Hot Damn, it's Cold!

As I write this post, dear readers, I am looking out through the glass on the french doors of my bedroom and beyond the balcony there is quite an interesting sight.  Small particles of frozen rain are glittering as they pass the faint yellow light of the street lamps.  A moped sits on the sidewalk unattended gathering a delicate white powder.  I see a small dog in a jacket scurrying alongside its owner, dotting the street with tiny black prints...

Shit y'all, it's snowing here!

snooooow.

It's hard to imagine for some of you, I'm sure.  Heck, I can hardly believe it.  Sunday we had our first snow of the season and my roommate Georgina and I went out to explore the winter wonderland that is our neighborhood park.  Given that Georgina and I (Californian and Texan, respectively) were most bewildered by this phenomenon, we trekked alone to the park and left the German, French and New York girls behind.

neighborhood sustainable development park.

I've gotta tell you, it's damn cold here in Torino right now.  I'm not just saying that because I'm accustomed to wearing flip flops and a sundress to Thanksgiving dinner, but I've done the math.  Conversions, you know.  Today it was 0 degrees celsius and although that doesn't take any real number crunching, it does hurt my head just thinking about the implications.  32 is a number we'd reach in Texas maybe in early January if we were so unfortunate.  Tomorrow's forecast details a "light snow and mist" alongside a pleasant little (-1) degrees.  I'm cold.  Mind you I've been sleeping with knee-length socks (this is the part in this post where my dad is cringing) and long-sleeved shirts for about a month now to combat the lack of decent central heating in Italy.  Not bad really, I've got a good comforter and my toesies tend to keep warm.  But when I have to go outside, that's the problem.

ice ice baby.

Even though this is technically still Fall, I could swear to you it's the dead of winter in Russia.  I haven't really felt super cold until today when the bus didn't come for an hour to take me back home and even through my boots, 2 layers of socks and leggings (which will from now on be a permanent fixture under jeans) I truly believed I had developed a mildly serious case of frostbite across my toes.  I remember in August when I was packing my bag to come to Italy I grabbed several long sleeved shirts and my lovely white wool pea coat thinking, it'll be ages until I need this.  The thing hardly gets any face time in Texas and I've been wearing it every day for a couple weeks now!

i've gotta admit, it is rather beautiful.

Family, don't start worrying that I'm over here huddled near the oven, teeth-chattering, red-faced, clutching a cup of tea or something.  I'm from Texas, I'm supposed to describe cold weather in a hyperbolic manner - it's in the job description.  Luckily socks are in abundance at the local market, and since they likely "fell off the back of a truck" somewhere they also tend to be affordable.  These days I think I'll be on the lookout for a pair of boots with serious insulation and water resistant capabilities that will serve me absolutely no purpose once I return stateside.  C'est la vie.

brrrrr.

I'm fairly sure I should be in love with snow, and theoretically I am since I've seen it and been charmed by it a handful of times in the South.  But in Texas when it snows, that fundamentally translates to no school.  Always.  Yet here I am on the brink of December (not even true winter yet) and my toes almost fell off waiting for the bus!  Everyone, I still have to go to school when it snows.  Whaaat?  How am I going to make it through January and February?  This post isn't intended to be a complaint, though it has turned into a sort of cultural diatribe - I will of course embrace this change with as much vigor and enthusiasm as I have everything else on this adventure thusfar.  I'll bundle up and accessorize with scarves, hats and gloves; I'll even order cappuccinos to keep my hands warm.  I'll relish at the sight of my own breath in the air as I walk along.  I'll find comfort in using a coat rack inside establishments.  I'll look forward to a trip we've got planned this weekend in the mountains with some local friends.  But damn, I'll still be cold.

Giving Thanks

This week was particularly difficult, thinking about everything I was missing by being abroad during Turkey Day.  I didn’t even try to hide my anguish as one of my professors assigned individual presentations to be given on Thanksgiving Day (Italians just don’t get it).  I not only had to be in school on this blessed day, but on top of it I had to give a presentation.  In Accounting.  *insert self-inducing vomit gesture here.*  But I knew I had to focus on the true meaning of the holiday – not the everything’s-better-smothered-in-gravy one, but the one about recognizing and appreciating everything for which you’re thankful.

with a little hard work, you can bring America to Italy

As it turns out, the pain of missing out on an important holiday (when you’re not on the same continent being constantly reminded of its existence) isn’t really that bad.  Everyone else around me had to go to work or school, shops were still open – it didn’t feel like Thanksgiving, but I knew it was.  So I decided to organize a dinner that would be an attempt at recreating a true American feast.  It started out as a few interested folks from our apartment and before I knew it we’d invited all the faculty, staff and students to partake in our holiday shindig.  Over the course of the week, the sign-up sheet grew to over 30 names and I started to worry about how I would be able to make and transport mass quantities of stuffing (arguably the most important side dish that has been known to occasionally outshine the turkey).

presenting the turkey

the thanksgiving spread

Everything worked out perfectly.  I’d convinced the café to order and prepare a 7-kilo (15.4lb) kosher turkey and I found myself advising our international crew on how to make traditional American dishes.  Apparently the Italians didn’t understand that the Pilgrims and Native Americans weren’t feasting on lasagna or tiramisu.  We had stuffing, garlic mashed potatoes, deviled eggs, caesar salad, quiche, pasta salad, garlic bread, potato pie, mac & cheese, some weird looking octopus salad (someone didn’t heed my “green bean casserole” suggestion), apple pie, chocolate peanut butter pie, cookies, banana bread, 2 giant jugs of wine and a Frankenstein turkey that had been stuffed and sewn shut by the local butcher who likely hadn’t ever done it before.  Oh, and something that resembled gravy but was attempted by use of olive oil.  And in retrospect I probably should’ve suggested someone bring vegetables, but whatever.

needs something green.  i think.

30 of us sat around, ate, drank, pushed each other to get through the line, laughed, ate some more, and generally enjoyed the party.  To top it off there was a “Western” band playing in the adjacent room of the café and that added to the ambience.  I dined at the table with my Project Management professor and her boyfriend along with a few of my roommates.  For everyone except 4 of us, this was their first Thanksgiving and I coached them through the turkey-mashed potato-stuffing combo that must be present on your fork. 

giuliano our facilities manager - doesn't speak a word of english but that night I taught him how to say (and make) "stuffing"

It was great being able to share a native holiday with my little international family here.  I looked around the crowded room and saw my classmates, my teachers, and members of the staff enjoying each other’s company and I felt right at home on that makeshift Thanksgiving Day.  Sure there wasn’t any pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce, football, or green bean casserole, but I felt incredibly thankful for being able to share my culture with another part of the world and bringing our little family a bit closer together.

chowing down on the turkey cookie i made by tracing my hand in cooking class

Progress Cafe

There's a place on east 5th street in Austin called Progress Cafe where I used to go for an Eastside Latte and some light journaling.  This weekend the girls and I found ourselves in the center of Torino just a bit north of the 2nd largest piazza in Europe (Piazza Vittorio Veneto), where we found a wonderful 3-level establishment: top level is a restaurant, ground floor is a hip cafe, and the basement is a dance floor/cocktail bar.  The name?  Caffe del Progresso.  My trip to Caffe del Progresso didn't result in quiet moments of introspection with pen in hand, rather a solid hour on the dance floor rocking out to Italian '80s with a mojito in hand.  Nevertheless, this somehow got me to thinking about my own personal progress.

gotta write it out.

Today at lunchtime I took a break in the library and grabbed my journal from my bag.  I took time to survey the recent contents and noticed I've written more in the last 3 months than I have in the entire year.  I flipped back in the annals of my thoughts, preparing myself for the inevitable cringe that often accompanies the reviewing of old journal material (at least for me).  This time I surprised myself.  I came across an entry from exactly one year ago, to date.  November 22, 2009 at 12:28pm (yes, I add the time to the entries).  How weird is that?  Back then I was journaling once a month at best, and here I was, Future Me, staring at the ghost of one year past.

Rewind to November 22 of last year, imagine if you can a time when the Twilight series just reached that obnoxious peak in popularity, a time when we all worried we had swine flu - right about then.  I was sitting in Austin Java attempting to write out my frustration with my current situation and hopes for the future.  One year ago I was working at a diner serving fried chicken and milkshakes to patrons and wondering why something "just wasn't right" with me.  I was thinking about taking the GRE because I thought "I need to get it together" and do something with my life.  What was the right decision, and why couldn't someone tell me what to do?

The answer was there on paper the whole time.  "Part of me thinks that writing this down will give me the answer, when in truth this is just a semi-permanent version of my innermost struggles.  I need strength and resolve, a sense of confidence regarding my life.  I should do what's right for me - be alone."  

let the coffee and the ink flow.

The distance I was talking about in the last post is even more true now that I look at my journal.  Distance isn't just meters, kilometers, oceans - it's time.  Years.  It's also being alone, allowing yourself to breathe and think about what you want and need for yourself.   Here are the items I outlined for Future Me a year ago: "Things need to be clear, focused and with purpose.  No more distractions.  Only success.  I need to be happy with me and where I'm going.  I suppose that can be my first step." I find it interesting that though it took me some time to heed my own words, I ended up truly listening to myself and creating opportunities to be able to truly accomplish some goals.

A year ago I was writing about probably going to UT for grad school and that was fine.  But here I sit in a castle in North Italy writing a blog post about my life studying the arts in Europe.  I was searching for balance just one year ago on a professional and personal level, now I believe I've truly attained that sense of equilibrium.  One year and 70ish pages later in my journal, I'm there.  And that's true progress.

Going the Distance

What is it about distance, I mean serious kilometers, that gives you a new perspective on things?  I've been here in Italy for almost 3 months now and I can say I haven't deeply considered my life from this angle.  Maybe it's the longitude, or my closer proximity to the North Pole.  Perhaps I should attribute this newfound consideration to the constant (or semi-constant) blogging and published introspection.  Either way, these days I seem to have much more clarity regarding my life.

I suppose it's that I am experiencing so many new ideas, concepts, cultures, places and people that it just makes a girl stop and think.  Everything that's normal, comfortable and common for me doesn't exist in this new dimension.  I'm not just talking about adjusting to a life that requires me to dry my socks overnight on the water heater to ensure they'll be ready for class the next day.  But rather the lack of nearness to people that matter to me.  One thing's for sure, being suddenly without friends and family really makes an impact on you.  But when you're too busy to realize you're actually on another continent, one day it will just hit you.

introspective moment by the ivy.

Last week I received a few packages and postcards from family members and friends with thoughtful tokens and encouraging messages.  A cute new outfit from one, giving me confidence and a touch of sass for upcoming events and presentations.  Then a handmade postcard with a photo of Rome and another with an image of the UT Tower taken just for me.  Finally a package of American goodies and a couple beautiful handmade scarves with thoughtful messages written on each.  I sat on my bed with my spoils of war carefully arranged around me and thought about how blessed I am.  There are people in my life who spend time on me because they love me, and that's an indescribable feeling.

You know what's as beautiful as the canals and tiny streets of Venice or the pastoral English countryside?  Truly feeling loved.  Knowing that someone cares enough to tell you, show you, make a gesture  of selflessness.  That's beautiful.

ruminations happen here.

Distance from my family and friends has resulted in my daily consideration of their importance in my life.  I've always known this, but why is it that these things always make more sense when you've gone far away?  The unconditionality of love is a funny thing.  No matter what someone does, where they go, who they are, why they make their decisions, love seems to transcend all of that.  And there are so many types of love that astound me.  Love at first sight, love between best friends, the love of a mother.  And the love that lasts over time, over hardship, over disputes.  What did we ever do to deserve this love?  I know I've been a stubborn, stalwart wench at times who's sloughed off the notion of love; I've ignored it when it didn't suit my needs and spent years convincing myself I didn't need it.  But that's just the thing about love, we do need it.

We must be true to ourselves and at the same time love someone for who they are, not who we want them to be.  (Thanks for that one, Grandma.)  Because what is it worth - this adventure of mine, this professional and personal discovery - if I cannot share it with those I love?

capturing the memories.

I am blessed.  Not only having the means to be here and having the opportunity to learn and grow, but also to be supported by so many irreplaceable people.  The feeling you get when you realize you mean something to someone, you made a difference to them, you're important to them and that they'd love and support you no matter what -- that's a feeling we should acknowledge and embrace in every way.

Being far from your loved ones is never easy, but it's sure made easier when you get an email from them with pics from their latest baking endeavor, when you chat with them on gmail about their day, when you skype them just to see their face, when you receive a postcard with their sentiments, and even when throwing on a new skirt or enjoying a box of animal crackers.  That doesn't hurt either.  

Retirement

No, we're not talking 401Ks or Roth IRAs, but rather my official retirement from teaching.  I know, I realize I may be disappointing a few of you, namely the teachers/pastors/educators among my friends and family, but I gave it some serious thought and I simply cannot continue.  It's not really a matter of being capable of teaching or having fun with a language class -- THAT I can do.  And I believe I did it rather well, actually.  It's quite simply the fact that I spent sooo much time creating the lessons.  I made these spiffy powerpoints with pictures and fancy slide transitions, I even had fun activities for them, all of this only to realize I was neglecting my school projects in order to impress my middle-aged students.  Priorities, siiiigh.

some serious reflections happening here

I feel a bit like a quitter not continuing with the job, I know my students enjoyed me and appreciated my humor, but I had to admit I didn't have adequate time to dedicate to the job.  I really wish I could be as involved in things here as I was in Austin -- I had time for everything!  Kickball, Book Club, endless outings with friends, heck I even had time to keep up with my favorite shows and maintain constantly manicured nails.  Then if you tack on my interest in discovering European cities while being here, that just doesn't leave time for a weekly English lesson.

classic brooding gaze across the sea photo

To confuse matters a bit, a few days after I quit the teaching job the Student Services Coordinator, Gian Lorenzo, told me about a 1.5 month-long internship at the Museo di Antropologia e Etnografia at the University of Turin.  Apparently the director was looking for 2 students to help out a few hours a week in cataloguing artifacts for an upcoming exhibition.  Gian Lorenzo informed her he knew of an American (me) and an Italian student who would be perfect for the job and next thing I know I'm cramming into his FIAT with an Italian art history student to go meet the director of the Anthropology Museum of Turin.  She immediately adored me and delighted in the thought that an American (how exotic!) would be able to provide some cultural insights into their American collections.  She doesn't speak English and our encounter was entirely in Italian, which was a welcome challenge since I speak English 85% of the time here.  In the end, what I thought was going to be an informative meeting actually turned out to be my first day on the job.  Not really sure how that happened, but I'm looking forward to seeing if this can actually work for me.

bridge over troubled waters

I figure a job at a museum will be more beneficial to me while I'm here, and heck I didn't even have to find it myself.  Plus, working in an environment where only Italian is spoken should be good practice.  She also told us we'd have the opportunity to not only catalog the artifacts but also help in the exhibition process - exciting!  On Friday I'm going to get a tour of the museum and I'll get more details about the internship.  I will be up front with her about my availability and amount of time I can afford to commit to the project.  Who knows if this will work out, but I can't imagine it could be more demanding than lesson plans (how do teachers do that every day?!), otherwise you'll be hearing from me in a matter of weeks about my latest retirement plan.  Ha!

Venezia

ahh, l'amour.

It's a city for lovers, or in this case, roommates.  What an experience I had this weekend at the city on the sea.  I must say it's like nothing I've ever seen: a city full of people and not a single car in sight.  Boats are the only mode of transportation, besides walking of course.  Come to think of it, I don't believe I saw a single bike, it might be hard to carry one up and down all the bridges and or ride one around the tight street corners.  And truthfully I don't know that I saw a single local, not that I would know what one looks like anyway.  Venice is entirely full of tourists.  It makes sense, the city is one of the most known sites in the world, there truly isn't another place remotely similar in design or beauty.

on the ferry approaching piazza san marco.

palazzo ducale by night

We left Friday afternoon from Torino and drove about 5 hours across Northern Italy.  I suppose I can now say I've traversed the knee/lower thigh of the boot - oh, how risque'!  We took a ferry to the island south of Venice where a semi-shady hostel awaited our arrival.  It wasn't too bad, there were clean linens to be had and free coffee, but let's just say next time I'll remember to bring a shower shoes.  I felt like I was back in the dorms!  We ventured out in the evening and I was quite overcome by the beauty of Venice by night.  There were lights delicately illuminating the landscape and reflections of majestic Gothic facades in the water.  We walked across piazza San Marco and admired the basilica, the clock tower, and Palazzo Ducale.  Ponte Rialto was another spot we found - it's a huge bridge across the Grand Canal and happens to be the oldest, the original structure was erected in 1181.

 why my brother wouldn't like venice

ponte rialto by night

Saturday we set off on our own to take our photos of the quaint corners of Venice and discover the mysteries of the city.  Venezia is known to be a difficult city to navigate, as the streets are organically organized and often dead end or lack proper signage.  However, I found the beauty of Venice to be in my walks around the island without a map, just my keen sense of direction.  I came across quiet streets with flowers hanging from windows, shutters warped from the summer heat and paint peeling from the wooden panels.  I crossed over steep bridges that were ancient cement paths above the tranquil canals between buildings.  I sat in a piazza staring up at a beautiful baroque church and across to a small, ivy-covered Murano glass workshop.  I passed by shop windows full of gorgeous hand-painted Venetian masks and elaborate hand-sewn marionettes.  I was falling in love with Venice.  I think it must be impossible not to.

getting an art fix in venezia

I trekked over to the Peggy Guggenheim Collection to see a museum full of some of the most well-known modern artists in the world.  I chatted with a docent in Italian about a particular series of abstract expressionist paintings by Adolph Gottlieb and marveled at the palazzo where the mistress of modern art once lived.  An incredible sight was the Santa Maria della Salute church, a constructed in 1630 after a particularly devastating outbreak of the plague and thus dedicated to Mary and health.

santa maria della salute

How can I put into words the way Venice captures the heart?  I suppose I can only say that it is a dreamy, surreal city that has been placed delicately upon the water and exists in a beautifully fragile state.  And yes, there are couples everywhere.  Everywhere.  I luckily didn't feel the urge to throw myself in the Grand Canal watching newlyweds toast champagne on gondolas.  Instead of enjoying the city with a partner or lover by buying roses offered by the Moroccans, taking a gondola ride through the canals, or smooching in piazza San Marco, I rather fell in love with the awe-inspiring isolated corners of the city itself.  Venice, you mysterious temptress, you'll be seeing me again.

beautiful mask in a shop window

London Town

(Note: Words in italics denote new fave British sayings)

Well I'm back safely after a fantastic trip to England this week!  I've never been anywhere in the United Kingdom before, but let me just say it's soooo charming.  I arrived in Stansted airport (commonly considered the red-headed stepchild of London airports) and after an hour train ride I arrived in the city.  I was surprised that everything went so well, I didn't get delayed, the acquisition of tickets was simple, and once I arrived at Liverpool Station I just bought a weekly bus ticket for traipsing merrily around the city.  Easy peasy.  I wonder if it was so easy because everything was in... English?  Hard to say.

touristy, i know.  but i do it for the readers.

I had several hours by myself before meeting up with my friend so I hopped on a double-decker red bus and stared out dreamily at the old shops, pubs and tree-lined streets of London.  It's so cliche to say this, but it really is just like the movies, just as you imagine it would be -- classic English architecture, dark wood paneled shops, cobbled streets, and a skyline dotted with impressive monuments.  I felt as though I were in a dream, at least one in which I felt fancy for choosing to drink tea with milk and using an accent to say things were rather splendid and quite lovely.  I went to find the British Museum, easily the largest museum I've ever visited with an incredible collection - among the most notable works are the Rosetta Stone (just saw one of the only copies in the Torino Egyptian Museum a few weeks ago!) and the Elgin Marbles from the Parthenon in Athens, so cool to see them in person after studying them for years!  And the beauty of London museums is that they're all free.  Thanks for that, Parliament.

Trafalgar Square, National Gallery.

I decided to pop in for a tea at a local cafe and had to look hard at my currency to decide which equated a pound sterling.  I figured why not try out my novice British accent during this encounter: milk with that tea?  Why yes, indeed.  And where might I find the lou?  He didn't even blink which must've meant I can get away with this.  Delightful!  I met my high school exchange-student friend Franzi at a pub later -- she is currently back in Germany at Uni (university) and we hadn't seen each other in about 5 years.  Of course it was like no time had passed at all and we had a blast catching up.  We stayed with friends of hers from a semester at the London School of Oriental and African Studies, as it turns out she is now fluent in Swahili and is writing her Master's thesis on education in developing African countries.  Wow!

The European Reunion Tour.

We spent a day doing the requisite tourist excursions: shopping on Oxford Street, Picadilly Circus, London Bridge/Tower Bridge, the river Thames, the Tate Modern, the London Eye, Westminster Abbey and Big Ben.  We rode the London Underground and walked all over the city, making sure to include a necessary stop for fish and chips by the river.  There was so much to see, and I was thankful for every moment!  We were exhausted when we returned to her friends' house and went to a neighborhood pub called Prince George which was warm, quaint and above all authentic!  The next day we had traditional English fry-ups (breakfast) and I tried Egg, Bacon and Bubble (leftover mashed potatoes/spinach patty) while Franzi had baked beans and toast, haha.  Kind of missed Italy for a little bit :)

Nothing quite like Fall in England.

We walked through St. James's Park which was carefully manicured and lined beautifully with centuries-old trees bearing leaves of every imaginable autumn color - so gorgeous - then on to Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery before I had to take an hour-long train ride to Brighton.  I met a friend from Uni there at the seaside city of Brighton, a rather unique town with a famous pier and boardwalk on the English Channel.  She'd prepared a dinner party for me with a Tex Mex theme.  (Let me just say, I don't know how I've gone over 2 months without avocado.  Guacamole might just be sent from heaven.)  We walked around the city and caught up a bit before my train went back to London.  When I returned to London the next morning we walked around SoHo and Convent Garden then attended an Indian themed dinner party at a Scottish girl's house.  The night ended in us deciding to hang out in pubs until my 4AM train ride back to the airport.  We toasted our friendship and a wonderful adventure in the UK.

Brighton Pier and the English Channel.

The trip was almost perfect, except the last hour I realized my phone was missing.  At that point I had to catch the train and there was nothing to be done except mourn the loss of the beloved iphone that was undoubtedly nicked from my pocket on the bus.  Bollocks.  Of course now all I can think about are the great pictures I'd taken on the phone from our trip, but I've got to convince myself it could be worse.  I could've lost my passport :/  All in all it was an amazing trip and I loved every minute of it (except the last hour, which was complete rubbish) -- I can't wait to have the opportunity to travel again!

me and my mate Ben.