There was once a time when I thought there was nothing worse than hearing my grandma cry. Whenever my grandpa would go to the hospital I would stay with her and she would always cry about how terrible things would be if he died. And then he died. And I moved in with her. I heard her cry all the time. It was terrible. She would cry when she was cooking or cleaning, getting ready to go to bed, and even in her sleep. It was the worst…
Until the day that I heard my mom cry. I remember the first time that I heard my mom cry, not normal cry, but the kind that send shivers down your spine. She had just cut her hand open. There was something different in her voice when she yelled my name and I came running down the stairs. But this wasn’t the worst cry of hers. The worst was after my grandpa died. After she and my dad split. After Katie told us she was pregnant. After we heard my grandma had breast cancer. Right before I left her. It was the cry of a woman who felt she had hit rock bottom. A cry that lets you know that even if you wanted to there was nothing for you to do to give her back her hope. This was the worst…
Until the day I heard my sister cry. Not my 5-year-old sister that cried because she scraped her knee. Not my 13-year-old sister that I made cry because I put her in a chokehold. No, this was my 15-year-old sister that cried because she missed me. This was the 15-year-old sister that cried because of the things people say. This became the worst sound I have ever heard. This put a feeling in my stomach that made me feel like I would do anything to make her stop crying just so this feeling would go away. I wanted to jump on a plane and head home so that she wouldn’t miss me anymore. I wanted to go home to put everyone in their place and remind them that as long as she is my sister they would need to keep their mouths shut. This cry is the worst.
It’s weird how people can forget where they come from when they have the chance to criticize someone else. They also seem to forget that their journeys aren’t over and they never know what is to come in their future.
lunedì 7 aprile 2008
My photo story
One of my assignments for my photography class was the write a story with pictures. See if you can guess what my story is.
Ok, in case you didn’t guess, my story was about a little girl and her stuffed bear. She loses the bear so she looks high and low for it and the bear is always where she goes. Then she gets home and its waiting for her. Its kind of like the bear is saying, “Don’t be sad because I’m always with you, no matter where you go. Even if you cant see me, I’m there.”
Ok, in case you didn’t guess, my story was about a little girl and her stuffed bear. She loses the bear so she looks high and low for it and the bear is always where she goes. Then she gets home and its waiting for her. Its kind of like the bear is saying, “Don’t be sad because I’m always with you, no matter where you go. Even if you cant see me, I’m there.”
The America I Left Behind: Things I do, and don’t, miss
I’m not sure why it happened but a few nights ago I really started to miss home. I didn’t just start thinking about specific people but more general home. And that lead me to think about all the things that I had back in America that I don’t have here. I have taken the time to jot it all down.
I miss the crap out of my little sister, Katie. It’s a really weird feeling, missing her. She and I usually don’t get along, and that holds true up until a little bit before my leaving. But I miss all that bickering that we used to do. And with Katie being with child, I feel like I should be there. I want to play the stereotypical aunt role, taking pictures of the belly and buying gifts every time I go past a baby shop. It’s like I miss being able to play my role and I hate missing out on everything that she is going through. I cant wait to get home and see her. My inside sources have told me that she is the most beautiful pregnant woman they have seen in a while. I believe it. She was always the most beautiful everything, toddler, girl, teen.
I also really miss my Mommy. I know she’ll be over here in about 30 days but it’s not soon enough. You know, I never understood the vigor of a bond between a mother and child until being over here. I always knew that I loved my mom and I respected her before but now I get. I get that as long as she is with me I will truly feel home.
Of course, I miss my Daddy. I guess it’s not really fair to say that the love that I have for my mom is individual without saying the same for the love for my father. It’s weird. I know that both of my parents love me and I love both of them but I get something different from each. With my dad it’s more like a knight in shinning armor and also the smart ass friend kind of love. With my mom it’s more of mixture between a best friend and a mom.
I miss my big bro, Jake. I look around at all the young people here and think about how well my brother would fit in here. Italy is so his kind of town. They have the whole carefree, laid-back attitude of Jake but they also have the hardworking attitude that he has. He belongs here.
And last but not least, I really miss my Nana. A couple of nights ago my mom called me to tell me that I needed to call my grandma and leave a message on her answering machine because my mom accidentally erased my earlier messages. I really miss sleeping in that same bed with her. I miss feeling so close to someone, not physically but emotionally. I feel like we get each other better than anyone else.
Indubitably, I do miss my family get-togethers. Yeah, I do like being away from the drama but I am so used to all the clamor of us getting together that its weird to be around. And despite the drama, I really do love seeing everyone. It was nice to get to see everyone on my mom’s side, except my lovely Uncle Steve and Uncle Rich, over Christmas. And I got to see all my dad’s family at my going away party. I love it when we all get in one room and take pictures. I absolutely love that I have all these pictures of everyone from a time when we are all happy.
Additionally, I miss my other family, my best friends. I have 6 best friends. Everyone I know including my best friends thinks that its way too many but each one plays a very important role in my life and I could never not consider them to be my best friends. There’s the girls: Lauren &Tran, and the boys: Jeffrey, Jesse, Matt & Ian. Just like they serve different purposes, they are also missed differently. Like Lauren, I miss her stupid giggle, even when she is making fun of me for something. And I miss how easily she is scared. I miss Tran’s facial expression. I miss her voice (weeo weeo weeeeeooo wee). I miss how when I walk next to her she will link arms with me and rest her head on my shoulder. I miss how these two girls are so close to me that we are literally like sisters. For the boys, in general, I miss all the little pranks that they have played on me. In case you all don’t remember, Jeffrey farted in my face when I was sleeping, and there was the time when I woke up with shaving cream all over my face. Or what about the time when I had my head shoved into a cake? Or when there was a new stereotype invented just for me (butter)? And then there are all the little jokes about me not being able to read, Ian. Or that I suck at poker, Jesse. I miss chilling with yall at Suicide Hill or at Jeff’s house. And when Jesse had an apartment, that was great. All in all I just miss kicking it with yall. I miss doing nothing and being so entertained by it.
The food here is so different than back home, duh, and it makes me wish I had my food from back home. I want my Nana’s tortillas, fresh off the comal. I want some of my Dad/Mom’s chili. The two of them make the best chili. Each one does something a little different than the other but both are superb here. I think the only time I have even seen beans were when I was at Titi’s house. in addition to those two things, I would love some of my brother’s salsa. He makes it extra spicy on purpose and I love when he does that. I love burning my tongue off, always fun. And if there were one thing to greet me when I get home it would be GoJo’s yellow sauce. I love that stuff. I could buy it by the bucket when I’m in KC. Love that stuff.
Oh, and don’t get me started on the places that I miss. I really miss the Plaza. I don’t miss working there but just being there. I’ve had a lot of really good times at the plaza and the ambiance is truly stunning. I had a dream about the building that the Cheesecake Factory is located in and it was painted red. Random, I know, but it just reminded me of how much I love the Plaza and would love to stroll around it. I’m sure it will remind me of being away.
I also really miss Suicide Hill. My friends and I would go there all the time. I love it on the top of that hill, sitting on the swing and looking at the stars. I always did my best thinking up there. And I always had my best conversations with friends up there. I don’t know if anyone remembers this but we were talking about endangered animals. We’re too smart for our own good.
I miss being at my Nana’s house. I miss the smell of tortillas cooking. I miss hearing the vacuum going. I miss being awakened at 6 in the morning because she had to get up and shower and clean. I miss seeing kids running around the house, specifically ReRe and Marieclaire.
I miss the comfort of my Dad’s couch. I would love coming back from Columbia and falling asleep on his couch. There would be the TV going on in the foreground and possibly Katie yelling in the background. It was always so nice to find refuge on that couch.
But you know what my favorite place is in Kansas City: My mommy’s bathtub. The only thing I can think to do when I get home is take a bath. If you want to talk to me you’ll have to do so on the outside of the curtain that creates such a perfect divider between the heavenly bathtub and the chaotic world. We don’t have baths here and naturally, all I want is to take a bath.
I left all of my movies in Kansas City so I really miss that. I’ve bought a few but they don’t make up for the 100 or so that I have back home. I love Italian cinema but they aren’t so happy go lucky as America. We almost always have a happy ending in our movies and they only have half happy endings. I guess it’s nice to buy movies in Italian though. I’ve bought ones that I have in English and know by heart so that I can learn.
And movies just make me think of quality time. One thing that I don’t have over here is quality time around a table with cards and chips. I miss playing Rummy and Poker. I miss playing SORRY! And I really miss sitting around a TV all scrunched on a couch with a bowl of popcorn watching Dead Silence or some other movie. Does anyone remember the time that we were watching Ice Age and Nana was laughing at us for watching cartoons? She said that we were stupid for watching cartoons. I have a picture of here laughing. Check it out.
I really miss the dollar. What happened to the dollar being the strongest form of currency? It sucks that I am over here and my money isn’t worth anything. I hate that I spend so much money without feeling like I’ve spent anything. I’m gonna start collecting dollars (or as you all in America say it, “saving money”) and then I’m gonna throw it all in a bathtub and swim in it.
So, I’m kind of a whore for kitchen appliances; I think I have every single appliance under the sun and if a new one comes out I want it. Being over here, I am without so many things that I took for granted. If there were a few that I would have brought with me it would be my rice cooker and my quesadilla maker. It’s a good thing I didn’t because all I would be eating would be rice and quesadillas if I did bring those.
In addition to those appliances, I also miss the convenience of a toaster oven or a microwave. Here, if you want to heat something up you either have to put it in the oven or you have to put it on the stove. It’s not the worst thing to ever happen but it would be easier to just have a toaster oven or microwave. And you know what else would be convenient? A garbage disposal. I would love to not worry about clogging up my drain and be able to just throw it all down the sink but I cant. When I get home I think I’m just gonna start throwing food down the drain, not cause I don’t want it, just cause I can.
But more than anything in the whole, wide world, I just miss being at home. Sure there are all of those little things that lead to me missing home, and I’m not really home sick, but if I could have both Rome and the things I love about KC at the same time I would be all over it. Dorthy says it best, “There’s no place like home.”
Things I am glad to be rid of
One of the major things I am happy is not over here is the gas guzzling cars. There are a few people who have big cars but the majority of people drive really tiny cars. If I ever really live over here I want to get a Fiat Cinquecento. They are sooo cute. I would look into the safety features, of course, but the looks are a seller.
I’m also really glad to be rid of having a fast food restaurant on every corner. They have their share of McDonald’s and Burger King but that’s it. And you don’t see them in close proximity. Back home they are everywhere and it’s such an eye sore. Here they at least try to make them look spectacular, so that you’ll want to go in. Renato, our student services officer, loves McDonald’s and Burger King. It’s a little odd but to each his own.
I know that this might be super repetitive but I am so glad to be away from any of the drama that always seems to run along side my family. I swear, if we go 60 days without something dramatic happening it’ll be a first. My grandfather’s one wish was that we all get along and it seems like even in his death we cant manage to make that happen. I know that my family is not individual in having this trait but I’m just happy to not be in it.
I miss the crap out of my little sister, Katie. It’s a really weird feeling, missing her. She and I usually don’t get along, and that holds true up until a little bit before my leaving. But I miss all that bickering that we used to do. And with Katie being with child, I feel like I should be there. I want to play the stereotypical aunt role, taking pictures of the belly and buying gifts every time I go past a baby shop. It’s like I miss being able to play my role and I hate missing out on everything that she is going through. I cant wait to get home and see her. My inside sources have told me that she is the most beautiful pregnant woman they have seen in a while. I believe it. She was always the most beautiful everything, toddler, girl, teen.
I also really miss my Mommy. I know she’ll be over here in about 30 days but it’s not soon enough. You know, I never understood the vigor of a bond between a mother and child until being over here. I always knew that I loved my mom and I respected her before but now I get. I get that as long as she is with me I will truly feel home.
Of course, I miss my Daddy. I guess it’s not really fair to say that the love that I have for my mom is individual without saying the same for the love for my father. It’s weird. I know that both of my parents love me and I love both of them but I get something different from each. With my dad it’s more like a knight in shinning armor and also the smart ass friend kind of love. With my mom it’s more of mixture between a best friend and a mom.
I miss my big bro, Jake. I look around at all the young people here and think about how well my brother would fit in here. Italy is so his kind of town. They have the whole carefree, laid-back attitude of Jake but they also have the hardworking attitude that he has. He belongs here.
And last but not least, I really miss my Nana. A couple of nights ago my mom called me to tell me that I needed to call my grandma and leave a message on her answering machine because my mom accidentally erased my earlier messages. I really miss sleeping in that same bed with her. I miss feeling so close to someone, not physically but emotionally. I feel like we get each other better than anyone else.
Indubitably, I do miss my family get-togethers. Yeah, I do like being away from the drama but I am so used to all the clamor of us getting together that its weird to be around. And despite the drama, I really do love seeing everyone. It was nice to get to see everyone on my mom’s side, except my lovely Uncle Steve and Uncle Rich, over Christmas. And I got to see all my dad’s family at my going away party. I love it when we all get in one room and take pictures. I absolutely love that I have all these pictures of everyone from a time when we are all happy.
Additionally, I miss my other family, my best friends. I have 6 best friends. Everyone I know including my best friends thinks that its way too many but each one plays a very important role in my life and I could never not consider them to be my best friends. There’s the girls: Lauren &Tran, and the boys: Jeffrey, Jesse, Matt & Ian. Just like they serve different purposes, they are also missed differently. Like Lauren, I miss her stupid giggle, even when she is making fun of me for something. And I miss how easily she is scared. I miss Tran’s facial expression. I miss her voice (weeo weeo weeeeeooo wee). I miss how when I walk next to her she will link arms with me and rest her head on my shoulder. I miss how these two girls are so close to me that we are literally like sisters. For the boys, in general, I miss all the little pranks that they have played on me. In case you all don’t remember, Jeffrey farted in my face when I was sleeping, and there was the time when I woke up with shaving cream all over my face. Or what about the time when I had my head shoved into a cake? Or when there was a new stereotype invented just for me (butter)? And then there are all the little jokes about me not being able to read, Ian. Or that I suck at poker, Jesse. I miss chilling with yall at Suicide Hill or at Jeff’s house. And when Jesse had an apartment, that was great. All in all I just miss kicking it with yall. I miss doing nothing and being so entertained by it.
The food here is so different than back home, duh, and it makes me wish I had my food from back home. I want my Nana’s tortillas, fresh off the comal. I want some of my Dad/Mom’s chili. The two of them make the best chili. Each one does something a little different than the other but both are superb here. I think the only time I have even seen beans were when I was at Titi’s house. in addition to those two things, I would love some of my brother’s salsa. He makes it extra spicy on purpose and I love when he does that. I love burning my tongue off, always fun. And if there were one thing to greet me when I get home it would be GoJo’s yellow sauce. I love that stuff. I could buy it by the bucket when I’m in KC. Love that stuff.
Oh, and don’t get me started on the places that I miss. I really miss the Plaza. I don’t miss working there but just being there. I’ve had a lot of really good times at the plaza and the ambiance is truly stunning. I had a dream about the building that the Cheesecake Factory is located in and it was painted red. Random, I know, but it just reminded me of how much I love the Plaza and would love to stroll around it. I’m sure it will remind me of being away.
I also really miss Suicide Hill. My friends and I would go there all the time. I love it on the top of that hill, sitting on the swing and looking at the stars. I always did my best thinking up there. And I always had my best conversations with friends up there. I don’t know if anyone remembers this but we were talking about endangered animals. We’re too smart for our own good.
I miss being at my Nana’s house. I miss the smell of tortillas cooking. I miss hearing the vacuum going. I miss being awakened at 6 in the morning because she had to get up and shower and clean. I miss seeing kids running around the house, specifically ReRe and Marieclaire.
I miss the comfort of my Dad’s couch. I would love coming back from Columbia and falling asleep on his couch. There would be the TV going on in the foreground and possibly Katie yelling in the background. It was always so nice to find refuge on that couch.
But you know what my favorite place is in Kansas City: My mommy’s bathtub. The only thing I can think to do when I get home is take a bath. If you want to talk to me you’ll have to do so on the outside of the curtain that creates such a perfect divider between the heavenly bathtub and the chaotic world. We don’t have baths here and naturally, all I want is to take a bath.
I left all of my movies in Kansas City so I really miss that. I’ve bought a few but they don’t make up for the 100 or so that I have back home. I love Italian cinema but they aren’t so happy go lucky as America. We almost always have a happy ending in our movies and they only have half happy endings. I guess it’s nice to buy movies in Italian though. I’ve bought ones that I have in English and know by heart so that I can learn.
And movies just make me think of quality time. One thing that I don’t have over here is quality time around a table with cards and chips. I miss playing Rummy and Poker. I miss playing SORRY! And I really miss sitting around a TV all scrunched on a couch with a bowl of popcorn watching Dead Silence or some other movie. Does anyone remember the time that we were watching Ice Age and Nana was laughing at us for watching cartoons? She said that we were stupid for watching cartoons. I have a picture of here laughing. Check it out.
I really miss the dollar. What happened to the dollar being the strongest form of currency? It sucks that I am over here and my money isn’t worth anything. I hate that I spend so much money without feeling like I’ve spent anything. I’m gonna start collecting dollars (or as you all in America say it, “saving money”) and then I’m gonna throw it all in a bathtub and swim in it.
So, I’m kind of a whore for kitchen appliances; I think I have every single appliance under the sun and if a new one comes out I want it. Being over here, I am without so many things that I took for granted. If there were a few that I would have brought with me it would be my rice cooker and my quesadilla maker. It’s a good thing I didn’t because all I would be eating would be rice and quesadillas if I did bring those.
In addition to those appliances, I also miss the convenience of a toaster oven or a microwave. Here, if you want to heat something up you either have to put it in the oven or you have to put it on the stove. It’s not the worst thing to ever happen but it would be easier to just have a toaster oven or microwave. And you know what else would be convenient? A garbage disposal. I would love to not worry about clogging up my drain and be able to just throw it all down the sink but I cant. When I get home I think I’m just gonna start throwing food down the drain, not cause I don’t want it, just cause I can.
But more than anything in the whole, wide world, I just miss being at home. Sure there are all of those little things that lead to me missing home, and I’m not really home sick, but if I could have both Rome and the things I love about KC at the same time I would be all over it. Dorthy says it best, “There’s no place like home.”
Things I am glad to be rid of
One of the major things I am happy is not over here is the gas guzzling cars. There are a few people who have big cars but the majority of people drive really tiny cars. If I ever really live over here I want to get a Fiat Cinquecento. They are sooo cute. I would look into the safety features, of course, but the looks are a seller.
I’m also really glad to be rid of having a fast food restaurant on every corner. They have their share of McDonald’s and Burger King but that’s it. And you don’t see them in close proximity. Back home they are everywhere and it’s such an eye sore. Here they at least try to make them look spectacular, so that you’ll want to go in. Renato, our student services officer, loves McDonald’s and Burger King. It’s a little odd but to each his own.
I know that this might be super repetitive but I am so glad to be away from any of the drama that always seems to run along side my family. I swear, if we go 60 days without something dramatic happening it’ll be a first. My grandfather’s one wish was that we all get along and it seems like even in his death we cant manage to make that happen. I know that my family is not individual in having this trait but I’m just happy to not be in it.
Smitten for the Italian men
So, I cant help but fall in love with every Italian man that I have the pleasure of getting to know. First, I thought it was just because they have the nice accent but it turns out that there is something that the Italian men are full of (not shit) and American men simply lack. They have charm. And you don’t know charm until you meet a true Italian man. I don’t think I have met a man who made me feel more beautiful and smart than an Italian man.
So far I have fallen in love with 3 men. No, I don’t mean real love, more smitten. The first would be the obvious Renato. He’s just an all around great guy. Seriously, the kind of guy you would take home to mom. He has his smart ass moments, which I love because I love someone who can get with me on my level. But in general he is very sweet and gentleman-like. When we were at that conference he was sure to carry the things to the table and ask me what I wanted to drink. He held the door for me and always said after you. Che carino.
Number two: Maurizio. He is my Italian professor. He’s the perfect combination of funny, smart, sweet, and hardass. He and I have all kinds of conversations about some of the other students in front of them, and its never anything terribly mean but also not terribly nice either. It’s fun because they have no idea and I get to see the more human side of him. We always joke around in class and he always points to the door like I can leave but he’s never serious. Trust me, he’s never serious. Each time he points, he immediately smiles and gives a little chuckle. Che buffo.
Third: Mario. Yes, that is the most Italian name in the whole word next to Marcello or Andrea. This guy is fantastico. He’s my photography professor. And he and I click on the level that he is really, really, ridiculously smart. He’s going to school for astrophysics or something like that. And he speaks English pretty well but he makes funny little mistakes. Its always fun correcting him. We always joke about his English. I’m always telling him that he speaks really well and he always says that I’m just “making fun with him”, yes, with him. I have his class late in the evening so he always says, “I’m too tired to speak English. Parliamo italiano.” I love how we speak a mixture of the two languages.
Now, don’t any of you go freaking out thinking that I’m shagging up with one of my professors cause I’m not. I know my limits and like I said, I’m not really in love with these guys, just the idea of these guys. I will come home the same good girl that I was when I left, no worries.
So far I have fallen in love with 3 men. No, I don’t mean real love, more smitten. The first would be the obvious Renato. He’s just an all around great guy. Seriously, the kind of guy you would take home to mom. He has his smart ass moments, which I love because I love someone who can get with me on my level. But in general he is very sweet and gentleman-like. When we were at that conference he was sure to carry the things to the table and ask me what I wanted to drink. He held the door for me and always said after you. Che carino.
Number two: Maurizio. He is my Italian professor. He’s the perfect combination of funny, smart, sweet, and hardass. He and I have all kinds of conversations about some of the other students in front of them, and its never anything terribly mean but also not terribly nice either. It’s fun because they have no idea and I get to see the more human side of him. We always joke around in class and he always points to the door like I can leave but he’s never serious. Trust me, he’s never serious. Each time he points, he immediately smiles and gives a little chuckle. Che buffo.
Third: Mario. Yes, that is the most Italian name in the whole word next to Marcello or Andrea. This guy is fantastico. He’s my photography professor. And he and I click on the level that he is really, really, ridiculously smart. He’s going to school for astrophysics or something like that. And he speaks English pretty well but he makes funny little mistakes. Its always fun correcting him. We always joke about his English. I’m always telling him that he speaks really well and he always says that I’m just “making fun with him”, yes, with him. I have his class late in the evening so he always says, “I’m too tired to speak English. Parliamo italiano.” I love how we speak a mixture of the two languages.
Now, don’t any of you go freaking out thinking that I’m shagging up with one of my professors cause I’m not. I know my limits and like I said, I’m not really in love with these guys, just the idea of these guys. I will come home the same good girl that I was when I left, no worries.
Italian Politics Conference
Today (April 4) there was a conference on the political system in Italy. I was really interested in going because I know so little about how their political system works but to be honest, I don’t think I know too much more now than I did before going. Anyway, it was beneficial because I was able to cross something off on my 50-before-50 List.
I was running a little late getting to the meet site because I had on a dress, walked to the bottom of the hill and realized how freezing I was, and turned back to change. I called Renato when I was on my way to the bus stop but he didn’t answer. I didn’t think it was a big deal because I figured he was on his bike. I got to the bus stop and waited. As I was standing there I heard this person driving by making all kinds of noise. I turned my head to find Renato yelling my name and motioning for me to come over and jump on. Like a true Italian, I darted in front of all these cars to get to Renato. He told me to get on. No worries, I had on a helmet. It was so crazy because I have never been on a motorcyle before. Jesse always tried to get me to ride on his and so did my Uncle Phil but I am totally mortified by bikes. They scare the crap out of me. But what was I to say? “Oh thanks for stopping to pick me up but I think I’ll go back to waiting because I just might crap my pants if I get on that. I’ll just be late and you can wait for me there.” No way. I had to get on. And so I did. It was so much fun. We went fast and we drove up hills. Then we got to a point where I almost died not because he almost hit someone but because we were going the wrong way up a one-way street that was also going uphill. I was gripping Renato so tightly that I think I might have cut off his circulation. But as a whole it was so much fun. We went to the top of this hill and saw the most beautiful view of the city. It was great.
The first half of the conference was a little boring. There was only one speaker that I was able to follow because he gave tons of background information and he was humorous. His name was Silviano Susi. He’s the guy to the left. Afterwards we went to the garden to have a small lunch (lasagna and wine). It was cute. Renato and I sat and talked about politics, something I know very little about but enough to keep up. Then we jumped on the moto to go to the second half of the conference.
The second half was in a very old palace that had the ceiling of the galleria done by Pietro Cortona. The galleria wasn’t the right dimensions so the owner didn’t want a big name guy to paint in it. this lead him to hire Cortona to do it, who just so happened to become a big deal. Stunning use of color. I didn’t get a picture of it because Dora told me not to after I took a picture of a statue and a chair. If I ever get to go back you will see it, promise.
We met up with Fabi and Dora on our way there. And this part was so much better than the first. There were two speakers that I thoroughly enjoyed. The first was a very handsome man who was talking about statistics and polling. I only enjoyed him for his charm and smile. He had a great smile. But the second speaker was a woman who I loved for what she had to say. She was talking about syntax, semantics, and words in general. It was really interesting to hear someone talk about how politicians use and avoid certain words because of public perception of certain words. As a whole, I enjoyed myself.
I was running a little late getting to the meet site because I had on a dress, walked to the bottom of the hill and realized how freezing I was, and turned back to change. I called Renato when I was on my way to the bus stop but he didn’t answer. I didn’t think it was a big deal because I figured he was on his bike. I got to the bus stop and waited. As I was standing there I heard this person driving by making all kinds of noise. I turned my head to find Renato yelling my name and motioning for me to come over and jump on. Like a true Italian, I darted in front of all these cars to get to Renato. He told me to get on. No worries, I had on a helmet. It was so crazy because I have never been on a motorcyle before. Jesse always tried to get me to ride on his and so did my Uncle Phil but I am totally mortified by bikes. They scare the crap out of me. But what was I to say? “Oh thanks for stopping to pick me up but I think I’ll go back to waiting because I just might crap my pants if I get on that. I’ll just be late and you can wait for me there.” No way. I had to get on. And so I did. It was so much fun. We went fast and we drove up hills. Then we got to a point where I almost died not because he almost hit someone but because we were going the wrong way up a one-way street that was also going uphill. I was gripping Renato so tightly that I think I might have cut off his circulation. But as a whole it was so much fun. We went to the top of this hill and saw the most beautiful view of the city. It was great.
The first half of the conference was a little boring. There was only one speaker that I was able to follow because he gave tons of background information and he was humorous. His name was Silviano Susi. He’s the guy to the left. Afterwards we went to the garden to have a small lunch (lasagna and wine). It was cute. Renato and I sat and talked about politics, something I know very little about but enough to keep up. Then we jumped on the moto to go to the second half of the conference. 
The second half was in a very old palace that had the ceiling of the galleria done by Pietro Cortona. The galleria wasn’t the right dimensions so the owner didn’t want a big name guy to paint in it. this lead him to hire Cortona to do it, who just so happened to become a big deal. Stunning use of color. I didn’t get a picture of it because Dora told me not to after I took a picture of a statue and a chair. If I ever get to go back you will see it, promise.
We met up with Fabi and Dora on our way there. And this part was so much better than the first. There were two speakers that I thoroughly enjoyed. The first was a very handsome man who was talking about statistics and polling. I only enjoyed him for his charm and smile. He had a great smile. But the second speaker was a woman who I loved for what she had to say. She was talking about syntax, semantics, and words in general. It was really interesting to hear someone talk about how politicians use and avoid certain words because of public perception of certain words. As a whole, I enjoyed myself.
Midterm grades
We got our grades back and I did wonderfully. They are as follows:
Italian: A-
Mythology: A
Masterpieces: B+
Photography: A-
Ren/Baroque: B
Sono contenta con i miei vote. Non c’erano meno di C. Va be’
Italian: A-
Mythology: A
Masterpieces: B+
Photography: A-
Ren/Baroque: B
Sono contenta con i miei vote. Non c’erano meno di C. Va be’
Lucia’s Students
Today (March 30) I went to the Laghetto while I waited for Lucia’s students to show up. The larghetto is this little man made lake just out of the city. It’s a really cute place, pretty dirty, but it doesn’t stink. There are really pretty trees all around. I thought I would read a little Eat. Pray. Love. seeing as how I don’t have any Harry Potter to read. Here is a what it looked like.
There was a “waterhorse” in the middle of one half of the lake.
While I was waiting, I walked to McDonald’s and did something that I’m sure would have sent me straight to hell if I died just after doing it. I was waiting in line, it was hot, there were people all over, super crowded, and just as I was about to be at the cashier this woman jumps in front of me. At this point I’m pissed. I look at her, say “Scusi” and start to tell the man my order. The woman behind me starts to tell me that I was wrong for not letting her go telling me that clearly I can see that she is pregnant. I knew she was pregnant but I seriously didn’t feel like she had the right to jump in front of me. I felt a little bad about it afterwards but when I was thinking about if I were in America how it would have worked I felt that I was right in what I did. Well, maybe not right. I should have let her go. But she should have asked. Having a fat belly does not give you the right to forget your manners.
I met up with the girls and we left for the movie theatre. We went to see a movie called Colpo d’Occhio. It was a really interesting movie about a man who is cheating on his wife with a woman who then cheats on him and they break up but he becomes friends with the guy that she cheated on him with and then he ruins her relationship with the new guy and eventually kills the new guy. It was sad but it played on the idea that there was a deeper, psychological meaning for everything that happened. I still liked it.
Afterwards we went to get gelato at a place called Gioliti. They have pretty good gelato but my favorite was the one in Aversa. The girls and I were exchanging words, trying to figure out what the English/Italian equivalent was. It was a bunch of fun and I cant wait to hang out with them again.
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