Happy Birthday Kim!

 
 

August 12, 2008

We have been having just a fine time with our second visitor, Jean. Jean hails from Vienna and came to visit and help celebrate Kim's birthday. We've been spending a lot of time watching the Olympics; high interest is in swimming (Jean teaches swimming when she's not being a pediatric preemie nurse AND she gives me lessons). Both Kim and Jean complain about the Italian coverage (which I tend to like) because they cover all kinds of events--boxing, fencing, fencing, fencing, fencing, fencing, (note: I was forced to add fencing multiplicity because it was on most of yesterday; to make myself become superior, I googled the rules and while they complained, I explained.) sculling, kayaking, pistol shooting, skeet shooting, judo, tennis, swimming, basket ball, sand volley ball, archery. So far, no gymnastics or track and field; we wonder if it hasn't started as yet? They moan and groan when commercials or the news comes on; heaven forbid the war between Russia and Georgia cut in on the swimming heats!

One thing about the Italian coverage is that the focus is completely upon the athletes. When an athlete gets interviewed, we never see the face of who's doing the interviewing; just the back of their head and their outstretched hand holding the microphone. There's no "Back to you Howard or Bob" with their big smiling faces looking at us through the camera lens. In fact, we've never seen Howard and Bob as they commentate.

When the news is reported, it's someone standing holding a bunch of papers reading the news. No teleprompter or sitting at a desk. They tend to go into more detail about the story being covered. News occurs at multiple times during the day and runs for about 20 minutes, then back to programming. Speaking of programming, I like how they do it better than the US. Programs don't necessarily begin on the hour or half hour; they may begin on the hour, at 10 minutes past, at the half hour or 10 minutes to the hour. Depending upon whether it's an hour or half hour program determines commercial breaks. If it's a "half hour", it runs non stop for the actual 20 minutes and then there are commercials or the news. If it's an hour, it runs for almost 40-45 minutes before the break and then runs the last 5 to 10 minutes. I like the continuity better.

Tonight in honor of Kim's birthday, we'll go out for dinner--actually, this will be our first dinner out since we arrived. We don't know where we'll be going so I'm sure that will be another adventure...

The pictures are: Jean screaming with glee upon finally meeting SR Wendy face to face and the three of them (plus fan) watching the Olympics (and if you enlarge the picture, you'll see that it's a news break; what big babies!).

Do Something!

August 09, 2008

This week, one of my mother’s old friends wrote to me; I’d been in touch to let her know of our current Italian sojourn. As with most people, she let us know that she’s happy for us and hopes we will
enjoy our time. But, then she went on to add something that has been a bit of a struggle for both Kim and me and that is how we spend our time. In other words, are we keeping b u s y e n o u g h? Her wise words were,”Be sure to ENJOY la dolce fa niente”. Translation: enjoy the sweetness of nothing; just being.

Hardly a day passes where we don’t have a conversation about did we do something worthwhile today with the unspoken but very clear message, did we accomplish something? There is a big implication that it’s not okay to “just be” or just do nothing. Although we often do manage to accomplish nothing we do also manage to judge ourselves.

Why is not okay to just be, especially when we know that this “doing nothing” is time limited and that before we know it, we will be back in Seattle, looking for jobs, mowing the lawn and craving the weekend? I continually study Chinese medicine and history for heaven’s sakes; I’m supposed to understand the Dao and importance of being in the moment! The other day we were chatting with our Albanian friend, Julia. Kim was asking her about the work hours here in Italy for mainly “office workers”. Julia responded that usually the hours run from 8:30-Noon, followed by afternoon rest and resumption of work from 2 – 4:30. Hmmm, quick calculation on Kim’s part and she announced, “Why, that’s only a total of 6 hours; are you sure—only 30 hours per week”? Later, while we were out accomplishing a walk we discussed “how amazing” those short hours are and wondered, “Is that full time? Are benefits involved”?

At night we often joke with one another about what we’ll do tomorrow. Kim may say, “Tomorrow I’m going to shower AND clip my nails”. I respond with, “Will you do that all at once or will you break it up over the day”? We tend to take turns being defensive about not accomplishing something worthwhile even though quite regularly we do floss, take calcium, eat a Mediterranean diet, drink red wine, read and do brain stretching activities by studying and practicing Italian. These are ALL of the things that “THEY” say one “SHOULD” be doing to remain healthy and live a long, non long term care life. The one big omission is aerobic exercising or power walking but it’s too bloody hot and that could lead to death, a big contraindication.

Even now, as I read this aloud to Kim she says quickly, “But we’re social workers; shouldn’t we be contributing…” She quickly asks me, do I want her to proof read what I’ve written so far? No, I’m just getting started with my “long story short” and she quietly comments, “I was just trying to stay busy”.

Kim communicates regularly with her dear friend Ellen who is currently living in Honduras. Ellen went by herself and is in a small village. Regularly she writes and sends pictures of her many encounters with “la gente--the people”. She organizes the building of a play ground, she visits kindergartens, she meets with a mayor of another local village to try to help get a small school built; she fund-raises. She travels for miles over dirt, deep hole rutted roads to learn to grind corn by hand to make fresh tortillas while learning to throw mud pots. There is often no water or electricity. Ellen is a one person Peace Corps with boundless energy and unending daily activities. Did I mention that it’s really HOT in Honduras? Bless her! She is amazing and I have such great admiration for her but also, secretly I think “oh man, I hope Kim doesn’t get any ideas”. How totally bad is that? Bad. Bad. Bad.

While in Seattle, before we left and for sure knew that we were coming to Italy, we had long discussions about how a year off would manifest. We did talk very seriously about the Peace Corps but ultimately, you know what we decided. Salient points that nixed the PC were that at this point in our lives, we want our toilets to flush (plus to have one in our living quarters!), and to have electricity, and clean running water. (Oh shhhhhh, and for now we do not wish to volunteer). Also, secretly, I wanted to be somewhere where I could easily use a hair dryer.

Again, as I read this aloud to Kim she defensively adds, “But we ARE social workers and have been all of our lives. I work with the mentally ill; you worked with drug addicts for years. Do we HAVE to always be doing “good work?” We’ll be social workers for the rest of our lives….AND besides, before Ellen left, she was a musician…” Do you see how complex and circular this gets??

So, for now I will have to be satisfied that we did take a very long walk to buy a new boom box so that I can play the many Italian language tapes we brought. I am busily studying Italian. I go shopping many times per week. I do all of the cooking and food prep. I trouble shoot when the computer doesn’t work. I watch my favorite program with Rex the dog and other programs as accompaniments to my Italian lessons. I help hang the laundry and rotate it when necessary. I reposition our fan in the rooms as necessary. I am reading regularly and now have added watching the Olympics through the eyes of the Italian Rai sports broadcasters (another Italian boosting exercise).

And for my future, who knows? For the first time in oh so many years, I have allowed my hair to dry naturally and only use a hair dryer if I really want to.

Olympics

 

August 8, 2008

You absolutely MUST watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympics!

Stunning.

Blessed Rain!!

 

August 6, 2008

After days and days of hot, somewhat humid weather, it's raining; actually pouring. Thunder began making its' presence heard here about an hour ago with low rumbling. At first I thought it was a heavy truck but it just kept coming, on and on.

Yesterday at about this time, (5PM) my little thermometer outside was reading 100 degrees, in the shade. We'd just gotten back from the library--a forced outing because we have been staying indoors a lot due to this heat. There is only a slight sense of accomplishment; so slight that today, both Kim and I have remained indoors all day in our same sleeping attire... We did both brush our teeth.

Yesterday, one of our neighbor's, I call her "La Signora," stopped me in the grocery store to say hello. Every time I see her, she speaks to me of the weather. I know she does this because I'm sure she thinks that's the only thing that I will understand; she's mostly correct ("Fa caldo, fa caldo" she says as she slowly shakes her head back and forth in disapproval). In any case, she informed me that this has been one of the hottest years in awhile (along with humidity). Great, I later thought! Dollar's the worst it's been in years and so is the heat! Oh well, I'm not complaining (too much) because this is our very terrific adventure!!

This picture is out of our front window, upon the inner complex. I tried to show the rain downpour but it's hard to capture. It continues to pour, the air smells marvelous, the thunder continues roaring, the sound of rain is blasting, and a nice cool breeze floats throughout our apartment. I love Italy and especially Alessandria!

Just A Little Help...

 

August 4, 2008

Really now, is it so wrong to try to give Mother Nature just a little boost of help? We had three loads to dry after all...

Will the last Italian in Alessandria please turn out the lights?

 

August 3, 2008


It’s August, it’s really hot, often humid, and we are heat wimps from Seattle. Rachel’s birth in Texas, and summers in Galveston and Las Cruces has not provided her any innate heat tolerance- and my East Coast childhood and young adulthood has also proven worthless. Or perhaps, it’s our 30+ years living in Seattle that has knocked it out of us. We have become housebound hermits during the day, grateful for our fans, shutters, and our cool floor tiles. When we have to go out to get bread we practically draw straws to see who will go. (okay, we don’t draw straws, Rachel usually goes. Of course if we could get up earlier in the morning, when it was still slightly less hot, I’d go. Really. Well maybe one of you believes it).

All the Italians have headed out for their vacations- off to the coast, the lakes, or to the mountains. The only people left are the Turkish, Albanian and African immigrants- and us. Most of the restaurants are closed, the bakeries have had signs out for weeks announcing the weeks (!) in August they will be closed, and many other shops as well. Thankfully I have numerous gelaterias to choose from but if they were to all close at once, I’d be out of here. (uh oh, I bet that DOES happen in the winter, come to think of it. Guess I’ll just have to eat more now).

We went to one of the outdoor community piscina to swim when Siegy was here. (Here we are relatively well off Americans and we can’t go too often because of the expense- 9 euro on the weekend and 7 during the week- these days that’s almost $11-14/per person). It was a very nice, large pool, very well maintained with umbrellas and lounge chairs; unfortunately we’ll have to put it on our list of weekly or bimonthly treats rather than as a way to cool off each day. I was thinking of how the cost would prohibit many of the poorly paid Italians and immigrants from going (which may be the point. The woman who cleans our apt. complex only makes 4 euro/hour, for example).

Yesterday we went off to buy a fan for our Turkish friends in our neighborhood kebab and pizza place. Ibrahim and Ibrahim are two very sweet guys who work all day, every day in this shop (not theirs) that is hot as hell. They make the bread for the falafel and kebab fresh each time you order- and of course pizza- so the big industrial oven is running all the time. They look so uncomfortable and sweaty but they are always friendly and uncomplaining. They can barely speak Italian, having been here just a few short months and speak no English; we speak no Turkish and only a little Italian. Still we talk- out in the neighborhood or in the store (on Rachel’s night off from cooking), they’re always there with a handshake, a big Ciao, and “va bene?” (One of the Ibrahim is who turned Rachel on to the soccer finals and encouraged her to watch Spain beat Germany). They were so genuinely touched by our gift of the fan which, to us, was such a small and practical gesture. But as so often happens here in Italy, we walked away with the bigger gift, their grins and smiles etched in our minds.

Shopping...

 

August 1, 2008

We are back in Alessandria, slowing back down to a lazy rhythm after a week of visiting with Siegy and traveling to Turin and Milan (twice). Both cities are, as you may already know, rather large: Turin with a population of one million and Milan with two million.

Both have amazing train stations where once you disembark from your train, be ready and alert for throngs of people, noise, and seemingly orchestrated chaos. People zoom from here to there, simultaneously looking anxious and confident as necks careen skyward seeking clocks and departure signs. All of humanity can be seen, smelled, and encountered in the minutes it takes us to navigate through and out of the station.

Turin and Milan have hiked it up just a few notches from Alessandria when it comes to fashion and being trendy. July is “on sale” month throughout Italy and there are blocks and blocks of elegant historical buildings now serving as storefronts aiming to sell, sell, sell. It’s a thrill to know that 400 years ago this structure was built in honor of putting down the filthy invaders and now we can buy a scarf at more than “half” off. We thought that this sale season was in anticipation of everyone going on vacation in August but were told “no”, that this just ”happens” every July and January.

The windows are filled with signs attempting to entice you inward… SALDI!! -40 -60% SALDI”. What tends to entice me inward is not the shopping but the fact that many of the clothing stores are air conditioned and it’s HOT and humid this time of year. Siegy, however, was in a hypnotic dreamland with all these sales and so Kim and I dutifully followed her from shop to shop, thumbing through merchandise that we would never buy acting interested to remain cool and not look like potential shoplifters. At one point early on, Kim announced she just could not go into these frenzy filled stores and would wait outside. I told her I was headed in to keep cool; about three minutes later, I turned and saw Kim browsing. Temperature trumping the gag reflex.

The crowds are thick with young and old bumping elbows and carrying bags. It’s always a question of who will move out of the way first as singles and couples bound toward you. Always, it has been us, moving aside, going off the curb, stopping to allow others the comfort of passing with ease. We mumble and complain while extolling our greater sense of politeness and human advancement. But, “they” have worn us down and we have started making a little game of “chicken” out of it; holding our ground to just see if perhaps “they” will kindly take a turn and step aside. Kim brags about having honed this skill after walking at Green Lake over the years. And what are the results of our most serious research? Sometimes they do step aside without even a flicker of having been put out and other times we stand nose to nose (sort of on my part) and for a few special moments, we are connected here, in this place at this time, on this planet; we are one before they scowl at me and walk around.

Teens always seem to stand in a circle of 4 -6 causing the waves of humanity to ripple around them. They ignore all but themselves as they laugh, gesticulate, and simultaneously text on their phones. Many puff upon their cigarettes while surreptitiously looking at their reflections in the store front windows. I have noticed that their cigarettes are not the old Marlboro brand packaging but sleek rectangular cartons with bright colors and bold lettering that hold only 10 or so cigarettes. Even I feel enticed and marvel at such a marketing feat!

As we continue our journey we spy couples here and there kissing with passion and fervor. I make a comment about being annoyed and Siegy quickly snaps at me (as only family members can), “You’re in Italy for God’s sake; get over it”! We then begin a long family discourse, like the ones’ you swear you won’t have at Christmas or Thanksgiving dinner. We argue about public displays of affection, heterosexual privilege, and “taking back the night”. For a final verbal thrust, Siegy announces that we are just “bitter old women”; I tell her she only thinks this because she has a new boyfriend.

As we dart and flow through the maze of humanity, our back and forth family communication continues and gets louder as we use our hands to make important points. As I take a deep breath and look down at us from above, I realize that
she’s right. We are in Italy.