While I know siesta is technically a Spanish word, in Italy, it's actually pretty common to work until early afternoon, then go home for a few hours and rest. Then, you go back to work until about 7 or 8 p.m.
Lately I've been feeling so burnt out. There are times in the middle of the day I'd like to just go home, turn off the lights, and just be. Or, I'd like to get a whole bunch of things done during the day that I can't do since I work a typical 8:30-5 job.
This week DH and I had a couple of pretty real conversations about where we want our lives to go. We disagreed a lot in terms of timing, but I have to understand that we do both want the same things. It's just hard to swallow that not everything may happen according to my plan, my timeline.
Which makes me think back to Paola. She and her husband were separated by an entire body of water for more than five years. I never had the chance to meet him because he lived in Sardinia, a large island off the west coast of Italy. He lived there because he had a business and wanted to provide for his family. Paola ran a small bookstore with her sister Rafaella in Florence. It wasn't much, but she enjoyed it. Also, Paola and her husband wanted Guilia to have a good education, and she was accepted into a fine arts high school in Florence. So, they separated.
Italians really value the family, which is evident from the sacrifices this one family made for their daughter (and inadvertently, their long-term plan). Living away from my husband is not something I would want to do in order to fulfill my life plan, or for him to fulfill his. But the Italians have somehow managed to create a work-life balance that works. Or at least appears to work.
I wonder what Paola's life plan was, or if she had one at all. Was moving away with her daughter part of that original plan? From what I can decipher from my meager Italian skills, my thought is no. They missed him -- Papa -- terribly.
I try not to overplan, but I can't help it. I'm the kind of person that once I get what I want, I am already thinking about the next thing. It's hard for me to just be, and appreciate what I have.
A siesta, for me, right now, would be a sure waste of time. My mind races with downtime. I think of the worst. I dream of the best. I settle on what is, in my opinion, mediocrity. But I'm trying to find the value in just being. Breathing. Seeing. Smelling. Loving. And maybe doing all these things will help me see that whatever my plan turns out to be, it will be okay.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Perche non?
One thing I can say for a fact is that Italians love to eat.
The funny thing about my Italian family was that because they were two women, while they loved to cook, they left the eating to us Americans. "Mangia!" we would be instructed if we didn't clean our plates, which were full of carbs, carbs, more carbs, and a few leaves of lettuce. Yum.
But while we think Italians are gelato- and tiramsu-eating machines, that is not really the case, at least not with my two 102-pound Italian family members. So "dessert" was usually a pear, if anything (one that Paola had to peel for me because I had never peeled one in my life).
It wasn't long before my classmates and I found a little gelato place near our school (The British Institute) called "Perche non?" Translation: Why not?
And at 1 euro a pop, it truly was a miracle if we were able to resist.
I've always liked to bake, and it makes me happy. So tonight I cooked a nice meal for the hubby and me and then make a delish cupcake, courtesy of Peabody. I cheated by using boxed devil's food because I was more interested in the frosting and the cute little filled raspberry garnishes on top. They were so yummy! DH had 3. I had 2. Diet tomorrow. Seriously.
They came out pretty good, right? Next time I won't make the frosting as runny, but I don't like an overly sweet frosting. Ah, well.
Now there are 19 cupcakes sitting in my house. Smelling yummy. This is bad. While I'm done munching for the evening, I'm afraid my fleeting willpower will be overpowered by the "perche, no?" mentality. And if it does, well, that just means one less cupcake I'll have to mangio tomorrow.
The funny thing about my Italian family was that because they were two women, while they loved to cook, they left the eating to us Americans. "Mangia!" we would be instructed if we didn't clean our plates, which were full of carbs, carbs, more carbs, and a few leaves of lettuce. Yum.
But while we think Italians are gelato- and tiramsu-eating machines, that is not really the case, at least not with my two 102-pound Italian family members. So "dessert" was usually a pear, if anything (one that Paola had to peel for me because I had never peeled one in my life).
It wasn't long before my classmates and I found a little gelato place near our school (The British Institute) called "Perche non?" Translation: Why not?
And at 1 euro a pop, it truly was a miracle if we were able to resist.
I've always liked to bake, and it makes me happy. So tonight I cooked a nice meal for the hubby and me and then make a delish cupcake, courtesy of Peabody. I cheated by using boxed devil's food because I was more interested in the frosting and the cute little filled raspberry garnishes on top. They were so yummy! DH had 3. I had 2. Diet tomorrow. Seriously.
They came out pretty good, right? Next time I won't make the frosting as runny, but I don't like an overly sweet frosting. Ah, well.
Now there are 19 cupcakes sitting in my house. Smelling yummy. This is bad. While I'm done munching for the evening, I'm afraid my fleeting willpower will be overpowered by the "perche, no?" mentality. And if it does, well, that just means one less cupcake I'll have to mangio tomorrow.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
My Italian self
Six years ago, I was happily roaming the streets of Europe with my college friends, soaking in culture, the architecture, and the food.
And of course the language.
Living in another country where the language was foreign to me wasn't really as challenging as I thought it would be. Okay, yes, everyone in Florence speaks English, but that's beside the point. The point is, you don't have to know a language word for word to be able to communicate. I remember many dinner conversations with my Italian family Paola and Guilia that required getting up from the table and opening up the Italian-English dictionary only to find that the literal translation of the word I was trying to find didn't exist.
But I made it work. I made hand gestures or faces or pointed to things or made noises. My other two American roommates would try to help (or just laugh at me). And after seven weeks of Italian immersion, I was in no way fluent but luckily, Italians are able to say great things with just their hands.
So, what does the above ramble have to do with me, in this moment, right now? Every now and then I think back to who I was six years ago. Sure, I'm the same person technically, but in Italy, I was my happy self. My inquisitive self. My artsy self. My nerdy self. My frugal self. My uninhibited self (okay, not always the best quality). And even though I am still all of those things, I find it hard to be all of those things day to day. I work. I'm in school. I cook (notice how I didn't say clean?). I teach colorguard. I'm a doggy mommy. And we've been TTC for more than a year, and not preventing for about three.
TTC with nothing to show for it takes a toll. Sometimes I wonder if it's ever going to happen for us. People who know about our struggles seem to think it will, but how do they know? Do they understand why it hasn't happened for us? Do they understand how insensitive some things they say sound to me? Do they really care to know about what we've been through?
Six years ago, I knew nothing about TTC. And why should I have? But now, the week after my 27th birthday, all I can think of is why didn't we try sooner?
In this last year, I've lost the Italian in me. But now that I recognize it, I'm going to do everything I can to find her and reel her back in. Stay tuned for life lessons, photos, recipes, nerdiness and yes, a little bit of TTC talk, too.
Ciao for now,
S
And of course the language.
Living in another country where the language was foreign to me wasn't really as challenging as I thought it would be. Okay, yes, everyone in Florence speaks English, but that's beside the point. The point is, you don't have to know a language word for word to be able to communicate. I remember many dinner conversations with my Italian family Paola and Guilia that required getting up from the table and opening up the Italian-English dictionary only to find that the literal translation of the word I was trying to find didn't exist.
But I made it work. I made hand gestures or faces or pointed to things or made noises. My other two American roommates would try to help (or just laugh at me). And after seven weeks of Italian immersion, I was in no way fluent but luckily, Italians are able to say great things with just their hands.
So, what does the above ramble have to do with me, in this moment, right now? Every now and then I think back to who I was six years ago. Sure, I'm the same person technically, but in Italy, I was my happy self. My inquisitive self. My artsy self. My nerdy self. My frugal self. My uninhibited self (okay, not always the best quality). And even though I am still all of those things, I find it hard to be all of those things day to day. I work. I'm in school. I cook (notice how I didn't say clean?). I teach colorguard. I'm a doggy mommy. And we've been TTC for more than a year, and not preventing for about three.
TTC with nothing to show for it takes a toll. Sometimes I wonder if it's ever going to happen for us. People who know about our struggles seem to think it will, but how do they know? Do they understand why it hasn't happened for us? Do they understand how insensitive some things they say sound to me? Do they really care to know about what we've been through?
Six years ago, I knew nothing about TTC. And why should I have? But now, the week after my 27th birthday, all I can think of is why didn't we try sooner?
In this last year, I've lost the Italian in me. But now that I recognize it, I'm going to do everything I can to find her and reel her back in. Stay tuned for life lessons, photos, recipes, nerdiness and yes, a little bit of TTC talk, too.
Ciao for now,
S
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