Home.

I am glad to be home.  Glad to be with my boys.  Content to have a place I belong to and can return to.....content to have my wanderlust sated.

Vaticano and the heat that belongs in August, not June.

Arrived in Rome mid afternoon and drift around to various sites: Piazza Navona, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps.....ah, Roma.

Piazza Navona is always a favorite. My first visit was Palm Sunday and we stayed in Mauro's sister's apartment for the weekend. Down one of the small alleyways leading from the piazza....no more than a half block from the piazza. I had no idea what a great location the apartment was in or that I have no hope of ever being in that central of a location for a home base again.

It was Carnivale time as well, and kids were dressed up in costumes to celebrate. It is similar to Halloween here, but less horror based and more whimsical.

The next day on this trip was packed with activity and HEAT. 40 degrees centigrade.  We saw the Vatican, the Sistine chapel, the Colosseum, and the Roman Forum....and five hours of free time while others in the group chose to go to the catacombs. Underground. Underground and away from the sun and heat.

I ended up using my umbrella to shade myself; I was surprised and quite pleased to find that it made a huge difference. A dry heat is so different from a humid heat that is common in Minnesota. Shade provides no relief, you just swelter. But under my umbrella, the heat was surprisingly bearable.

Umbria, you are my new fave.

What I picture Italian countryside when I picture it.

What I picture small Italian towns to look like when I picture them.

What I dream about when I dream about Italy.

Assisi

Sunday evening passigiata. One thing I has always loved about Italy is the Sunday ritual of walking around to meet and greet the friends....I am guessing these guys hang out every day---not just Sunday----and they have for many years. At least.....that is the story in my head.

I miss my boys, but Aschila, laying there in front, gave me a puppy fix. She is 10 and gives really sweet hand kisses.

Assisi was was wonderful visit...medieval town with narrower passages built up on the hill. Again, it wasn't really what I expected. I don't know what I expected but I liked it even more than than I anticipated.

Maybe it has something to do with how much I love Italy in general; I already have a background, underlying love of almost everything. So when I see somewhere or something new and I like it, it gives me a little jazz.

Or maybe it is reconfirming with each novel experience, that I do really love this country quite a bit. I know I won't, and don't, like everything about Italy, but it is a good feeling to not be disappointed by something that holds such a special place in my heart.

Venice...the place of people.

No place like it on earth....not even the Venetian in Las Vegas. Which is why everyone and their sister seemed to be there the day we were there.

So crowded. Venice at Carnivale right before Lent....my first hand experience with the power of a crowd of people. We were there and I was 75-ish pounds heavier. The surge of the crowd picked me up off my feet and moved me from my place where I had been standing to a spot that was maybe three or four feet away. I was powerless to do anything about it.

I can't imagine being short and not being able to see or get air as the bodies press against you---it is enough to make you agoraphobic.

It was like this on Saturday. All the cruise ships vomit forth their passengers, all the loud student groups like ours descend like locusts, all the backpackers lounging on the steps, and bridges and piazza.

We didn't have time to break away from the crowds that infest the route from the train station, over the Rialto bridge to Piazza San Marco. The kids had gondola rides scheduled and I had a half hour to cop a squat on the step of a small chapel to wait for them and call my baby back home. Away from crowds, sitting in the sun, by the canal and quietly watch the gondolas drift by......Venice is a magical place...but sometimes you have find you own Venice to enjoy in your own way.

Verona.

Ah Verona......a sleepy little town famous for the roman arena that is better described as a Mini Me version of the colosseum in Rome. Now it is used for opera performances and concerts.

Verona's other big deal is the balcony of Juliet----from Romeo and Juliet. The kids really didn't appreciate the small town quality, they had to entertain themselves during free time rather than be awed and stimulated. Plus, it was stinking hot--unusually so for that region and time of the year.

For me, I remember going to visit a nanny named Meg that worked for some relation of the family that I or Marta worked for....the exact connection has long been forgotten. She lived in a beautiful home that was converted from a monastery. It was gorgeous and historic and modern at the same time. But I can see why that whole scene wouldn't really play well with teenagers of 2012.

Having said that, there were some students in whom I can seen myself at their ages. Walking along the streets older than their baby country in terms of time and history, taking it all in....and for all outward appearances, seemingly bored. Like they might be composing a tweet about some cute guy they saw or thinking about how hot it was and when their next gelato feeding would be.

And then they would ask a question that would explain what wheels had been turning. They had not been brain tweeting, but rather contemplating time and history and wondering how many people had walked the same streets they were walking or what it might have looked like in Shakespeare's time when he was writing Romeo and Juliet and was he actually here....

Their thoughts, questions, observations, and comments help me see the trip through the eyes of newness and wonder, but also through what I have already experienced.

So......we went and got gelato. It WAS hot and we WERE in Italy after all.

Here....qui.

We are here with this as the piazza we face in our hotel. Florence was sunny and the kids are all amped up adrenaline and no sleep. Good night's sleep tonight should put the world right.





























The beverage and snack in the sun in the Piazza Palazzo Vecchio didn't hurt.

The Italians Are Coming! The Italians Are Coming!

I just like saying it as if I was Paul Revere. I am pretty sure there will be no gun play upon their arrival. The family I nannied for almost 20 years ago is all grown up, mostly. The father is coming with the two boys as the eldest is going to a attend a couple courses in Ann Arbor and the youngest is traveling with dad to come visit after they see the eldest off on the train from Chicago.


Wow. Good thing I am not an English teacher. That sentence is a wicked run on.


The youngest was 10 months old when I arrived. He is now in high school.

I refuse to admit, officially, any sort of aging on my part.

Terms of Endearment.

This is not about the movie. Cripes, what a bawl baby fest. I will not willing watch that movie again......unless I am wallowing in self-pity and need something to kick start a sobbing jag to cleanse the system. You know the kind from when you were eight. Suckin' in the air, can't breathe, loudly sobbing. Ah, good times.

What I actually had been thinking about was actual terms of endearment. The standards: "Honey", "Sweetheart", "Dear". I really don't like "Dear". In fact, I despise it. It just seems patronizing to me. I am not sure why.....maybe a movie from the 50s or something?

I like and use "Baby". I love "Love". I love "My Love" even more. "Babe".

"Sweet Baboo" is a personal fave. A lot.

"Cupcake", "Sweets", lots of food oriented tags.

How do we get to them? The Sweet-Based names make sense, someone who brings sweetness into your life and you want to acknowledge that sweetness. (I like "sweetness" as a term of endearment also.....I get called that occasionally and it makes me melt. Not really sure why. And not really care why.)

When I lived in Italy, there were many for kids that I loved: Piccinino (Little Pigeon). Zuccona. (Big Squash/pumpkin) Tesoro Mio (My Treasure)

We kind of have those odd ones: We use "Pumpkin", too. Why? How did that get to be a thing? Pumpkins are orange. They are big and fat. They sit on the stoop. We carve them in October. How the heck do they imply love or endearment?

What terms of endearment am I forgetting?

How Could Your Mood Not Be Improved....

....if this was a daily view for you? It doesn't even have to be Florence to be mood enhancing, I would settle for almost anywhere in Italy as a sure fire mood alterer. I've always really liked this panorama of Firenze. Of course, living there is different than being on vacation there. But, conveniently, my brain blocks out all the headaches that go with living in another country. Even when I am there. It just seems less irritating???

Actually, sometimes the little buggers of daily life can sometimes get blown up in another country. You crave normalcy. You crave things "working"....or at least the way in which you area used to them working.....good or bad, you know what to expect in your home country and are usually not disappointed.

But.....that's the adventure. That is the exciting part. Sure. It is also the pain-in-the-ass part, but I kinda like the different-ness of it. The confusion. The "mystery" of how to do something that natives don't even think about, and you are confused beyond words. Learning the ropes, becoming an old hand at something that was once a frustration; I like that process of becoming accustomed to the differences and not being phased by them anymore.

I can't imagine a time in my life where I won't want to live in another country because of this reason. It doesn't mean I hate America, it doesn't mean I have an unfulfilled life, it doesn't mean I am running away from problems or issues or past mistakes.......Listen, some people play golf. I daydream about travel and living abroad. It is a hobby that I occasionally have been extremely fortunate to be able to live out.

Gladiators.

Ah. Il Colesseo. The Colosseum. Home of the Gladiators, Christians, Lions, Slaves and Russell Crowe. Even though it is in different shape than it once was in its heyday; it still is magical. You can picture it, your mind's eye filling in the floor, seating area and imagining it as it once was.

Further, thinking about what actually took place there gets your mind thinking. Horrible, tragic ends of lives were met here. Without most spectators blinking an eye, I can imagine. We in modern, more "civilized" times, cluck our tongues at the barbarian-ness of it all. I say, judge not lest you be judged, Mr. and Mrs. 21st century.

We still are fascinated by others' suffering. Financial ruin, celebrity fallings and missteps, humiliation of the mighty and not so mighty. Look at our abundance of reality TV for the sake of real and created drama, often consisting of one's humiliation, shame, or misfortune. Is it all an attempt to make us feel better about our lives in some small (I use this both figuratively and literally)way? Natural disasters, the war, your neighbor's dirty, ugly secret.

I think that might be a small corner of the reason that we got rid of TV. News, reality TV, vapid sitcoms, whatever. The argument could be made that if you don't say anything, it won't change. Couldn't getting rid of it all together being a statement in and of itself?

Teenagers beating up older people caught on video camera, school shootings, celebrities who are famous for being famous or drinking/drugs or misbehaving, whatever it is. It is enough to just want to move to somewhere else.

But....we can't and we don't, for the most part. We play the hand we are dealt. And there is goodness in the world, their is righteousness here, and there is kindness. Check this out if you get a change today. I mean, chance. Hmmmm. Maybe if you need a change today?

Ah, Italia...

Fashion choices aside (hey it was the early 90s...man, those shorts are high waisted.), I like this picture. It is one of our day trips to Venice when I was working in Padova. Maybe 20 minutes east on a train and you are in Venice, or at least the train station. Then, you either walk across a bridge, hop a vaporetto (basically a city bus...except for the the fact that it is a boat.) or catch a water taxi and you can go anywhere in Venice.

I love Venice. Simply because there are very few places like it on earth, and it is my favorite water city simply for that fact and the fact that it is in Italy. We would go for the day when we lived in Padova. I felt very cosmopolitan. It became a common, normal thing to do:

"What do you want to do on our day off this week?" "I dunno. I guess we could go to Venice again." Who says that???

You go, you walk around, you shop a little, you people watch, you cannot get lost people. It is an island. I mean you can get disoriented---sure, you can get frustrated if you are actually trying to find something...but dollar for dollar, you cannot find a better place to just meamble, I mean--meander. I actually like meamble better. You are ambling and meandering: walking at a slow, but steady gait, sort of with a purpose but in no general direction. A perfect description of how to best take in Venice on your first trip.

Venice at Carnivale was the only time in my life I have been physically picked up and moved without my consent. There were so, so, soooo many people in the Piazza San Marco (Where this picture was taken in the spring time after Carnivale had come and gone). People were pushing and not really shoving...but trying to move. I was literally picked up off my feet and moved about 2 feet. I can't imagine the claustrophobia if I were short. Seriously. You wouldn't be able to breathe. But it was worth it; the costumes, the drama, the people watching. Everything. I heart it. I love it.

Italia. I heart it.

During the school year of 1993-94, I simultaneously finished my bachelor's degree via a correspondence English course while I lived in Italy, working as a nanny.

Since my departure in 1994, I have been plotting ways to get back to Italy, either as a tourist or hopefully someday to live for an extended period.

I lived in the region of Veneto, (highlighted in green) in the city of Padova. In English it is often referred to as Padua.......which.......I don't get, really. Why change it? Was Padova too hard to say?

Any way, the town had a couple claims to fame:

La Cappella degli Scrovegni. Giotto painted the inside for Mr. Scrovegni. I like history, but am not super into art history. He painted it. It was a long time ago. And a big deal, apparently.

And really blue. That was a big deal to use the Lapis Lazuli from Afghanistan via caravan. Showed you were Mr. Big Bucks to be able to afford all that blue-ness from so far away.

La Basilica di Sant'Antonio. Inside there are a bunch of offerings and gifts of thanks for the miracles asked of and granted by St. Anthony. There is a whole wall, or at least there was in 1994, of letters, cards, pictures, tokens, etc. for him. It is pretty interesting. My favorite part was the Nativity Scene at Christmas.

They weren't messing around with the Nativity Scene. They had lighting that surprised me in its dedication to all things lighting. There was sunrise-daylight-sunset-night-nightsky set to timers---we must have stood there and watched a couple 'days' worth of changes, stars that flickered and simulated thunderstorms with sound effects and lightning flashes.

I was so taken with all the lighting (Remember Raccoon Baby Syndrome from a couple days ago), so distracted, I don't really remember the rest.

I know that there was a whole village, a water well with figurines drawing water......but for the life of me, I can't remember if they were moving or not. I wouldn't be surprised if they had and I just don't remember.

The photo above is the Palazzo di Raggione: Palace of Reason. Sort of like the old Hall of Justice (it's not used anymore)---which always made me think of the Super Friends and the Legion of Doom.

I just liked the shape of it and the fruit and vegetable market in the Piazza below (Piazza delle Erbe). I loved going there and practicing my Italian. Or just walking through. We didn't really buy a whole lot from this market. Mostly, we would buy from the Vegetable Guy who would come by every couple days in his mini-mini pickup truck (Think glorified golf cart.....with an enclosed cab. It was blue.), and his scales with metal weights:

The carrots or garlic or tomatoes go in one basin of the scale and then he would place and exchange various brass weights until the scale was balanced. Then, he would write down the weight and move on to the next bit of produce. He was really fast, wore glasses and a blue shop coat. I liked watching him do his job.

Lastly for today, the University of Padova, started in the 1200s. Galileo Galilei gave lectures here.
Obviously, as a teacher of social studies---history being one of those studies----I think this is really cool. I could sit in front of the building and squwinch my mind's eye so that I wasn't in 1994, but in 1294 or whenever Galilei taught there and play a little movie of what it might have looked like and what people wore and all that kind of mumbo jumbo.

Yes, I am that much of a Social Studied Nerd that I think that is a fun way to spend 5 minutes or maybe 65 minutes. I'm just saying.....I like to daydream and play the What If game. It tends to drive some people crazy when I spend too much time in this world in my brain.

I just think it is cool that Padovians simply walk around and don't even care that they have old buildings and history and it's no big whoop. The first night ever in Italy, the guy I worked for took me and my nanny friend to get dinner after picking us up at the airport. Walking to the pizzeria, I asked how old the building was we were walking by. He said, sort of off handed, "Oh, I don't know...4, maybe 500 years? It's not very old."

Holy crap, are you kidding?!?!?! This building, that is not very old, is older than the written history of my country. When I teach American History, and we are in the colonial period..heck, even Pilgrim Era, wait...Jamestown as the first surviving settlement.....that's only early 1600s. My students' eyes glaze over; for all they care, I could be taking about the time of Babylon.

I can't imagine trying to teach Italian history. Although, teaching about Ancient Rome while in Italy would be really freakin' cool.