Sognando Italia- The Middle

So this is what I think…really. I think that everything we do leads to something else- something more definitive. I now believe that positivity breeds positivity and that flexibility is one of the keys to a successful and predominantly agony free life- I say predominantly because I am quite sure that a life without any agony isn’t really lived at all. I’ve learned that I am so far from perfect- and that I need to accept other people’s imperfections as well as mine. In the middle of what will probably prove to be one of the most significant turning points in my life, I am wrought with preoccupations yet intrigued by the fact that as time rolls quickly by- the lessons I am learning are growing exponentially. My fixations are being exposed and life’s big lessons, previously disguised as little bumps in the road, are revealing themselves to be the most captivating parts of this whole process. It’s all right out there, barenaked…for me and my little crew- those of us with our eyes wide open enough to notice- to unearth and examine.

Mirroring life in general, each experience, or chapter- has its ups and downs. Therefore, the two month filming schedule throughout the US will naturally have its own crests and falls. The middle, I have found, is the hardest part: the newness of the situation has dissipated- and the finish line seems so distant that it’s impractical to try to imagine. Then again, a rapid tour of North America is hardly monotonous.

It happens to be the expectations that forsake me in the middle. At this point, we know what we have gotten ourselves into, but we are too far away from the culmination to allow ourselves to reflect- or become excited about what the result may be. The middle is the part where I tend to feel trapped- counting the days, dragging my feet and struggling not to let fear or distrust gain entry.

I have done a good amount of contemplating and dissecting. I have made a large number of assumptions- most of which naïve and utterly futile. Yet I feel, on the other hand, that I may have happened upon a few truths- the kind of truths I am in constant search of- in order to assign some sense to the larger scheme of things.

I trust that everything we do, every step we take in whichever direction, leads- undoubtedly- to something else.

Those of us courageous enough not only to try something new, but to stand up and try again when we fail (which we all undoubtedly do)…may one day begin again and change course. Those of us lucky enough to abandon the wrong paths before our minds and our hearts become completely distorted- may have a chance at happiness after all.

I think I may have found my path- or a version close to it.

There is no doubt that I’ve attempted things I never should have tried in the first place, and I pushed myself- oftentimes to my limits, only to find out that I had gone completely wrong at the start. But somehow I made it HERE. And everyday, for me, is exhilarating.

I think I’ve stumbled upon something I am truly meant to do. And honestly? It’s so good that I’m afraid it’s going to slip away- or that it isn’t real at all- or that I am going to do something so utterly wrong that it will all be taken away. But I’m trying to stay positive because although this wild ride is filled with nothing I have ever known, it sure feels like a result of everything I have done up until now. And I sense and hope that I am able to do it- and do it well.

The other day, in between scenes- sitting on the steps of a random building in another prominent US city, amongst my new family, my companions - I took a long sip of my oh-so-American Starbucks, a long drag of my oh-so-Italian cigarette…and it all just clicked. A voice in my head, peculiarly close to my own, stated: this is where I should be, doing what I should be doing. Of course, I have a long way to go- many, MANY lessons to be learned and a bumpy road ahead. But a seed has been planted…and I'm trying to work out the precise elements in order to allow me to grow.

Maybe that which I have been told all along, about life being like a puzzle: pieces fitting, square pegs, round holes and so on and so forth…is right. And for so long- I was searching for not only the incorrect pieces of the puzzles- but maybe I was looking in the wrong stores, in the wrong states- and possibly in the wrong time zones on the incorrect continents. Who knows. What I do know is that I am here now. And it feels good- it feels right. Like a new love- with all the excitement of the unfamiliar- but a strong instinctive feeling that you believe in enough to allow yourself to follow it into the dark- hoping to find the light around the edges.

At the end of the day, the anticipation is half the fun…then comes the discovery, the excitement and the exhilarating fear. The risk of disappointment, like the end, is so far off that one mustn’t worry about it yet.

I may be at the lull of the middle of the experience- the beginning is behind me and the end so far away that I haven’t yet begun to contemplate it- but I have this one major affirmation…that I have found something that fits, and I have embarked on a new path that seems to be like a round peg in a round hole- for once- and it’s something that will remain with me forever, something that can only get better from here.

Sognando Italia

I was always told, "give a busy person something to do and it will get done"...and I find this to be true. Oh lord, how I do. However, what they don't tell you is that when one is busy- some of the secondary things get pushed to the side. I.e. blogging, writing, running, inventing new recipes, keeping in touch with old friends and of course, manicures ;)

In the past four/five months, I have been in and out of Rome- traveling for work and admittedly, for pleasure. I have begun planning a wedding, raised the most special puppy in the world, remodeled a new home- AMAZING VILLA in the middle of Rome, and have helped to create, organize and begin pre-production of my newest baby/endeavor- an Italian television program aptly titled, Sognando Italia (Dreaming of Italy). Below is the facebook link (become a fan!) and the website will be up soon.

I have to say, despite incredibly long hours, moments of doubt and hesitation and above all, fear of the unknown- I know that without a dubious bone in my body, this next phase is right... I.e. I am exactly where I was meant to be.

The production crew and I will be leaving Italy for the U.S. in mid-September to film: hitting New York, Chicago, Washington, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Houston, New Orleans and Miami and will return to Italy by the end of November (not before my bachelorette party in Miami though!)

Therefore, I would like to present you with, Moi- Italian Television Presenter! Who would have thought doing an MBA would lead me here? I plan on blogging during the filming and post-production process so I hope that whatever it is I encounter- whether it be triumphs or failures, laughter or tears- I can share with you.

Wish me luck...

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Sognando-Italia/171613956244724

Bella Napoli

Naples’ reputation precedes it. When most foreigners hear it’s name uttered, the images that come to mind can only be interpreted as negative: heaping piles of trash, organized crime and devastating volcanic eruptions. At least, that’s what I thought about the misunderstood city until I began dating a Napolitano.

Granted, the dialect is a sloppy, loud and a patience-trying bastardized variety of classic Italian, the streets are congested and raucous and around every corner there is a gypsy eyeing your wallet or a local thief eyeing your watch. However, beyond the grit and chaos- Napoli is, in my opinion, one of the most fascinating and beautiful cities of Italy.

Earlier this month- my aunt decided to bring my uncle to Italy (and to me) for his 74^th birthday celebration. I thought and thought about where to take them- being that we had already spent abundant amounts of time together in Rome. Then, it came to me…Bella Napoli! What better than to show them around one of the oldest, most romantic and startlingly beautiful cities in Italy. (Not forgetting to mention that the food is so good that my poor uncle actually got sick from over-eating.) Sorry Pookie, I wont go into the details!

Anyway- when I first told la zia about my excursion idea- I could hear her cringe on the other end of the phone. But I actually believe that the low expectations led to an even better all-around experience. I can’t speak for anyone else but what I do know is that I had an incredible time- from standing on our sea-view balconies gazing out towards Mt. Vesuvius on our left and Capri to our rights, to singing an unofficial Napolitano anthem, Malafemmina, along with the guitar-clad “cantante” while dining at “Dora” down a hidden alley in the center of the city. What I do know is that I have managed to convert two more Midwesterners into Naples aficionados.

So my thinking is, if I actually make it to 74 in the incredible shape that my uncle is in- I plan on spending it in Napoli as well.  Photos and accompanying music below.

Christmas Lights

The Christmas lights have, at long last, been threaded throughout the dazzling streets of Rome. And as I walk along under the evening light, gazing at the beaded illumination, glowing sparklers and shimmering ribbons of bulbs- I experience a mixture of emotions- joy, nostalgia and regret. Joy- because how can one not be joyful in Rome around the holidays? Nostalgia- because…well I don't really know why. Maybe I just miss my family. And a bit of regret- because I am leaving for India in three days- which means I will fully miss out on the three most important Italian winter milestones: Christmas, New Year’s Eve and the Winter Sales (sigh…particularly due to the latter).

Right now- Rome is so beautiful, so festive- and so incredibly charming. But I’m sad- and as I sat on the couch attempting to find the words to explain how I feel, with MTV blaring on the television in the background, I heard Chris Martin’s familiar voice singing a new song, Christmas Lights. Coldplay sang… “Doesn’t really feel like Christmas at all.” Good song- just about how I feel- have a listen below…I guess I would call it my 2010 Christmas anthem. I have to say, its much better than Train’s overplayed Christmas song, “shake up the happiness, wake up the happiness, come on ya’ll…it’s Christmas time.”

I mean, come on. Seriously?

To make matters worse- I just found out that Limewire is under a court order to stop distributing software. Which means no Christmas music on my new hard drive. Sorry Mariah.

Of course, I am thrilled to be leaving for India- it's a trip I’ve been anticipating for the greater part of five years. On the other hand, having spent nearly 15 days of the last 30 in the Indian Embassy has not proven been the best launch to the magical experience I have in mind. In Shantaram, the author mentioned something about the Indians being the Italians of the East. Now, I haven’t yet been to India- but I have spent days waiting around the Indian embassy- and I can honestly say, based on first impressions (from a bureaucratic standpoint) that this statement couldn't be more true. I laughed when I read it. Yet- I cried when I realized it was true.

I have been completely at the mercy of this incredibly unfortunate culture clash. Simply put Italians (disorganized, slow, stubborn, proud, fiery and aloof) in an office, add a few Indians (indifferent, smug, stubborn and apathetic) and voilá- welcome to inefficiency and a lot of unanswered inquiries. Finally though, I am happy to report, I did manage to get my visa. Please don't get me wrong- the larger fraction of my favorite people in the world consist of both Italians and Indians- I am purely speaking on my experience with the employees of the Indian Embassy of Rome on Via 22 Settembre, 5 (in case anyone was wondering how to find where misery lives…)

I suppose one good thing about Italy is that its national colors are already green and red- therefore, only a few changes have to be made in invoke the “Christmas Spirit”- a snowflake here, a silver bell there- and there ya go. Along with the lights and the trees and the Santas in store windows- Rome is utterly freezing- but like .01 degrees too warm to snow- which is the worst. This weather means, to me; blue lips, walking around in my ski clothes, three horrible days of the flu and the interminable waiting for snow like Waiting for Godot. I am so pumped full of medicine it’s hard to really bask in the Christmas joy of hanging lanterns and glittering palazzi. I did feel good enough today to go to the dog park in Villa Borghese, where a baby Dalmatian maimed Dudy’s perfect little nose so badly I think he’s going to be disfigured for life. But as my friend Stephan says, I’m building up my sh*t capital so that the India trip will go off without a hitch. (here’s hoping…)

Oh, and I spent last weekend in Naples for the Baptism of my Boyfriend’s niece. We went to the family church in the tiny city outside of Pompeii where Antonio grew up. That was interesting as well. Here’s how it went (I’m going to do this in English):

Antonio: “Morgan I want to introduce you to the priest. He basically raised me” (at this point- I should have known to run)

Morgan: “OK”

Priest: “Hi Antonio. How’r’ya? This the girlfriend? Ah well, Antonio- I was watching you, you didn't cross yourself in the manner you were raised. (looks at me all knowingly) You should teach him.”

Morgan: “I’m Jewish”

Priest: (looks at me with an expression between shock and disappointment) “hmmmm ….well….(looks at Antonio) Are you going to convert?(Looks at me) I guess….you are still waiting for your God.

Whatever that means…

Morgan: (speechless)

Aunt of Antonio: (Interjects) “No she has Allah.”

Morgan: (still speechless)

Antonio: (babbles something inaudible)

Really? That was news to me…

So that was fun.

Now...I’m going to go out, eat pizza, and snap a few shots of some dangling lights before I leave for the third world. 

A dopo….

Giorno del Ringraziamento

Another Thanksgiving sans family and sans turkey…(not that I eat it anyway…)

While as I woke up this morning with a twinge of longing for my family and the beautiful November Miami weather, I can’t say that I’m not contented here. 

In the last few days I have taken long walks with the pup- one beginning from Piazza Navona to Piazza di Spagna, ending in a fountain on Via Margutta- which was fun, but the clean-up wasn't. I attended a Unicef gala with a Ballet by Bolle and his troop that was so poignant it made me want to take dance classes again. One evening, I cooked Zucchini Flowers I found in the market and Eggplant Parmigiana for friends who came over to dinner. I’m writing a business plan with a friend, eating tons of pizza, watching the puppy lose his teeth, eat them and grow them back (not due to the ingestion of course).

And in between all the action- I have read three books:

Loving Frank, by Nancy Horan

Love The One You’re With By Emily Griffin

And

One Day by David Nicholls

All great stories. All worth reading- all taking time away from my writing.

Dudy is growing at an impressionable rate and is the best puppy ever- except, of course, for the weekend spent in the hospital hooked up to tubes due to the packet of ibuprofin he ate while I was sleeping. Fortunately, he survived…and is thriving.

It’s truffle season in Italy and I am certainly eating my fair share- particularly the white variety, straight from Alba- requesting shavings on everything- pasta, cheese, asparagus…etc. I would put them in my coffee if I could.

Life is good- Rome somehow seems to get more beautiful by the day and as winter approaches, the lush fur coats in all shades from ivory to rich browns and blacks pass under my windows in droves screaming- “whats PETA?”

So this thanksgiving I wont be standing on any chairs singing the American national anthem- but you may find me in Villa Borghese- with Dudy- humming Va Pensiero to myself…

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

U.A.E. & Me

A few weeks ago, I spent about four days in Dubai. It was my third time in the Emirate, but my first as a tourist. This time around, I was there merely to explore and enjoy. And along with the exploration- and snapshot taking, I did some reflecting- and happened to note that Dubai appears to be the city most unlike Rome in the world.

If I were to describe Rome- I’d have a sizeable catalog of adjectives, anecdotes and images. If I were asked to describe Dubai- I would simply state that it’s the opposite of Italy. 

What is old and crumbling in Rome- is new and shiny in Dubai. Where Dubai has “the biggest,” Rome has “the oldest.” Dubai’s man-made islands shaped like palms jut into the Gulf- while Rome’s man-made temples weave their ways in and out of history books like threads. Dubai runs like clockwork. Italy, oftentimes, ceases to run at all.

In Rome, the destroyed heels of my Italian shoes slide between the mislaid cobblestones- and in Dubai, my heels either clapped along the newly paved streets or sunk into the sand in the less developed areas of the city. 

In Rome, one can stroll through the city- ambling from the Spanish Steps to the Trevi Fountain- passing sculptures and churches built hundreds of years ago. While in Dubai, one can drive and see the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world standing at 2716 feet, from almost any point. Rome has the Vatican and Dubai has the Burj al Arab with its florescent lights illuminating the city, its gold plated interiors with aquariums and glistening walls.

Dubai’s ruler, Sheikh Mohammed, is in power as a result of the constitutional monarchy. The Sheikh dreamed up the city as it is today- and transformed that dream into a reality. Italy has Berlusconi- who, in his own words stated, “I am absolutely sure to be the most democratic man to ever become Prime Minister in Italy.” (ANSA 2002) 

Dubai is a gem- something that has never existed in the middle east- a place of dreams. And Italy, alone, is home to 50% of the entire world’s artistic heritage. Italy is the birthplace of the Renaissance and Dubai is the birthplace of banking- with a Muslim twist.

Dubai is decadent- filled with imagination and desire. It’s a shell though- lacking foundation. Italy is anything but a shell- its layers penetrate deep with history, culture, philosophy and art. Dubai dazzles where Rome astounds. 

Being in Dubai, I had fun. I had forgotten what it was like to be around a diverse group of young professionals, moving and shaking in a society that they seem to be building together. In Rome, I arrived and promptly got the impression that I was invading a society- something deeply embedded that was already congested. I am trying, as hard as I can, to fashion my own place- to find an empty spot in the already cluttered terrain to set my roots down- and to be accepted into a society that seems to have shut its doors long before I was even born. Every day, I am learning how to be something more than the token American, or the foreign girlfriend. Because I know there is so much more of me to give- but it’s hard to furnish an identity when one’s role has already been defined. It's a challenge- and I will overcome it…at least, that's the way I’m looking at it. In Dubai, everyone seems to have a clean slate- and their values are solely dependent on what they accomplish while they are there. 

Ultimately, Dubai served as a reminder of a number of things- of my own identity, my past and my value. At the same time, it was a great time spent with great friends. Most importantly though, despite the small difficulties I have encountered through making my way in Italy- I quickly realized that I would choose Churches, fountains and the Tiber- over Mosques, malls and Sheikh Zayed Road. Any day of the week.

Trash Clash

Trash, evidently, is a political issue with a long history in Southern Italy. Whether or not the current crisis has reached the media on an international level, I am not sure- but what I do know is that it’s occupying headlines throughout this nation. At present, it is impossible to open a newspaper or turn on the television without seeing images of burning garbage trucks, teeming dump-sites and livid locals yelling angrily into the microphones of the few news agents that managed to pass through the barricades.  

Garbage in Naples is anything but a new concern. Unfortunately, the city itself is well known for its trash crises- in particular, the major eruption in 2007, which consequently became one of the top priorities for the incoming political party- Berlusconi’s PDL. The truth is, before I got to know Naples, I associated it with its garbage issues. Later, once I spent some quality time in the city, I realized that it is so much more…Napoli is this gritty, soulful, stunning, and incredibly alive city. It’s got this pulse you can feel running through your veins as you walk through the streets. 

Since the Italian government cleaned up the trash, Napoli and its outlying towns once again became tourist destinations. Regrettably, and somewhat in-tune with Napoli’s ill-fated issues, a new garbage battle has ensued. Due to an existing, overflowing landfill and the planning and creation of a considerably larger, more intrusive landfill at the base of Vesuvius- the outlying towns of Naples currently appear to be more like Bagdad then they do the Mediterranean. I have watched on the news, for over a week now, protesters road blocking garbage trucks on the route to the existing landfills- flying rocks, explosions, police blockades and numerous burning vehicles.

In the past, I have tried to stay away from political issues- and from the ugly parts of the country that I find so beautiful. To me, Italy is the most special place in the world – and I try to portray that. Unfortunately however, the “discarica di Terzigno” hits closer to home than other political concerns. Terzigno, just outside of Napoli, is the birthplace of my boyfriend- and I have spent many a weekend perusing the streets of the tiny town.

Furthermore- last night, I partook in an experience I never could have anticipated. I found myself in the middle of a rally on the streets of Terzigno, along with nearly 400 irate Italians, blocking the road to the dumpsite. There was yelling from the angry mobs, there were fires- but what struck me the most were the tears of anger and betrayal in the eyes of the local citizens. Signs were suspended all over the city walls with heated phrases, trash was piled everywhere- if not on fire, than creating roadblocks to the major throughways of the area.

 Now, I am not a fan of protests and I am not a fan of violence or unnecessary damage to property- private or public. But this time, I get it. These people are tax paying loyal citizens of a country that they love- that they are proud of....and at present, they can't walk out of their houses without smelling the mountains of trash left more or less at their doorsteps. (Not to mention the potential environmental implications.) 

Of course, looking at the situation from an objective perspective- the alternative choices are slim- and there are more parties involved than just the heads of government. Yet I believe, at the end of the day, that Berlusconi is a decent man and a good leader- and will do his best, along with his party, to clean up the literal mess and regain the confidence and fidelity of this large portion of the Southern population.

On another note; as I was walking away from the demonstration (realizing that these people were accomplishing nothing but freezing their toes off), I was reminded of which country I am in when I got a whiff of the strong aroma of garlic and olive oil- and heard a slightly muffled voice reverberating over the megaphone exclaiming: “Sono arrivati i fagioli!!!” In truth, I was expecting an angry proclamation, or a call to battle. In actuality, the woman was saying, “The pasta and beans have arrived!”  

Clearly, an Italian demonstration isn’t truly Italiano without the dinner.

Summer Snapshots

Sardegna photos as promised...

שנה טובה

Italy shuts down in August. Restaurants, businesses and at least half the shops are completely out for the count. Of course, a number of establishments must remain open due to the influx of tourists. But for the locals- Rome is, for all intents and purposes, closed. “When in Rome,” I try my best to do as the Romans do. And when “out of Rome,” I did as the Romans do as well.

The first half of the month was spent in Sardegna- in one of the most delightful and lavish hotels I have ever seen- hobnobbing with the rich and richer (and their Russian girlfriends). It was the vacation of a lifetime- shared with some of my best friends and loved ones, reminding me daily that life really is about the company we keep. Nearly two weeks were spent overindulging in excessive buffets, wakeboarding amongst yachts and massive seaside villas, shopping on private beaches and attending glittering parties and events while our eyes shimmered from the fine champagne running through our veins. (photos to come shortly).

The second half of the month, as I mentioned, was in the United States. I landed in Chicago, spending five days catching up with my sister who just moved to the city and attending the wedding festivities of one of my closest friends. I met Marissa seven years ago. We were both fresh out of college and decided to make a go of teaching English abroad. After an intensive TEFL course, Marissa and I were sent off to Lodi, a small town just outside of Milan. In truth, I lasted about three months as a teacher (some things just aren’t for me) and then bailed, leaving Marissa to brave the fog and Northern Italian winter alone. 

Marissa eventually forgave me and since then, we have kept in touch- keeping one another appraised throughout the years and miles that separate us. During the wedding weekend, we had the chance to revisit our ancient histories and laugh about our long-ago woes. I was reminded of all that I have to be thankful for- including: losing the freshman 15, finally speaking fluent Italian and for living, yet again, in my favorite country in the world. Most of all- I am thankful for people like Marissa who I have met by chance across one ocean or another- and having forged friendships that withstand the tests of time. Since the Lodi days, Marissa and I have each separately been around the world a number of times. We have both fallen in and out of love on a number of occasions, moved cities again and again, and somewhere in there- we managed to get masters degrees. The best news of the weekend came when Marissa told me that she and Jeremy will be moving to Rome next year- totally by chance- due to Jeremy’s career in the government. It’s a big world- and anyone who says differently has yet to see it- but it is the people in it that make it smaller.

After Chicago, I sauntered (rather- took a train) over to Michigan and spent a week with my family in their summer home, enjoying nightly sunsets over the lake, boatrides, lazy days on the beach and an abundance of good old american food. 

Back in Italy- the first week of September was relatively slow. As the Romans were unhurriedly filtering into the city- opening their shops, organizing their schedules, and arranging their plans- I was making deals with myself. September, as opposed to January- is the beginning of a new year. It's a time to create improvements- renew hope and fulfill agreements and promises- or at least try to.

This year, it just so happened that my first week back in Rome coincided with Rosh Hashanah…the Jewish New Year. Although I didn't attend synagogue- and I didn't blow the Shofar- I quietly celebrated at home on my own, making lists of all I plan to accomplish this year. I ate a modest lunch of apples and honey- as my days in Hebrew school taught me years ago, to signify a sweet new year. I thought about my family- and what growing up amongst them has instilled in me. I didn't pray- because I don't pray. But I did smile to myself thinking about my mother’s improvised holiday dinners- and being surrounded by the people who brought unconditional love amongst other blessings into our home- creating the childhood that will stay with me forever…even though that particular version of my family is long gone, as well as many of the people I loved so dearly in it.

So to all my family, friends and readers, I would like to wish you: Shana Tova- (שנה טובה)- a sweet new year to all. xx

Comparing and Contrasting

After 12 lengthy (but wonderful) days in the US- the longest period yet since 2005- I have a clear understanding of what it is I love…and hate….about being stateside. And after further comparisons, contrasts, and considerations- I have decided that I am happiest here, and not there- despite the absence of hydrogenated oils.

Below are my top 12 (for the 12 days I was in the states) things I missed the most when I was gone, and indulged in (multiple times) while I was home:

        1.    Cookies

        2.     Taco Bell – and Chipotle, but really- Taco Bell

        3.  Un-dubbed movies

        4.     Molly, my family’s GoldenDoodle (pic below)

        5.     Flip-flops and baseball caps (I would probably be shot dead if I walked down Babuino in Havaianas and a cubs cap)

        6.     Subway (the sandwiches, not the underground)

        7.     My mommy

       8 .   Pharmacies (CVS, Walgreens, Duane Reade, you name it, I went there…)

       9.   Dollars

       10.  Starbucks (at least 3 per city block)

       11.  Asphalt, pavement, cement, and the like.

        12.  Outlet stores

And here are the top 12 things I missed about daily life in Rome:

        1.     Bidets. Seriously.

        2.     Espresso (despite my love for- and wavering loyalty to Starbucks)

        3.     Extra virgin olive oil. On everything.

        4.     Passeggiate for no good reason other than to walk

        5.     Italian (excuse me, Italiano)

        6.     Aperitivi

         7.  Pasta al dente (as opposed to the mush they serve in America. Yes, I too am becoming a pasta snob)

        8.     Late dining (“late,” being anytime past 8 pm)

     9.     Cooking- in my kitchen, after going to my mercato, and serving hungry people on my piatti at my tavola. Americans don't really eat anymore.

        10.  Cafés

       11.  Pizza

        12.  Italy. In general.

Then, of course, there are the things that I adore and abhor- that don't really fit into either list- like central air. I love central air conditioning- but I froze my ass off in every store, house and restaurant. And now I’m sick.

I can't spend enough time in English bookstores, but it's rather annoying paying the airlines for extra weight- due to books than can easily, and more cost-effectively, be bought online.

I adore American baked goods- and ice cream: mushy centered cookies, brownies, caramel covered apples, grocery store cakes with buttermilk frosting, sundaes, fresh doughnuts, etc…but I’m less than pleased about the 2.3 kilos I gained. (that’s 5 pounds…but it sounds better in kilos).

So, with that…I’m off to the gym.

xx

(Above is Molly the wonder dog, complete with her swimming device especially designed for the treacherous waters of Lake Michigan)

Italianopea

There was an interesting article in last weekend’s Wall Street Journal about how language influences the way we see the world:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703467304575383131592767868.html?mod=WSJ_hp_us_mostpop_read 

In the article, Charlemagne was quoted stating, “to have a second language is to have a second soul.” After reading the article, I thought about this for a long time. My conclusions are that: maybe another language doesn't supply a second soul, but possibly a mirror into another aspect of one’s soul.

The Italian language, above all, is a romance language (sounds better than Vulgur Latin, doesn't it?). Living in “Italian,” I am seeing myself as more of a romantic then previously. By romantic, I don't mean that I make candlelit dinners and place rose petals on the duvet. Not at all. What I do mean is that in Italian, everything appears more beautiful- a sunny day has now become squisito (exquisite), a nice dress is stupendo (stupendous) and a good lunch is meraviglioso (marvelous). My sentences have dreamier tones to them when I speak and there is a slight possibility that some of my rough edges seem more tender. My extreme Passion, on the other hand, has always been a bit exaggerated. Yet in Italy, it’s normal- and accepted- and no one blinks twice.

The entire language is like onomatopoeia: “a word or grouping of words that imitates the sound it is describing.” It’s like whatever you are feeling- is right there in the sounds that are coming out of your mouth. Ugly is brutto, beautiful is bello, love is amore and war is guerra. To walk across the street is to attreversare and a before dinner drink is aperitivo- and all these words have rolling r’s in the middles and end in vowels that softly tumble instantly into the next words. Italy is probably one of the most beautiful countries, aesthetically speaking, in the world. So it makes sense that the language would reflect that.

I would be exaggerating if I said that I am fluent in Italian, but I think that I’m almost there. More importantly, I live my life in Italian. Meaning: when I remember them, my dreams are in Italian- when I play scrabble, the first words that come to me Italian- and when I get angry, I curse in Italian. Naturally.

I have heard that the Native Americans believe that humans are the only animals narcissistic enough to actually believe we have souls. Although we are the only animals intelligent enough to form a concept of a soul, and beyond that- the only animals with sufficient language to communicate the concept of the soul, I think that the Indians had a point. So to say that I have a number of souls due to the languages I speak, as Charlemagne would have noted- I think it would be going a bit overboard.

What I can say is that thinking in another language has broadened my thought process. The way that I look at things changes through the words that denote the meanings of objects and events. Italians, like in the business they do, always leave open ends- the meanings of phrases can always be interpreted in one of 100 ways. And although this can be frustrating at times, I’m finding it quite useful. “Ci vediamo,” literally means, “we see each other.” In daily discourse, it means, “see you soon.” But it can also mean, depending on the person you are speaking with and the context, “see ya sucker,” “I’ll see you tonight,” “I'll see you around,” “I’ll see you later,” “or “I’m being polite but I truly have no intention to ever see you again.”

Going back to this mirror into the soul that I mentioned, I have repeatedly wondered about how the words I use shape my thoughts- and not the other way around. Therefore, by broadening the expressions I use to describe things through an entirely different language- my world has been expanded. A sunset is not just a sunset- it can be, in English- sundown, dusk, nightfall, twilight, the day’s end- and in Italian- tramonto, sera, crepuscolo and calare del sole. See what I mean? I now have 10 ways to refer to the setting of the sun. And that, in turn, changes the image that comes to mind when I describe a sunset.

On another note, rather than a second soul, or even a mirror- languages help us to understand our souls…being that it would seem somewhat obtuse to ascribe only one language to each soul. In understanding my own soul, I have noted that I spent years with Spanish. From growing up in Miami, to taking hours upon hours of the language throughout high school to doing my MBA in Spain- I should speak Spanish better than English by now. Not the case. Spanish never stuck with me- it didn't agree with my character. Yes, it’s useful. Yes, it's a simple language to learn. Yes, it’s very similar to Italian. Yet with all that- I never “took to it.”

I can speak Spanish. But I don't like to. Whereas, speaking Italian, for me, is like singing. I find joy in it. I find that I am more capable of expressing my true feelings in my limited Italian than I was ever able to in Spanish. Sometimes, I find that when describing something- I describe it more aptly in Italian than even in English. So as some friends like to say that I have become “italianizzata” (Italianized), I think that maybe I have always had an Italian soul- and the language has only helped me to become acquainted with it.