It's Fall break right now, so I've had some time to be with my thoughts more, slow down, exercise more, and reflect. A few weeks ago I was a little perplexed about how much I love it here, and was missing nothing about home. Nothing. I racked my brain trying to think of something that would allow me to leave here in just seven months without my heart breaking, as I'm obviously attached to Italy. Sure, I live like a peasant, I'm sitting here with fingerless gloves typing this, bundled up in sweats, drinking out of a Nutella jar/water glass (anyone got a problem with that? Didn't think so) and my sheets are hanging around the apartment air-drying - hopefully soon.
My friends are writing of Fall back home, some snow, pumpkin spice lattes, apple orchards, and pumpkin carving. This week it hit me. Yes, I'll blame hormones once again as the source of emotional chow chow, but e-mails from a few friends I hadn't heard from in a while put me over the edge and I was (finally) in tears over the realization that I was missing people, places, things back home. And thank God.
Being out away from the city where the leaves are changing definitely does it for me. We were in Greve on Wednesday and the smell of the leaves on the ground and the chill in the air almost brought me to tears (fucking hormones, really) while waiting for a bus back to town. Could be that I just spent the day tasting about 18 wines too.
That morning our bus had gotten in kind of late, so we missed the "cappuccino window" but went to this place we knew had rockin' cappuccini and ordered them anyway. It was 10:30 A.M. and we got "the look" - the "You are either tourists or German" look. (Back home, the only look I get is, "Does this chick have any thing else to wear besides yoga pants and flip-flops?") In Italy, drinking a cappuccino after 10 AM is a faux pas. It is just "not done."
NOTE 1: This is how I make my morning cappuccino, sometimes hugging a hot water bottle to keep warm (heat is very expensive and only on certain times of the day, but it's really not that cold yet.)
That thing to the left is a hand-pump milk frother. That thing to the right is a Moka pot - most of you have seen those before. I had a room mate a few years back that had one and thought it looked like something that could explode, so I would never touch it. I finally bought one, googled the directions, and am loving it. I just love being a big girl. (This as I turn my Nutella jar drinking glass so Snoopy is facing me, or it's "wrong").
So I drink them at home whenever the hell I want. I feel like I'm living in a cappuccino closet, and Starbuck's in the states is the only place I can come out. "I'm here, I'm half caff soy extra hot. And I'm proud!"
Today I was on the train to Pisa, reflecting reflecting reflecting, hormones, hormones hormones...I saw the colors of the leaves, was craving a damned pumpkin spice latte - ANYTHING with pumpkin. I shifted thought to the pasta machine I'd like to buy when I get back now that I finally have baseline ho-made pasta making skills. I smiled thinking about that large, well-equipped kitchen with the island that allowed me to simultaneously execute three separate Christmas cookie recipes in 2005, the year my anise biscotti (version 1) was born.
NOTE 2: Can't mention going to Pisa without the gratuitous leaning tower of "Hell no there's no stupid shot of me posing like I'm holding it up." Ugh. But I love this picture:
I think often about living this simple life in a place I love, and how with it has brought more happiness and peace than I've ever experienced. But it feels good to know that I won't have to leave Italy kicking and screaming when my time is up here. Kind of like my last career - for two decades I hoped and prayed I would know when I was ready to go, as it was a great ride (minus the last miserable 15 months) and I adored my career. But as I started seeing other opportunities, it was easier to let go of something I loved so much. It was time to explore another aspect of life, and other aspects of myself as well. I was ready.
So when I have to leave this beautiful place, this simple life, and go back to Colorado (um, which SO doesn't suck, by the way!), I am comforted by the feeling that I should be ready, and this happiness and peace can go with me. Hell, it was with me all summer, really. Next year I will make kick ass pasta in that kick ass kitchen for my kick ass friends. I am relieved. But for now, I have my apple-scented candle burning, have my Moka pot primed for my next cappuccino at 0:whatever-the-hell-time-I-want-one-30, and need to get back to writing about wine, which is why I'm here in the first place.
This time next year, I will remember this with so much fondness, and thanks to this blog, can revisit when I start to forget. And I will do it with my hands wrapped around a pumpkin spice damned latte or cappuccino, glass of wine, whatever I want, WHENever I want, baby ... unless I'm on my way to Paris to learn about French wines next Fall - in which case, I'm sure to stumble into faux pas central (hopefully not with my face this time.)
Peace, love, and all things cozy and warming your heart.
My friends are writing of Fall back home, some snow, pumpkin spice lattes, apple orchards, and pumpkin carving. This week it hit me. Yes, I'll blame hormones once again as the source of emotional chow chow, but e-mails from a few friends I hadn't heard from in a while put me over the edge and I was (finally) in tears over the realization that I was missing people, places, things back home. And thank God.
Being out away from the city where the leaves are changing definitely does it for me. We were in Greve on Wednesday and the smell of the leaves on the ground and the chill in the air almost brought me to tears (fucking hormones, really) while waiting for a bus back to town. Could be that I just spent the day tasting about 18 wines too.
That morning our bus had gotten in kind of late, so we missed the "cappuccino window" but went to this place we knew had rockin' cappuccini and ordered them anyway. It was 10:30 A.M. and we got "the look" - the "You are either tourists or German" look. (Back home, the only look I get is, "Does this chick have any thing else to wear besides yoga pants and flip-flops?") In Italy, drinking a cappuccino after 10 AM is a faux pas. It is just "not done."
NOTE 1: This is how I make my morning cappuccino, sometimes hugging a hot water bottle to keep warm (heat is very expensive and only on certain times of the day, but it's really not that cold yet.)
That thing to the left is a hand-pump milk frother. That thing to the right is a Moka pot - most of you have seen those before. I had a room mate a few years back that had one and thought it looked like something that could explode, so I would never touch it. I finally bought one, googled the directions, and am loving it. I just love being a big girl. (This as I turn my Nutella jar drinking glass so Snoopy is facing me, or it's "wrong").
So I drink them at home whenever the hell I want. I feel like I'm living in a cappuccino closet, and Starbuck's in the states is the only place I can come out. "I'm here, I'm half caff soy extra hot. And I'm proud!"
Today I was on the train to Pisa, reflecting reflecting reflecting, hormones, hormones hormones...I saw the colors of the leaves, was craving a damned pumpkin spice latte - ANYTHING with pumpkin. I shifted thought to the pasta machine I'd like to buy when I get back now that I finally have baseline ho-made pasta making skills. I smiled thinking about that large, well-equipped kitchen with the island that allowed me to simultaneously execute three separate Christmas cookie recipes in 2005, the year my anise biscotti (version 1) was born.
NOTE 2: Can't mention going to Pisa without the gratuitous leaning tower of "Hell no there's no stupid shot of me posing like I'm holding it up." Ugh. But I love this picture:
I think often about living this simple life in a place I love, and how with it has brought more happiness and peace than I've ever experienced. But it feels good to know that I won't have to leave Italy kicking and screaming when my time is up here. Kind of like my last career - for two decades I hoped and prayed I would know when I was ready to go, as it was a great ride (minus the last miserable 15 months) and I adored my career. But as I started seeing other opportunities, it was easier to let go of something I loved so much. It was time to explore another aspect of life, and other aspects of myself as well. I was ready.
So when I have to leave this beautiful place, this simple life, and go back to Colorado (um, which SO doesn't suck, by the way!), I am comforted by the feeling that I should be ready, and this happiness and peace can go with me. Hell, it was with me all summer, really. Next year I will make kick ass pasta in that kick ass kitchen for my kick ass friends. I am relieved. But for now, I have my apple-scented candle burning, have my Moka pot primed for my next cappuccino at 0:whatever-the-hell-time-I-want-one-30, and need to get back to writing about wine, which is why I'm here in the first place.
This time next year, I will remember this with so much fondness, and thanks to this blog, can revisit when I start to forget. And I will do it with my hands wrapped around a pumpkin spice damned latte or cappuccino, glass of wine, whatever I want, WHENever I want, baby ... unless I'm on my way to Paris to learn about French wines next Fall - in which case, I'm sure to stumble into faux pas central (hopefully not with my face this time.)
Peace, love, and all things cozy and warming your heart.
There were a lot of times when I was in COS that I got into that "reflection-nearly-to-tears" state. I'd be driving around the Frontrange, or near the end I was riding Iron Horse around the backroads in the rockies, and I always thought to myself "Damn... I wish I could share this with my friends back home." I don't think it's a hormonal thing, so much as it is an experiencing-something-great thing. Enjoy your time over there, and we'll see you when you get back.
ReplyDeleteCiao, TJ - Am enjoying my time immensely, thank you. But it's good to miss Colorado - I missed it every day for 3 years. Like I said, a few weeks ago I was wondering how I'd make myself get on a plane next summer. Now, if I could only leave the hot flashes and wicked hormonal mood swings here... Enjoy your time there too - it will go fast.
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