Today my mother and I are getting on each other's nerves... (because I want to throw a lot of useless old stuff away and she wants to save the useless old stuff just in case...)
My two friends left after a summer visit to go back to The Czech republic...
I feel lonely and unloved, because I found a box of hidden treasure... paraphernalia from the first year of my exciting journey to a new life abroad. In boxes and bags I rediscovered art books, a complete poster of the popes in chronological order and pages of scribbled information about the Vatican museum from my term as a tour guide in Rome.
I also found lesson plans and student's thank you cards from my teaching days in Japan.
I also found letters and small gifts from an Italian boy who I had had a "fling which became much more than a fling" with... (a booklet of Shakespeare's sonnets translated into Italian, postcards with sweet sentences on the back, photos etc)
It was my own personal renaissance... (if you consider this blog to be the new work of art!)
My thoughts ventured back in time all afternoon... and I couldn't shake the feeling that I am entering a new life dimension... and leaving behind some of the best days of my life.
Not to mention that now... I am back living with my parents... I have no "flings which are becoming more than flings"... I am no longer teaching... and my two friends (who were at least a connection to those days) left today.
In this half melencholy spirit I find myself in...
I went back to a very old email written to a friend 6 years ago.
It was only a few days after I had quit my job and got on a plane... then a train... then a boat to Lipari an island in the middle of the Mediterranean sea.
I will share this email with you now.... I suggest drinking a glass of wine (Italian of course) and as you read remember the beautiful things from your recent past as well and toast to them.
That's what i am doing now! Except that we have no Italian wine... only white Californian... or V8 juice.
Dear Gorav,
Already I have fallen in love with two Italians.
Riccardo with whom I shared a room and Pasquale the
first cammierie who served me dinner. Oh what a
dinning club one could have in Italy.
>
The car, the shuttle, the two planes, the subway, the
train, the taxi, the ferry and the walking blah blah
blah blah... here I am in Lipari, the largest of the
Aeolian Islands. Of course Sicily is not considered an
Aeolian Island. If it were it would blow the others
out of the water (ha ha ha).
>
I have very little to say about my 30 hour journey
except that Riccardo is very handsome and sleeps like
a typical Italian male, with lots of sighs, scratching
and, oh yes, alone.
>
What of the lights in Napoli at night while the lazy
Mediterranean slips your ferry out to sea? Of course
it was absolutely serene and beautiful. It's a very
free feeling to exist in a foreign land jobless, and
having no pressures or needs... just watching some
lights twinkle (did I mention the lone star perched
directly above some ancient looking structure resting
high on a hill at the top of the Neapolitan skyline?)
>
You can sleep on a ferry. It's very relaxing, the sea.
You can wake up on a ferry too. Especially well, when
the 6am sun shines through your portal, a man runs
down your hall shouting "PROSSIMO STROMBOLI!
STROMBOLLI, PROSSIMO" and the sounds of the ferry's
anchors being released right beside where your head
rests. Anchors being released are louder than say...
the Hoth battle sequence relayed on expensive surround
sound over extremely enormous speakers. (I seem to be
stuck in a never ending plot to have my sleep
disturbed.)
>
On Lipari you must remember:
>
Rigoletto means alley.
and when an Italian who works at an Italian hotel
reaches into their English vocabulary and produces a
word resembling this word: street They may really be
referring to a rigoletto, which looks nothing like a
street at all. I know this, because I walked down
every street in central Lipari before I asked a kind
woman
"Dove e La Penzione Neri"
>
and she replied
>
"Due rigoletto Li"
>
>
Since arriving at Neri I have explored the little
community, Visited a prison were famous fighters of
freedom died under Mussolini and the fascists, ate
spectacular swordfish.
>
I spent an afternoon starring at the ocean and
consuming fresh peas raw. Oh... and the fruit! The
fruit of Sicily would blow Sicily itself out of the
water.
>
Every hour the Lipari town clock boasts its chimes.
Every fifteen minutes the Lipari clock re boasts its
chimes. I assume that this is just in case you missed
the last strike fifteen minutes ago, either that or
you are deaf and can1t hear the damned clock anyway.
>
I can hear the clock quite well from my room. It is
only slightly less clear than the ferry anchor...
>
Perhaps I am boring you. Perhaps your eyes are glazed.
I know mine are... of course that is only sleep
deprivation.
awesome... precious...
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