La Colazione Americana

Today (Feb 10) was a special day. I slept in until around 9:30, had a small breakfast, and read a little Mangia Prega Ama (English: Eat Pray Love). I waited for a phone call from Chirstina to go to her place for breakfast. Now, this wasn’t just any breakfast, this was an American breakfast. We planned on having pancakes, hash browns, and scrambled eggs. The only thing that would have made it more American would be a slab of ham or bacon or sausages but Christina’s a vegetarian and I don’t like pig. The phone rang around 2 p.m. and I was off. It took me about 45 minutes to get there and we didn’t start cooking for a little bit, but once we started we couldn’t be stopped. She and I made such a wonderful team. She peeled the potatoes and I shredded them while I got the pan of vegetable oil nice and hot. It took the both of us to flip the hash browns and she didn’t have any of the proper utensils so we had to use a huge spoon to do it. Everything was such a mix of giant spoons and forks and cooking too much or not enough but in the end it was just right. We didn’t have any syrup or ketchup so things were just like they would have been back home but they were just as good.


This is Christina


And this is us just after eating. Notice the hairdo.

The real reason behind the American breakfast was for Christina’s Italian boyfriend, Fabio. He had never had hash browns or pancakes and was so excited to try them. It was like watching a four-year-old boy approach a baseball for the first time. He had an idea of what it was and what it was used for but he had never used it. Same idea. Afterwards we sat on the couch watching random Italian stations in hopes that we would see something worth watching. No such luck.

I left shortly after 7p.m. and it took me about 45 minutes to get home. The sad part about how long this took was the fact that I live so close to her that I think it would have been faster for me to just walk. But that was too much to ask because it was so freezing and with my luck the bus would pull up just as I walked away and then I would be pissed for walking away. It’s a vicious cycle. When I got home, I was greeted by a pitch-black house with no power. And it wasn’t the whole building that had no power, just our flat. I called the wonderful Renato and asked him what the heck I was supposed to do and he tried to help but had no idea what I was supposed to do in that situation. He told me that he would call Tina, who was in charge of our place, and she what she said. By the time I got off the phone with him I was already in the dungeon downstairs and didn’t want to wait for him to call back to see if I was in the right place. It was so dark in this room. I flipped the switch and the lights flickered on. It was something out of a horror movie. I was waiting for the creepy guy to pop out of one of the storage rooms and tie a rope around my throat. I found the number for our flat on the main power thingy and I flipped our power back on. I turned the lights out and ran out of the dungeon back to my well lit apartment. I had just locked the door to our apartment when Renato called me back telling me what to do. He’s so precious. Very helpful man, soft on the eyes, nice, kind, funny, all around perfect guy to take home to mom. And I swear, if I had the chance I would marry him just so that I could have dual citizenship. He doesn’t seem like a bad catch so there should be no harm in that, right?

Fabulous Thursday

Today (Feb. 7) was such a wonderful day. I only had one class and when that was finished, I left to go to the Trevi fountain to throw my coins. The story that we were told is that you have to go to the Trevi Fountain and throw three coins into it over your shoulder. Each coin represents something different. The first coin is so that you come back to Rome. The second coin is that you will fall in love. The third is that you will fall in love. I was told to throw all three at once but some people only do one at a time because all three is too much of a commitment all at once. I did all three. I want to come back, fall in love with someone here, and marry the bastard. So I went with Chelsea and Nicole. We took a bunch of pictures but these are the ones that made the cut.



After the Trevi I went home to get cleaned up and left to have dinner with my friend, Christina. She’s lived here for about 6 months and will continue to live here for another 2 ½ years. She is the sweetest person ever. She was making dinner for a bunch of people and asked if I wanted to come. I said yes but I had to come early because I was going to the ballet. She said that was fine. Nicole and I went over there and had the best dinner yet. She made homemade pumpkin sauce. It was glorious. She gave me the recipe for it so I can try to make it later. It shouldn’t be too hard. After we finished eating, Nicole and I bolted because I had to meet up with everyone for the ballet and I didn’t want to be that late. But while I was there Christina and I made a bunch of plans to do things, one of which included getting together on this coming Sunday to have an American breakfast. It should be fun. Haven’t had hash browns in ages.

I jumped on a bus and headed to the metro (which took forever and a day) and from the metro I went to meet up with the others to get on another train to go to the ballet. The production was called Battiti d’ali and it was really interesting. It was a contemporary ballet and it was a good mixture of all kinds of dance and music. I really enjoyed it. Afterwards we all jumped on a bus that we waited half an hour for and went back home. While waiting for the bus, we all had great conversations about what our favorite words are (mine is corroborate) and going back to Renato’s place to meet his roommates. It was the perfect ending to the perfect day.


This is the group that went to the ballet. From Left to Right: Renato, Megan, Me, Chelsea, Jacqueline, Emma and Christine. Not pictured: Lily.

Fat Tuesday and Ash Wednesday

Italy has been a mountain of firsts for me. This was my first time not spending Fat Tuesday with someone that I knew would really appreciate grubbing. For my younger years I was always with my siblings and parents; for the past two years I was with my best friend, Lauren. And it wasn’t that Fat Tuesday was solely about eating, it was about spending quality time together over a common cause. It was the feast before the fast. This year I had to eat alone. And I must get this from Nana but I do not care to eat alone. I would rather prepare food for someone else to eat with me than eat by my lonesome. But for one day out of the year I chose to suck it up and deal. Boy did I go to town on some delicious food. I started with a breakfast of champions. I had 4 cornetti: two of which were plain and the other two were chocolate filled. Amazing. I followed with a light lunch. I only had a chicken sandwich with a scoop of lemon gelato. I topped it all off with a perfect dinner comprised of 3 thin steaks that would be the equivalent of one American eye of round, a plate of French fries, and two bowls of pasta (one plain with butter and the other with melanzane sauce). It was the perfect pig out to precede a day of abstinence.

The next day, Ash Wednesday, I went to church at San Paolo Basilica Fuori le Mure. I guess I thought that if there was one thing that would be the same as back home it would be church, and for the most part, I was right. But there was something that they did during service that really had me stumped. Back home, when you got you would form a line and receive your ashes. The priest, or whatever holy figure, would take their thumb, put it in the ashes and make the sign of the cross on your forehead. They would say something while doing it and you would respond Amen. Well, here they did something very different. We formed our line and waited to be ashed. But when we got to the front of the line, instead of the priest making the sign of the cross on our foreheads, they sprinkled ashes in the figure of a cross in our hair. I was so thrown off. Everything else was pretty much the same but this was so different.

Before I left to go to mass, I went by the Arcadia office to do some stuff online and I was every so lucky to have the opportunity to vote in the Democratic Primaries. In the states it took place on a Tuesday (Super Tuesday) but because of time differences and lack of internet, I had to wait until the next day to participate. I was still really happy and I received an email saying thanks. It was magnificent.

My Italy

Our first assignment in our photography class was to take pictures that showed what we think of when we think of Italy. The following is what I think of. Enjoy.

Rain Storm

One morning I was awakened by the sound of a clashing of two cymbals. Shortly following was a random pattern of light coming in through the window from the lightning outside. What made this situation so funny was just the night before I was talking to my father about how when it rains here it doesn’t rain for real, it just trickles. This, however, was a full on Missouri rainstorm. And the funny thing was it didn’t last for very long. Shortly after the sky cleared up and was sunny by the time I left for class. That night was scheduled to be a movie night, which I gladly attended. We had Chinese food and everything was great. At the very end of it all, it started to trickle so everyone started to leave. But not me. I had caught word of Fabiana’s boyfriend being in close proximity and I wanted to stay to meet him. He came up and we chatted. He was a gorgeous, tall man with excellent build. The longer I stayed, the harder it rained. I thought I would just wait it out. Then I heard a loud crack of thunder and that was my cue that it wasn’t going to stop and I needed to truck my caboose home before it got completely dreadful. I said my goodbyes and headed down stairs. I got to the awning out front where I was stopped straight in my tracks by hail, yes, hail. I stood there waiting for that to finish and while I waited I took pictures. Shortly after, Renato, Fabiana, and Leo came out. Fabiana stood there talking to me while Renato locked up his bike and Leo went to get the car. Fabi then walked out to throw the trash but shortly ran back to the safety of the awning when the loudest clash of thunder struck. It was so loud that it set off car alarms and I had a headache all the next day. She and Renato ran back to where I was standing, clutching my chest out of fright. I was so freaked out that I was close to tears. She asked if I was ok and I told her that I just missed my fam when things like this occur. She offered me a ride and I accepted. It was my first time being in an Italian car and it was really freaking cause I thought he was going to slide and that would be the end of me. I made it home fine and I lived through the storm. Two points for me.

Ariccia

This is one of the small towns that we visited in Italy. Fabiana and Renato took us and I think that what I enjoyed most about this trip was talking with them. I also really liked the food there. They are famous for their prochetta, which is a type of pork with herbs and stuff cooked into it. Rome ships their porchetta from Ariccia but its not as good as what’s fresh from Ariccia.


This is a view of the city, if you could even call it that. its really small but cute.


It surprises me where one can find graffiti in Italy. Its always really random but very interesting.


Right after we got there Renato asked us if anyone wanted a coffee. I said yes and we went into this really cute shop and had one cappuccino and two caffè plus some frappe and castanglioli. Amazing.


This is everyone that went on the trip minus me and Fabiana.

God hears my prayers

The day that our class had a trip to Santa Maria Maggiore, we had to walk all over the world and take buses and walk some more and all kinds of craziness. Well, on the first bus that we caught was a little boy and his grandpa. The little boy was crying at the top of his lungs and it was really hard to sit there and listen because he was so adorable that all you wanted to do was pick him up and make him stop crying. The old man noticed that his cooing wasn’t helping the situation so he picked up the boy and exited the bus. Our bus was at dock so we waited there for about 15 more minutes. About 10 minutes into our wait, the old man and the boy returned, this time quietly. Not much time had passed before the boy started crying again. With the little Italian that I know, I caught that the little boy wanted his dad and there was nothing that the old man could do to calm the boy. The bust finally got started. The old man picked him up and boy and his cry turned into more of a whimper. At that moment I looked at the little boy and I thought to myself “I wish that my grandpa was here to hold me. How lucky that boy is and he doesn’t even know it.” Seconds after having that thought I remembered that my grandpa was dead. You see, the thought was me thinking that my grandpa was back home and how much nicer it would be if he were here. I had forgotten that he was dead. And when that reality check hit me I almost burst into tears like that little boy.

This is the little boy

Two days after that incident something wonderful happened. I was rushing home to meet with Renato and someone who was inspecting our house. I was running late, of course, but I am a firm believer that God has you where He wants you to be, and I have never found that to be more true than this day. I missed my bus by a few seconds, which normally makes me made but it was so worth it. I got on the next bus and tried to find a spot to stand. There was a man sitting a few rows ahead of where I was standing and he was wearing a fedora similar to the one that my grandpa had given me my junior year in high school. I wanted to tell him that I liked his hat but I didn’t know how to say hat in Italian. Usually when I don’t know how to say something I don’t bother trying but something was urging me to try. I squeezed my way up the isle and tapped him on the shoulder. In my attempt to tell him that I liked his hat I said “Mi piace il tuo” and then pointed to his hat. The guy sitting next to him explained what I was trying to say filling in the word cappello, which means hat. After that we had a 20-minute conversation spanning the remainder of the bus ride. We asked each other all types of questions and found out so much information about one another. His name was Franco and his friend sitting next to him was Nando. He told me about how his family has lived here forever and that he is 80 something or other and he is having a birthday on March 31. He asked me where I was from and if I had family in Italy. We even talked politics. He asked me if I was a supporter or Hillary or Obama and I said Obama. And he gave me this smile. I asked who he liked and he said "Obama!" He was soo happy. He said that he wanted to visit America sometime and I told him he could go home with me. People all around us were engaging in our conversation, throwing in their two cents where they saw fit. Everyone kept telling me that I spoke wonderful Italian. I said thank you even though I didn’t fully believe the statement to be true. When we were at his stop he stood up and told me to take his seat. I said I was fine but thank you for offering. He took my hand in both of his and leaned in really close holding my stare. He said something that made me want to cry but instead all I did was smile big and say thank you. He said, "Sei mia nipote." That means, "You are my granddaughter." He exited the bus and that was the last I saw of him.

The day that I saw that man with his grandson all I could think was “I want my grandpa.” And it wasn’t that I wanted the dead man to be alive again. No, I wanted they physical being of my grandpa to be present. I think it didn’t occur to me that he was dead because I don’t think of him as being dead, I just think of him being gone. So when I said I wanted him, it was my way of asking God to give him to me. And that is just what happened. I had my grandpa, even if it were just for a brief moment. God gave me just what I wanted more than anything, and I am ever so grateful.