I just settled in bed after a weekend spent outside of Milan at Matteo's house. Towards the end of last week, I was getting anxious to see him because the week was extremely busy with work, grading, field trips, meetings, and painting at the end. Friday night, I just really wanted to escape the city and see the one person in this country that always makes me happy.
I took a taxi to the train station, a luxury I have only used a handful of times in the city, due to my heavy bags and the cold temperature softly spitting snow flurries in the air. The train was warm while my curly hair, still damp from the shower, was tucked neatly inside my black cap. I looked at my reflection in the train window to make sure a few curls fell out of the cap, applying red lipstick to complete a 20's look that I feels captures romanticism on trains. haha. In reality, I was incredibly rushed while packing my bags, and the train window was pertinent to fix up my disheveled look before seeing Matteo. I calmly read the paper while waiting my stop. As the train slowed at the station, I saw him standing in his red coat waiting for me outside the train. I stumbled out of the train with a purely giddy feeling arising in my stomach, smacking my bags down on the platform. He walked toward me with his stagger and with a smile pasted on his face. I had arrived.
We spent a really nice weekend together, and Friday night we ate dinner with his parents before their departure for Genova the next morning--their usual weekend residence. Afterwards, Matteo fell asleep while watching a movie. I said..."Matteo, you are sleeping!" He responded: "No, dear, I was looking at you." It obviously wasn't true as his eyes were closed and he was nearly snoring at the end of his sentence.
Saturday, we spent a nice day together--it was relaxing; we took a walk, we ate lunch at his sister's house, and we went to an Italian version of IKEA to pick up a few things that I have needed for my apartment. His sister and brother-in-law are very nice people, and they have an adorable baby who just learned to walk around Christmastime. I really enjoyed the time spent at their house, and it is nice that she and Matteo have such a nice rapport. He absolutely loves his nephew, and it is cute seeing him interacting with the baby.
At night, we went out to dinner with his friend Giacomo and his girlfriend, Valentina, in a nearby town at a restaurant on a hill. It was a really cute place with a grey stone interior and a hearth. We all ate appetizers, first and second courses, dessert, coffee, grappa, and 2 bottles of wine. It was a really nice dinner, and we all had a good time talking. Coincidentally, Matteo's cousin ended up at the restaurant that night so I was introduced to more of the family. Afterwards, we went to a discoteca dance club in a city close by, and we all had a fun time. There was a live band that sang covers of mostly American, English, and Italian pop songs, and I thought that they were great entertainers. The vocalists were very talented, and I swear some of their covers were almost better than the real songs. For instance, the woman vocalist sang Beyonce in a way I've heard few people replicate. However, despite the fun dancing (which was much needed after the long week), the high point of the night for me was when the group invited a man on stage to sing. He was older and bald, and I did not expect the Pavarati notes and scales to escape from his mouth when he started singing some of the most famous Italian operatic ballads. It was awesome, and I was emotionally enraptured during the few songs he belted out amongst the crowd. It was so powerful, and I am completely seduced by the passionate deluge of opera--how cool! It was just so strange seeing something like that inside a dance club.
Today was also very relaxed--the most significant thing to recount is that Matteo fixed lunch, and later we hung out in his bedroom while he read to me from one of his favorite books--a book about America written by an Italian journalist. This is not the first time that he has read to me--I find it relaxing, and he takes time to explain if there is something I don't understand. It was very difficult for me to say goodbye to him when he dropped me off at my apartment in Milan this evening.
Another week ahead.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Update: In Italy-Involved-In Love.
After a long time of silence, I have decided to "pick up the pen" once more. The reason for my absence can be described simply, and it is due to the fact that my life in mid-November became incredibly hectic.
As I had been describing in those November days, I was teaching three days a week at my Italian private school in Monza, a city north east of Milan. My first teaching experience came as a sudden opportunity in late September, and I was thrown into a school of energetic and rambunctious Italian kiddies-of the ages 9-14-hormones, curiosity, and self-discovery flying crazily about the air. My experiences thus far have been both challenging, rewarding, and incredibly humorous for several reasons. I still get a kick out of the fact that I am actually considered to be a "prof", giving parent interviews and collaborating in teacher meetings. In fact, I just spent this January week preparing the grades for the first term report card for all of my classes, I gave my first oral interrogation of my high schoolers on Wednesday (a large part of the Italian testing method), and I am currently preparing the curriculum for the high school art history classes that I will teach in March--while trying desperately to organize a class field trip to Ravenna.
Speaking of field trips, I lead my second and third year middle school students on a field trip today to see the Duomo and an art show in Milan. Along with my fellow colleagues, we took them of a tour of the Edward Hopper exhibition at Palazzo Reale near the Duomo, and after a pitstop at Micky D's for lunch, we gave them a tour of the Duomo that ended with our bird's eye experience on the roof. I will expound upon my field trip day in a bit--but for now, I will say that I enjoyed recreational time with my students. They are hilarious, and I find it cute that they all wanted to take pictures of me--their "Prof."
A part from my new Italian teacher phase in life, I had also taken on two mural jobs before Christmas. One commission in the hospital in which I painted my large volunteer project. The other mural was commissioned by my school where the director of the school called me into his office with the 3 principals of the school. I thought that I was in trouble! Instead, they then proposed that I paint a nativity scene for the school. Soon after this interview, I went to buy paints and a piece of wood 3X2 meters in dimension was ordered for me. After presenting them with a sketch of my Nativity idea, I succeeded in realizing my design on the primed wood within two weeks--working about 6 days because I had to paint after my teaching duties were finished. As I donned my painting shirt over my teacher clothes, paintbrush in hand, people in the school started to stop by to see the new activity in Art room 2. My students were enthralled with my painting--complimenting me, asking questions, and playing with my paint. Their eyes lit up when they realized that their teacher was painting the Nativity, and they looked entranced as I worked--even the ones that usually act out and chatter in class turned into puppies as they watched me and offered to change my water, etc. It was a wonderful experience even though I finished every night at 7--still to catch the train home to Milan. However, it was also paid work which also made the hours worth even more besides the genuine respect I was gaining from both my students and my colleagues.
There is one colleague that was very impressed with my painting, and this would be the famous Letizia that I have mentioned in my previous blogs. This is the teacher that was famous for not collaborating in the school-the teacher who has been with the Collegio for the longest period of time, the teacher that wasn't receptive to the idea of having to work with a young American girl who would be inserted as the new art teacher for the "English speaking" program at the school. After the first rocky weeks of working with Letizia, I was clinging onto the hope of winning her over. Despite the difficulties that she presented in our collaboration in the beginning (not wanting to have meetings, etc), I persisted with my plan of attack: Be as nice as possible, as willing as possible, don't push agendas, and show her that you respect her, her position, and above all--her experience. I complimented her alot, lets say--haha! In the end....I have to say that I think that we are now FRIENDS!
I have the feeling now that she trusts me, and my mural project at the school I think won her appreciation of my talent. At this point, I have grown to genuinely like her. She has a quarky and funny personality that I find really endearing, and conversely, I think that she has warmed to me. She now meets me willingly during our planning period, and we try to make time to grab a coffee together. After experience with her in the classroom, I have learned that I respect her and her teaching style--she really has a nice way of explaining the projects to the children, and her advice is appreciated and valued. She also cares a lot for the students, and I admire this aspect in her. So my rather rough welcome has blossomed into a rapport that I only hopes continues to grow closer--maybe even developing the program for the students with both of our heads put together. We'll see!
What else? well, I continued to correct articles for the art magazine, Flashart, and I corrected nearly 40 in the month of November and December, making appearances at their main office several times. However, I havn't heard from them the since my vacation at home, and I am wondering now if I should re-contact them. I really liked reading the articles even though it loaded up my already heavy plate before the holidays. Oh Italians are compicated.
Christmas shopping was another mission that I had before flying back the the United States! My mother asked me to pick up some special Italian gifts for the family in addition to my own Christmas presents--which of course was a wonderful job, but I had to make sure that I did all of my shopping. The absence of a car already makes shopping missions complicated affairs if you have varied present ideas, and to add to the lack of mobility, I will also blatantly state that in Italy no simple shopping mission is easily accomplished without running around in several circles--if not countless, unnecessary, and unbelievably maddening circles-not considering your luck. In any case, I was very proud because I believe that I found really great gifts for everyone in the family--trying to be fair and adhere to everyone's taste and possible desire-with genu-ine Made in Italy trademarks on the tags. Therefore, I came home with one suitcase laden with presents as if i was the Italian Santa Clause or Babbo Natale! I love giving presents, and I was happy this year that I at least had a job to afford some fun Christmas surprises from the Old Country.
I wont recount my airport saga to arrive home for Christmas, but in short, I will say that I will NEVER ever EVER again travel so close to Christmas. I passed a grueling 1.5 days trying to land my little butt back in Pittsburgh--in the arms of everything I know and love for my favorite holiday season. I arrived on Christmas Eve to forget about my sleep exhaustion from the uncomfortable plane, the night sleeping in the JFK airport on top of my bags, eyes open, and the emotional trauma endured. Everything was forgotten, and I was home--Christmas tree glowing, dressed to go to Christmas mass, in the warmth of my Gram's house stuffing my face with delicious food at her round table, conversation flying, and my life in Italy a distant memory.
I hopped back from my Marry Poppin's chalk drawing to receive the warm welcome of my beautiful home and the people that mean the most to me--in my culture. Sometimes the disconnect between my two "realities" or places of heart and residence is very hard to unite or reconcile--understand or grasp simultaneously. I find it difficult to totally live the responsibility of both locations because one always becomes virtual, far away. My material belongings are now split between two, but most of my love and devotion is left at my home. I have lots of interest and passion dedicated to Italy, but my love and friendship is much more shallow here. However, this is not to say that I don't have good friends in Milan-I have interesting acquaintances, and I like the opportunities to meet people in Italy: the European Italian exchange.
Regarding my heart in Italy, I will say that Matteo and I have been growing a fabulous relationship. I am very much in love with him, and every time we have the chance to be together, I realize more and more what a beautiful heart he possesses. I believe that he is very special, and we thoroughly enjoy one another's company. I think one of the things I appreciate most about him is how he treats other people-he is respectful and friendly towards all people without prejudice that is common to Italians. As a boyfriend, he provides me with unfailing friendship and I can say that he has never let me down. To give you an idea, I will describe our weekend just passed:
Last Thursday, on my day off, we went to the Questura-police station-to pick up my "permit to stay" document. This was a big deal for me because receiving official documents in Italy is a grueling and long process. If you actually succeed in systemizing all of your documents officially in plastic, it means that you have been patiently waiting for nearly a year. It was finally my day of reckoning, and he came with me to support me. It was less painful than I thought although the place is really an abismal mess for foreigners--I actually was very lucky because I went straight to the window to ask for information and they took me immediately. In any case, we celebrated my legal residence permit with a breakfast nearby, and I took Matteo to see an art show near the Duomo.
We went to see Steve McCurry, a photojournalist for National Geographic who graduated from Penn State. He is extremely famous for his reportage photography, and the show was absolutely beautiful. I have begun taking Matteo to shows that are based in socio-political or journalistic field--a place where his interests and passions lie--and the medium of photography is also a good platform to start understanding art and the narrative and emotional potentialities of art in general. Basically, he and I both loved the show, and I am thrilled that he is so willing to accompany me and show interest in art shows. He announced with excitement, "tomorrow lets go to the museum of science and industry! I would flip out there like a little kid!" My little nerdy Italian--I love it! Of course, I would totally do that on a Saturday!
Friday night, he came into Milan after work, and we went out for a nice dinner--dressing in our best. We both love food, and he likes teaching me about Italian cuisine. We talked about taking a trip around Italy in a tent, an idea that has planted a lovely seed in our future ideas. Always a good conversation.
On Saturday I fell ill with a flu, and he took care of me the whole day. He made me stay in bed, while he brought me breakfast. He held my head, saying, "Baby Dear, we I'll take care of you and I would want nothing less than to spend today with you. Now you go get in the shower, dry your hair, and snuggle yourself in bed while I prepare everything." He went on to cook me a good pasta meal for lunch, and he cooked minestrone soup for dinner. He wouldn't let me touch any of the dishes, and it was wonderful to have him there with me. We snuggled in my room to watch a fantastic German film, "The Life of Others" (that is one of his favorites and I absolutely LOVED IT), and I felt so happy with him that I completely forgot about my fever.
On Sunday, I was well enough to go to church with him, and afterwards we went to eat brunch at a good restaurant nearby. The brunch is fabulous, and he knows how much I like breakfast. We had a leisurely 2 hour meal. Upon arriving in my apartment, we watched the movie, "Tropic Thunder," in Italian before he left to go back home. It was a lovely weekend despite my sickness.
He is a terrific boyfriend, and I will provide more updates on the love front soon. I cant wait to see him tomorrow after this long week!
His message from tonight sent before bed:
"Ciao Amore, I am coming home-unfortunately talking made us stay out late but its great to joking around with friends you havn't seen for a while. I can't explain how much I miss you "piccola (little one)," maybe it would be better to wait for tomorrow, but I believe that you already know how I feel. You are a fantastic person, I always dreamed of meeting someone like you. I love you intensely, maybe too much to be able to withstand our distance during the week. I send you a kiss with all the affection that I have. Yours, Matteo."
I think he gets more sentimental before bed. Haha.
Okay...hope to write soon: In Italy. Involved. In giro. In love.
As I had been describing in those November days, I was teaching three days a week at my Italian private school in Monza, a city north east of Milan. My first teaching experience came as a sudden opportunity in late September, and I was thrown into a school of energetic and rambunctious Italian kiddies-of the ages 9-14-hormones, curiosity, and self-discovery flying crazily about the air. My experiences thus far have been both challenging, rewarding, and incredibly humorous for several reasons. I still get a kick out of the fact that I am actually considered to be a "prof", giving parent interviews and collaborating in teacher meetings. In fact, I just spent this January week preparing the grades for the first term report card for all of my classes, I gave my first oral interrogation of my high schoolers on Wednesday (a large part of the Italian testing method), and I am currently preparing the curriculum for the high school art history classes that I will teach in March--while trying desperately to organize a class field trip to Ravenna.
Speaking of field trips, I lead my second and third year middle school students on a field trip today to see the Duomo and an art show in Milan. Along with my fellow colleagues, we took them of a tour of the Edward Hopper exhibition at Palazzo Reale near the Duomo, and after a pitstop at Micky D's for lunch, we gave them a tour of the Duomo that ended with our bird's eye experience on the roof. I will expound upon my field trip day in a bit--but for now, I will say that I enjoyed recreational time with my students. They are hilarious, and I find it cute that they all wanted to take pictures of me--their "Prof."
A part from my new Italian teacher phase in life, I had also taken on two mural jobs before Christmas. One commission in the hospital in which I painted my large volunteer project. The other mural was commissioned by my school where the director of the school called me into his office with the 3 principals of the school. I thought that I was in trouble! Instead, they then proposed that I paint a nativity scene for the school. Soon after this interview, I went to buy paints and a piece of wood 3X2 meters in dimension was ordered for me. After presenting them with a sketch of my Nativity idea, I succeeded in realizing my design on the primed wood within two weeks--working about 6 days because I had to paint after my teaching duties were finished. As I donned my painting shirt over my teacher clothes, paintbrush in hand, people in the school started to stop by to see the new activity in Art room 2. My students were enthralled with my painting--complimenting me, asking questions, and playing with my paint. Their eyes lit up when they realized that their teacher was painting the Nativity, and they looked entranced as I worked--even the ones that usually act out and chatter in class turned into puppies as they watched me and offered to change my water, etc. It was a wonderful experience even though I finished every night at 7--still to catch the train home to Milan. However, it was also paid work which also made the hours worth even more besides the genuine respect I was gaining from both my students and my colleagues.
There is one colleague that was very impressed with my painting, and this would be the famous Letizia that I have mentioned in my previous blogs. This is the teacher that was famous for not collaborating in the school-the teacher who has been with the Collegio for the longest period of time, the teacher that wasn't receptive to the idea of having to work with a young American girl who would be inserted as the new art teacher for the "English speaking" program at the school. After the first rocky weeks of working with Letizia, I was clinging onto the hope of winning her over. Despite the difficulties that she presented in our collaboration in the beginning (not wanting to have meetings, etc), I persisted with my plan of attack: Be as nice as possible, as willing as possible, don't push agendas, and show her that you respect her, her position, and above all--her experience. I complimented her alot, lets say--haha! In the end....I have to say that I think that we are now FRIENDS!
I have the feeling now that she trusts me, and my mural project at the school I think won her appreciation of my talent. At this point, I have grown to genuinely like her. She has a quarky and funny personality that I find really endearing, and conversely, I think that she has warmed to me. She now meets me willingly during our planning period, and we try to make time to grab a coffee together. After experience with her in the classroom, I have learned that I respect her and her teaching style--she really has a nice way of explaining the projects to the children, and her advice is appreciated and valued. She also cares a lot for the students, and I admire this aspect in her. So my rather rough welcome has blossomed into a rapport that I only hopes continues to grow closer--maybe even developing the program for the students with both of our heads put together. We'll see!
What else? well, I continued to correct articles for the art magazine, Flashart, and I corrected nearly 40 in the month of November and December, making appearances at their main office several times. However, I havn't heard from them the since my vacation at home, and I am wondering now if I should re-contact them. I really liked reading the articles even though it loaded up my already heavy plate before the holidays. Oh Italians are compicated.
Christmas shopping was another mission that I had before flying back the the United States! My mother asked me to pick up some special Italian gifts for the family in addition to my own Christmas presents--which of course was a wonderful job, but I had to make sure that I did all of my shopping. The absence of a car already makes shopping missions complicated affairs if you have varied present ideas, and to add to the lack of mobility, I will also blatantly state that in Italy no simple shopping mission is easily accomplished without running around in several circles--if not countless, unnecessary, and unbelievably maddening circles-not considering your luck. In any case, I was very proud because I believe that I found really great gifts for everyone in the family--trying to be fair and adhere to everyone's taste and possible desire-with genu-ine Made in Italy trademarks on the tags. Therefore, I came home with one suitcase laden with presents as if i was the Italian Santa Clause or Babbo Natale! I love giving presents, and I was happy this year that I at least had a job to afford some fun Christmas surprises from the Old Country.
I wont recount my airport saga to arrive home for Christmas, but in short, I will say that I will NEVER ever EVER again travel so close to Christmas. I passed a grueling 1.5 days trying to land my little butt back in Pittsburgh--in the arms of everything I know and love for my favorite holiday season. I arrived on Christmas Eve to forget about my sleep exhaustion from the uncomfortable plane, the night sleeping in the JFK airport on top of my bags, eyes open, and the emotional trauma endured. Everything was forgotten, and I was home--Christmas tree glowing, dressed to go to Christmas mass, in the warmth of my Gram's house stuffing my face with delicious food at her round table, conversation flying, and my life in Italy a distant memory.
I hopped back from my Marry Poppin's chalk drawing to receive the warm welcome of my beautiful home and the people that mean the most to me--in my culture. Sometimes the disconnect between my two "realities" or places of heart and residence is very hard to unite or reconcile--understand or grasp simultaneously. I find it difficult to totally live the responsibility of both locations because one always becomes virtual, far away. My material belongings are now split between two, but most of my love and devotion is left at my home. I have lots of interest and passion dedicated to Italy, but my love and friendship is much more shallow here. However, this is not to say that I don't have good friends in Milan-I have interesting acquaintances, and I like the opportunities to meet people in Italy: the European Italian exchange.
Regarding my heart in Italy, I will say that Matteo and I have been growing a fabulous relationship. I am very much in love with him, and every time we have the chance to be together, I realize more and more what a beautiful heart he possesses. I believe that he is very special, and we thoroughly enjoy one another's company. I think one of the things I appreciate most about him is how he treats other people-he is respectful and friendly towards all people without prejudice that is common to Italians. As a boyfriend, he provides me with unfailing friendship and I can say that he has never let me down. To give you an idea, I will describe our weekend just passed:
Last Thursday, on my day off, we went to the Questura-police station-to pick up my "permit to stay" document. This was a big deal for me because receiving official documents in Italy is a grueling and long process. If you actually succeed in systemizing all of your documents officially in plastic, it means that you have been patiently waiting for nearly a year. It was finally my day of reckoning, and he came with me to support me. It was less painful than I thought although the place is really an abismal mess for foreigners--I actually was very lucky because I went straight to the window to ask for information and they took me immediately. In any case, we celebrated my legal residence permit with a breakfast nearby, and I took Matteo to see an art show near the Duomo.
We went to see Steve McCurry, a photojournalist for National Geographic who graduated from Penn State. He is extremely famous for his reportage photography, and the show was absolutely beautiful. I have begun taking Matteo to shows that are based in socio-political or journalistic field--a place where his interests and passions lie--and the medium of photography is also a good platform to start understanding art and the narrative and emotional potentialities of art in general. Basically, he and I both loved the show, and I am thrilled that he is so willing to accompany me and show interest in art shows. He announced with excitement, "tomorrow lets go to the museum of science and industry! I would flip out there like a little kid!" My little nerdy Italian--I love it! Of course, I would totally do that on a Saturday!
Friday night, he came into Milan after work, and we went out for a nice dinner--dressing in our best. We both love food, and he likes teaching me about Italian cuisine. We talked about taking a trip around Italy in a tent, an idea that has planted a lovely seed in our future ideas. Always a good conversation.
On Saturday I fell ill with a flu, and he took care of me the whole day. He made me stay in bed, while he brought me breakfast. He held my head, saying, "Baby Dear, we I'll take care of you and I would want nothing less than to spend today with you. Now you go get in the shower, dry your hair, and snuggle yourself in bed while I prepare everything." He went on to cook me a good pasta meal for lunch, and he cooked minestrone soup for dinner. He wouldn't let me touch any of the dishes, and it was wonderful to have him there with me. We snuggled in my room to watch a fantastic German film, "The Life of Others" (that is one of his favorites and I absolutely LOVED IT), and I felt so happy with him that I completely forgot about my fever.
On Sunday, I was well enough to go to church with him, and afterwards we went to eat brunch at a good restaurant nearby. The brunch is fabulous, and he knows how much I like breakfast. We had a leisurely 2 hour meal. Upon arriving in my apartment, we watched the movie, "Tropic Thunder," in Italian before he left to go back home. It was a lovely weekend despite my sickness.
He is a terrific boyfriend, and I will provide more updates on the love front soon. I cant wait to see him tomorrow after this long week!
His message from tonight sent before bed:
"Ciao Amore, I am coming home-unfortunately talking made us stay out late but its great to joking around with friends you havn't seen for a while. I can't explain how much I miss you "piccola (little one)," maybe it would be better to wait for tomorrow, but I believe that you already know how I feel. You are a fantastic person, I always dreamed of meeting someone like you. I love you intensely, maybe too much to be able to withstand our distance during the week. I send you a kiss with all the affection that I have. Yours, Matteo."
I think he gets more sentimental before bed. Haha.
Okay...hope to write soon: In Italy. Involved. In giro. In love.
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