante, lots of yummy mortadella and frico (oooh, frico! a friulano classic. basically herbed mashed potatoes loaded with cheese, fried in a pan and sliced like a cake. gooey! ate too much. too much). around 2 some guy busted out an accordian and began playing old italian favorites, napolitano, romano, friulano. FL knew the words and sang along to the delight of everyone, and dancing commenced. about 4 the cake was cut, about 5 the bride was popping off the top of spumante bottles with a long knife (not as easy as it looks), and by 6...disaster struck. some evil jerk with a pony tail and a porche (not a guest, just some drunk at the restaurant) yelled at the bride for something that was not clearly explained to me. he called her some horrible name and cussed at her near the bathrooms, said some deragatory things about her being hungarian and not italian. she came back in tears trying to explain. the groom, obviously, did not want to have to kill anyone on his wedding day, so the boys were enlisted to go calm the situation down. at this point the evil jerk was outside, by his porche, shouting about something. condor, bentley, FL, and some others went to try and work out the situation. i, being dumb and apparently classless, decided it would be a good idea to go try and talk to this guy too. i figured i was cute, and sweet, and wearing pearls, and could maybe talk some sense into him. did not work. dude's mouth dropped wide open and he said, "you're not italian!" and i said, uh, duh, stupid, and then he called me an evil name. some nice man said, "ok, honey, come on" and led me back to the party, where all the other girls were sitting nicely, minding their own business. one minute later i heard a shout, and all hell broke lose. ran back to find FL and the jerk with each other in headlocks, the other boys shouting for them to stop, the women in histerics. ran and grabbed FL (kicking- oh i can't believe i did this- the jerk with the porche behind the knee caps to get him to let go), and pulled him away, while all the other boys took the jerk and held him back. he kept screaming mean names at me (??) and threatening this and that, but it was all friulano and i couldnt understand. wasnt important anyway, as poor FL was shaking and a little bloody. stood there in my heels, with him in my arms, stroking his back and whispering to him, as though trying to calm down a frightened horse. some nice lady came up and patted him on the back too, and told him he did just right. turns out the guy had called me bad names and when FL told him to shut his mouth the guy had shoved him, and so FL clocked him. it was the first fight he'd ever been in and he hated it. he kept saying he just wanted to go home. but, of course, no friuli night, especially a night like this, would be complete without porchis. which is where the entire wedding party migrated to. when we got there, however, i sort of lost it. thought that surely it was my fault, as if i had just sat my butt down like a lady instead of trying to get involved then it never would have escalated the way it did, FL never would have punched anyone, not to mention never would have had some jerk with a ponytail shove him and bloody his poor lip. the wedding was a disaster and now all the bride will remember is a drunken brawl! burst into tears, apologizing, while FL and bentley comforted me and told me not to be ridiculous, that it was all over, and that things like that happen when some drunk with a porche decides to make a scene. anyway, i wasnt so sure. spent all of sunday curled up like a cat on FLs chest, hiding under a blanket and refusing to leave the house, convinced that everyone was now saying, "oh, FLs girlfriend, merecane? she's a loose canon and gets in brawls and doesnt act like a lady and ruins weddings. she's white trash like britney spears". so embarassing. vowed to never drink again, and to always keep my mouth shut. but yesterday i was walking home and this sweet guy norman stopped me. he had been at the wedding but had left before the scene. he called me over and asked if i was all right and said he had heard all about it, how some asshole had cussed at the bride and at me, and how FL had taken care of everything and how he's sorry if it upset me, but to know that it was just a stupid friuli thing and that im in good hands. which means that obviously people arent saying the things i thought they were gonna say. maybe sice i was dressed all in pink and silk and pearls i had them fooled. anyway, now everyones talking about it and its sort of a legend, how FL socked some jerk in defense of love, matrimony, the bride, his girlfriend, and foreign women in general. the funny part is, of course, that it's FL who, despite his grand stature, motorcycle, and snake skin boots, is a lover of peace and harmony, never a fighter. and as far as im concerned the guy totally deserved it.
anyway, love the boy and his poor little scabbed knuckles.
so that, in a nutshell, was the wedding. frico, dancing, a fight, and too much spumante all around. perfectly friulano.



went and talked to the woman who owns the Enoteca di Cormons today. she said she'd ask around to the vineyards and help me find a place to work. want to work with the wine, i have decided, and write about it. make a new blog in a more professional mode, but channeling Stained Teeth: A Column about Wine, which is written by my hero and future husband matthew latkiewicz (http://mcsweeneys.net/links/wine/). i know there's something wonderful here for me, i just have to find it. need to channel that early-90's-san-francisco-dot-com-boom-energy that propeled the entrepreneurs of that generation into greatness and riches. vediamo. in the meantime, im signed up to take a yoga class monday and thursday nights, and have found a language course at my school, so that should occupy me. hopefully ill make some friends too.
miss my family terribly these days. cannot wait til x-mas!

have devised two new strategies today, one for the Great Job Hunt, and one for every day life. the new Great Job Hunt strategy is inspired by remembering resumes, and how easy it was to get a job in athens because all i had to do was type up something well-worded, to the point, and clever, explaining why i am awesome and what my qualifications were, hand them in at places, smile, and walk away. worked like a charm. this came to me like a jolt today after i realised that all i have been doing for the past week is running around like a chicken with my head cut off, barging into places like a bull, full of "motivation" and a ready-made script in my head, only to find that in actuality restaurants, bakeries, wineries, and prosciutterias arent exactly tranquil during operating hours. can never locate the manager and there are always people all over the place and i just end up getting very confused and sweaty, ordering something i dont want, losing my nerve due to all of the chaos, tripping over a chair, and slithering out the door sheepishly, vowing to do better at the next spot. think the best idea would be to come up with a lovely, possibly pink resume, which explains who i am and what i want and why i should be hired, and then go hand deliver it to all deserving places of business. surely someone will think im cute and take me on.
new strategy for every day life is to stop worrying so much about being productive and just relax. trying too hard to be productive is counterproductive, as i end up doing nothing productive because every time i start to do something i ask myself repeatedly "is this enough? ought i not to be doing something even more productive?", and then end up doing, in reality, absolutely nothing, hopping from one task to the next, finishing nothing and giving myself headaches. realised that is a blessing to have absolutely nothing to do all day in italy, not a burden. will stop making manic schedules of studying, job searching, exercise, and errand running, and instead do as i feel. day one of new strategy has gone swimingly. am feeling happy and relaxed and in the mood to walk for miles in this gorgeous october weather. studied a bit, posted some job ads, came up with new job hunt strategy, had a wonderful lunch with the boy and his family, and walked through the local art gallery. all in all the most successful day ive had in weeks.

tomorrow is the wedding. FL and i went out last weekend and bought him a new suit jacket. dark grey with hints of baby blue pin stripes, silk peaks on the corners of the cuffs. he looks so very handsom in it. had a ball making him try on all different dress shirts to go under it, ties, etc. puts a nice feeling in my tummy to be more excited about how good my boyfriend is going to look in his suit than about the actual event itself. so looking forward to being on his arm. the wedding is at 10:30am (odd, surely?), followed by a big italian lunch at a local agrotourismo. will remember camera. disaster stations, though, as tried on my beautiful paper-silk bubble dress (the one from rome) to find that for some reason it doesnt fit anymore (i say "for some reason"). is impossible that i have gained too much weight to fit into that dress though. all my other dresses and clothes fit the same. is mystery, and a dire one at that. was going to match my outfit to his, which is silly, i know, but life is simple and slow paced here and its the little things that occupy my thoughts. anyway, had it all planned and now must lose 4lbs by tomorrow morning at 9:30 (so weird). its always like this with me, cant just look nice, always something off. bah. also face is breaking out on left side, hair is even weirder, and mascara has chemically peaked and turned on me, now just a tube of gunky, flakey blackness. will remain calm and remember point of wedding is other peoples happiness e.g. married couple and no one will be looking at me anyway.

where is my mother? why havent you called me?

awww, yall are all so damned supportive and wonderful! was worried i would get a bunch of chiding. anyway, its just an idea and we'll see how it goes.
completely stupid day so far. woke up achingly hung over in sort of a weird way; more out of fear of an impending hangover than of one that was actually there. got to bed way too late. date night got postponed due to a text messaged FL (his real name: Pierpaolo Cecot) received fom his friend roberto, who is getting married on saturday, saying that there was to be a "bachelor party" sort of thing last night. spur of the moment and completely innocent, as roberto has two babies and is v. responsible and obviously uninterested in strippers, etc. we went to porchis to salute the groom-to-be (i was invited since it was such a not-a-real-bachelor-party type bachelor party. and i add comic relief) and one thing led to another and, well, its friuli. climaxed with condor climbing through Fabbio's rose bushes that line the grape vines in his business suit, thorns sprouting from his strange head like ingrown beard bristles, sputtering about finding me just the perfect rose and how its all my fault, even though i in no way asked for a rose, while i burned the edges of the way-too-much-effort birthday card i had made for bentley at FL's suggestion, in an effort to make it look "midieval". dragged myself out of bed this morning at 8 thinking "oh no, oh christ", but found, after a hot bath with rose petals, a brisk walk and an espresso, that i was pretty much ok. got all the way to school, after a 45 minute delay on the train, 20 minutes waiting for the bus, and 30 minutes of confusion about where, exactly, the exam was taking place, to find that the whole thing had been cancelled, for unexplained reasons. there was a sweet hungarian girl waiting to take the exam too, a new exchange student at this stupid university. she looked so confused and forlorn, and all i could tell her was to get used to it and go drink a coffee.
the exam is for a placement in an upperlevel italian course. not sure that technically im a student here anymore, since classes are over, but i dont care, im taking the course anyway. have realised that my italian is at a standstill until i get some sort of structured, professional lessons. teaching myself out of a book isnt working so well anymore now that im into the more complicated stuff, and my grammar is non existent. i keep assuring FL that in english i am a literary genius and a whiz with the language (huh), and of course he says he doesnt doubt it. but its getting stupid. if im going to do this i need to be able to speak like a real person. so on top of the job search is now a language school search. so much to do.
hm. rainy day. am going into downtown udine in search of steaks, peppercorns, cognac, risotto, and champignons for dinner tonight. steak au poivre! and im going to try to make risotto with cognac, nutmeg and sage.
my hair is growing out into a weird shape. must fix this without going overboard.
oh god. just remembered. last night condor, who was being really mean all night for some reason, asked me if stevie wonder cut my hair. as i am retarded i immediately turned to FL and asked "do i really look like stevie wonder?!" which made condor collapse in a fit of giggles and declare that i am a ridiculous person, as FL tried to hide his grin, patting my arm reasurringly, telling me that, no, of course i do not look like stevie wonder. tired to act insulted but ended up snorting beer out of my nose with laughter. anyway, just a trim.

haven't really told my readers why i'm staying? i thought that was a bit obvious (insert bashful giggle). it sort of came down to this...as yall know, when august came around and i went off to piemonte i was in shambles. yes, i wanted to go make cheese (check!) and have adventures with angela (check!) and make new friends (check!) and see another part of italy (check!). but i also wanted to stay here, with him, in this place (with these people and the wines and language) that i have come to love and consider another home. when piemonte was over i came back to friuli to regroup (and take a hot bath. did i tell you those crazy people at the farm in piemonte turned the hot water off, because they said that americans use too much water? so we had ice cold showers for a month. it was bullshit), and FL and i had a little chat. he said that august was sort of a "lets see" period for him, too, and that the outcome, after about a week, was that he was much better off with me, that everything would just be better if i were here. i told him i've been saying that the whole time, silly. so we figured this: we'll give it a try. make a go of it. find a place to live and make "us" official. officially become "morosi". i'll find a job and keep studying the wines and the food and the language. this was our thinking but, of course, i'm manic and all over the place, so i wasnt completely sure that i shouldnt be "responsible" and come back to athens and finish school in january like a good girl. obviously that would be the "responsible"\wise\safe bet, and when i'm done with UGA and my degree, well then i can come back to italy if i feel like it. so i was kind of 50\50 about it, swaying back and forth, thinking way too much, imagining all sorts of dire consequences and bloody deaths for not going back to school, like normal. but then angela was here and sort of put it all in perspective (from a wiser, older, outsiders point of view): this place is beautiful, breathtaking at times. it is a goldmine of information, the food, the wines, the language, the culture, and i can learn so much just by going to the cafe down the street, talking with the postman, taking a tour of a vineyard any day of the week, traveling to the tiny villages, finding an apprenticeship at a restaurant, learning the history of this place, which is astoundingly complex. in this way, regardless of "school credit", i will be learning and forwarding whatever career it is that i will want in a much more hands-on, interesting, and real way than anything i could do in athens right now. i feel comfortable and happy in this town, with these wonderful people who are all incredibly supportive and happy to have me. and, of course, theres the boy. angela put him in perspective, too, sort of in the way my mother and hitch and claudia did. its almost unreal how good he is, just good and kind and responsible and supportive and happy. angela adores him, told me multiple times a day. the thing is, we're really good, FL and i. really good and happy together, and i just dont know that i could walk away from that right now. i dont know what will happen down the line, i certainly am not planning on marrying him or anything, its way too soonf or such thoughts and im so young and have so much to do and i dont know who ill be down the road. right now its all very fresh and young and i want to keep it that way and put no pressure on anything. doors always opened. but, lord, he is worth sticking with. when i was at marions one night, she started asking me, on behalf of mimi, and in a very "critical", serious, debbie downer, lets-see-if-she-has-any-good-answers-for-the-tough-questions kind of way, what in the world it was that i was thinking, what in the world it was i thought i was doing. we discussed my options long and hard, angela a total "italy" advocate, marion a total "responsibility" advocate. and when all the cards were down, and i had said my peace, wise marion made her call: go for it. why the hell not. because, seriously, what harm could it do to just be happy and in love and relax and learn for a while? there's no telling where it will lead me. so anyway, theres that.
must find job, though. asap.
went to the Enoteca di Cormons today. the Enoteca is where all of the local vineyards serve and advertise their wines, and its full of pamphlets and maps and classes on wine for tourists (mainly from austria). told the nice lady that i wanted a job in a vineyard and where she tought i should start. she was so nice and told me to come in tomorrow and we'd figure something out. theres so many opportunities here, i just have to go get them, take them, put my head down and make things happen. am feeling powerful and motivated and on the right track.
but maybe because it's...DATE NIGHT! always puts me in a good mood. we're going to that fabulous restaurant i blogged about a while back, the one that serves the most gigantic portions of delicious food. so excited.

feeling very strange these days. think my hormones or something might be out of whack. am full of dread over completely ridiculous things and paranoid for no reason. keep thinking that if i had a job i would feel better. there's this beautiful place, La Subida, an agrotourismo hotel, with two restaurants and horses and stuff. im going to go over there and ask for something. i would love to work there, i'd learn so much, and its beautiful. in the meantime, today i made flyers for babysitting and english tutoring. am going to the cities around cormons to post them. the man at the copy\print shop was so nice! he asked if he could keep one of the flyers for his window, and said that english conversation, and learning other languages, was so important, and that he wished me so much luck. i realised after i had copied 20 of the babysitting signs that i had misspelled the word "ragazza" (girl). the man helped me white out all of the mistakes and fix it. felt stupid, but it made me smile to have his help. then it was weird. went home and just like, lost it, over the fact that i misspelled that word. like, i am so stupid and cant even spell girl and what the hell kind of future do i have here if i cant even make a stupid flyer for babysitting right and what am i doing with my life, etc. was conscious the whole time that this made no sense, but i just felt weak and so sad. decided to take a break and go on a hike and regroup. the exercise helped, and the fall weather, and i feel better now. ill blog tomorrow, asap, so much fun stuff to write about!

so, this is the deal. must be proactive with the situation and not slip into a pile of gooey laziness. is of course the italian "life lesson" to let your days pass idly, breezy, lunchtime glasses of wine, afternoon espressos for a little perk, maybe a jog or a trip to the post office, a few hours of "hard" work or study and then, whew! dinner. trying days like that deserve a good, long, relaxing dinner, right? while i am all for this lifestyle, an advocate for sure, theres still the american in me, which is a Nagging Guilt that bubbles in the back of my head, saying, "lazy bones, lazy bones, you are not CONTRIBUTING! you are not PRODUCING! you are not being a CAPITALIST! you do not deserve that carpaccio that melts in your mouth like butter because all you did today was easy, breasy vacation-type things". this annoying bit of americana that i cannot let go of has woken me up in cold sweats these past several morning, 5am, on the dot. find myself on the bathroom floor, pouring over the Job Finder pages of yesterdays paper, make mental notes on Plans of Action for the day, To-Do lists scrawled on scrap pieces of toilet paper, maybe write a page or two for my final essays (almost done!), review flashcards and mumble quasi-intelligible italian grammatical incantations. this last until maybe 7am, when all of the sudden im totally tired again. fall back into bed and end up sleeping till 10, which makes me wake up even more guilty than before. its lame. so starting tomorrow there will be a new regime.
will keep everyone posted.

am alive and well and back in friuli. have been for a while now, but as cormons is technologically behind the rest of the civilized world by about 15 years i havent had any internet with which to let my status of "alive" be known. but i guess everyone figured that no news was good news.
germany was wonderful, as always. lots of Gilmore Girls were watched, lots of late-night chats and good food. the weather was cool and a little rainy and i loved it. marion spoiled me rotten, again. angela was in heaven. the last night there we went out and ate a wonderful turkish meal, lamb with sweet paprika and mint, eggplant and turkish wine. one weird thing that i did there was cut my hair, officially, very short. at first, it looked totally weird. was a little freaked out. is one thing to always wear my hair up in pins away from face and therefore have face framed the same way as now. except in those instances theres the buffer of letting the pins down and actually having something there. now its just like, this void where no hair is. theres nothing to do on a bad hair day, no other options. will have to invest in a hat. anyway, was trying for a few days to come to terms with it. it wasnt until i got to FLs house, where his mom who use to be a hairdresser has a stash of hair products, that i began to experiment and, yes, trim a bit, and use some mousse, and now, honestly, my hair is totally adorable. i am adorable. FL cant keep his hands off the back of my neck, and when i wake up in the morning and look at myself in the bathroom mirror i laugh because i look so ridiculous, but in a good way. anyway, will grow out soon.
am running around like a maniac this week trying to get papers finished, documents certified, things at UGA squared away which, long distance, is not so easy, and a permit of stay renewed. chaos. have angela here now to tag along so i have some company. she, by the way, is hitting the road for spain on thursday. after piemonte she decided that maybe the farming scene wasnt so much her thing. none of the farms in calabria were responding to our emails anyway, and we heard all these horror stories about WWOOFers in sicily. i have made an Important Life Decision and have decided to find a job in Cormons\Friuli, which means that i cant be scampering off to southern italy for weeks at a time. so, while i stay in my darling little town with my darling pair of dimples and hopefully find a job nannying or at a vineyard or something (am posting up flyers and everything, and the whole town is backing me, ears all perked for opportunities), shes gonna go dancing in barcelona. tutto a posto!
so, thats all for now. wish me luck on the job hunt!
e

i made a roasted chicken!

or roasted parts of a chicken, at least, and it was so good. feel whole again. marion picked angela and i up at the airport yesterday, same as always: blond and beautiful, except now even skinnier than ever before and sort of shiny in a radiant, healthy, i-excercise-for-fun way. angela and i looked exactly how people look when they leave italy- a little ragged, a little fleshy, a little exhausted, healthy and happy and radiant in another sort of way (the sort of way that comes from copious amounts of ravioli, wine, italian kisses, gelato, moon light walks through ancient streets, etc). you know what im talking about. had been looking forward to this arrival for weeks now, when everything would be clean and nice and safe, and as we sat on marions gorgeous, quaint back deck, the weather unseasonably warm and the grass lush, eating mini sandwiches on bread made out of nuts and oats and fresh tomatos, angela and i looked at each other, smiled, and sighed. oh, germany! angela cant get over how nice they are, how wonderful and kind. all i can say is, i know, dude, i told you. we ate a dinner of roasted chicken with shallots and lemon, huge fresh mushrooms, roasted radicchio polenta, steamed colliflower, and a salad with fresh peppers, tomatos, and a basilic vinaigrette. white wine and, of course, a little talk of politics later, angela and i went to bed and slept like we had reentered the womb on a full stomach.
is now lunch time, and marion, kalla, and annika are out at various works. the weather is spectacular, so im gonna take angie to the park down the road, with the forests. have many papers to write and research to do, and i couldnt begin to think of a more tranquil spot for such things.
allorah, recap...
fled piemonte (fled, my loves) early on a friday morning. kissed my belle pastorelle good bye, pecked little princess nutella and prince pistolino on their sweet heads (considered sticking pistolino in my suitcase and busting him out too in manner of clarice from Silence of the Lambs, but he was a bit too big), and took the first train out. destination: friuli. 10 hours later (ceva-savona-genoa-milano-venezia-udine-cormons, good grief!) i disembarked in cormons. the castle was there, all lit up, like a beacon of, well, home, and he was there, too, FL, just where i had left him a month before. all of the muscles in my body seemed to relax at once, and as i began to drop, turning instantaniously into merely vapor, merely relief, nothing more than thankfulness, his big arms came and caught me, and i heard him let out a sigh, too. we went straight home, where within the first hour i had a hot bath, a glass of friuli white, just about more loving and affection than one little girl can handle, and a homemade dinner. he made such a beautiful meal that night, i will recount: fresh steaks, must have been prime rib, seared to perfection, sliced thin and layed over a salad of fresh, chunky vegeatbles and arugula, shaved local cows milk cheese (called, simply, latteria), and a dressing of balsamic vinegar, roasted peaches, and sea salt. that was the first hour, and the whole weekend was a run for its money.
saturday we experimented with whiskey, by cooking osso bucco and potato flambe, which turned out delicious, of course. it was during this meal that FLs dad came down to the back patio to get some sort of tool, and asked, in friulano, which i cannot understand, if i had brought the cheese that was in the refrigerator from piemonte. FL responded, apparently, that not only had i brougt the cheese, i had made the cheese, to which FLs dad responded, apparently (because i cannot understand friulano) that the cheese was absolutely wonderful. they both beamed at me and i just smiled back and nodded, the best way to feign comprehension. had to have it all repeated to me in italian afterwards, at which point i remembered that i had, infact, brought back some of my very own cheese. tried a bite, and though it tasted like the smell of the barn as far as im concerned (that smell may never, ever leave me), i will say, that i have made some damned good cheese. brava, brava, brava! we were just settling in to watch Blue Brothers, which i am ashamed to say i had never seen before, when Condor called, and insisted that if we wished to live another day, we were to report directly to Gianni´s, the little late-night bar down the street. FL responded, as an excuse in an effort to salvage our comfortable, couch-beached night, that we were too sleepy and a bit drunk. condors response: "...um, this is cormons, saturday. you find me one person who isnt drunk and we´ll excommunicate them". fine. we dragged ourselves outside, where the air, cool like autumn revived us and, hand in hand, went to give big hugs to those boys who i had missed so badly. condor told me my hair looked weird, but that he was glad to have me back anyway, because the collective heartbreak over my loss was causing them all to break out. cormons needs me like a 17 year old needs noxema, he said.
bah, ok, have alot more to write, but am being asked confusing questions about my plans for october, which as of now i do not have. must figure things out. will write more in a bit.
love, e

oh my GOD, yall! ok, i have so much to say, obviously, but right now, this is the movie we made! its unvelievable, really.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_p3PDFF65ts
enjoy!

pictures

it occured to me that readers without facebook havent been able to see any photos, so i will post a few here.

this is croatia, and a completely easy and lovely way to get down to the water. normally, there was no semblance of a "beach", just jagged, insane, rocky cliffs. FL was a pro, though, and a total boy scout. we did great! little mountain goats, we called ourselves.


dinner at a magnificent restaurant. the old man went out and caught all the fish fresh that morning, some were still breathing. lovely, lovely.


this is FL, sunning himself on a rock like a good italian. he turns the color of melted milk chocolate.


my darling porchis pool, home away from home and safe haven for us raggedy, small-town cormons kids. endless supply of spritz and chupa-chups...



and this is piemonte, e i nostro animali...


our house...


the girls! le belle pastorelle! rachel on the left, nicole on the right...


rachel and i at the start of our movie starlett career...wait for that one...


angela and i at the food festival. my hair is even shorter than that now...


a typical piemontese sunset over the barn...


and finally...