I speak four languages here: native english, high school french, broken (mostly curse word) italian, and exceptional gibberish. I am slowly learning to decipher the conversations and questions of other people by picking out the one, sometimes two words I understand and then using my "creative thought" (thank you Skidmore...their motto is "creative thought matters) to piece together the meaning. Last night, for example, my friend said something to her husband that involved the world "fredo" (cold). From my deductive reasoning I figured out that she was saying "the baby is cold" so I quickly placed my jacket over the baby. One point for Erin.
I am acquiring many useful skills here. An ability to live in peace with the spiders. They are my unwavering companions as they accompany me to bed, in the shower and at meals. I am learning to gain weight (even if its just a little bit) gracefully. I dont worry about what I eat here because I have to enjoy the tastes, the smells and the euphoria while it lasts. I am becoming a master of gestures. I know what Sandro is saying just by looking at his face and the movement of his hands. I am becoming an expert wine drinker and an adept fly swatter. Finally, after months of forgetting how to open my heart, I have learned to once again love everything about life. I have truly fallen in love with the people, the country and the simple life that is so beautiful it could break your heart. I relish every sound, every smell and every taste-I am in blissful content just standing in the doorway, eyes closed feeling the radiance of the stars soak into my skin and the night breeze tangle my hair. I wish I could share with all of the beauty of living off the land. The dogs and the crickets are my lullabye and the slowly cooked pancetta and zuchini pasta dish is my dream.
When I miss everyone from home, I simply look at my body and know that you are all here with me. I see the tattoo on my ankle and I am sitting at the bar eating chocolate gelato with Danielle and Melissa. I touch the silver bracelet and multi-colored orange wire on my wrist and I hear Mark and Jenny playing drums to the 70s funk escaping through the doorway. I twist the ring on my finger and I am sitting at the table with Nick, rolling a cigarette. The glint of copper in the sun and I am belting out Norah Jones with Emma as we pull the weeds from the hot soil. The feel of the cross against my chest and Ann is watching over me and the peace sign which I turn over and over in my hands and I can see Tommy running beside me to the bar to get ice cold gatorades. And when I run my fingers over the tattoo on my ribs, I know that Anya is laughing as she watches me dance like a fool to the jazz music in the town square.
I feel like Lance Armstrong. Every night at 7pm I am called from the fields or my glass of wine (A-REEN,A-REEN!!) and I know its time for my nightly ride. A day off is not an option here because I simply cannot let my devoted teammates down. Every night I run to the next town, flanked and followed by my boyfriends, my nine year old bike riding trainers. They ride close behind and close in front, lowering the impact of the wind and propelling me towards the finish line. Our checkpoint is the local bar where we stop for gatorades (which I chug in 3 seconds flat only to regret it as I get that familiar stich in my side on the run back).
I am learning to cook...me a real Italian cook! The other day I made a tasty lunch of fresh eggs, zuchini, pancetta and goat cheese and for dinner I made Sandro and I pasta with zuchini, sausage and eggs...so delicious! Yesterday Sandro treated me to a fresh proscuitto and mozarella pizza, sausage and mushrooms and the strange but delicious sausage and golden potatoes pizze pie. And on the side we had fried scallops and a tomato, cheese and rice fried concoction. It was unbelievable! Ill have to ask him again what the name of that heavenly food was.
Sandro is a pro with home remedies. He puts fresh squeezed lemon on my mosquito bites, olive oil on my scrapes (NO...NOT THE PRECIOUS OLIVE OIL!), makes me a chamomile concoction for my eye infection (I cannot believe that I have another eye infection), a glass of wine for a restful nights sleep and a raw egg for an energy boost. With a flawed healthcare system and a modest salary, I would say Sandro has become quite resourceful.
I need to go wash some dishes but I'll make sure to write about last nights jazz festival soon!
Ciao for now,
Bella
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