The Motor Show: 14 Surreal Days

(Translation: "Women and Motors. Motors.")

It would probably be impossible to describe, in this space, the experience that was the Motor Show in all of its craziness and absurdity. I spent 14 days, with no break, utterly immersed in a world that has no bearing whatsoever on the life I'm familiar with. It was exhausting and weird, but rivetingly interesting. How could it not be? When will I ever spend 14 days around race cars and fashion models again?



My job (alternately known as "image girl" and "hostess") was a mix between desk attendant, car ornament, travel guide, translator, gadget distributor, and peacemaker. I spoke and wrote so little English after the first few days that I stopped thinking in it at all.

Since I survived, I think that I can say that I passed through some kind of unnamed life test. (When I started, I honestly didn't know if I would make it through.) And I not only survived - I did just fine and even managed to keep my spirits up amid the cutthroat behavior exhibited behind the scenes, and the sleaziness on display 12 hours a day.

I got to ride in a race car, on a race track, driven by a professional race car pilot. Twice. Amazing!



I tried to protect my feet, but they hurt. They feel somewhat better now.



I was actually under the protection of a bouncer. We were amazed by his water bottle crushing abilities. We actually arm-wrestled with this man - 4 against 1. He won, anyway.



No one was really stuck in his or her prescribed role. And I found that the people I least expected to be kind and genuine really were; and vice versa. It's a cliched lesson that I learn time and time again.



It was probably the furthest out of my comfort zone I've gone while I've been in Italy. And it's really satisfying to know that I made it through, and that I can enjoy talking about and dissecting the experience. Whether or not I ever do anything like it again, I have no regrets. I am a Motor Show survivor!

Brussels Sprouties

This blog entry is for Rosa, who asked me to post again. It's been too long since I wrote here, and I apologize to my small readership. I haven't been home for an extended period of time in what feels like forever; and when I've been home, I've been sleeping.

A week and a half ago I got back from a lovely trip to London. I stayed with Kasia, who I hadn't spent so much time with since high school (and I missed out, in that time) and Eva, who was my traveling buddy in Puglia as well. Here's Eva, navigating the big city.



And Kasia, learning about the cool stuff in the Victoria and Albert Museum.



I enjoyed my usual culinary adventures, including lots of Korean food...



...and a big ex-pat Thanksgiving dinner.



As always, Borough Market was one of the best parts of the trip. We had the most fun at Neal's Yard Dairy, where we received an enormous amount of free cheese and admired the display. This picture should be scratch'n'sniff.



There were so many good moments to this trip. My Tangfastics (the best sour candy ever; why does Italy not have sour canddy?), cheddar cheese, Christmas lights everywhere, the Google office and all of its goodies (homemade whipped cream!!), getting a chance to play house and travel alone in such a big, beautiful city. It was cold and damp and rainy, which was uncomfortable but appropriate nonetheless. I had never seen London during holiday season.



I'll be back!

Chill

The caption reads, "the world changes". I don't know what I think about the constant appropriation (and manipulation) of Obama's image by the Italian left, but I'm glad that we can celebrate his win together.

I recently finished a very tiring but stimulating interpreting job in which I had to present the machines pictured below.



They look like robots, but they're really meant for cultivating the ground between and under grapevines (and fruit trees). I learned how to say a lot of new things in Italian (tractor! open field!) and I gained a momentary entry to a new world. Because I came to Italy and immediately started working in an office at a cooperative - then moving to an office at a consulting and tourism company - I've had contact with lots of Italian college grads and office workers, but almost no one outside that bracket, aside from some of the parents of my friends.

There's so much of Italy that I don't know, and working at an agricultural convention really helped me see that. In two years it's impossible to really know a new culture or a new country. I wonder if it's ever really possible. After all, there's a lot of my own country that I'm not familiar with.

Now I'm off to London for some good Thanksgiving turkey -- and next week I start my job as a Fiat girl . . . Apologies to anyone I've been out of touch with, I haven't had much time to breathe recently!

It's November and Obama Won!

I guess I've been a bit absent from my blog lately, and for no real reason at all. It's still a weird time here and the rhythm of my life has changed. It appears that I still haven't adjusted.

Fall is always beautiful, though. And this fall is even better because Obama won and suddenly things are much more hopeful. It's been wonderful to see how involved and happy Italians are about our election. It can be easy to forget how interconnected we all really are.

I'm still feeling uncertain and a bit lost as I look for work, but last Tuesday made the whole world seem more cheerful. Though I've been doing work at home, I miss having the opportunity to interact with lots of people on a day to day basis. There is a wonderful freedom in being able to control my time, but it's also lonely to be so much more solitary than I used to be.



But surely character building, right?



At the moment, the most pressing question is: how can I remove a temporary tattoo of a wolf scratch?

Absentee Ballot

Still looking for work.

But I've had some adventures since my last post, which have (in my cheerful moments) convinced me that it's okay to be at loose ends even though the world is in a crisis and in six months I'll be a quarter-of-a-century years old.

In seven days, I walked a runway, got my hair cut on stage in front of hundreds of people, had my makeup done for the first time, found out that I have a Maserati (not Fiat) face, was informed that 4 inch heels are just barely high enough (those shoes lift me to the grand height of 6 foot 2 inches, if you're interested), and sweated it out in front of a real camera for the first time. I made a historic pilgrimage (doubling as a 40 minute hike) four times, translated a relay race handbook and found a place that will make soy milk cappuccinos for my milk-hating stomach. These experiences brought only enjoyment.

Possibly the best of all, though - and certainly the most important - is when I voted on camera.

I'd sleep better if I had a regular routine and a paycheck, but this isn't so bad.

In Search of Gold

Since I got back to Bologna about a week and a half ago, I've been overly stressing myself about finding work. It actually makes sense that I haven't found my perfect job in 11 days, doesn't it? I think that a job search makes it easy to lose perspective, and I'm trying not to (though in some moments it's pretty frustrating).



The possibilities open to tall female English speakers are very strange, and sometimes promising - sometimes depressing. Interpreting jobs may be based on your skill at speaking another language; or it may be based on your hair color and height.



I've already had some amusing adventures. Yesterday I met an Italian girl who is taller than I am (an unseen feat in my two years here). She told me that when she doesn't want to be bothered on the street, she wears heels. That way, men (all of whom are much shorter, obviously) just stare at her in shock and are unable to make annoying comments.



If I were better at wearing heels, I would consider this idea myself.



In the end I suppose I just have to accept the fact that transitions suck. Someday when I become inspired to write a book about this whole experience, which becomes an Oscar-winning movie, and then a syndicated TV show with reruns on Lifetime, I'll say it was all worth it.

(P.S. These photos were taken this summer at this exceptional vineyard in southwestern Sicily. Go there someday if you ever have the opportunity.)

Bi-Coastal

Having just returned to Bologna after my weeks in Cambridge (and DC and NYC), I'm feeling a bit sad and disoriented. Jetlag is only a small part of it. It's odd to feel at home in two places so far away from each other. I wish there was an easier way to go between my two homes.

My first post-trip blog entry must, of course, center on the wonderful lobster meal that I had with my father. This dinner was a subject of much planning and anticipation. If you don't know this already, Boston is a good place to eat lobsters. Especially at Legal Seafood. Here I am with mine (what happiness!) . . .



And here's my dad with his. (His happiness may be even more intense. Please note that we were real high-rollers and we got medium sized lobsters.)



As you can see, he's holding his hand back to stop himself from devouring the lobster while I take the photo.

If you've ever eaten one, you know that lobsters are not the easiest creatures to pull apart. It takes strength and determination to get all the meat out of there. But it's so satisfying. And once you've gotten the hang of it, you want to keep going.



Not so different from my bi-coastal lifestyle.

My Prize: Grazie Serenaaaaa!!

Right before leaving for Cambridge, I found out that I received a blogging prize, Punto d'Arte della Vita, thanks to the lovely Serena. The explanation and rules are here in Italian and English.




Si tratta del premio di qualita'di Punto d'Arte della Vita, creato tempo addietro per onorare e riconoscere il lavoro svolto dai bloggers,i loro blog motivano la "terapia d'arte":

Ecco le regole:
1)Indicare da chi si è ricevuto
2)Dire perché si è deciso di creare il blog:
3)Dire qual è la propria arte preferita.
4)Onorare altri blogs amici.

The Punto d'Arte della Vita award was created some time ago to honor and recognize the work of bloggers whose blogs inspire or motivate "art therapy".

The rules are:
1) Indicate who awarded you.
2) Explain why you created your blog.
3) Describe your favorite type of art.
4) Award other blogs.

I'll try to follow the rules!

As I wrote above, my friend Serena gave me this award.

I created my blog as a travel journal at the suggestion of one of my NYU professors, June Foley. I wanted a place to note down my impressions of Bologna and put up photographs. I knew that it would be a good way to motivate myself to do more than just write emails, since I'm not really a diary person. I think that June realized, when she made her suggestion, that the experience would be much more fulfilling than I expected. I've really come to see my blog as a sort of scrapbook or album of my experience over the past two years. I think that my readership has gone down with every moment, but I know and love everyone who comes here!

My favorite type of art - this is difficult. I will never stop loving photography, especially certain images, like those by Sally Mann (who inspired me to pick up a camera in the first place). And creating photographs is something that's a part of me.



But I think that I only manage to lose myself in music and the written word. I have a split vote.

For my blogging friends: Eva, so that she will START BLOGGING. (Evina Boema, e' ora di cominciare con quel blog!) And Giorgio, so that he'll start another blog, for example: Via Avesella 24!

Happy Feet

In three days I'm going home to Cambridge, where I'll be until the end of September. When I first planned this trip, I made the choice to travel home this month so that my coworkers could take vacations during August. Also, because I wanted to attend family events that would take place this month.

Things have changed since then - no more job (luckily, my ex-coworkers got to go on their vacations regardless), and nothing to attend when I go home. I've been looking for work here, but have had mixed results and I realize that the search is going to be a long one. Over the last week, my roommates Massimo and Francesca (of 2 years and 1 year, respectively) both left the house. Now I have two new roomies, Corinna and Giorgio (ciao, Giorgio!). I've been instructed to manage the household as if it were my own, something I have no idea how to do. I found out two days ago that my work permit, for which I applied almost a year ago, was accepted and then rejected on the basis of a bureaucratic error - something that could've been entirely avoided. My expectations had been low, but it was still a huge disappointment.



Since I just got back from a terrific vacation, I don't feel prepared to depart for what seems like an undeserved (second) vacation. But there's something about going home that recharges me in a special way. There's a unique combination of one-eyed cat, abundant kimchi, and sweaty yoga that I can't find in Italy. I think that it'll be good for me, even if I haven't really earned more relaxation time.



Despite the transitions of this summer, and certain stresses which are now weighing on me, something strange happened in Italy during the past few months. I feel as if I've found piece of security blanket in Bologna that wasn't here before. Maybe it's because over the past few months I learned a lot about relying on myself. It's helped me open my eyes to the good stuff within the people around me, many of whom have supplied me with a great deal of unexpected love and support. So I'm stressed and jobless and permitless, but really lucky, too. And grateful.

Let's talk about food.

The food in Puglia is delicious. For this reason people are not happy when they have to wait for it.


There's seafood everywhere. In pasta, for example.

Mussels in Puglia are super good. The best I've ever had; I also tried my first fried mussel, which I had never even heard of. Reaaaaaally good.

Fish can grilled, with herbs and other delicious things inside.

Side note: This fish was grilled for my friend Eva, who spent her Puglia vacation with a terrible wisdom tooth-ache. She couldn't eat anything hard. On her second-to-last day, she had her tooth pulled by the friend of the father of our friends (yes, it's complicated, but the important thing to know is that our friends' father makes fake teeth for a living).
From then on, she was fine.

Fish can also be fried. In this case, it's sailing off the plate. Hence Francesca's un-photogenic expression.


You can eat sea urchins, too. But first you have to clean out all the sand and seawater inside them. The little ridges of orange are what you can eat; possibly eggs? I'm not sure what it is. The strangest thing is that the sea urchins are still alive while you cut them open and wash them out; all those sharp little spikes are moving around. It can be a bit unnerving.


When not stuffing yourself, it is worthwhile to go to antique markets and try on old-fashioned ladies' underwear.

It'll definitely fit you after all the eating.

The Most Beautiful Sea in the World

I just got back from my trip to Puglia, and I fell completely in love with the place. The hospitality, the food, the landscape. Everything. And especially the beaches. Puglia is the heel of the boot, and the southernmost part, where I was, is really shaped like a heel - a spike heel. So depending on which side of the heel you're on, you face the Adriatic Sea or the Ionian Sea, and you can drive between the two in a matter of hours.

The water is so beautiful - in every place I went to - that it's like a swimming pool. But better. Anyway, this post is dedicated to the sea in Puglia.

This is the water at Castro, near the southern tip. We went to visit the lovely Serena who took us on a boat tour with her father - the sea wolf - and stuffed us with food. This was my favorite seaside spot from the whole trip. The water is incredibly clear and blue. Grazieeeeeeee Serena!


At the Baia dei Turchi, in the Limini area. The presence of the man in a Speedo is accidental, but a good illustration of the Italian beach scene.


At Otranto. This is the water in the port of a small city. It's definitely not the port of Boston, that's for sure.


This is the beach right outside my roommate Francesca's family beach house. You opened the door, and you saw this.


The same water, with me in it.


I want to turn around and go back!

Train Down the Coast

Bologna is so empty right now that the streets seem haunted. And it's getting gradually more difficult to buy stuff - something, anything - because all the stores are closing. Not just the stores: the hospitals, public offices, university, you name it. Whether you have a hernia or a broken kitchen sink, the message is the same: wait until September. All of this means one thing: it's time to go on vacation . . . in another place!

Tomorrow I'm heading to Lecce (that's the heel of the boot for the geographically inclined). I will stay with various wonderfully hospitable friends. Oddly, my most hospitable friends all come from the same city. This is a clear indication that they are worth visiting, simultaneously.

The plan is basic: beach and food. Can't wait.