Guardando Avanti e in Dietro

Looking Forward, and Looking Back

I am looking forward to moving back to DC because:
– I have good friends to go back to, and new friends who will be there for a while
– my family will be closer
– lots of little things will be easier
– I’m looking forward to setting up a permanent home with Ryan – like with towels that match, and walls that are painted.
– I want to play sports again
– I want to see sports again
– I like that Americans smile at each other
– some thing about Italy are driving me nuts
– most things about my current job are driving me nuts

I’m not looking forward because:
– I’ll miss italy
– i’ll miss travelling
– I’m nervous about changing jobs again … this one’s kind of inexplicable
– there’s a lot of stuff I’ll have to get taken care of: drivers licenses, various whatnot.
– there are some friends I won’t see again
– traffic in DC means it sucks to get out of town for the weekend. I’m thinking we should take more three-four day weekends in DC than we did before. I don’t know why we didn’t take more time off.

Roma è Montagne Russe

Rome is a RollerCoaster

This morning I walked to work. I stepped out of my house, and I took a deep breath of crisp, fresh air … and I smiled, and I was on my way. Yesterday was a random Italian holiday, I may as well be starting my work week on Wednesday … what could be better?

And then I passed my first Italian on the street. And I was in a good mood, so I stepped aside to make room for her on the sidewalk. So she could pass between the dumpster and the lamppost and the overgrown foliage first.

And I smiled at her.
And she ignored me.

hmph.

but the sun is shining! and it’s a beautiful day!

And then I passed another neighbor, who stared at me as I approached – and I smiled! And he just sorta … kept staring.

It continued like this all the way to work. For the record … I was dressed neither sexy nor slovenly. (Though to be fair, my hair was offensively damp.)

One of my personal favorites was the woman who was sitting on a stump. She started watching me when I was almost 50 yards away. as i got closer, she turned her head so she could continue to watch. I smiled, nothing. so I said “Buon Giorno!” and she sorta winced at me, and mumbled something that the optimist in me hopes was an appropriate response.

I think four people smiled at me: a landlord, a hired dogwalker, a garbage man, and a mover.
The people who didn’t smile at me: the fancy lady on the stump, the fancy man going into his building, the fancy lady who couldn’t figure out where she was going, the lady who lives around the corner, the man who lives up the street …

Do you notice the trend? I live in the “high end”/”rich” area of Rome. And you know what? The nicest people in the neighborhood are the staff. They probably smile at me ’cause no one else ever smiles at them. And they’re not really used to being looked in the eye. (I once had a cab driver tell me that he likes Americans ’cause they treat everyone equally. “You guys get your start flipping burgers … so even when you become successful, you still have respect for the guy who is flipping burgers.” Damn straight.)

Anyway so … by the time I got to work, I was the crazy lady who waved and smiled and said “Buon Giorno!” in my happiest cheerleader voice to everyone I passed. And I may or may not have continued to talk out loud after I passed each person saying things like “See, you say hello to people. just a little smile! You don’t get to stare if you’re not going to smile!”. I’ve learned a lot of things about culture, and my cultural assumptions. I know now that when Italians cut me in line, they’re not trying to be rude. There are no lines. It’s that simple. But somehow there’s something about people staring and not smiling that I’m just not able to accept.

So, not wanting to arrive at work in that kind of mood … I took my coffee from the American Embassy coffee shop – where they know me, and smile at me. And I sat on the roof in the sunshine, and enjoyed my coffee, and a warm cornetto that a friend gave me. (I sent her an email shortly thereafter to tell her that that cornetto was the best part of my day so far.)

The rest of my day was … you know … work. But when I left … my day took an unexpected turn.
I walked outside, chatting with two coworkers – and the sun was in that warm place where you know it’s going to set soon. And the breeze was fresh … and my blue Vespa was in the parking lot… and I decided I was going to do something I learned about in Greece. I decided that I was going to get home in time to watch the sunset from my balcony.

With this in mind, I dodged motorini and cars, and humans … and I headed home. When I was almost there, I saw the flower stand that I see every day. And every day this flower stand makes me smile because it’s just so beautiful. But I never buy flowers. Flowers die. And … I’m hardly ever home. And I don’t know how much they cost, and … and … and … but …

Then I remembered that when I passed this morning (on foot) I had seen 4 shades of peonies. and I LOVE peonies.

So I pulled over, parked the motorino, and went right up. I swear … I must have looked crazy with how large the smile on my face was. I picked out some crazy huge bright pink blooms. And it was 15 euro for 5. And I was so excited. And he asked me “Is this a gift, or is it for the house?” and I said “It’s a gift for me!” And he smiled at me, and he started to wrap them up … and then he changed his mind and went back and got the rest of the blooms in that color, and put them in there. And he said “I give you a gift for 15 euro”. And I said thank you, and I told him how happy the flower stand makes me every time I pass it. And he said “I’m happy.” and I gave him a 20 euro note, and he asked if I had a 5, and I looked around in my purse, and I checked what other change I had … and I didn’t have a 5. So he just gave me 10 euro change, and he said “It doesn’t matter”. And then he walked the flowers over to my motorino, and he said “Do you have to go far?” and I said “No, I’m right around the corner.” And so he tucked them in between my handlebar and my windshield on the motorino. (Paint this picture in your head … blue vespa, pink peonies in white paper tucked in by the handlebars … I mean, does it get more romantic than that?)

And now I’m home, and I’m sitting in a dirty camping chair, with my feet up on another dirty camping chair. And I have a folded TV table with a beautiful bouquet of peonies in a pitcher, ’cause I don’t have a vase. And my plant boxes only have dirt on them, and my balcony is covered in pine needles. And my view is gorgeous except for the 3 buildings right across the street … And I have a glass of organic white wine from a winery we visited in Montefalco …

And I couldn’t be happier.
Rome is a Roller Coaster.

Manifestazioni in Marrakech

Protests/Demonstrations in Marrakech

A view of the crowds - from our restaurant porch.

We went to Marrakech in February – after there had already been some excitement in Egypt. There weren’t any State Department warnings out for Morocco (as I recall, anyway), but what we didn’t know was that there was a big protest planned while we were there. So, not knowing what was about to happen, we settled in to a lovely lunch at a Parisian-style cafe just down the street from ‘Place de la Liberte’ ” (Freedom Square). As we sat and ate lunch, we noticed a small crowd of peaceful protesters. This small crowd eventually grew to become a large crowd of peaceful protesters. And eventually a large crowd of peaceful protesters with some anarchists mixed in. And then a large crowd scattering in every direction as fast as they could run as the police fought back against those intent on causing chaos.

Forming a Plan

We later learned that anarchists had been smashing windows in stores, attempting to break into banks, setting cars on fire and throwing molotov cocktails at police stations. But from where we were sitting, the only thing we knew was that there was chaos outside. Not knowing where the protest was going or what was going on, and being pretty well surrounded at the cafe anyway, We decided it wasn’t a good idea to try to go through the protesters to get to our hotel. So we retreated into the cafe to evaluate our options. We contacted the duty officer at the embassy in Rabat to see what they could tell us, and to let them know what was going on. Mostly we were wondering whether this was the next Egypt, or just a few rowdy people. We talked about exits from the building (just in case), and we examined the map. We studied where our hotel was relative to where we were, figured out that we were right down the street from Place de la Liberte (so, definitely not going to go that way), talked about locations of hotels outside of town that we could go to if necessary … and then we waited.

Cafe' Security

The Cafe owners had closed all the shades, and posted a couple of people at the door who rebuffed running protesters who tried to come in. So we figured that for the moment we were better off inside than outside. Once things had calmed down a little bit the security guy called a guy he knew who could drive us closer to our hotel. For a while they weren’t letting vehicles in the area at all – so when they finally did, the taxi was more than happy to take advantage of the situation in order to overcharge us. Of course, it still cost less than a normal Roman taxi fare … so we weren’t going to bother arguing over anything. We spent the rest of the afternoon on the roof of our hotel, relaxing. We figured that given the uncertainty of the situation, it was better safe than sorry.

It was an interesting experience, overall the protests were not that big of a deal, but it was the lack of information we had and the limited knowledge of the city that made the situation a little more tenuous for us. We didn’t know what would happen, and we didn’t know enough about the city or the culture to add insight to our lack of information. But I think it’s one of those things where you have “The Gift of Fear” (I have a book I’ve been meaning to read with that same name.) – in hindsight we didn’t need to map out escape routes or plan our egress from the building . . . but I certainly don’t regret making those plans!

A few months later, we heard about a restaurant in Marrakech, right on the main square that was bombed. Above is a picture of us eating at that restaurant. I didn’t follow the story to figure out the exact whys … but I do know that there were some people that died. It was pretty creepy to read about it and see the pictures. I find myself pretty speechless on this one – it’s weird to find out that you picked the right time to be somewhere … but it was by accident. And it could just as easily happen somewhere else. (Don’t worry Moms … we do our research before we travel.)

Sa Che Stai Arrivando?

Does he know that you are arriving?

I’m in a taxi on my way home from the airport. The following is a conversation between me and the driver:

Me:How long will it take to get to Parioli at this hour?
Driver:About 45 minutes.
Me:Ok, let’s go there then.
Driver:What difference does it make?
Me:Well, I live in Parioli, and I work in the city center. And I would like to see my husband before work.
Driver:Why?
(Thinking he was making joke, I laughed, and didn’t really answer … so he persisted)
Driver:But Why? He will be sleeping.
Me:He’ll be awake by the time I get there.
Driver:But Why?
(And finally we get to the real point)
Driver:Does he know you are arriving?
Me:*sigh* Yes, he knows I’m coming.
Driver:Oh, ok. I won’t say anything else then.

What’s funny is that I am actually coming home a day early, and I thought about surprising ryan altogether… When I mentioned it at work people were joking about the old adage “spend a quarter, save a marriage.” Where the idea is that you might not want to surprise your spouse at home -lest you discover something you can’t ignore that you didn’t want to know.

I didn’t end up surprising ryan because the timing want great for surprising him at home, and it’s not that much fun to surprise him at work. And also cause I get so excited about surprises that I always give them away. :)

I know marriage isn’t always perfect, but I find it particularly depressing when mr. random cab driver is so convinced that my (presumably italian) husband is having an affair – that he wants to either warn me off, or make sure I know what I’m getting myself into.

Much more appropriate is a line from “crazy, stupid, love” where steve carrell is professing his love for his wife “I have loved her, even when I’ve hated her. You married couples will understand that one.” That one made me smile.

Ricordati di me?

Remember Me?

Look! A papier mache' snake!

I gave my Dad a papier mache’ snake for Fathers’ Day one year. I don’t know how long ago that was … but I imagine it was long enough ago that I was still making things out of papier mache’. Dad’s study was full of  a lot of stuff before they moved … and apparently he kept the snake all this time. I think now’s the time to take a picture … and throw away the snake. Also the eyes kept falling off.

Votes for Snowwomen!

What do you do when you’re the father of 3 girls and it snows the right kind of snow to make a snowman? You make a snowwoman of course! One that supports women’s suffrage, of course.

Santa and his Reindeer - handed down through Mom's family

That Santa and his reindeer – and his sleigh (loaded with whatever ornaments were broken but toylike) have been on that mantle for as long as I can remember.

Mickey Dees!

Dad’s Dad, my grandpa, always took us to McDonald’s when he came to visit. He liked the coffee … we liked getting to go to McDonald’s with Grandpa. I think this is the McDonald’s my Dad remembers as a kid.

Indian Princesses!

The YMCA has a program for fathers and their daughters called ‘Indian Guides and Princesses’. I don’t remember what it was about – I was a kid, I only remember the important things. I remember doing arts and crafts, and I remember going to Y camps where the Dads would buy us junk food, and we’d dump it all out on the floor, and they’d tell us not to tell our Moms. And I remember the drum (see above) … and the talking stick. The talking stick gave you permission to talk when you were in a circle. Can’t talk without the talking stick. They all ended up in our attic eventually. And we got them out on Christmas Eve to say goodbye.

Pointsetta in a glass ball thingy ...

This was one of my favorite Christmas decorations. It’s a pointsetta in a glass ball that you fill with water. I always tried to claim that as my job. I’m pretty sure it’s from my Dad’s childhood. Dad?

Dad's Lighted Church

This is from Dad’s childhood too. There’s a light bulb that goes inside it to light up the stained glass windows.

And last, but not least, were the boxes of papers and things that we went through and read to each other. :)

La Vigila di Natale

Christmas Eve

Brunello di Montalcino, Castello di Banfi (and Ryan)

You didn’t think I was done with Christmas, did you? Just because it’s now the following November? Oh, well, … I still want to talk about what we did on Christmas Eve this year. It started with that bottle of wine up there. One of the most frustrating things about all of the wonderful things we get to experience in Italy is that it’s so hard to send it home to share with everyone else. The wine here is amazing – but it’s not that easy to ship. And even when we come home, between customs and rough baggage handling … it’s kinda tough to get glass things home.

Mom, Christine & Theresa with their glasses

All that to say … we did buy a nice bottle of Brunello di Montalcino from Castello di Banfi (stay tuned for when I catch up to last week where we actually went to that winery :) to drink on Christmas Eve. I think we bought it for around 40 euro … which isn’t nothing, but it’s a lot less than the $90 we saw it on sale for at the wine store later in NJ.

Opening gifts ... In Vino Veritas

Ryan and I had a midday flight on Christmas day to take us to Missouri. (Not surprisingly the flights in the middle of the day on Christmas Day are the cheap ones.) Since we had to have our bags ready to go on Christmas Day, we decided to give all of our gifts on Christmas Eve. This year’s theme was … I guess fun things we’ve found overseas. Theresa got wine themed gifts – a ‘fiasco’ of chianti, and a marble tile ‘There is truth in wine.’

Christine's Cameo Brooch

Christine had been asking me to keep an eye out for a classic cameo – so when I stumbled across the store in Ravenna (Amalfi Coast) where Hillary Clinton was given a classic brooch (complete with grandpa in the corner mastering his craft) I knew I’d found the right thing.

Dad with some Laphraoig, Ryan with the New York Times from 1984

We gave Mom some books about travel she wanted, and a Murano Glass necklace that we bought at the Christmas fair in Piazza Navona. Ryan and I have been tasting our way through Scotch Whiskeys, so we brought one of our favorites for my Dad. It was a really relaxed, lovely evening … but one activity isn’t enough. Mom and Dad were getting ready to sell their house, so Mom pulled together some boxes of keepsakes for us to look through while we relaxed by the fire. More pictures to come … ’cause I’m pretty excited to show you the papier mache’  snake I made.

Dove Rimane il Cuore

Where the Heart Remains

No trip home is complete without a tour of my favorite places. And since I’m always taking pictures of food and churches in Europe, why not do the same at home?

Breakfast at the Bagel Chateau

Breakfast is the beginning … a very fine place to start. How great does that bagel look? aMAZing. seriously. Taylor ham, scrambled eggs, cheddar cheese, and poppy seed bagel. Basically heaven, in the sunshine. Ryan’s having sausage, egg and cheese on sesame seed. Which is interesting, but not as good as mine. And he looks happy … but I’m twice as happy behind the camera. You can tell I’m happy … ’cause I haven’t devoured my bagel yet.

Downtown Christmas lights ... and traffic lights

Driving around town at Christmas is one of my favorite things. I know it doesn’t look like much … but it makes me all happy.

Look! Train tracks! It's all homey!

St. Helens - for Christmas Eve Mass

Above is the entrance driveway for our church – with the Nativity that used to be stored in my Dad’s office garage. Can you see the stained glass in the windows of the church?

Approaching the church from the parish center ...

See, American churches are pretty too. I love the stained glass at St. Helens – especially ’cause it looks so 70s, and it makes me think of my parents’ wedding pictures.

The Rialto

On Christmas Eve we always take a circuitous route. Some neighborhoods we drive through every year because we know they’re all decorated. There’s a street near us where they do those paper bag votives all along the sidewalk. And sometimes we just drive around playing Christmas Carols and looking at pretty lights. It’s one of my favorite Christmas traditions, I can’t wait to do it with my kids. (and no … I’m not pregnant. Sheesh!)

It’s fun how some traditions change, and some stay the same. We still all sit up at the top of the steps and wait for Mom to have her first coffee before we are allowed into the living room to open gifts. We still drive around and listen to carols on Christmas Eve. We always listen to Reba when we decorate the tree … although we’re not always all there to decorate the tree. Ever since the year when the tree fell down during Christmas dinner because of the number of ornaments weighing down on one side, we use a rotating tree. When I moved to DC, we didn’t do the Christmas lights as much. Every year we used to add something new, but it started to be a lot of work. My favorite was the year when it snowed like crazy, and the Christmas lights showed through the snow. And we had fun with the lights – even if they were tackier than all of the other ‘white light only’ houses around. Now on Christmas Eve, the kids are allowed to stay up. Dad makes a fire in the fireplace, and we drink wine and sometimes play games. I guess some things will be different now that my parents have sold the house that I grew up in … good thing I still have my family – that’s the most important part of Christmas anyway.

Seule à Paris … Sauf les Hommes

Alone in Paris … Except for the men.

While Ryan was in the US, I had the opportunity for a quick solo trip to Paris. Where I got to eat my fill of crepes:
cream spinich, bacon, cheese, tomato
chocolate, peaches, chantilly

I also went to see a movie one afternoon – figuring it would be nice & relaxing. And since the French don’t dub over all of their movies like the Italians do, I decided to find one in ‘Version Originale’. Of course, I’m so out of touch with current showing in the US, that I didn’t know anything about any of the movies. So … I looked at the posters and picked the one that looked like a romantic comedy. It was called “The first one who said it” – and I figured it was talking about the first one to say ‘I love you’ or something.
So, I settled into the very back corner of the theater, and got ready to enjoy the show.
And I almost burst out laughing when I realized that ‘Version Originale’ in this case was an Italian movie, with french subtitles. Doh. Oh, and the part about “The first one who said it?” that turned out to be referring to the first of two brothers to admit to his traditional Italian family that he was gay. So, not quite what I had expected.

I learned some other fun things in the theater too, from the commercials for soda and candy beforehand, which said in small letters at the bottom:

“Pour votre sante’, eviter de grignoter entre les repas.” – For your health, avoid snacking between meals.
“Manger et bouger” – Eat and move.

On Sunday I was up early, and everything was closed.
So I found a shop by Pompidou for a croissant and juice, and I wandered around to kill some time.
A guy ran across and down the street to tell me that I was beautiful. He didn’t give up easily, and even after I said I was married he said he wanted to give me his number so I could call him if I ever divorced. “Hmm… that was interesting,” I thought. It’s not too often that someone chases me down the street to hit on me. After that, I ignored the next young man who ran after me.

It would be a little while before the Pompidou was open, so I sat down on a bench on a bridge over the Seine. From there I could look left and right at beautiful parisian architecture, and a man was playing an accordian in the background. The accordian is quinticentially and beautifully Parisian for me. It was gorgeous.

I next wandered through the Centre George Pompidou … where I remembered that I don’t like modern art that makes absolutely no sense. Really – your random wooden posts with huge nails are not reminiscent of your childhood home … they’re reminiscent of a broken set of lincoln logs. But there was a fun ‘Dreamland’ exhibit – with pictures, sculptures, and constructions of fantastical places.

Then I had crepes + cidre again: Amazing chevre, bacon, tomato and oregano.

I soaked in the ambiance some more, reading a book, drinking a beer at an outside table at a cafe. Where, Parisian style, I sat facing the street so I could watch the passers by. The waiter gave me a cheerful ‘A Demain’ as I left. Then On my way to the movie theatre from the cafe, a man walking the other way ducked his head briefly closer to me and said “Tu es charmante” (“You are charming.” – How can a girl *not* love Paris?)

Later that evening, I finally got to see Eclipse – in English. There are only a few theaters in Rome that show English language movies … and usually there’s only one movie choice at any given time, so it was a real luxury to see an English movie. Where I received yet a few more healthy hints:
“pour votre sante’, manger au moins5 fruit et legumes/jour” – for your health, eat at least 5 fruits and vegetables per day.
“Eviter de manger trop grasse, trop sale’, trop sucre'” – Avoid eating things that are too fatty, too salty, or too sugary.

For dinner I found an overpriced but delicious steak dinner … complete with french red wine.

For my last lunch I had, predictably, crepes + cidre! (lardons, tomates, epinards a la creme, chevre + beurre, sucre, canelle, et glace vanille)

It’s pretty great to get to spend some restorative ‘me time’ in Paris.

Oh, and my research netted me this:
Creperie de Josselin (best in Paris … if you go at 3p, they’re open, and there’s no line)
67 rue du Montparnasse
014 320 93501

Creperie Manoir Breton (Right near the first one … and less likely to have a line. And almost as good.)
18 Rue Odessa
+33 1 43 35 40 73 ‎

Come Andremmo a Casa?

How would we get home?

We went out to dinner with some friends a few nights ago, and hung out with some people that are new to Rome. The yearly cycle is starting over again, and the new recruits are going out and trying to meet people.

On the way home from dinner, we had the most amazing motorino tour through Rome. It was dark, and everything was bathed in dramatic lighting. I wished that there was some way to capture the experience and the feeling I had on the back of that motorino. It was so beautiful. I felt so lucky. We drove around the colosseum and piazza venezia, and piazza repubblica – but Ryan also meandered through lots of back streets with other amazing ruins and gorgeous old buildings. I will miss this.

When we pulled into the driveway, I said to Ryan “Thank you for that amazing tour of Rome.” and he said, “I wondered why you didn’t say anything sooner, did you think that was the way home?”

And I was quiet for a moment.

And I said … well, at first I thought it was. But then we took an inefficient path near piazza venezia … but then I thought maybe you took a wrong turn.

You thought that the way home was around the colosseum?

Yes

Quando sono preoccupata

When I’m worried

“When I’m worried and I can’t sleep, I count my blessings instead of sheep.”

I’m pretty sure I saw this in someone’s Facebook status or twitter, or something … I can’t remember whose. But I wrote it down ’cause I liked it.