33

A year ago today I was making plans for my 32nd year of life and this definitely wasn't part of the plan. Thinking back, I can't say I remember what the plan was. I do remember the celebration with family and friends in Denver. There's a definite sense of missing everyone from home, but at the same time, there's a peace to being in a place with people who treat me as family. I am feeling, finally, a bit more at home in this very different world...to the point that I'm forgetting the differences and assuming many of the cultural nuances as being the norm. 

A couple of days ago, my dear friend, Lana, and a group of her friends visited me here in Perugia. She was the first face from my American life that I've seen since I boarded the plane March 8. As always when I see her, it's as if time stands still; she never changes and we pick up from where we last left off. It was so cool to introduce her and everyone to my life here. There's some level of validation or maybe it's just knowledge that this can't be a dream if someone else experiences it with me.

The evening they got to town, we all went to a Napolitano pizza place that D loves and I have become a huge fan of their pizza and other food as well. The group was longing for real Italian food. After a few days in Rome and being sent to all of the tourist places for food, they knew they hadn't yet had the culinary experience of the locals. It gives me great joy when we can all sit around the same table, D speaking Italian, the group speaking English and we all had a great time. I like playing translator, it's a cool role to be in. And I think D could appreciate the situation I've been in since I got to town: always being the only person in the group who doesn't speak the language of the others. I think this was the first time for him to be in a group setting where he doesn't speak the same language as everyone else.

The next day we walked all over Perugia and for lunch I cooked up some gnocchi because I wanted to make sure they'd had the gnocchi experience before leaving Italy. One of the guys has been traveling all over Europe (backpacking) for 2 1/2 months, another girl is working in Paris. Hearing the stories of the different places they've visited and their experiences was great. I really haven't heard too many of these stories before. I know I need to do more traveling in Europe, it would be nice to be able to talk about the other cultures as well. But I'm not itching to go...I am anxious to see more of Italy, but I don't mind just living here. Especially now that I am just getting to the point of being comfortable. The one thing I heard from all is that Italy and Spain were two places that lived up to (or far exceeded expectations). About Italy, they were in love with the people, food, beauty of the place. They called it a complete place, as opposed to other places that might have most of the elements but were missing things like friendly people or something significant.

I'm sure in the blog I've expressed some of my anxiety at not speaking Italian. Or maybe not. I've probably told you more about the days when I felt like I'd made significant progress with the language. Have I told you about the days where I've been freaked out because I couldn't speak? Have I mentioned all of the times I wanted to express what was on my mind but couldn't? Did I tell you how many, many times I've been lost on the road trying to meet up with friends but couldn't call to ask for directions because I knew that I wouldn't be able to understand anything on the phone? Do you know how it feels to tell someone hundreds of times, "I'm sorry, I don't understand the meaning of what you just said?" or "Can you repeat that, please?" Do you know the anxiety of knowing you will be in a social setting where you will be with people you enjoy very much, but you will not be able to talk to them about what's going on with them, express your appreciation, tell a joke or understand when they say something clever?

I've met many foreigners here, mostly through the university and almost all of them don't speak Italian after class. They hang out with others who speak their native language. They party and have the time of their lives here. So many people come here for the party aspect or simply to have a nice break. I can honestly say that even though classes were part-time and it's a pretty casual life living for school, Italian food, bike rides and not a whole lot more than that, much of the time here has been stressful. You're not going to hear this from most people who come to Italy. Also, when people travel to Italy for vacation, they either go to the tourist places where business owners speak English, or at the very least, they travel with others who speak their language.
The stress comes from trying to live the real Italian life without being able to communicate like I would like to (closer to fluency...fluency itself is very difficult to attain, actually it's impossible to define). I've learned how much time there isn't in each day...and I just can't sit down and memorize vocabularly. One of my teachers said that it's necessary to hear a word 7 times before remembering it. I believe that.

A word on the comfort zone concept. I have always wandered a bit out of my comfort zone for new jobs, and interesting experiences. Fortunately, I eased into this life here somewhat with starting my life in an apartment with a Dutch girl (people from Holland are very good in English) and making friends with English-speakers (though no Americans) at the university. But I will say that even now, I haven't exactly established a new "comfort zone." I'm fortunate to have friends and family here who would do anything for me if I asked them, but still. There are days that I feel like I'm in a free-fall from the comfort zone where I absolutely feel like there isn't solid ground beneath my feet. Fortunately, like anything, the feeling comes and goes. I celebrate the days that I can comunicate and feel good with stuff. The others, I try to remember how much better everything is now than it was before. I used to be totally freaked out about having to talk to my landlord who only spoke Italian. The other day when I moved, I had a very easy conversation with my new landlord and only realized after I'd had a good 45-minute exchange with him that it was possible he didn't know a word of English. It's easy to order food, do business with anyone at the local shops. It's the next level of being able to chill out with friends and just banter. That's the next step. Fortunately, I can understand almost everything everyone says. And when I manufacture Italian words, I'm often correct or close enough that an Italian can guess what I said and give me the correct word in exchange.

The other night, a group of friends (who are all about 15 years older) got together and invited D and I. They had a huge table outside in the backyard of their home not too far from here. They also have a wood-fired oven. They made pizza, had all sorts of wonderful food (lots of antipasta foods like bruschetta, veggies, large platters of different meats and cheese), and there were 5 different types of dessert. It was interesting because all of the men sat together and the women sat together. I think everyone who was there was with a spouse or significant other. The most talkative side of the table was the men's side. They were speaking a lot of dialect so I was able to understand a bit less than I usually can at this point. But still, to be there, under the stars on a perfect night and feel this family atmosphere absolutely embodied at that table, I'm cool with simply enjoying and knowing that the next time we get together, I will be able to understand more and speak more. And, for the record, in dialect in this region, "mangia" is pronounced "manya." Ha.

Perugia is beginning to wake up, I've been in town since 6:30ish. I started the day with a cappuchino freddo (espresso with cold milk) and a chocolate-filled croissant. I bought the news, in English. I've been craving some news and I have started reading Italian news, but considering how long it takes to get through a single article, it feels good to get to digest what's up in the world a bit quicker. 2.50 euro for 19 pages of a very, very slim version of the NY Times. I think it's enough English news for awhile. I will pick up Italian news soon and spend the day reading it and studying. There's so much further to go and so little time...

Back to the birthday thing. Here I am, 33 years old. 33 isn't a particularly signifcant year number-wise. My mom had my bro at 33. Fortunately or not, I have yet to feel the ol' biological clock go off. I'm sure it's a function of situation. I feel about 25 so that might help matters a bit. At least for this month I get to live as an adult (like an adult Etruscan in my Etruscan cave-like home, outfitted with furniture and kitchen cabinets from IKEA) with my own kitchen and no second-hand smoke at home. It feels terrific. Much of the specialness of Italy is home cooking and I am thrilled to have a chance to try my hand in the kitchen again. I'd like to start with apple pie. Hopefully today.
What's the plan for 33? Good question. As things have fallen into place in the past, I suspect they will as the future unfolds. I am going to let nature take its course and go with the flow.
Thanks to everyone for the very special birthday wishes. I look forward to seeing everyone in September and catching up in person. There will probably be very few blog entries between now and then with such limited time and so much to do between now and then. All my best!!!!!!!!!