Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
belle cose continued...
...i have met my soul mate. a beautiful boy from madrid. he lives at the hostel where i am staying this week. one night him and me and a couple of other kids were in the kitchen having dinner , and the spanish boy is going on and on about international mortgage laws and banks and the situation in venezuela and all other manner of serious things. he gets quiet all of a sudden and sighs, shakes his head just a bit, and, almost inaudibly says, "well anyway, theres just too much. and the truth is, all that matters in this world is cheese." the urge to kiss this boy is almost overwhelming, and i tell him, in a choked, heartfelt whisper, that i comlpetely agree. we talk about how his dream is not to be a lawyer, though hes three years into his law degree, but to open a cheese and wine shop in madrid. he has it all planned- the place, the layout of the store. he has blueprints. we talk of cheese and wine, and country by country i describe my interpretation of the terroir. i tell him that spain is my favorite- the terroir tastes of brushfires, victorious battles, romance, hot peppers and dark haired women in red dresses. i tell him that french wines are like benefactors, italian wines like your best friend, greek wines like marble and sandstone and electric blue oceans and sunburns, just the right amount of sunburn. this continues and we eat pecorino and laugh and he tells me that the way i talk, he knows im going to make it. and that one day i can come and work in his shop in madrid and sell my cheese there, too. he says the way i talk, he bets my cheese will be so good hell have it at his store not only as cheese of the week, but he best as cheese of the month. i want to marry this man.
...this morning it rained again and i sat in the window ledge at antonios and read "the catcher in the rye" in italian. i can almost understand it.
...there were a group of wild and trecherously good looking argentinians at my hostel. they would stay up late drinking and playing cards and the noise of their laughter and shouts kept the whole hostel awake for hours. i think they were too good looking to be told to be quiet, everyone was too intimidated to even go near them when they had that whiskey on their breath and those little grins playing across their mouths. the day after their crazy night, they sat in the kitchen smoking cigarettes and drinking mate , totally unrepentant. i loved this. i also found it terrifying. i wanted to go make a grilled cheese, but they were all over the kitchen and im too neurotic to cook in front of strangers, and handsom crazed argentinians in particular. so what i did...i went and put on my batman sandals...
...the night before i left cormons, i was in my kitchen packing my bags, and there was a knock on my door. it was an italian boy, mathieu, a cute boy from sicily who i was aquainted with from various nights spent having sing alongs in the grass with my argentinian neighbors. mathieu asked if i would like to come next door, to where the argentinians and a handful of the italians were having a celebration of sorts. i went over and we all drank and sang as usual, and later in the evening the boys decided that they wanted to dance. one of the boys, this cute, sweet, shy boy named diego who was always so so sweet to me put on some music from argentina and commenced to teach me how to dance. the thing about argentinians, lord can they move, all hips and twirls and quick steady feet and i was dizzy and laughing and being held in the arms of a master, twisted and spun and when i got close i would bury my face into his neck and breath so deep and then hold his hand tight as he swung me back out again. we seemed to dance forever, and finally, exhausted, we all layed on the damp cold grass and talked. i told diego that i had always admired these shoes of his, these fantastic plastic shower sandals that he always wore, black with a strap that had the batman insignia. i thought these were the greatest shoes id ever seen, and i told him so, and how my little brother had seen a picture of these shoes on facebook and told he how he admired them too. diego laughed and got up and went inside, returning with the sandals. he told me that he loved that i loved them, and that they were now a gift from him to me. i was overwhelmed with gratitude and thanked him a million times over, and planned on mailing them to grant for a christmas surprise. the thing is, i never got around to mailing them. im too broke to mail shoes internationally and also, i just love those shoes so, so much. they are just so awesome and they make me think of diego and dancing in the cold december cormons air and singing songs and drinking mate and when i wear them i smile and feel so happy...
...so the other day when i was so intimidated by the argentinians in the kitchen, i went and put on my batman sandals. this made me feel brave and in tune with the boys in the kitchen, subconsciously connected to them i a way. i went in and made my sandwich and reveled in past friendships and present moments and how tiny the world actually is and the reality of superheros and wonderful gifts and good cheese and foreign languages and foreign accents and dancing and the connectedness of it all, how in the end it all comes back around if you let it, if you want it to.
...this morning it rained again and i sat in the window ledge at antonios and read "the catcher in the rye" in italian. i can almost understand it.
...there were a group of wild and trecherously good looking argentinians at my hostel. they would stay up late drinking and playing cards and the noise of their laughter and shouts kept the whole hostel awake for hours. i think they were too good looking to be told to be quiet, everyone was too intimidated to even go near them when they had that whiskey on their breath and those little grins playing across their mouths. the day after their crazy night, they sat in the kitchen smoking cigarettes and drinking mate , totally unrepentant. i loved this. i also found it terrifying. i wanted to go make a grilled cheese, but they were all over the kitchen and im too neurotic to cook in front of strangers, and handsom crazed argentinians in particular. so what i did...i went and put on my batman sandals...
...the night before i left cormons, i was in my kitchen packing my bags, and there was a knock on my door. it was an italian boy, mathieu, a cute boy from sicily who i was aquainted with from various nights spent having sing alongs in the grass with my argentinian neighbors. mathieu asked if i would like to come next door, to where the argentinians and a handful of the italians were having a celebration of sorts. i went over and we all drank and sang as usual, and later in the evening the boys decided that they wanted to dance. one of the boys, this cute, sweet, shy boy named diego who was always so so sweet to me put on some music from argentina and commenced to teach me how to dance. the thing about argentinians, lord can they move, all hips and twirls and quick steady feet and i was dizzy and laughing and being held in the arms of a master, twisted and spun and when i got close i would bury my face into his neck and breath so deep and then hold his hand tight as he swung me back out again. we seemed to dance forever, and finally, exhausted, we all layed on the damp cold grass and talked. i told diego that i had always admired these shoes of his, these fantastic plastic shower sandals that he always wore, black with a strap that had the batman insignia. i thought these were the greatest shoes id ever seen, and i told him so, and how my little brother had seen a picture of these shoes on facebook and told he how he admired them too. diego laughed and got up and went inside, returning with the sandals. he told me that he loved that i loved them, and that they were now a gift from him to me. i was overwhelmed with gratitude and thanked him a million times over, and planned on mailing them to grant for a christmas surprise. the thing is, i never got around to mailing them. im too broke to mail shoes internationally and also, i just love those shoes so, so much. they are just so awesome and they make me think of diego and dancing in the cold december cormons air and singing songs and drinking mate and when i wear them i smile and feel so happy...
...so the other day when i was so intimidated by the argentinians in the kitchen, i went and put on my batman sandals. this made me feel brave and in tune with the boys in the kitchen, subconsciously connected to them i a way. i went in and made my sandwich and reveled in past friendships and present moments and how tiny the world actually is and the reality of superheros and wonderful gifts and good cheese and foreign languages and foreign accents and dancing and the connectedness of it all, how in the end it all comes back around if you let it, if you want it to.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
i racconti...list of gratitudes and belle cose
...i woke up this morning in antonios apartment, and the devil was outside beating his wife. rain spattered against the window next to my bed, but the sun was breaking through in rays, illuminating streaks of the room around me. the walls of the room are gold and books in various languages lay stacked and in constant rotation on the shelves. at night plastic sticker stars shine down from the ceiling, and upon close inspection i can see a pattern in their placement, galaxies and ways and the beginning of time recreated by hand. a miniature infinity. the room is too hot because i fell asleep withthe heater on too high, and when i slip my left foot out from under the covers i feel relief and a chill as my body temperature starts to regulate. i find my reflection in the mirror beside the bed and i see myself smiling, a lazy contented morning smile, and i realize that i look very pretty. i close my eyes and the first full thought in my head comes clear and succinct, as though from somewhere else, already formed and delivered because it is correct, perfect. the thought is: i must be doing something right.
...yesterday i stopped at a small cafe near the vatican for a cappuccino. the cafe is cute and almost decadent- metallic blue panelling and a golden counter, stacks of croissants and morning tarts, and newspapers lie about the tiny tables read over and over, briefly skimmed or in detail by the rush of clientel. i order my cappucinno, and the boy behind the counter steams milk fresh from a glass bottle as he pulls the shot of espresso. i can smell the grounds as they fall into place. chocolate powder is sprinkled into my cup in a way that suggests ordered chaos- heavy on the sides, a spatter in the bottom. espresso is poured and then the milk. as it comes together patterns begin to emerge. the boy takes a sliver of a cinnamon stick and draws flower petals in the foam. pictures arise from the wake left in the milk, coffee and chocolate spades and paisleys. the whwole creation takes 30 seconds and i watch and grin. there is a clink as he sets the cup down in front of me, and he winks and moves on to the next customer. my cappuccino is a mocha gardenia, a 1967 headband, a navajo footprint, a victorian masterpiece. when i have finished i pay 1 euro, and the boy says "ciao, bella!" as i leave. i smile about this the entire day, and still now.
...i am eating a pork panini on the ledge of the fountain in piazza farnese, a really delicious sandwich, let me tell you, with rosemary and crunch around the edges. im eating this sandwich and watching the carabinieri who are milling about the piazza in their crisp blue uniforms, machine guns holstered in their arms. i keep my eyes on these guys because, for some reason, i really love the carabinieri. they are serious and terribly cool and always look severe and unamused and kind of handsom. im lost in thought about these guys, and suddenly i feel a cold wet puppy nose against my knee (puppy noses are unmistakable). i look and see a bautiful cocker spaniel puppy prancing at my fee, its big brown eyes looking, not at me, but at my sandwich. i reach out and pet its ears and they are so soft, like threads of silk, and i love this dog. its owner is calling it away and im saying "ciao ciuccolo, ciao bello!" and petting its sweet head. the dog obeys its owner and lopes off, awkward puppy loping, all legs and ears. about 20 paces away though it changes its mind and comes right back to me. more petting, more calling from its owner. the dog leaves again but halfway across the piazza it turns right around and comes back. the whole piazza is watching now , its just too cute, and im giggling and the puppy is obviously in the throws of a natural delima, obey or eat pork, and finally the owner comes and hooks him on his leash right as i slip him a bit of my sandwich. he walks away and keeps turning his head back to me, wanting more. i look over at the carabinieri and they are smiling at me, first time ive seen these guys with anything akin to emotion. i finish my sandwich and leave, thinking well now i can die happy.
...antonio has dire straits "romeo and juliet" on his ipod, and i listen to it and do the dance from empire records and think of james
...i go to the cookbook bar, my local haunt, and see my friends. they ask how my week on the farm went, and we talk about how i worked at that market in testaccio last saturday. the older of the two, tells me, "why didnt you let us know you were working there? we would have come and seen you! no matter how far it was, we would always come see you". as usual when im around these boys, my heart swells with happiness and gratitude, and i have written a promise to them, signed my name and dotted all the "i"s and crossed all the "t"s, that when i am famous i will not only remember them, i will make it known how wonderful they are, and tell everyone how they befriended me, and i will send them my homemade cheese and a card every christmas.
...antonio has The Aristocats on DVD. in italian "Gli Aristogatti". i cant fathom why he owns this film, but it makes me happy.
...yesterday i stopped at a small cafe near the vatican for a cappuccino. the cafe is cute and almost decadent- metallic blue panelling and a golden counter, stacks of croissants and morning tarts, and newspapers lie about the tiny tables read over and over, briefly skimmed or in detail by the rush of clientel. i order my cappucinno, and the boy behind the counter steams milk fresh from a glass bottle as he pulls the shot of espresso. i can smell the grounds as they fall into place. chocolate powder is sprinkled into my cup in a way that suggests ordered chaos- heavy on the sides, a spatter in the bottom. espresso is poured and then the milk. as it comes together patterns begin to emerge. the boy takes a sliver of a cinnamon stick and draws flower petals in the foam. pictures arise from the wake left in the milk, coffee and chocolate spades and paisleys. the whwole creation takes 30 seconds and i watch and grin. there is a clink as he sets the cup down in front of me, and he winks and moves on to the next customer. my cappuccino is a mocha gardenia, a 1967 headband, a navajo footprint, a victorian masterpiece. when i have finished i pay 1 euro, and the boy says "ciao, bella!" as i leave. i smile about this the entire day, and still now.
...i am eating a pork panini on the ledge of the fountain in piazza farnese, a really delicious sandwich, let me tell you, with rosemary and crunch around the edges. im eating this sandwich and watching the carabinieri who are milling about the piazza in their crisp blue uniforms, machine guns holstered in their arms. i keep my eyes on these guys because, for some reason, i really love the carabinieri. they are serious and terribly cool and always look severe and unamused and kind of handsom. im lost in thought about these guys, and suddenly i feel a cold wet puppy nose against my knee (puppy noses are unmistakable). i look and see a bautiful cocker spaniel puppy prancing at my fee, its big brown eyes looking, not at me, but at my sandwich. i reach out and pet its ears and they are so soft, like threads of silk, and i love this dog. its owner is calling it away and im saying "ciao ciuccolo, ciao bello!" and petting its sweet head. the dog obeys its owner and lopes off, awkward puppy loping, all legs and ears. about 20 paces away though it changes its mind and comes right back to me. more petting, more calling from its owner. the dog leaves again but halfway across the piazza it turns right around and comes back. the whole piazza is watching now , its just too cute, and im giggling and the puppy is obviously in the throws of a natural delima, obey or eat pork, and finally the owner comes and hooks him on his leash right as i slip him a bit of my sandwich. he walks away and keeps turning his head back to me, wanting more. i look over at the carabinieri and they are smiling at me, first time ive seen these guys with anything akin to emotion. i finish my sandwich and leave, thinking well now i can die happy.
...antonio has dire straits "romeo and juliet" on his ipod, and i listen to it and do the dance from empire records and think of james
...i go to the cookbook bar, my local haunt, and see my friends. they ask how my week on the farm went, and we talk about how i worked at that market in testaccio last saturday. the older of the two, tells me, "why didnt you let us know you were working there? we would have come and seen you! no matter how far it was, we would always come see you". as usual when im around these boys, my heart swells with happiness and gratitude, and i have written a promise to them, signed my name and dotted all the "i"s and crossed all the "t"s, that when i am famous i will not only remember them, i will make it known how wonderful they are, and tell everyone how they befriended me, and i will send them my homemade cheese and a card every christmas.
...antonio has The Aristocats on DVD. in italian "Gli Aristogatti". i cant fathom why he owns this film, but it makes me happy.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
emergency, funds are reaching a dangerously low level, send aid!
however, i am incredibly well fed and so warm and this hostel is one of the best ive ever stayed in. they have a fully equipped kitchen, so after literally an hour wandering around and around the grocery store pondering how best to spend my last 15euro on enough food to last me through the weekend, i opted for pasta and salad and on-sale cheese and oranges, and i am completely content. all the fruit that i have been eating these past weeks, starting in germany and reaching a crescendo in rome has made me for the first time in my whole life actually crave sugar- but good sugar, fruit sugar! v. happy.
so tomorrow i go to the farm and make cheese, i cannot wait! ill blog asap. everyone in my hostel is totally confused by my daily schedule of farming and stuff, and even more confused by the fact that i have to wake up at 5am to "go to work" instead of taking in all night pub crawls. but i couldnt be happier!
ok, got to go now, its backgammon time with the brasilians.
love, ele
however, i am incredibly well fed and so warm and this hostel is one of the best ive ever stayed in. they have a fully equipped kitchen, so after literally an hour wandering around and around the grocery store pondering how best to spend my last 15euro on enough food to last me through the weekend, i opted for pasta and salad and on-sale cheese and oranges, and i am completely content. all the fruit that i have been eating these past weeks, starting in germany and reaching a crescendo in rome has made me for the first time in my whole life actually crave sugar- but good sugar, fruit sugar! v. happy.
so tomorrow i go to the farm and make cheese, i cannot wait! ill blog asap. everyone in my hostel is totally confused by my daily schedule of farming and stuff, and even more confused by the fact that i have to wake up at 5am to "go to work" instead of taking in all night pub crawls. but i couldnt be happier!
ok, got to go now, its backgammon time with the brasilians.
love, ele
Monday, January 19, 2009
so now am happily settled into a very nice yet inexpensive youth hostel in some lovely neighborhood near the vatican. i have seen more of rome this past week then i ever had any idea exhisted. this city is huge, massive, and totally unrepresented for the most part in guide books, and even lonely planet, the youthful travelers best friend, has zero information on this sprawling, magical city. i think i need to do an expose of my own...as i discover more of this place ill write it down and get to know it. apparently where i sold vegetables last saturday is a very up and coming bohemian hot spot for romans who are moving out of the tourist enclaves, and the neighborhood is in the flux of being super shady and independent and chic and family friendly.
i have no idea what my schedule is at this point, literally. i was dropped off, as i said, at the subway station, and the deal is that the farm where i am suppose to work this week is this gigantic, chaotic farm outside of rome, where they make everything from cheese to prosciutto to bread to vegetables. however, since it is so big, naturally, no one there has any idea what i am doing there, or who i am, and, more importantly, no one lives on that farm so i have nowhere to stay. and since it is so far outside of the city, it will take a huge amount of time to journey there and back everyday. but i cant stay out there in a hotel nearby because then i will literally be in a hotel nearby but also in a hotel in a used car lot in the middle of nowhere. tough. so i opted to find a hostel inside the city and take daily journeys, which i imagine cant be that much more difficult then going to and from school in udine everyday. and a seasoned inconvenience traveler. i have to be there by 7am if i want to make cheese, so i need to leave my hostel about 5:30am. i am seriously thinking that i just lived the healthiest week of my entire life, so i might as well keep this up; hard work, early nights, early mornings, lots of food, no booze...
so my italian when i speak, as i said, is absolutely terrible. i think it actually got more terrible as the week went on, but only because i was speaking so incorrectly before, and all the exposure to the language cause me to go through a complete mental upheavle and start all over. on the upside, i can now listen to italians speak and understand it for the most part!! hoorah!! am a genius and a success! as simone always said, almost a scientist. and in the case of this language, almost practically a mathematician.
am going through a bit of shock after having to leave the comfort of the loving caramadres, but i know more good things are to come. and the cowboy sent me an email and asked if i had a night free this week to have another steak...and my friends here in the city will be around, so ill be able to keep myself busy and in good company.
la la la tomorrows the day! hoorah for america!
i have no idea what my schedule is at this point, literally. i was dropped off, as i said, at the subway station, and the deal is that the farm where i am suppose to work this week is this gigantic, chaotic farm outside of rome, where they make everything from cheese to prosciutto to bread to vegetables. however, since it is so big, naturally, no one there has any idea what i am doing there, or who i am, and, more importantly, no one lives on that farm so i have nowhere to stay. and since it is so far outside of the city, it will take a huge amount of time to journey there and back everyday. but i cant stay out there in a hotel nearby because then i will literally be in a hotel nearby but also in a hotel in a used car lot in the middle of nowhere. tough. so i opted to find a hostel inside the city and take daily journeys, which i imagine cant be that much more difficult then going to and from school in udine everyday. and a seasoned inconvenience traveler. i have to be there by 7am if i want to make cheese, so i need to leave my hostel about 5:30am. i am seriously thinking that i just lived the healthiest week of my entire life, so i might as well keep this up; hard work, early nights, early mornings, lots of food, no booze...
so my italian when i speak, as i said, is absolutely terrible. i think it actually got more terrible as the week went on, but only because i was speaking so incorrectly before, and all the exposure to the language cause me to go through a complete mental upheavle and start all over. on the upside, i can now listen to italians speak and understand it for the most part!! hoorah!! am a genius and a success! as simone always said, almost a scientist. and in the case of this language, almost practically a mathematician.
am going through a bit of shock after having to leave the comfort of the loving caramadres, but i know more good things are to come. and the cowboy sent me an email and asked if i had a night free this week to have another steak...and my friends here in the city will be around, so ill be able to keep myself busy and in good company.
la la la tomorrows the day! hoorah for america!
am back in rome, back in the center. i have just had possibly the best week of my entire life. from now on, whenever i am scared or nervous or sad about what is about to happen, about what is unknown, i am going to remember a week ago, last sunday night, when i cried into my pillow about how terrified i was to go and have this week on the farm. i was homesick as hell, i was scared of the language barrier, i felt totally lost and at the whim of fate. this, i have now learned, is a really beautiful whim to be on. this week with the caramadre family was just...unbelievable, and like so much else that i have experienced on this trip, something that i dont think i will be able to fully understand the importance and true beauty of until it has had time to settle, until i am able to reflect.
laura dropped me at the roma metro station this morning, and after much hugging and kisses being blown, i turned away and began to cry. i love this family so very much, each and every one of them has changed my life in some tiny way, and i hope very much that i can meet them again.
on a lighter note, i dont know that i have ever eaten more or better at any time in my whole life then i did this week. three solid meals a day, each exceptional and italian and delicious, and in between all the fresh fruit i could get my greedy little hands on.
saturday i went with the nephew, daniele, the cute one who is my age, to work at a local organic produce market in downtown rome. the place was somewheer i have never been to before, an area called testaccio, where an ancient slaughterhouse has been converted into a sort of artists conclave, galleries and cafes and organic grocery stores. we worked that morning selling the vegetables from the farm and taking multiple coffee breaks (i LOVE these people for, if nothing else, their desire and knowledge of the importance of coffee), and occasionally during a lull daniele would encourage me to go explore and see what i could see of the neighborhood. after the market had closed, we took a light lunch in the sunshine and watched the children play and chatted a bit. my comprehension and understanding at this pont is 300x better then it was, especially considering before i culd understand nothing, and now im able to understand generally. after we left the market, daniele offered to drive me back to the farm, and first we took a scenic detour through the city, over the river and through the streets, into neighborhoods that i have never seen before and off into the countryside. we drove fast in his little car and i asked for him to put in a cd of house music and he handed me an extra pair of sunglasses to wear...
that night for dinner la nonna made, oh my god, linguine with clams and some sort of breaded and baked beef butt which, i can honestly admit, is the only thing that i have ever tasted that gave grannies fried chicken a run for its money, oh my god, and the boys and i just gorged ourselves and they kept explaining that this meal was "a gift from god" and i totally agreed and there was alot of laughter and games and paolo taught me how to flick a bottle cap across the room and then we all watched some old classic roman film...
my time online is almost up...ill write more later...i have to go find my hostel and figure out what it is i am doing with myself this week...
love
laura dropped me at the roma metro station this morning, and after much hugging and kisses being blown, i turned away and began to cry. i love this family so very much, each and every one of them has changed my life in some tiny way, and i hope very much that i can meet them again.
on a lighter note, i dont know that i have ever eaten more or better at any time in my whole life then i did this week. three solid meals a day, each exceptional and italian and delicious, and in between all the fresh fruit i could get my greedy little hands on.
saturday i went with the nephew, daniele, the cute one who is my age, to work at a local organic produce market in downtown rome. the place was somewheer i have never been to before, an area called testaccio, where an ancient slaughterhouse has been converted into a sort of artists conclave, galleries and cafes and organic grocery stores. we worked that morning selling the vegetables from the farm and taking multiple coffee breaks (i LOVE these people for, if nothing else, their desire and knowledge of the importance of coffee), and occasionally during a lull daniele would encourage me to go explore and see what i could see of the neighborhood. after the market had closed, we took a light lunch in the sunshine and watched the children play and chatted a bit. my comprehension and understanding at this pont is 300x better then it was, especially considering before i culd understand nothing, and now im able to understand generally. after we left the market, daniele offered to drive me back to the farm, and first we took a scenic detour through the city, over the river and through the streets, into neighborhoods that i have never seen before and off into the countryside. we drove fast in his little car and i asked for him to put in a cd of house music and he handed me an extra pair of sunglasses to wear...
that night for dinner la nonna made, oh my god, linguine with clams and some sort of breaded and baked beef butt which, i can honestly admit, is the only thing that i have ever tasted that gave grannies fried chicken a run for its money, oh my god, and the boys and i just gorged ourselves and they kept explaining that this meal was "a gift from god" and i totally agreed and there was alot of laughter and games and paolo taught me how to flick a bottle cap across the room and then we all watched some old classic roman film...
my time online is almost up...ill write more later...i have to go find my hostel and figure out what it is i am doing with myself this week...
love
Thursday, January 15, 2009
so the other night the italian cowboy, lauras brother, paolo, came over to have supper with us. supper was this fantastic meal consisting of boiled quail eggs in a broth of oil and garlic and herbs, lentils with peppers, a fresh salad with kiwis and cantalope, fresh baked bread...i was in heaven....but the italian cowboy was making fun of his vegetarian sister, laura, saying that he liked steak the best, and that surely i did too since i was american. unable to properly express how floored i was by the boiled quail eggs, one of my favorite things, i just sort of ended up going along with it, and paolo said, ok, well tomorrow, well go have a steak, if you make me an american dessert. i thought that sounded like a heck of a deal, and i whole-heartedly agreed
so the next morning i called nana and got her carrot cake recipe. since these people have a surplus of carrots lying around, as well as nuts and oranges, i figured this would be a great thing to make. la nonna, the grandma, who is hilarious and curses alot and bangs brassly in the kitchen and then hands me delicate cups of tea, helped me make the whole thing. i know like, zero italian cooking words, actually, but we made it fine. while it was baking, filling the whole tiny house with amazing smells of simmering fresh squeezed blood oranges and cloves, la nonna called the italian cowboy, and told him something like "the ragazza (girl) has made your cake, its time for you to come over", and 20 minutes later he came in. so he comes up to me, the whole family is in the kitchen, and he starts talking to me about "steak", which i understand, and "tonight", and he uses the word "cambi" which means "you change", and i have no idea what hes talking about actually, im waiting for the words to settle, and he keeps repeating it and the family is like, she doesnt understand, blahblah, but hes super patient and finally, like a minute after the whole episode is over, i get what it was he was saying: i promised you steak tonight, so pop your cake in the oven, go change your clothes, and lets ride into the city for dinner. once i realised this i started laughing and i said, "oh, ora ho copito!" which means, oh, now i've understood! and we laugh a bit and then i say, oh wait, seriously? and he says yes, of course, and everyone is staring at me with sly smiles on their faces like, yes, you idiot, he totally just asked you on a date like, 10 minutes ago, so...?
so la nonna promised to finish la torta, and i put on the first clean, nice clothes that i had worn all week, and paolo and i set off into the night. this guy wears cowboy boots, wranglers, has a laugh that is, at its peak, like 40 tiny frogs being squashed together in a giant tickling machine. hes a goof ball, one of those people who is just always happy and chatty and content, and most importantly, he is able to talk and talk and talk even when the other person, e.g. me, is sitting there nodding and saying uhuh and si and contributing nothing to the conversation except for encouragement. so paolo takes me to this restaurant his cousin owns. its this cute little place, all exposed brick and drippy wax candles and a big fire place and old furniture. we order prosciutto and pane, pasta with truffles and cream, and huge tbone steaks, al sangue (rare). for two hours we sit there, and i am moved enough to say, "paolo, you are absolutely positively the most patient man i have ever known" (or, in my italian, something like "you have so much patient", but close enough). i say this because, for two hours we sit and talk, in italian, which for me, and i am sure for those listening to me, is a molto difficult experience. at this point, putting together a comprehensive, expressive sentence is like pulling hens teeth. and for me to understand, it requires much repition, much exaggeration with hands, and alot of elaboration and back tracking on the part of the italian. paolo, as i said in the first blog about these wonderful people, will talk and talk to me and explain what it is i am suppose to understand until i do, primarily because he makes alot of jokes, and he desperately wants me to be able to laugh, which, once i get the joke, i do. so i say this, and paolo responds with something akin to "darling, i have nothing in the world but patience". he is a horse tamer by trade; he takes the wild ones and ropes them into show horses. for this, he explains, he uses his mind and he makes the effort to get into the head of the animal and calm it down and make it understand what it is that it is suppose to do. so i love this man, because i can say, now and forever, that he is the first italian person with whom i have had an intelligent, comprehensive conversation, with absolutely no escaping into english for the tough stuff. at the end of the meal, he gives me my mantra: "un giorno parlero' perfetamente l'italiano", which means, "one day i will speak perfect italian". hoorah!
so the carrot cake was a huge success. the entire thing was eaten in one day, by the family and extended family, and everyone loved it. la nonna wrote the recipe and labeled it "american cake".
yesterday i went with laura to an old castle on via aurelia, the old road that leads to rome. the castle was fantastic, painted floor to ceiling in detailed scenes of hunting and sunshine and clouds and birds, and in one room there was a duck painted on the wall, and 6 bullet holes all around it, where some drunk lord took aim. i was impressed and overwhelmed. laura and i worked outside at the market. we sold her vegetables in the courtyard of the castle, and a man next to us sold his cheese, and continuously the man would becon me over and pump me full of another sample, exclaiming, "mangia! mangia!". it was a beautiful day; i had a full stomach of fresh cheese and fruit and samples of the "house" wine, i helped old ladies with their groceries and explored the grounds, and laura chatted with me nonstop about everything from politics and religion to history and why her 15yo son is so cranky in the morning (she said, ""i just keep reminding myself that i was worse then he was"). we worked till 1 and then came home for lunch, another stellar meal by la nonna, and then margherita, the little girl, and i settled down to a nice movie.
oh, i wish i knew how to express to the family just how much i adore all of them. everyone is so incredible to me, so patient and kind and they will talk to me and joke with me and ask me all sorts of questions. the other night after dinner, the dad (who is actually kind of scary and gruff and has, i think, limited patience for my limited vocabulary, but is non the less wonderful), went and got an atlas, and together we sat and looked at maps of america and photos, and talked about cities and my home, and then they showed me italian places that they loved and recipes from those people.
my italian, as i have said, is terrible. i mean, absolutely terrible. i have been told, however, that i am actually doing very well, and at times, everything is wonderful, at times, i do great. i alternate between having the time of my life to wanting to hang myself from the rafters of the irrigation system, because sometimes i am so so frustrated and cant understand a word, and i have never been in the situation of in no way being able to adequately express myself. each sentence i make is like a math equation, congugation and memory and making my tongue move in a way that lets me sound as though i dont have a mouth full of socks. but if i can say anything, it is that if you want to move somewhere and jump head first into complete and utter linguistic upheavle, italy is the place to do it. i have thought to myself countless times, these people are absolutely fabulous, they will not let anything bad happen to me, how much better can this possibly get, how generous and patient can one people be? i have been cared for and loved and fed and kept warm by so many italians now i cant even count, told countless times, "if you need anything, come to me", "eat! eat!", "drink! drink!", "where are your shoes? wear these!", etc. its amazing, and as i have said so many times before, after all of these experiences, and all of the kindness that i have been shown, here in italy and in germany with marion and kalla and costa and billy and in france with freddie, all i can hope is that one day, and everyday, i can put some of this goodness back into the world, and do for others what has been done for me. the golden rule, no?
i had such an amazing day today as well, but ill blog it later...the red velvet cake hust came out of the oven and i have to repaint my nails and study for a bit before dinner...
so the next morning i called nana and got her carrot cake recipe. since these people have a surplus of carrots lying around, as well as nuts and oranges, i figured this would be a great thing to make. la nonna, the grandma, who is hilarious and curses alot and bangs brassly in the kitchen and then hands me delicate cups of tea, helped me make the whole thing. i know like, zero italian cooking words, actually, but we made it fine. while it was baking, filling the whole tiny house with amazing smells of simmering fresh squeezed blood oranges and cloves, la nonna called the italian cowboy, and told him something like "the ragazza (girl) has made your cake, its time for you to come over", and 20 minutes later he came in. so he comes up to me, the whole family is in the kitchen, and he starts talking to me about "steak", which i understand, and "tonight", and he uses the word "cambi" which means "you change", and i have no idea what hes talking about actually, im waiting for the words to settle, and he keeps repeating it and the family is like, she doesnt understand, blahblah, but hes super patient and finally, like a minute after the whole episode is over, i get what it was he was saying: i promised you steak tonight, so pop your cake in the oven, go change your clothes, and lets ride into the city for dinner. once i realised this i started laughing and i said, "oh, ora ho copito!" which means, oh, now i've understood! and we laugh a bit and then i say, oh wait, seriously? and he says yes, of course, and everyone is staring at me with sly smiles on their faces like, yes, you idiot, he totally just asked you on a date like, 10 minutes ago, so...?
so la nonna promised to finish la torta, and i put on the first clean, nice clothes that i had worn all week, and paolo and i set off into the night. this guy wears cowboy boots, wranglers, has a laugh that is, at its peak, like 40 tiny frogs being squashed together in a giant tickling machine. hes a goof ball, one of those people who is just always happy and chatty and content, and most importantly, he is able to talk and talk and talk even when the other person, e.g. me, is sitting there nodding and saying uhuh and si and contributing nothing to the conversation except for encouragement. so paolo takes me to this restaurant his cousin owns. its this cute little place, all exposed brick and drippy wax candles and a big fire place and old furniture. we order prosciutto and pane, pasta with truffles and cream, and huge tbone steaks, al sangue (rare). for two hours we sit there, and i am moved enough to say, "paolo, you are absolutely positively the most patient man i have ever known" (or, in my italian, something like "you have so much patient", but close enough). i say this because, for two hours we sit and talk, in italian, which for me, and i am sure for those listening to me, is a molto difficult experience. at this point, putting together a comprehensive, expressive sentence is like pulling hens teeth. and for me to understand, it requires much repition, much exaggeration with hands, and alot of elaboration and back tracking on the part of the italian. paolo, as i said in the first blog about these wonderful people, will talk and talk to me and explain what it is i am suppose to understand until i do, primarily because he makes alot of jokes, and he desperately wants me to be able to laugh, which, once i get the joke, i do. so i say this, and paolo responds with something akin to "darling, i have nothing in the world but patience". he is a horse tamer by trade; he takes the wild ones and ropes them into show horses. for this, he explains, he uses his mind and he makes the effort to get into the head of the animal and calm it down and make it understand what it is that it is suppose to do. so i love this man, because i can say, now and forever, that he is the first italian person with whom i have had an intelligent, comprehensive conversation, with absolutely no escaping into english for the tough stuff. at the end of the meal, he gives me my mantra: "un giorno parlero' perfetamente l'italiano", which means, "one day i will speak perfect italian". hoorah!
so the carrot cake was a huge success. the entire thing was eaten in one day, by the family and extended family, and everyone loved it. la nonna wrote the recipe and labeled it "american cake".
yesterday i went with laura to an old castle on via aurelia, the old road that leads to rome. the castle was fantastic, painted floor to ceiling in detailed scenes of hunting and sunshine and clouds and birds, and in one room there was a duck painted on the wall, and 6 bullet holes all around it, where some drunk lord took aim. i was impressed and overwhelmed. laura and i worked outside at the market. we sold her vegetables in the courtyard of the castle, and a man next to us sold his cheese, and continuously the man would becon me over and pump me full of another sample, exclaiming, "mangia! mangia!". it was a beautiful day; i had a full stomach of fresh cheese and fruit and samples of the "house" wine, i helped old ladies with their groceries and explored the grounds, and laura chatted with me nonstop about everything from politics and religion to history and why her 15yo son is so cranky in the morning (she said, ""i just keep reminding myself that i was worse then he was"). we worked till 1 and then came home for lunch, another stellar meal by la nonna, and then margherita, the little girl, and i settled down to a nice movie.
oh, i wish i knew how to express to the family just how much i adore all of them. everyone is so incredible to me, so patient and kind and they will talk to me and joke with me and ask me all sorts of questions. the other night after dinner, the dad (who is actually kind of scary and gruff and has, i think, limited patience for my limited vocabulary, but is non the less wonderful), went and got an atlas, and together we sat and looked at maps of america and photos, and talked about cities and my home, and then they showed me italian places that they loved and recipes from those people.
my italian, as i have said, is terrible. i mean, absolutely terrible. i have been told, however, that i am actually doing very well, and at times, everything is wonderful, at times, i do great. i alternate between having the time of my life to wanting to hang myself from the rafters of the irrigation system, because sometimes i am so so frustrated and cant understand a word, and i have never been in the situation of in no way being able to adequately express myself. each sentence i make is like a math equation, congugation and memory and making my tongue move in a way that lets me sound as though i dont have a mouth full of socks. but if i can say anything, it is that if you want to move somewhere and jump head first into complete and utter linguistic upheavle, italy is the place to do it. i have thought to myself countless times, these people are absolutely fabulous, they will not let anything bad happen to me, how much better can this possibly get, how generous and patient can one people be? i have been cared for and loved and fed and kept warm by so many italians now i cant even count, told countless times, "if you need anything, come to me", "eat! eat!", "drink! drink!", "where are your shoes? wear these!", etc. its amazing, and as i have said so many times before, after all of these experiences, and all of the kindness that i have been shown, here in italy and in germany with marion and kalla and costa and billy and in france with freddie, all i can hope is that one day, and everyday, i can put some of this goodness back into the world, and do for others what has been done for me. the golden rule, no?
i had such an amazing day today as well, but ill blog it later...the red velvet cake hust came out of the oven and i have to repaint my nails and study for a bit before dinner...
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
you can keep manhattan, just give me that country side...
oh my god, yall, i am actually living on a farm with real life italians.
we rise at dawn, we work till dusk, we take 2 hour lunch breaks complete with pasta and a second course and salad fresh from the garden and wine and dessert and espresso. i am in heaven.
the catch, of course, is that these people, not a one, speaks any english. which is a blessing, for sure, because i am now forced, FORCED, to commmunicate in italian continuously. there is no escape. and even though i speak terribly and i understand very little, we manage to talk and communicate very well. infact, while i am writing this, one of the italian boys is in here chatting me up about football and roma and all other thigs delightful and we are sharing laughs and i forget that it is in another language entirely which is really, really amazing. i mean really amazing. i am totally completely proud of myself.
i also have a new appreciation for the trauma that exchange students go through. i have never been on this end of the language and foreigner-in house-divide, and i will tell you, its strange. i considering going into the kitchen for a nice cup of tea and a light pre-supper chat with la nonna. but then i remember, this light pre-supper chat will include mass stuttering and sign language and overall mental exhaustion by the end and for a second i consider just hiding in my room, studying there. but then i remember earlier, when we sat around and laughed about something and la nonna told me about how and why she moved here from veneto after the second world war and that the dog sleeping in the corner dreams alot, probobly because he was once attacked by a goat and is now trying desperatly in his dreams to avenge himself etc, etc, and i realise, that was a perfectly delightful conversation all in italian too, and somehow i got past that alright, so i bet i can do it again. and i do. hoorah.
so, the farm. it is an organic farm that produces masses of greens and zucchini and other vegetables and some CRAZY looking plant that looks like something out of a science fiction movie, all bright insane coral reef colors, red, pink, green, blue, magenta, in huge stalks, like electric bok choy. i have never ever seen this vegetable before, and i was told that it was "antico", or ancient. yesterday we built a greenhouse and today me and the owner of the farm drove like, practically out of lazio to another town somewhere and picked up a load of vegetables and i got to see the entire outskirts of rome, which is not too nice, actually.
this might be the healthiest week of my entire life. we wake up at 6am, leave by 7 after a nice breakfast, work till lunch, have a huge long lunch break, then work till dusk, and then return home for a light dinner and some studying and i am asleep by 10:30. the family that i am living with is incredible, so so kind to me. they have two kids, a 15yo boy and a 9yo girl, and the parents own the organic farm where i work. it is a family business, and two of the ladies brothers and the husbands nephew work with us. one of the uncles is named paolo and he is cowboy. this totally blew my mind for a minute, because i had always loved italians and cowboys and had never cosidered that rolled into one, and i couldnt figure out if that was an amazing combination or too much or not right or just perfect or what. but he is so so nice to me, and he talks to me continuously about horses until i understand the jokes he makes and he lets me help in the stable and just chats my ear off and he wears cowboy boots and we watched a video of him in a rodeo competition and he says that i can come here and live and hell go to america where the good horses are and it will be a perfect exchange. the nephew is a boy my age who lives in rome proper. he didnt say much at all to me until like, right now, but the past few days hes just said one word things and smiled at me alot and would come up to me at random times and hand me fantastic things to eat; pieces of fresh cheese, toasted bread, coffees, plates of spaghetti, carrots, an orange (which he had already started the peel on! my hero), so i loved him for that. one can say alot with food, you know. everyone is just fantastic. the little girl who i live with is named margherita and she is just beautiful! shes funny as hell, too, quick and witty, and she talks to me in a way i can understand and helps me with my flashcards.
its pretty cold today, and i am walking about in heavy duty work boots muching on fresh kiwi and i look at myself and see that i am covered head to toe in dirt and that feels so good. all over the farm there are boxes of fresh foods, imported vegetables and organic wine, cartons of lemons and kiwis and jugs of olive oil and bushels of rucola and buckets of carciofi...even the dogs sit around and munch on the fresh carrots...
have to go now, ill blog later, im going to go take pictures. i love everyone!!
we rise at dawn, we work till dusk, we take 2 hour lunch breaks complete with pasta and a second course and salad fresh from the garden and wine and dessert and espresso. i am in heaven.
the catch, of course, is that these people, not a one, speaks any english. which is a blessing, for sure, because i am now forced, FORCED, to commmunicate in italian continuously. there is no escape. and even though i speak terribly and i understand very little, we manage to talk and communicate very well. infact, while i am writing this, one of the italian boys is in here chatting me up about football and roma and all other thigs delightful and we are sharing laughs and i forget that it is in another language entirely which is really, really amazing. i mean really amazing. i am totally completely proud of myself.
i also have a new appreciation for the trauma that exchange students go through. i have never been on this end of the language and foreigner-in house-divide, and i will tell you, its strange. i considering going into the kitchen for a nice cup of tea and a light pre-supper chat with la nonna. but then i remember, this light pre-supper chat will include mass stuttering and sign language and overall mental exhaustion by the end and for a second i consider just hiding in my room, studying there. but then i remember earlier, when we sat around and laughed about something and la nonna told me about how and why she moved here from veneto after the second world war and that the dog sleeping in the corner dreams alot, probobly because he was once attacked by a goat and is now trying desperatly in his dreams to avenge himself etc, etc, and i realise, that was a perfectly delightful conversation all in italian too, and somehow i got past that alright, so i bet i can do it again. and i do. hoorah.
so, the farm. it is an organic farm that produces masses of greens and zucchini and other vegetables and some CRAZY looking plant that looks like something out of a science fiction movie, all bright insane coral reef colors, red, pink, green, blue, magenta, in huge stalks, like electric bok choy. i have never ever seen this vegetable before, and i was told that it was "antico", or ancient. yesterday we built a greenhouse and today me and the owner of the farm drove like, practically out of lazio to another town somewhere and picked up a load of vegetables and i got to see the entire outskirts of rome, which is not too nice, actually.
this might be the healthiest week of my entire life. we wake up at 6am, leave by 7 after a nice breakfast, work till lunch, have a huge long lunch break, then work till dusk, and then return home for a light dinner and some studying and i am asleep by 10:30. the family that i am living with is incredible, so so kind to me. they have two kids, a 15yo boy and a 9yo girl, and the parents own the organic farm where i work. it is a family business, and two of the ladies brothers and the husbands nephew work with us. one of the uncles is named paolo and he is cowboy. this totally blew my mind for a minute, because i had always loved italians and cowboys and had never cosidered that rolled into one, and i couldnt figure out if that was an amazing combination or too much or not right or just perfect or what. but he is so so nice to me, and he talks to me continuously about horses until i understand the jokes he makes and he lets me help in the stable and just chats my ear off and he wears cowboy boots and we watched a video of him in a rodeo competition and he says that i can come here and live and hell go to america where the good horses are and it will be a perfect exchange. the nephew is a boy my age who lives in rome proper. he didnt say much at all to me until like, right now, but the past few days hes just said one word things and smiled at me alot and would come up to me at random times and hand me fantastic things to eat; pieces of fresh cheese, toasted bread, coffees, plates of spaghetti, carrots, an orange (which he had already started the peel on! my hero), so i loved him for that. one can say alot with food, you know. everyone is just fantastic. the little girl who i live with is named margherita and she is just beautiful! shes funny as hell, too, quick and witty, and she talks to me in a way i can understand and helps me with my flashcards.
its pretty cold today, and i am walking about in heavy duty work boots muching on fresh kiwi and i look at myself and see that i am covered head to toe in dirt and that feels so good. all over the farm there are boxes of fresh foods, imported vegetables and organic wine, cartons of lemons and kiwis and jugs of olive oil and bushels of rucola and buckets of carciofi...even the dogs sit around and munch on the fresh carrots...
have to go now, ill blog later, im going to go take pictures. i love everyone!!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
roma!
all is well, all is wonderful!!!
i love you all!
have 25 seconds of internet left so ill write later!
ele
i love you all!
have 25 seconds of internet left so ill write later!
ele
Friday, January 9, 2009
La vita e´ bella!
gahh!! ok, i know i havent published the blog on berlin, it is in the works, i proimse. theres alot to say. but now, today, i am making my glorious return to roma, city of life and death and everything in between, and while my heart skips beats when i think of this and what i have to look forward to, i can honestly say that i have never been more terrified in my entire life than i am right now. i am scared to death of going back there, i am scraed to death of taking classes in march, i am scared that i am not going to learn the language right i am scared of being lost and alone i have no idea what or where i am going and all i can do is take deep breaths and review my flash cards and pray that i can remain calm and happy and realize at all times just how blessed i am, and that i am here because i want nothing else, and no fear can take that from me unless i let it. so there. am strong, composed, brilliant woman full of confidence and love and i can do anything i want to do.
so yes. will fly to roma, will take my self out to dinner, will see the pantheon, will go to my friends in trastevere (they say they are only speaking italian to me form here on out, so thats...exciting! will be fine, will be great, cute boys and they have mopeds...)i will walk in the moon light and monday i will go to the farm.
ill find some internet somewhere to blog, but call my phone if you want.
i love you all!! wish me luck!!
so yes. will fly to roma, will take my self out to dinner, will see the pantheon, will go to my friends in trastevere (they say they are only speaking italian to me form here on out, so thats...exciting! will be fine, will be great, cute boys and they have mopeds...)i will walk in the moon light and monday i will go to the farm.
ill find some internet somewhere to blog, but call my phone if you want.
i love you all!! wish me luck!!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
"but i won´t go to paris...i´ll go to berlin" -dwight k. shrute
whew, this has been a blur!
it is the eve of my return to italia, to roma, and i am curled up in bed in one of the cutest boy-flats that i have ever had the pleasure of nesting in. this has been one of the coldest weeks that berlin has ever known, and thank god for marion and mimi and their insistence that i buy some decent shoes, because i seriously would not have survived without them. the snow that came down in beautiful shiny sheets just days ago has now been crushed under the soles of so many a german boot that the ground is icy and white, tremendously trecherous. "i love it here. these people are beautiful."
so...where was i...
marion brought me to the duisburg train station early on a monday morning, and we had a teary and precious goodbye, and i was passed off into the hands of three complete strangers. germany has this wonderful thing where people who are taking road trips post their schedules, and then other people can pay them tiny amounts of money to share the ride. we found a car going form duisburg to berlin that morning for 25 euro, which is a quarter, at least, of what it would have cost to take a train. the woman who was driving was this sort of frightening butch lady, who claims to have taken english lessons for twelve years, though i saw absolutely no evidence of her language skills other then when she very suddenly asked me "do you want a toke?". she meant of her cigarette, which was in a package labeled "black devils" and they smelled like tar and i shook my head violently and said "oh, haha, no thank you" and commenced breathing into my shirt. we rode all the way to berlin with her music, sub-gwar meets metalica scary stuff, blarring and i couldnt take my eyes off the one, single, solitary childs high top that sat on the dashboard. the shoe was dirty on the bottom, not just a hood ornament, an actual childs shoe, and i couldnt help but wonder...
arrived safe and sound and she deposited me right at the door of my dear costa, who stood grinning at me from the door of his apartment as i struggled and heaved my 400lb suitcase up the four flights of stairs. his foot is broken, so im sure he would have helped me if he could. we immediately went for a lovely sushi dinner and then crashed back into the apartment, rubbing our numbed cheeks and watched the office for a long, long time.
surprise visitors came a little while later...both the baggett blondies, Katherine and Ann Marie, decided to pop in for new years eve. since their dad is a pilot they can fly for free anywhere that US Air flys, and ann marie was already going to france to visit her friend brandon, so katherine, my dearest angel, decided shed tag along and come stay with me and the germans. costa, who is clearly one of the most generous and patient men that i have ever known and adored, was gracious enough to let us wild american girls crash in his flat, and KT stayed with us here for about a week.
new years eve was one of the most incredible nights of my entire life. the girls and i got ready, and the theme for our outfits was grey, and we wore earrings with ribbon decal (seriously, we all matched, was cute). costa and his friend toby took us to a little party that the girls and i dubbed "bizarro athens", lots of guys sitting around playing guitar hero. was incredible boring, except it didnt even matter, cause AM, KT, and i had months and months of things to talk about and costa and toby are hilarious and we all just piled onto a couch together and giggled and sang and talked about our neuroses like not being able to eat food in front of people or having a hard time walking across crowded rooms and then toby had us launch fireworks from the balcony and it was just great. about half an hour till midnight, costa led us out into the FREEZING cold, where we snuck into an apartment building across the street and headed toward the roof. picture berlin though, on this night of nights: its dark outside and so so cold and people are on the streets, on balconies, in windows. from every direction firecrackers are popping and whizzing and the sidewalks are trecherous and theres hooting and hollering and with every minute the energy mounts. we make it up onto the roof, with 5 minutes to spare. this in itself was quite an adventure, with costa being on crutches and all, and there were about 30 people with us, and the ladder was this terrifying rickety wooden thing. was impressed as hell when costa flew up that thing on one foot; he knew the roof top experience was going to be too good to miss, broken foot be damned.
from the roof top we could see berlin in all directions, and in the dark of night it all looked positively endless. the girls and i hudled togetehr for warmth and sang aerosmith songs at the top of our voices, the boys shot off fireworks and people were dancing. 5 minutes till midnight the chaos began: firworks were launched and the singing was coming to our ears from all directions and when midnight struck, you could seemingly hear everyone in the city let out a collective yell of glee and the sky exploded in fireworks. blasts of red, blue, green. pink, whizzing, twirling fire bombs of celebration in literally every direction, a panoramic explosion, and i turned around and around and everywhere i looked colors soared and people were singing and champagne bottles were popping and the sky was bright and full of balloons and paper lanterns flying on the fuel of tiny candles and chards of confetti rained down on our heads and in our eyes. we stayed on the roof about 30 minutes, all hugs and laughter and bottle rockets, and then one by one we climbed back down the ladder and wandered out onto the street. berlin from street level resembled a wartorn, bombed city, except the smoke was from fireworks, thick in the air, and people milled through the streets running and skipping and swigging champagne. there were used bottle rockets and colorful paper all over the icy ground and you couldnt see too far in front of you for the smoke but the air smelled sweet and happy and KT and i held hands and ran through the fog and led our little group to a tiny bar where we thought we could warm up. the bar turned out to be a great choice, as it was packed and there was a little dance party in the back room. we all danced and thawed out and i met some italians which made me ridiculously happy. late that evening, about 3 i imagine, the girls and i decided we wanted to go dance. we hailed a cab and sweet costa hobbled over and told the driver in his precious german some directions to somewhere, we couldnt understand a word, we just smiled and thanked him and blew kisses and reveled in the idea of being sent into the abyss on a new years eve in berlin, no idea where we were headed but knowing we were in good hands. we ended up at a giant warehouse, a giant disco village, where KT argued her way past the 25euro entrance fee. the place was sprawling and hd a vast number of rooms, each with different DJs and themes and people were in costume and evrything glowed. after an hour or two of marveling at the happy chaos and a little dancing, we settled down for a nice grilled cheese some guy was making at a lttle booth (he gav me mine for free in exchange for the last sip of my beer) and decided that we had better head home- ann marie was scheduled to leave for france in 3 hours. made it back to costas warm flat safe and sound, all giggles and picking confetti from each others hair and, KT and i at least, settled in with costa for a long sleep.
TBC...
oh, and roma is beautiful!!
it is the eve of my return to italia, to roma, and i am curled up in bed in one of the cutest boy-flats that i have ever had the pleasure of nesting in. this has been one of the coldest weeks that berlin has ever known, and thank god for marion and mimi and their insistence that i buy some decent shoes, because i seriously would not have survived without them. the snow that came down in beautiful shiny sheets just days ago has now been crushed under the soles of so many a german boot that the ground is icy and white, tremendously trecherous. "i love it here. these people are beautiful."
so...where was i...
marion brought me to the duisburg train station early on a monday morning, and we had a teary and precious goodbye, and i was passed off into the hands of three complete strangers. germany has this wonderful thing where people who are taking road trips post their schedules, and then other people can pay them tiny amounts of money to share the ride. we found a car going form duisburg to berlin that morning for 25 euro, which is a quarter, at least, of what it would have cost to take a train. the woman who was driving was this sort of frightening butch lady, who claims to have taken english lessons for twelve years, though i saw absolutely no evidence of her language skills other then when she very suddenly asked me "do you want a toke?". she meant of her cigarette, which was in a package labeled "black devils" and they smelled like tar and i shook my head violently and said "oh, haha, no thank you" and commenced breathing into my shirt. we rode all the way to berlin with her music, sub-gwar meets metalica scary stuff, blarring and i couldnt take my eyes off the one, single, solitary childs high top that sat on the dashboard. the shoe was dirty on the bottom, not just a hood ornament, an actual childs shoe, and i couldnt help but wonder...
arrived safe and sound and she deposited me right at the door of my dear costa, who stood grinning at me from the door of his apartment as i struggled and heaved my 400lb suitcase up the four flights of stairs. his foot is broken, so im sure he would have helped me if he could. we immediately went for a lovely sushi dinner and then crashed back into the apartment, rubbing our numbed cheeks and watched the office for a long, long time.
surprise visitors came a little while later...both the baggett blondies, Katherine and Ann Marie, decided to pop in for new years eve. since their dad is a pilot they can fly for free anywhere that US Air flys, and ann marie was already going to france to visit her friend brandon, so katherine, my dearest angel, decided shed tag along and come stay with me and the germans. costa, who is clearly one of the most generous and patient men that i have ever known and adored, was gracious enough to let us wild american girls crash in his flat, and KT stayed with us here for about a week.
new years eve was one of the most incredible nights of my entire life. the girls and i got ready, and the theme for our outfits was grey, and we wore earrings with ribbon decal (seriously, we all matched, was cute). costa and his friend toby took us to a little party that the girls and i dubbed "bizarro athens", lots of guys sitting around playing guitar hero. was incredible boring, except it didnt even matter, cause AM, KT, and i had months and months of things to talk about and costa and toby are hilarious and we all just piled onto a couch together and giggled and sang and talked about our neuroses like not being able to eat food in front of people or having a hard time walking across crowded rooms and then toby had us launch fireworks from the balcony and it was just great. about half an hour till midnight, costa led us out into the FREEZING cold, where we snuck into an apartment building across the street and headed toward the roof. picture berlin though, on this night of nights: its dark outside and so so cold and people are on the streets, on balconies, in windows. from every direction firecrackers are popping and whizzing and the sidewalks are trecherous and theres hooting and hollering and with every minute the energy mounts. we make it up onto the roof, with 5 minutes to spare. this in itself was quite an adventure, with costa being on crutches and all, and there were about 30 people with us, and the ladder was this terrifying rickety wooden thing. was impressed as hell when costa flew up that thing on one foot; he knew the roof top experience was going to be too good to miss, broken foot be damned.
from the roof top we could see berlin in all directions, and in the dark of night it all looked positively endless. the girls and i hudled togetehr for warmth and sang aerosmith songs at the top of our voices, the boys shot off fireworks and people were dancing. 5 minutes till midnight the chaos began: firworks were launched and the singing was coming to our ears from all directions and when midnight struck, you could seemingly hear everyone in the city let out a collective yell of glee and the sky exploded in fireworks. blasts of red, blue, green. pink, whizzing, twirling fire bombs of celebration in literally every direction, a panoramic explosion, and i turned around and around and everywhere i looked colors soared and people were singing and champagne bottles were popping and the sky was bright and full of balloons and paper lanterns flying on the fuel of tiny candles and chards of confetti rained down on our heads and in our eyes. we stayed on the roof about 30 minutes, all hugs and laughter and bottle rockets, and then one by one we climbed back down the ladder and wandered out onto the street. berlin from street level resembled a wartorn, bombed city, except the smoke was from fireworks, thick in the air, and people milled through the streets running and skipping and swigging champagne. there were used bottle rockets and colorful paper all over the icy ground and you couldnt see too far in front of you for the smoke but the air smelled sweet and happy and KT and i held hands and ran through the fog and led our little group to a tiny bar where we thought we could warm up. the bar turned out to be a great choice, as it was packed and there was a little dance party in the back room. we all danced and thawed out and i met some italians which made me ridiculously happy. late that evening, about 3 i imagine, the girls and i decided we wanted to go dance. we hailed a cab and sweet costa hobbled over and told the driver in his precious german some directions to somewhere, we couldnt understand a word, we just smiled and thanked him and blew kisses and reveled in the idea of being sent into the abyss on a new years eve in berlin, no idea where we were headed but knowing we were in good hands. we ended up at a giant warehouse, a giant disco village, where KT argued her way past the 25euro entrance fee. the place was sprawling and hd a vast number of rooms, each with different DJs and themes and people were in costume and evrything glowed. after an hour or two of marveling at the happy chaos and a little dancing, we settled down for a nice grilled cheese some guy was making at a lttle booth (he gav me mine for free in exchange for the last sip of my beer) and decided that we had better head home- ann marie was scheduled to leave for france in 3 hours. made it back to costas warm flat safe and sound, all giggles and picking confetti from each others hair and, KT and i at least, settled in with costa for a long sleep.
TBC...
oh, and roma is beautiful!!
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