Bad Bad Groundhog

It has recently come to my attention that the sun isn't going to be around much for the next six weeks.


I wish it would come back. Instead, this gray weather makes me feel like this:


And I want to dress like this, every day:


I can't believe that I spent any time, at all, complaining about the heat during the past few months.


I want to go back to the sun!

p.s. Many thanks to all of my readers (you are a passionate few, apparently!) who wrote to me about the mold issue. I'm also trying to convince my landlord to pay attention, so . . . We'll see what happens. I'm going to combat it as best I can, even if that means leaving it alone so that I don't have to breathe it in!

Snowing Snowballs

I was recently reminded that I haven't put up photos of Bologna in a dog's age. Here's one that doesn't really demonstrate much about the city itself (there's only one canal) but it's one of my favorite spots.


This morning there was lots of snow in Bologna - which is supposed to happen once every few years, and instead has happened more than three times so far this winter.


This was particularly bizarre because instead of falling in flakes, the snow was coming out of the sky in big clumps.
Here are some of the melting non-snowflakes on the terrace. If only this place weren't so wet, they might've actually stuck.


Otherwise I'm still trying to get over jetlag, battling various illnesses, looking for a new roommate, and translating like a maniac. If anyone knows how to get mold off the walls, let me know. It's really that damp here.

And it's gray, as you can tell from all of these photos (including my own).

Passing time, Jetlagged

Now that I'm sitting at my computer in Bologna, with translations to do and Italian in my head, it's very strange to think that just a few days ago I was at home in Cambridge.



I never seem to get over the disorientation that comes from passing from one country to the other, maybe because it's not just a change in culture and surroundings: there's the big difference between enjoying your mom's cooking and being a self-sufficient semi-grownup. Since my "grown-up" life takes place in Bologna, it's certainly not possible to have both.



And then there's the foggy Bologna weather, which is a bit different from this:



And this:



And the comfort of family.



But that I'm here there are upcoming weddings to look forward to (one of which I'll be an official witness to!), various visitors, new places to go, tortellini . . . So it appears that family (and good food) are quite present in Bologna; just in a different way. I just have to realign myself. Before long I'll be wondering why I was so disoriented.

Time's Up

It's almost time to head back to Bologna. This is always a bittersweet departure; well, it's bittersweet to go either way. There are lots of things to miss. Like . . .

My family.


My beloved cat.


My friends.


Food from all over the world.


But there are also lots of great things in Bologna to look forward to. Upcoming work projects, friends, choir, more food, my bike, etc etc etc. It's just a matter of getting out of home mode and back into the life that, for me, has become my real, daily existence. Time to go.

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!