How I'm seein' stuff

My host mom, Laura. Just talking about things that matter.

Italians don't joke around with Sacrament celebrations. This is a baptism cake. And yes, it was as delicious as it looks.

When the baptism is 1.5 hr. long, this happens. I'm with ya Mags.

Running route. I was totally running when I took this.

Sono Americana...

That means I am an American girl...and it is usually followed by an apologetic "scusa..."
This happens a lot.

I'm going to do a list today because I have many thoughts and emotions and lists are easy.

Things that are great: 
1) My family. If my family wasn't great/understanding/super patient/kind, I would hop on a plane tomorrow. This whole nannying in a foreign country without understanding what the heck anyone is saying is tough. Coming home to this family is worth it.

2) Being able to have silence. Silence unlike anything I've ever experienced. When I go to parties and such with the family, it gets old to sit around pretending like I know what people are talking about. So I've had a lot of time to sit and just think. Journal a bit; but mostly just extended time sit and be in my own thoughts.

3) The kids. They are not only super cute, but curious and sweet. And they understand English.

4) The fact that at night I watch Alias with my host parents.

5) Enjoying running for the first time in my life ever. I dont understand how it happened, but I am going with it.

6) Being chewed out by a grumpy neighbor because we were playing soccer too close to his car. And not understanding a word. Take that old man. Stop wearing neon running tights, its disturbing. Also stop going through peoples trash to figure out who isnt sorting it correctly. It was me, and I literally can't tell you that.

Things that are a challenge: 

1) Not being able to rely on my people skills.
I used to work in the ID office at school and we would get new international students all the time. I remember listening to people in my office try to explain things slowly to them. The students would say, "I don't understand English."
And the office worker would try to explain it again, using different words. Still no understanding. They played this game a few times, and usually the International students pretended to understand and left. I remember thinking, "If they don't understand English they don't understand. You can't just pick new English words and hope its going to work. Their life sucks right now." Well, now people do that to me.

At camp last summer we had two nuns visit from Slovenia. They didnt speak English very well, but it was wonderful having them. I remember when we were setting up teepees I avoided working on the tee pee with them. Why? Because it was awkward. I didnt want to deal with the elephant in the room of misunderstanding, so I just avoided it. I remember thinking at the time, this is so wrong and I'm a terrible person, but whatever. Well now I have people running away from me. Actually running.
I get it, I really do. I'm not offended. I'm just not used to people avoiding me, if I'm being real. I'm also not used to people feeling sorry for me but that is definitely happening.

Fun fact about the Slovenian nuns: We did a rescue first aid simulation, and some counselors were pretend "hit" by lightening. Then a "hidden" actress fell off a log and had a fake spinal injury. Our task was to figure out how to get her to safety in the midst of this "lightening storm". The sister didn't realize it was fake until we were almost done. Whoops.

2) Its not that I feel isolated. Thankfully that hasn't hit. I'm just very overwhelmed. People always say, "You need time to process." So I've tried. But I dont even really know how to start. Do I just sit down and say,
"Ok, now I am going to start thinking about the fact that I am in a foreign country with nobody I know and I am in charge of the lives of two children and I don't know how to communicate anything to their friends and their teachers. But its fine because I'm processing it. But actually I'm just freaking out." 
I'm not sure.

I went into town the other day to try to learn my way around. I'm terrible with directions, and I don't like crowds. There was an economic festival in town the day I went and I realized I didnt know my way around at all.
I started sweating a lot (this is usually what I do when I am internal freak out mode). On the outside I look calm and collected. But I seriously sweat like a maniac. So I walked into a shoe store, because I could pretend to want to buy shoes. Well no shoes were on display, there were only boxes on boxes and a woman who said, "Prego", as in "Can I help you?" uh...uh....bye (that was me). Why the heck were no shoes on display in a shoe store? Italy is weird.

So then I walked into this insanely beautiful church that they call small but I don't. Just so happened, Mass was about to start. If you accidently walk into the best party every you don't just leave. So I sat down and breathed, brought my heart rate down and tried to prepare myself for mass. Then I realized the Italian women were giving me weird judgy looks. "What the..." Oh shoot. I was wearing shorts. Not super short shorts but finger length khaki shorts. People generally don't wear shorts in Italy and in church?! Heaven forbid. Get out you sinful child.

Another thing about me: I hate not being dressed appropriately for attire or weather. I usually change outfits 10x until I get it perfect. I wish I were kidding.
One time (only one time) in college I went last min. to a party in my apt. complex. I wasnt planning on going, and I still hadnt showered, but one of my roomates was going so I thought, "Why not? I'm not doing anything." Lo and behold every girl there was dressed in anthroplogy and wedges and cool swingy dresses that would look like a moo moo on me.
Shoot. Did they care what I looked like? Heck no. If anything it helped them look cuter in pictures. Did I? Oh heck yes. Remarkably I stayed, but I never forgot the vow I made to never do that again.

So here in Mass I said, "Jesus. I really want to be here and participate in this gift. You obviously want me here. And you don't care if I show up to the party dirty and stained and under dressed. Especially since I didn't know I was coming until a few min. ago. You're just estatic I came." So I stayed. The Italian women rolled their eyes, and I forced them to deal with my legs.

So much of being here has forced me to screw what people think. Its hard for a people pleaser like me. Its hard for my perfectionist nature, and how much my heart longs to fit in and be in the middle of the action. But that's what happens when we go on an adventure. We meet the unpleasing parts of ourselves that need work. And ultimately, I'm ok with that.

Eat Pasta run Fasta

Hello again! I am now officially in week two.
A few observations:
-This landscape is still ridiculously beautiful, and I still feel like I'm walking in a calendar. The Italians seem confused when I geek about how beautiful it is. To them I say, "No. You do not understand. Have you seen SC midlands?" They haven't and nor do they want to. I love SC, but I get it. 

-How am I doing?
I'm doing well! I went to Florence this weekend because the family's niece had her first communion. I met up with a fellow Young Life leader from Clemson in Florence (he was studying there for a few weeks. Sorry, is studying. I guess he's still there.) It was nice to not get lost alone, and to speak English and just to see a familiar face.
Also Florence was alright.

Also can I just say that first communions are crazy here? This sweet 9 year old got (I kid you not:) A bike, five full new outfits, an ipad, Frozen bedding, new luggage, etc.) There was more I promise. I mean unreal. Bump the nice cross and a book of prayers I got from my grandma, I want to redo my first communion in Italy.
 
A bit about food:
- The  P A S T A situation is real. And by real I mean awesome; but also an issue. Here is a typical day of eating:
Breakfast: espresso, bread, nutella, or jam, or any other pastry.
Lunch (1-2pm), pasta, meat, veggies or fruit, bread, dessert, espresso
Snack (3-5pm) Bread, nutella, pastry, bread, bread, bread, cheese, bread
Dinner (8-9 pm) pasta, meat, veggies or fruit, bread, yogurt

If anyone who knows my eating habits you can understand why I am afraid.
For the past year and a half every morning I have a banana and peanut butter and American coffee. For lunch I either have a spinach or kale salad with beans and chicken; or a kale or spinach chicken wrap. Also usually a granola bar or a cliff bar and a piece of fruit.
For dinner around 5 or 6 usually some sort of quinoa veggie and meat mix with either salsa or soy sauce. 
Around 9 I'll eat peanut butter and jelly with a spoon, or tortilla chips and salsa.
This menu also allows for chick fil a twice a week, pizza at least once,  and small handfuls of dark chocolate throughout the day. I really dont know why I just went into so much detail, but there you go.

I do not eat pasta or cheese (not worth the carbs--I am very sensitive to them.)
So woof.
People have told me, "Well in Italy everything is fresh and not processed so its good for you!"
Good for the taste buds, I believe it. Good for my overall health, I have yet to believe it. Its been a week and I already feel a food baby.  
Granted, it is delicious. People cook with real ingredients and use veggies and fruits that are in season. Its great, I am just realizing I am going to have to learn the art of saying no. And portion control.
And the fact that although Nutella is delicious and beautiful, it is not a friend.

Its also hard because everyone here (including my host family) is so thin. I literally have no idea how. They even made the comment, "Emily your parents won't be able to find you when they get here if you continue eating like that."
As they said that I was done with a 2 cup portion of pasta that was the size of my face. No joke.

I can't win.
So what am I going to do?
A)Run often. The landscape and me craving alone time are actually making for some pleasant runs.
B)Try to relax. About everything. Whenever I am in new situations I freak out and expect the worst. Then things calm down and I'm fine. I've yet to arrive at the calm down phase, but I know I'll get there, I always do.

I'm Here!

Hello all! I arrived on Friday evening, and I am finally writing a post. Why so late? Well my bag just arrived. When I talked about my delayed baggage to any Italian they all said, "Welcome to Italy..."

I don't even know all the places it went. And I don't care.

So initial thoughts:
- When in doubt, ask if they know English. It saved my butt twice in my travels.
Time #1: My "short" flight from Frankfurt to Milan was going longer than it was supposed to. The captain made an announcement first in German and then in English. I couldn't understand the English because a) I had been awake for 36 hours and b) the accent was thick. When we started descending I looked out the window and saw we were over the Mediterranean sea. Thanks to my sub par geography skills, I knew Milan was not near the Mediterranean. So I politely asked the man I had been sitting next to for an hour, "Do you speak English?" "Yes." "Ok. Where are we?" "Ah, we are in Niche, France." "Got it. Thanks. Why are we in France?" Thunderstorms. But all is well we made some circles around Milan waiting for a hole in the clouds and made it.

#2: I made it to the train station, and then I made it on the train. It was not that simple, but I am trying to condense because I like you.
Once I was on the train I looked at my connecting ticket and realized it did not look like my first train ticket. (I had to switch Trains in Verona). I asked the woman (who spoke English) what it meant, and she told me what to do and looked up the times for the departure. She said, "Well, we have three minutes to catch it, so we are going to run." So I followed her sprinting as best I could with my 40lb backpack (I weighed it, that is not an Irish exaggeration), and I jumped on the train. She then handed me the ticket she ran to verify so I would not get fined. I then shouted as the train pulled away, "Thank you so much you didn't have to do that!" "I know but it is your first time traveling in Italy, I want it to be a good one." That really happened.

When I arrived in Trento I found out Dennis (The Dad of my host family) was waiting for me in Verona the whole time. So all of drama was actually unnecessary.
But I got there!

B E F O R E

A F T E R. Still not sure if my eyes were open, but I was trying.

And let me just say, this place is unreal.
I was face timing one of my best friends today and I mention that I hate the phrase "I can't even." Here are my thoughts: "The English language is beautiful and intricate and because of the huge mix of cultures, languages, ethnicities in our country; we have more words than any other language. That is true. Now stop saying you can't even, and pull out a dictionary and even. Its the least you can do to your former educators."

But honestly, I don't know exactly how to put words to this place. You know that scene in Beauty and the Beast when everyone is opening their shutters and saying good morning, walking down cobble stones to the bakery and such? Well its kind of like that.

I'm in a region of Northern Italy used to be part of Austria; so it looks very Austrian. (YES. I know Beauty and the Beast was set in France, but it is the best comparison I came up with.) Its right in the Alps. So think Sound of Music.
Now think cute village where everyone knows each other and you can walk to school with the kids and then stop at the supermarket right next door and then stop at Francesca's house to eat a huge pasta lunch just because. Then you pick up the kids and walk to the garden where they can play for hours. Oh and nutella. So. Much. Nutella.

 If anyone who knows me well and knows about the Summer of Nutella sandwiches, you can understand my concern.

This village overlooks Trento, which is where the Council of Trent was held in the 1500s. This 20 year meeting established the doctrine of the Church, no big deal. Also right down the road is a midevil castle. I mean... I'm sorry. Right now I feel like I died and went to my childhood romantic history heaven. That's the best I can "even."

D (the boy) claims this is his fountain. Which is impressive because it is in the city's main square. 

I kind of hate myself for saying that. Moving on.
Mostly I am excited just to Be. I came here to be apart of this family, and to love them and let that be my adventure. I do not have grand plans of globe trotting while I am here; I hope to make friends but that is not my main objective.
For the first time in many years I do not have multiple obligations. I am not in charge of anything other than these two kids. And trying to learn some Italian. Please, just some. It's awkward.

Sweet S. (classmate of D.) She doesn't speak any English, but we make it work.

Like I said, Sound of Music.

What a blessing to just be, and take things as they come.
And I'm pumped to be around buildings that are OLD. So unbelievable. 

Arrivaderci!

At this time tomorrow I will be in route to Italy! Wow.

When I tell people I'm moving there for a year I usually get, "Wow! How are your parents handling that?" or "Wow, I could never be that brave." Or "How did you land that?" Or most recently the lady on the phone at my bank "That is just amazing, I wish I could get up and go like that!"

Really it is an opportunity of a lifetime. I will be nannying (au pairing) for 12 months, and taking Italian language classes for 9 months. I will not come home for Christmas. Here is a quick Q&A:

How did I land this? 
The internet. It sounds sketchy but its not. I made a profile on Aupair.com. My cousin did this for a bit in France, so I was familiar with the process. The family contacted me and said, "Hey we like your profile, so would you like to meet on skype?" This was Jan. of 2014. I was trying to make a backup plan for the summer in case I didnt go back to camp. In the end, I felt called to camp, and they needed someone who could stay longer than the three months I had available. I had grown to really like this family in the few conversations we had. They were down to earth, and really cared about who I was as a person. Not to mention, they live in a place that is stupid beautiful. You can see the alps from their porch.
 In a split second I said, "Well, I graduate in May of next year. Maybe I could come out for a year?" Just like that I decided. Took about 3 seconds, and I was committed.
Granted I could have backed out at any time. I still can, if I need to. I'm a pretty rash decision maker. My mentality is: I'll think about it when I get there. 

Do I know Italian? 
Not a lick.

Do I know the family? 
I feel like I do! We have been skyping every other week for over a year. I really couldnt even tell you what we talk about. Recently, most of our converstation was about folk music, the European immigration crisis, and shorts. They feel like real friends, so I am excited to become a weird add on to their family.

So they are real? 
Yes. 100%. I've even talked to one of their old Au pairs. She only had great things to say. The  mom is a professor at the University of Trento, and the dad works in finance. I stalked his linked in account, and he's legit.

Will I travel around? 
I hope so. The only thing stopping me is A)I will have a full time job.
 Now I do get time off (praise) but,
B)I don't have much money. I figure if there is any place to be stuck nannying its Northern Italy. I will travel around Italy with the family though. Huzzah.

How are my parents doing? 
They're sad for sure, but they are so supportive and encouraging. They both are excited for me more than sad, and they will be visiting in November. My sister is moving to LA to start teaching soon, so my mom lost her two best babysitters. I'm going to miss calling her every other day  to talk through life, and coming home about once a month. But, its just a year. And skype is wonderful. Also, so is meeting my family every week in the Eucharist. I realize that's cheesy, but it's true.

So why go? 
Why not? Is my best answer. And that's actually another question so I don't know if it counts.
I figure if I don't do something crazy with my life now I never will. By the grace of God I am leaving college debt free. I am woefully unemployed, and I don't have a clue if I want to go back to school right away (or even what I would go for). I don't even have a dog. So why not?

Google's projection of my future home.

If you asked me at this time four years ago where I thought I would be at college graduation I probably would have predicted that I'd be engaged and looking forward to teaching in the fall. My mom got married right out of college and my thought process was, "I know not everyone gets engaged right out of college. Buuut...I probably will. I didn't date in high school so... I'm due." I thought I would be teaching elementary school somewhere in the south.
Well none of that happened.
I majored in secondary ed and history, and I still don't understand why I didn't love student teaching. I liked it, I really liked the students. But I didn't love it.

But I know that there are many things that I love, and learning is one of them. So who can say what I will find in Italy? I've decided to take small steps where I am curious and not worry about knowing my entire future at the age of 21.
That doesn't necessarily keep the anxiety away; but maybe it eventually will.

I've decied to up my blog game a bit, and I will post pictures! Please join me on this adventure. Seriously, I'll need friends.

Dont fear the ocean

The inspiration to write this hit me right around mother's day, so that is what I gave my mom. Along with a pair of trendy pants because she can always pull stuff like that off. Its a bit different, and definitely not funny. It came from the heart, and sometimes the heart hurts. Enjoy!

Don’t fear the ocean

Once, you once told me not to fear the ocean or I’d be losing a great friend. But it spun, twisted, and sent me choking to the sand. Now I’m in your arms crying and you just don’t understand; It is too strong. You did understand, it happened to you. Long ago, but it happened. But you learned the trick of it:

The ocean is more powerful than I could ever hope to be.

As the wave starts to crash, I needed only to curl up as tight as the rolly polly bugs I step on and wait for the wave to pass. It might spin and churn me; send me crash me into the sand. But if I wait, I will be fine. The ocean never wanted to hurt me.

Won’t the crashing hurt? Maybe, but sand is softer than it feels. Won’t I be underwater too long? No, waves only last but a moment

The ocean, you said, Is one of your dearest and oldest friends. Sometimes you see the fish that raised you in California. Every now and then the waves looked like the friendly like the ones you knew there.  The days the waves looked like California were my favorite, because I was able to see and feel memories I only experienced through your words. Memories my heart ached to experience with you.

You warned me that fear Is suffocating, and freeing yourself from it is the hardest thing in the world to do.

Its best if you never meet fear to start. I had only to convince myself the ocean was a friend. How would I believe myself? You didn’t know, but you said it works.

Now you fear the ocean. Its ok, I understand. In the ocean you see your dad. The waves remind you of the wrinkles that slowly crept around his smile. Every salt stained beach hat makes you hope for just a moment his sleeping sun loved face is underneath.

The sand is still there: the kind with a thin layer of water and you can walk without sinking. The conversations you had with him there have not sunk yet, they are still lying on top of the sand in plain sight. Just as shiny as they were a few years ago. Love unconditionally, he said.

You both knew then that things were changing. It was easiest to live as though they weren’t. Your bodies had shrunk and grown, characters were added. But the ocean, just like your souls, were there same they had always been.

You said the ocean is more powerful than anything I can see. The waves keep coming. But you know what to do, curl up tight and wait for it to pass. But now you question: what if the wave throws you to sand that lost its softness and you run up to the beach in tears only to find that he is not waiting for you under his faded umbrella?

Somewhere along the line, you began placing the souls of people into objects so you wouldn’t forget them. It only makes sense to place the things you love together.

Wise ones tell us to love things that are eternal. They don’t tell us that in their absence we begin to fear the objects we once easily trusted. You visit the ocean now and you do not find your dad. Only memories. You see and feel the ocean, but the eternal piece of the partnership you made in your heart so long ago is gone. At least for now. Ocean, you betray.