Milano & Lugano

The days are dwindling, in a short while I'll be back home in California and I wish I knew how to feel. The past 3 weeks have been filled with the adventure and spontaneity I've only dreamed about. I honestly don't know where to begin, so I'll start where our last blog left us, in mid-November.

Maddie in Milano and also, Lugano

The weekend of the 18th my best friend Maddie, from highschool, came to visit from Leeds, UK. It was insane to meet up with her here in Milano. Traveling the world was something we used to dream about, and it was insane to actually be here living our dreams.

I showed her all around my city for a few days, it was weird seeing Milan like a tourist again. 3 months later and the centuries old buildings become commonplace, I often take for granted that I live minutes away from both a castle and the fourth largest cathedral in the world. We toured some of my favorite historical sites, the Duomo, San Marie de la Grazie (where Da Vinci's Last Supper is housed), the Castello, Parco Sampieone, and many others. We ate just about everything and then on Friday we headed to Lugano, Switzerland.

Lugano

Lugano was a literal dream come true. If you've read my earlier blog post, "Bloomability" you know that this is a place I read about as a child. Getting there was a terrible hassle because Trenitalia, like most of the services in Italy, made last minute plans without telling anyone. We breathlessly raced to our train which had been moved 11 tracks away, and barely made it.

The beauty of Lake Lugano and the Dolomites stole my breath. I'd dreamed of this place for years, and seeing it with my best friend was insane. We walked along the water front seeing the famed Parco Civica, Church of S. Maria degli Angioli and countless smaller churches. Maddie and I had a very spiritual experience inside of San Maria degli Angioli, neither of us are Catholic, but something about the quiet of the church touched me. It was not elaborate or huge as many churches are, rather, it was intimate and warm. Sitting in the pew, the clamor of thoughts in my mind quieted, and I thought, this is what the house of God should be, a place of peace, quiet and calm, where weary souls come to rest.

Before we left, and after a small amount of debate, Maddie is a quasi Muslim and I'm a nonpracticing Jehovah's Witness, she and I lit a candle, more for ourselves than for anyone else. For me, the lit candle was to honor the peace the space had given, to mark my presence, maybe even a small gesture of honor in the face of the Divine.


Souls rested and bodies prepared, Maddie and I set out on a crusade for Swiss chocolate. We used free local wifi to find the best place and set out on a mission. Once we found it, let me tell you, Swiss chocolate is all they say it is. The creamy truffle, tasted like a chocolate cloud dipped in heaven...I'm not exaggerating. Maddie and I wandered for a few hours before heading to dinner at the New York Times' recommended La Tinera restaurant. I find it hilariously ironic that the best Italian food I've ever had was in Switzerland, but I digress, the food was amazing. Huge plates filled to the brim with pasta cooked to perfection. It was fantastic.

Kicking and Screaming (Much Love to the Gritty City)

I will not come back from this place, no matter how homesick I get. I love the city life and I cannot believe I have spent years of my life without this place. Milan and I are like this epic tragic love story, we met, we wooed, we fell madly in love, the semester ended...and I went back home?

No thanks.

I love living here, from the Clementines (tiny oranges) I buy at the Mercato to the cobblestone streets and the breathtaking monuments lit up at night, Milan and I work.

Friday was field study day. This means that our professors were to take us out on an excursion that furthered our understanding of our class. My first field study was at Mediaset Studios, there, my classmates and I were audience members for the Italian morning show, Mattina Cinque. This show is nationally syndicated and the hosts are equivalent to Regis and Kelly. We had to wake up very early and catch the metro, but we also had to dress up nicely. Needless to say, we were late, but my hair looked fantastic...in case you were wondering.



We made it to the studio and watching the show being filmed was tough because it was entirely in Italian. I was astounded at the amount I understood. Immersion is no joke.

My next field study was in Torino, so I boarded a train with my classmates and away we went. The museum in Torino was all about cinema, it had a fascinating collection of old props. We rushed home, I had some gelato. Twas a chill night.


The next night I went out to a Milanese discoteque. HOLY COW, do they know how to get down! I danced the night away. FUN FUN.

Then today I spent a lazy day at home sleeping (we got home pretty late) and procrastinating. Then I cooked dinner for my housemates and watched Harry Potter with my roommate.

I keep telling myself I'm going to sleep after this cup of tea, but I keep drinking more cups. Cammomile. <3

Para-Para-Paradise

There we were eating gelato and planning our lives as midnight approached in Milan,Italy. I kept looking around in a state of disbelief, here I was surrounded by 3 of my best friends in the world, experiencing something I had only dreamed about.

This weekend, one of my best friends, Grace, came to visit myself, Hannah and Theresa in Milano. I cannot fully express how right all of us being together again felt. We had last seen Grace as she drove away from Smith Hall at the end of last semester. Fast forward through 6 months of growth, loss and distance and you find us there, in a gelateria, eavesdropping on English speakers with american-sounding accents.

We had a very chill weekend, we introduced Grace to Italy's finest in pastries, pasta and night life. Friday night was spent waiting in anticipation for Grace to arrive at Malpensa. When she finally did, we became those obnoxious airport people who hug each other multiple times and squeal in delight. The next night we had dinner with some friends and headed out to the Navigli (Canal District) of Milan. Sunday was a pastry party and Monday was a whirlwind tour of the city.

Today, somewhere a midst the evening rush of tourists and locals, I stop and stare at the cathedral beside me. My eyes start to water and I’m startled by my emotional reaction. I’ve seen this building dozens of times since living in Milan, but somewhere it hit me, this is what I’ve always wanted. When I was a little kid clutching the book “Bloomability” as I slept at night, I dreamed of this. I knew somehow, despite being poor, despite what everyone said, despite the fact that so many people never leave Newark, I knew it would happen. I wanted it so badly.

When I chose to stay in Washington to work so I could go abroad, I knew I was risking my relationship. I knew I was going to distance myself from my family.

But I was just a girl with a dream, and I can’t believe it has come true.

Sometimes it isn’t always to give up something you love for something you dream about, but sacrifices have to be made on your journey.

In the end, I still have my family, I still have my best friends and I’ve gained the experience of a lifetime. I’ve worked so hard to get here and I feel so lucky and blessed and happy.

Subterranean Homesick Blues (Politics as Usual)

My professor haughtily asks the question directly to me, he stretches his arms, sits down in his chair and stares, he places his arms behind his head, like a sunbather resting on the beach, it's a stance of sheer cockiness...This man. I'd be lying if I said I didn't chuckle at his attitude, this professor of comparative politics has been a thorn in my side since classes started, and despite my "A" on my midterm, he's still testing me.

I blink, I'm fully aware I'm about to pull an academic sucker punch. It's the sentence that stops everything, a theory most social scientists accept as true, it is the alpha and omega of theory. We'd been studying media Americanization in Europe and he'd asked if the shift the author wrote about was real. I blinked and told him, "Technically no, I mean media is a social construct, it only has meaning if we give it meaning, technically there is no difference in culture either, everything is all in our heads." I felt bad for doing it, it was a smart ass answer, but he looked at me and said something like my answer was "more sophisticated" than he expected, so I felt my smartassery was justified.

I haven't written about this particular struggle in Milano yet, the one between political cultures and ideologies, because it's such a touchy subject. It's been an interesting experience to be sure. I'm inexperienced in dealing with those of a different political vein because in California and Western Washington, Republicans are often pressured into silence. Here, the political composition of the program differs sharply from the political culture of Europe and the one at home. It has been a surprising source of cultural exchange. I'm legitimately grateful for some of the conversations I've had here, with Italians and Americans, and for the clashes with my professor. I'm not going to lie, I fought tooth and nail to get out of this class. He criticized the constitution really cavalierly once and I almost went into cardiac arrest.

Nevertheless, being here and hearing open discussions of the benefits of Marxism is fascinating. I like that here, revolution isn't a taboo, it's an expected cycle of social change. I'm drawn to the radical naturally, but I like it more in a theoretical sense. I find myself becoming ever more practical, it's something that scares me a little, but it makes sense, I'm getting old.

It's been interesting to see the Occupy Wall Street movement from over here, it's so amazing seeing the world taking action again. Obviously it's more complex than that, violence is erupting, which is tragic and terrible, but I admire when groups use their voices and make the government listen. I think the exchange is a beautiful thing when it's done properly and I'm proud that people care enough to say something.

The other day, I happened to walk through a protest near the Duomo here in Milan,it was in solidarity with the US Occupy Protests. I walked around it hearing Bob Dylan blaring in my ears, sometimes backtalk is a beautiful thing.

In any case, I don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows. Enjoy the song. I love Bob Dylan.

Un Paseo Por Las Nubes and Other Stories

After hours on the bus, the familiar crunch of gravel meets my ears like an old friend. Then comes a moment of perspective. There I am, a tiny speck in the Tuscan countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, and endless vineyards. The horizon is painted in a pallet of rich golds, oranges and deep browns. The gold of the land and the soft hues of the sunset collide in a gradient of sheer perfection. For a moment everything stops.

Have you ever had a moment in your life where you contemplate everything that has led you to that particular place at that particular time?

At this moment, I couldn't help but think that I seriously had considered skipping study abroad, and standing on a hillside in Tuscany, the universe showed me what an idiot I had almost been.

This weekend was the IES Tuscany trip, and it was one of the m

ost beautiful experiences I've ever had. We started our journey early Saturday morning at the Cadorna station in Milano. 47 students piled onto a chartered bus and we began the drive. Soon the city streets turned into the vast Italian highway. Before we knew it, it was lunch. Sometimes it really sucks to be a vegetarian in Italy, not because I want to eat meat, but because I long for decent vegetarian food. At this rest stop, I bought a ticket for a panino, assuming they would have the classic, "tomato, mozzarella and basil" sandwich, only to find all of their panini had meat. In this instance, I ended up with a chocolate pastry, but I was starving and really wanted a sandwich.

I know, I know. Wahh wahh, #firstworldproblems.

Once we got back on the bus, time past quickly and we reached Siena. Siena is one of the most historic cities in Tuscany,

it used to be an independent city state before falling to the powerful capital of Flore

nce and then joining the unified Italy in 1861. Like many Italian cities, Siena takes pride in it's individual accomp

lishments before the "Resorgimento." In Siena, there are different districts with their own flags and they have horse races each year that have huge value for the citizens in the districts. It was interesting to see s

uch city pride. We visited the Duomo, which was probably my favorite thing we did in Siena. We trekked up the vast staircases to the top of the unfinished part of the church (the plague killed their expansion plans) and looked out over all of Tuscany. It was absolutely beautiful and after waiting an hour to be able to climb the stairs, the view made it worth

it.

Later we had dinner at the hotel and then returned to the historic center for drinks in the main piazza. We usually or

der typical american drinks, so I followed my friend Allie's lead and ordered an Italian one. The waitress confused what I said and brought me a Rossini instead of a Bellini but it was fantastic any

way.

The next day, we went on a whirlwind tour of Tuscan cities. We began with a tour of Montalcino. When we arrived we discovered that our bus couldn't drive into the city so we would have to walk up the hill to get to Montalcino. The walk was, okay,let's be honest, when do I ever enjoy walking up hills? However,
the view of Tuscany and the presence of excellent company made it bearable. I'm serious though, it was a hike. Fortunately for us, the town was having a festival. We were able to see traditional Tuscan dances and eat some traditional Tuscan food. In this festival, I happened to have the best cheese I've had in my life. It's called Pecorino and it's made from sheep's milk. If you just grimaced, you're either 1) a vegan, and I respect that, or 2) out of your mind because it tastes like heaven. I also witnessed a fantastic parade complete with drummers drumming and a king and queen!

Then we began the drive to Sant Antimo, it is a monastery in the Tuscan countryside that is over 1200 years old. Through the years, the monastery has seen waves of change, from a pope that robbed it of its riches and power to a post-plague society that wanted nothing to do with God. It stands, and hosts the daily sung prayers of 6 faithful monks. Their prayers, sung in Latin in the style of Gregorian chants, are a testament to the reverence people used to have for God. Though I am not Catholic, I find the prayers to be a beautiful expression of faith.

The monastery was situated in the Tuscan countryside, amid the most beautiful rolling hills. This was the location I described at the beginning of this blog. Something about this location stirred something within me. I can't describe it, it made me want to pray, so I did.

The next day, we found ourselves in Arezzo where the parts of the film, "Life is Beautiful" was filmed. While at lunch, my friends and I found the most charming bistro with the best service we've had in Italy. The food was delicious and beautiful and the location (central piazza) was fantastic. The trip drew to a close and I left Tuscany, incandescently happy.

Now, here are some beautiful pictures.

Crazy Lightening

This week was stressful, to say the least. With midterms right around the corner and this semester halfway done, things are really revving up. So, yesterday, as soon as my last class got out, my friend and I raced to our favorite little pasticeria "Pan e Vita" and bought fruit tortinos. Tortinos are exactly what they sound like, fruit torts of course, not tortillas. They were delicious, a sugar cookie type crust, filled with sweet custard, and topped with strawberries, kiwi, and blackberries. I almost died. I swear, why do we even bother eating in the states? Why do we even bother cooking? The food here is so good, I swear it deserves its own parade.

Later on, we ended up perusing the shops on Via Torino. Via Torino is a street near the central Duomo cathedral here in Milan. It's a more affordable way to shop for those of us who don't rock Gucci, Prada and Armani. We walked around and found some decent things, didn't buy anything, but that was okay. While walking around the Duomo, we noticed the Rinacinte was having some type of outdoor movie event (even though it was freezing). Their theme was India, so they had huge silk curtains hanging between the huge arches of the building. I wish I had a picture, it was gorgeous.

So, last night, I ended up meeting some friends for drinks. Our original plan was to head to the hip and trendy Navigli (canals) but we accidentally got on the Metro going the opposite direction. Being lazy and exhausted as we were, we opted to stay on the train and see where it led. We ended up at a little pub called Bar Magenta near the IES center. The fantastic thing about Milan is, there is always something happening and somewhere great to be. We inadvertently found a free live concert of some rockin' cover band. The music was awesome, most of it was in Italian, but twangin' guitars steal my heart in any language. So there I am, sipping on a Mojito, rocking out to Italian songs I don't know, then suddenly I hear the opening chords to REM's "Losing My Religion." This is the point where we stand up and rush to the stage where a huge number of Italians have gathered to sway and sing. This wasn't the first English song, there were others like "Grease Lightening," (the Italian lead singer sang Crazy Lightening, and so did the people), "Crazy Little Thing Called Love, (During which, the lead singer winked at Hannah and she almost died) and "Hey Soul Sister." When I say we had a good time, I mean my face couldn't stop smiling. It was such a good end to the week and exactly what the doctor ordered.

On our walk home from the Metro, we encountered some kind of impromptu bike parade, where dozens of bikers (led by a whistler) biked down our street Via Olona. When I asked "Cosa state facendo,"(What are you guys doing?), I was met with silence. This appears to be another Milanese mystery I won't solve. In any case, we headed over to Pizza OK and bought two pizzas, took it back to my house and went to town. The night ended with giggles and silliness.

Today's forecasts expects a little shopping and a karaoke bar. :)

Love love love to you all from Milano.

a day in the life

It just recently occurred me that I haven't blogged here half as much as I initially planned to, so from here on in, I will blog once a week, at the very least.

My everyday routine here in Italy is very

v
ery Milanese. I wake up around 7 every morning and sneak around my room because my room

mate, Amanda sleeps later than I do. Once I'm ready to leave the house, I embark on my short trip to campus. I am lucky enough to live within 15 minutes (walking) from the IES Center, but if I'm feeling lazy or running late, I take the Metro.

Milan's streets are always crowded in the morning, which I love. I'm fortunate enough to witness Milanese parents w

alking their children to school, which involves fabulously dressed parents holding brightly colored backpacks, as tiny talkative Italian children scurry underfoot. It is among the most enjoyable sights of my morning.

The streets are also full of crazed vespa riders who pay no attention to traffic laws. Walking in the mornings is dangerous, but kind of like a game. I try and j-walk as much as possible because it is characte

ristic of true Milanese. This weekend, a police officer helped me j-walk, that's how normative it is here.

Walking down Via Carducci is the highlight of my morning walk, it is very much a New York styled street in Milano. There are people everywhere, cars, taxis, shouting journal sellers, butchers, bakers, candlestick-makers, the whole lasagna! It's fun to walk and just watch everything that's happening, because honestly, there is so much going on.

I usually have breakfast at the bar across from IES. The traditional Italian breakfast is "una brioche e un cappuccino." I essentially live at this bar and the owners kno

w me now. Everyday it's the same exchange of pleasantries, followed by a fantastic cup of

cappuccino and a lovely croissant.

[Insert Classes Here]

LUNCH! Normally, I eat at Pan e Vita with some friends from IES, it is a little pasticeria near campus. It's traditional for students in Italy to have a panino (little s

andwich) for lunch and I love them. They also have foccaccia covered in vegetables and cheese which is a favorite of yours truly. Sometimes we get gelato, because realistically, we look for any reason to eat it. It's wonderful and I'm going to miss gelato so much when I go home. Italians love gelato, but we recently discovered that many gelateria close for the winter! Fortunately, we're having a bit of an Indian Summer here, so they're still open.

[Insert Evening Class]

Dinner! I cook alot here in Italy. The price of food is so much cheaper than in the US. Usually, I either cook for my housemates or help cook at dinner parties. There are usually at least 2 a week, and they are hosted by IES students. I must admit I enjoy the company of friends around a dinner table. We've formed a faux family here in Milano and it's comforting when things get stressful. Living outside the US can be really stressful, especially when the language is such a challenge.

In the evenings, I do homework and go for late night gelato with my housemate and best friend Hannah. Our evening walks around our neighborhood are among my favorite daily happenings, despite the onset of mosquito attacks! Then of course, I sleep.

:)

The Only Thing To Do Is Jump

So Theresa, Hannah and I are standing on the ferry dock in Vernazza, we're waiting to go back to Monterosso when we see a group of boys jump off of the dock and into the Mediterranean.

Theresa and I exchange glances, as if to say, "why the hell didn't we think of that?"

Hannah enables by saying we have time, so, the next thing I know Theresa and I are stripping down to our swim suits in front of the annoying Australian tourists.

We're at the edge of the dock, the drop is substantial and the water below seems bottomless. We start to count, 1...as if we're actually going to do this, 2... as if it's safe, as if it's happening.

3.

We jump.

I'm in the air when I start screaming. More of a celebration than anything else.

Then we hit the water.

This was the single greatest moment of my life. Even if I did graze a rock.

Kicking my way from under the water, the only thought in my head was:

this is what it is to be alive.

davvero.

My Milano Sings to Me

Vagabond

I feel that this trip to Italy is like attending
weekly sessions of beauty therapy. The universe silences my internal negativity and shouts: "Come rest your mind child, inhale the beauty of the world!" I must say, the universe is pretty persuasive.

The train ride to Venice showcased the marvels of the Italian countryside in rapid succession. The rolling grassy hills and vineyards, the crumbling ruins, the distant castles and cathedrals. I smiled like a fool and pressed my forehead against the window, letting the cool of the window add to my spirit of utter content.My travel buddy, Zdan and I chatted aimlessly and tried not to annoy the Italian passengers. Time wore on and maturity waned. Dancing ensued followed by a raucous game of cards. By the tim

e we crossed the bridge to Venice, my heartbeat was in my ears. We were here.

Our friends arrived that evening, after a few mishaps (I got lost), we found our way into a decent restaurant. Dinner was delightful but expensive. The sit down cost was unexpected, but alas, we paid and went out into the night. Finding the way home was a challenge, I succeeded in getting us back to our hotel, but not to the club many of my friends wanted to go to. However, we ended up spending the evening in an Irish pub.

The only thing more amusing than 12 college kids sleeping in one room, is the fact that we were short 3 beds. Nevertheless, some gentlemen chose to sleep on the floor and our problem was solved. The room was like a 12 year old's sleepover. We giggled as we brushed our teeth, we joked after the lights had been turned out, we talked and talked (about who would die if this were a horror film), and we tried to sleep, but not before a chorus of "Goodnight Zdan...Goodnight Wiley...Goodnight Hannah...Goodnight Airiel...Goodnight Theresa....NO!"

The next morning we had breakfast and went to the Piazza San.Marco. This church boasts a solid gold alter and Byzantine Mosaics. We walked slowly through the church and marveled at the beauty of it all. From the vaulted ceilings, to the delicately carved columns, everything was breathtaking.

Next, we journeyed to the island of Murano via waterbus (boat). The ride to the on the waterbus was fantastic. We cruised along on the Adriatic and Sea enjoyed the breezes as they c

ame.

Murano was beyond gorgeous. The turquoise waters, the whitewashed buildings and the winding streets made me feel like I was somewhere in another time. We meandered to find lunch and little glass things made by the famous Murano glass-blowers. Then we found the best little Gelato shop and enjoyed the cold treat.

Soon, it was time to head back to San Lucia to catch our train home.

Euphoria

I just want to stay this happy forever. Italy makes me so happy. I look back and wonder about the last time I was this happy and I can't remember. I just want to dance and sing. I want to stay this happy person that I've always wanted to be. I want to outrun, outdance and outdrink my sadness forever. Why can't life always be like this?

Italian class today was fantastic, as always, we joke with our adorable professor and she lets us take breaks for cappuccinos at the cafe across the street.

Luini's panzerotti is a lunch time staple, we hadn't had it in like 5 days so we (9 of us) headed over and chowed down.

Tonight was the fantastic and cheap bar at our favorite piazza (di San Lorenzo).

Life is good.

Milanese Calibrase

I have no idea what the Italian policy is for public sleeping, but whatever the case, my nap in the library was much needed. These past few days have been a whirlwind of emotion. I love this city. From the gritty sidewalks and lack of traffic laws to the unexpected rain storms, but, it exhausts me.

Milan reminds me so much of myself, or rather, what I would like to become. This weekend, I went to a rehearsal at the famed La Scala Opera house. The building was destroyed several times during WWII, yet they dug through the ruin and began again, making the opera house a monument to the Italian love of beauty.

Unlike Americans, the Italians often keep the ruin along with the new renovation. It is a constant reminder of where they have been and where they are going. It is a constant part of them that they acknowledge and move beyond.

Alas, I'm rambling.

Ciao ciao.

Panzerotti on the Piazza

Here in Italy, the Americans are starving. The Italians eat rich sweets for breakfast, “brioche con marmalada e capppucino”. The croissants are flaky and sweet and the coffee is robust, but we miss our eggs and potatoes. “Asperatte,” they tell us. By noon, we’re too hungry to observe the Italian lunch hour. My newfound friends and I hop on the metro and ride from San Ambrosio to Cadorna, where we switch from the green line to the red and head towards il Duomo.

Yesterday, when we were lead by our community assistants, we politely ate the Italian amount. Today, we are greedy, hungry and armed with new Italian.

Posso avere...

Prendo...

Luini’s is the best place for the cheesy tomato goodness known as panzerotti. In the heart of Milan's historic district, the place is always busy. Today is no exception, the line is already out the door. While others turn around and find other lunches, we've already learned that their's is the best, so we wait.

Here in the land where the customer is always wrong, the lady behind the counter is annoyed with my classmate's fumbling Italian. I practice the words in my head over and over. So far, I've never ordered for myself.

Posso avere due panzerotti normale perfavore.

I order for my friend and feel like a champion. We take our cheesy spoils and sit on the steps of a 500 year old church. I am too happy to be here.

Mi Casa

Pink Flamingo in Poland

Polanczenia Transferowe

Okay, what the hell did that sign just say?

Odbior bagazu i Wyjscie

Excuse me, how can that even be a word with so many consonants in a row?

I've left my American friends from the Chicago-Warsaw flight, so now I wander. I have no idea what any of these signs say and the English translations are few and far between. The ever-friendly Chris and sleepy Deanna or Leanna have run off to catch their flight to Vienna, so here I am, actually alone and kind of dizzy.

Alas, I have found customs. They check me over and I try not to be too alarmed when the Polish guard yanks my passport from my hands. He nods curtly and hands it back.

Stamp.

Here I am, Warsaw, Poland.

Everywhere I go, the Polish stare at me. I am the lone pink flamingo in this homogenous duck pond. It’s strange being watched, so I ham it up. I hijack a handicapped bathroom and change entirely. I’m going to need some fashion confidence to take on this situation. The girl in the mirror is not as much of a disaster as I expected. My makeup appears to have lasted, though my hair is untamed and threatening to take over Warsaw. I reach into my bag and pull out my favorite green dress. In a flash, the makeup is reapplied, the hair beast is tamed and I’m finally out of my heavy and too-hot travel clothes. Am I brave enough to wear this outside?

I barrel through the door before I can change my mind or dress. Once again, the Polish stare.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

Why are my heels so loud?

I’m suddenly so aware of every move I make. I tell myself that I can’t be as conspicuous as I feel. Each step proves me wrong.

I search for vegetarian breakfast and give up, settling for a frappe. Everything in Poland has sausage.

I panic when I pay, Poland doesn’t use the Euro. I swipe my card hesitantly.

What is a zloty?

The coffee boy is nice, I realize I’m terrible for not learning how to say thank you in Polish. I say it in English anyways, more for myself than anything. He smiles. He understood. I think.

Thank God.

I sit and drink my frappe in the open café. I hear little Polish children speaking quickly in a language that sounds more like an exhalation than anything else.

Here I am, alone, on the other side of the world. A pink flamingo in a duck pond.

Bloomability

Tonight is my last Saturday in the United States. It's a reality I've avoided all day long, yet here it is, staring me in the face. Now,I'm fighting the anxiety that comes with leaving the familiar.

I've never been anywhere really. It wasn't until my sophomore year of high school that I even left the state of California. My cousins took me on a camping trip to Oregon and then to Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado. Then I caught a wicked case of the wander lust. By senior year, I was determined to live in another state. Colleges flew me out across the country, but the East Coast wasn't a fit, financially or spiritually. So I ended up in Washington, and now I'm leaving the country.

The last four years of my life have been a whirlwind of constant change. I'm unrecognizable from the poofy haired punkess I used to be and I'm still so very unfinished.

In any case, Bloomability is a word from one of my favorite childhood books. It is a non-native English speaker's interpretation of the word possibility. I like it so much more because it conveys the process involved in possibility. It is something natural, a blossoming of sorts. It's my favorite word.

I'm hoping Italy will help me grow as a person, explore the bloomabilities of the universe. Until then, I'm packing up, saying goodbyes and bracing myself for the ride.