A Room With A View

Big Teeth Travel Log:

2011-09-15T12:13:00.006Z

My New Blog about Food, Love & Life

Long time no see...Did any one miss me? Did anyone even notice? Probably not. But if you have or you are merely passing by and you would like to read what the Wee Italian Chick has been up to, then read on!

After a fair number of years blogging I have noticed my time for introspective reflection has decreased immensely; nonetheless I still try to make time to enjoy what's good in life. My boyfriend and I love gourmet food and travelling and we are ever so gutted when we visit a new place we love (or hate) and don't remember exactly where it was because we ne

ver bothered to write it down somewhere. That's why these days we write it here. We hope you enjoy exploring the world with us as we eat and see and love.

Bon apetit!

A New Day Has Come?

2011-05-30T23:03:00.003Z

A famous Italian philosopher from the 17th century, Giambattista Basile , once wrote that history is like the wheal - what goes around comes around, cyclically, and if only human kind were cleaver enough to acknowledge this we would live in a perfect society. Nevertheless, his words imply that people are not smart and that we are bound, collectively, never to learn from our mistakes. Many a time my nation and my hometown, Napoli, have gone through some radical governmental changes which have brought about new waves of expectation and enthusiasm - with some, short-lived results. Today is a new dawn for Napoli. In "the city that does not sleep because it's too busy stealing", where the official government is only second to that of the mafia a new major has just been elected by 65,7% of Neapolitans - a young, determined ex judge who has infused this almost dead, semi-comatose, city a newly found sense of hope.

Has a new day come? I pray it has - and if it really has, I pray even harder we will have learnt at least something from our mistakes of old and make change a long lasting occurrence.

Growing "Big"

2011-05-18T21:56:00.002Z

Every phase in life has its choices and its challenges. At 5 months we switch from an exclusively liquid diet to processed solid food - it involves painful teething and a lot of mess!

At 5 years of age we move from the playground of nursery to a big classroom with big chairs and big lonely desks with our minds filled of numbers, letters and increasingly more difficoult information..and it so goes on for the rest of our natural lives. Change is imminent and inevitable. It makes us grow not necessarily "big" or "old" but become better, more equipped and skilled people - with no need for losing our child-like enthusiasm and excitement for life.

[letter to a scared wee potato head!]

End of the Day..

2011-04-26T19:55:00.003Z

..and than it always ends like it always ends: us holding each other tight whilst falling asleep..and I miss you when you are gone.

Happiness is only real when shared

2011-04-25T21:20:00.008Z

I must have used this quote by Tolstoj from "Family Happiness"many a times. In the whole idea of God, community, self discovery, emotions, love - I have always found the concept of shared life ever so captivating. Having spent most of my teen-age years as a misunderstood-self-condemning little nerd, I discovered in the deep sense of community an incredible release of warmth and energy. Needless to say, those years of solitude taught me invaluable lessons regarding self-management and contentment under all type of circumstances. However, in as much as it taught me of to be well by my-self, it also showed me that with other(s) it is better, everything is better.

There are times when solitude and asceticism are still to be preferred and sought after - like fasting in preparation for an event which requires higher levels of commitment than our routine life - but on our day-to-day life having someone by your side caring and sharing, and loving and looking after is so precious. And for all this, I am truly grateful. Everything is more beautiful with you.

"I have lived through much, and now I think I have found what is needed for happiness. A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor--such is my idea of happiness. And then, on top of all that, you for a mate, and children perhaps--what can more the heart of man desire?" - from "Family Happiness" L.N. Tolstoj.

Life Is What Happens When You Are Too Busy Making Other Plans

2010-12-31T11:41:00.004Z

I am beginning this customary 'end-of-the-year-entry' with an incredibly commonplace quote by John Lennon. However, rhetoric has never been an enemy to me plus I the more I grow up, the less I find this quote to be far from being banal.

I seem to have spent way too much time during my adolescence worrying about what was right and what was wrong and, out of what I now perceive as legalism and stubbornness, doing my outmost to stick to those principles and ideals I had decided were worth pursuing. I was unhappy, always struggling just to get by, fighting to push through, never having a mental place I could call my own. I then seem to have spent the following few years waiting on someone else to tell me what to do, how to be. That didn't help either as I was always being used and disposed of emotionally as soon as they had used me for their personal gain. The day I finally managed to unravel myself out of my cocoon, to make decisions for myself, trusting what I loved, what I felt I was born to do, following my innate calling, I began to sore. So even on a day like this, when the whether outside is gloomy and the future is uncertain, I look upon life and feel God's sparkle in me leading me on and startling me to push forward with joy. Stop making plans, stop idealizing life, stop living in a standardized box. LIVE.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERY ONE! MAY IT BE A BLESSED ONE.

No Need For A Melody

2010-10-16T14:25:00.003Z

I guess you could say I have been known to watch a fair ammount of movies in my day. Popular culture teaches us that films are a great way to interpret and analize reality without even having to live those experiences in first person. Some may call this escapism. Blaise Pascal, XVII century philosopher, talked about "the vanity of divertisement", those out of consciousness activities we engage in in order to, as a matter of fact, avoid reality. It may sound harsh, but through out the years I have begun appreciating this theory. I always seem to relate specific times of my life to a song, a sound, a bit like as if I needed a soundtrack to my emotions, yes, like in a movie.
A couple fo days ago, my itunes random selection brought to my ears "Sometimes you can't make it on your own" by U2 - that song,man,it totally captured a specific time in my life and by simply hearing it I somehow re-lived the same emotions I felt back than...like in a flashback. All this brought me to think this may actually be the first time of my life when I feel lucid, when like a person who has been fasting for a long time you manage to see your self from the out side, like some sort of out of body experience and see yourself and you are exactly how you had always hoped you'd become. Imperfect, with a past filled with mistakes but true, honest, sharp, happy, with no need for a melody, maybe just a wee accompainment. Loving it.

Cultural Homologation

2010-10-09T13:51:00.010Z

In the mid '90's (gee,I am officially old referring to my childhood as a decade!) Daniele Silvestri released a song entitled "Le cose che abbiamo in comune" - the things we have in common - in the video he is a radical-chic who sings about talking to a girl who is has everything in common with - from having two arms,two eyes,two legs and one brain to musical taste which would lead one to think at first "oh,how cute,he's found the gal of his dreams!" wrong. In fact, the video shows that the fashion forwardly dressed young man is not talking to a girl, but to the prototype woman he is constructing in his lab and brainwashing thus crafting her into being his perfect match. It's a clever song,with a super catchy tune to it but it also expresses the scary truth of our times about cultural homologation - we all want to be surrounded by our speculars,coz,let's face it, a lot of us are afraid of what's different. We all know the things we fear the most are the ones we do not know, or have a personal experience with. In this sense, knowledge is empowerment. However such longing to fit in out of fear of discovering what's alien from us can be our worst enemy. Often, Fabio Volo writes, a lot of people call "L.O.V.E" their desire to possess. We often keep loved ones as "status symbols", medals of honour more than enrichments to our life journeys, additions to our experiences, water that makes our already joy-filled cups overflow!
So if I can give us all a piece of advice today is "USE YOUR BRAIN!" Stop aspiring to be like someone you see on tv,but only be inspired to be the best you can be..find out what you are good at and excell at it,live life to the full and good things will come your way..better things than the ones you could have brought your way by your own knowledge of what was suitable for you!

Grace

2010-09-14T22:24:00.005Z

I am beginning to embrace that it is a big part of the maturing process in one's life to be willing to admit the things we have always been too fearful or afraid to speak out loud before. Like my dream to become a paediatrician for fear of stepping into a clique.
When I was in my first year at uni I read a book that spoke to a book that spoke to me in a very profound way, "What's so amazing about grace?"by Philip Yancey. From that moment I dreamt that had I ever had a little girl I'd call her Grace,there I said it! "GRACE is receiving freely something we could have never done enough to earn". Over the past few months I have realized more than ever that I am at the receiving end of grace. I have so much,besides from the Grace of God alone who sent His son to die for me even though he knew I could have never repaid him. In the Sound of Music,Maria sings "Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good". I am not sure I have,Maria, but God's grace has blessed me and I am grateful.

Conquered with a smile

2010-08-25T12:14:00.003Z

I love smiling. It keeps my mimic muscles fit and it helps me mantain a positive attitude to whatever I do in life. A few months back I was at a gig in a little pub near my house with my next door neighbour and a couple of collegues we were chatting and laughing when suddenly a handsome short brown hair-blue eyed young man in a tweeded brown jacket and jeans came towards me sporting the largest white smile I had ever seen, shook my hand and kissed me on the cheek (like as if he'd known me my whole life while in fact we had never met before). Then off he disappeared into the crowd. I didn't even know his name or where I knew him from, but that image stayed with me for days from then.
Exactly two months later, on St Patrick's day, the pub where I work to make ends meet was filled with people eating,drinking and having a good time. At one of the tables with a group of friends of mine was sat the very same boy I had seen at the concert to months before. He was very funny and joyous throughout the whole evening and we definitively made a connection. A few days later he got hold of my contacts and began calling me. We hit it off straight away. Within a week he had already given me a pretense "engagement ring"and had asked me out on a date. Everything from then on has been a constant and ever surprising discovery of each other. Whatever we have in common are mostly the things we both always thought, dreamed of, hoped for and never even verbalized out loud. Magic. And it all started with a charming smile..

..the homesickness of a childhood dream..

2010-05-04T15:57:00.001Z

Life is a rough-edged thing..

2010-04-02T11:27:00.006Z

..this is a line from a really beautiful song by an emerging indie local guy who used to attend the same lyceum as me. Giovanni Truppi, in my opinion, is an unassuming,rather talented musician-singer-songwriter. His music (guitarr-drums-winds) is surprisingly original and his lyrics are brilliantly introspective. As far as I know, he has been composing for a few years now, yet I first came across his music a couple of months ago at a local gig. It was a fun and inspirational experience. In the very same song where he states that "life is a rough-edged thing",he also asks the very profound question: "how long has it been since you last made a discovery?" - this line really spoke to me,and to this day I keep living by the principle that I want for each and every to be a discovery,maybe not, though hopefully yes,the cure for a neural disease, but more so a child-like excitement for one's emotional life, for the world around us and for the life we lead. today I want to break new grounds, make a discovery!

Butterflies

2009-11-20T15:32:00.004Z

P retty much everybody who knows me is aware of my freaking phobia for any living creature, birds and pigeons especially, that has the ability to fly. I've often been told it is hilarious to watch me screem and fan my hands with no coordination whatsoever at the sight of a pigeon! Having said that I still hold a great deal of respect for God's creative talent and I must admit he did a pretty good job on the butterfly front. Colourful,graceful,wispy,beautiful. Just the other day one of them posed on my friend's shoulder for quite a while until we all notice it and she flew away flapping her wings rapidly into the air. It's been so long. So much time has passed and life has changed and it has changed me with it. It's still me,but different. Sometimes I feel like I have become a different person, but deep inside I haven't - I am just the grown up version (or I'd better say "the growing up" version) of myself. there is somebody I used to love very much,but now this has changed and I have become much less sensitive, yet much more sensible. I no longer hold any feelings at all for that person yet from time to time I am reminded that what I felt, what we had was not nothing - like what I feel now, but it was real,wonderful. The intimacy and understanding, the companionship, the critique, the dialogue, the arguments, the sharing,the jokes,the laughter,the tears,the challenges,the care. I wonder whether I am destined to ever feel butterflies in my stomach at somebody walking into a room, at the simple knowledge of someone being there...

The Present

2009-07-05T10:44:00.005Z

I often get asked the same ol' question every Western girl gets asked around about their birthday.."so,any prince Charming in shiny armours on the horizon yet?" Now more than ever the answer is: "yes, plenty"..the point is that not because one thinks some one is nice, they should feel innately compelled to wanting more from them. I have been fighting for so long against conventionalism that I guess now it has become my natural way of thinking. I live a happy,full and delightful life. Perfect just the way it is. So why should I be wanting more?

It was my twenty-something birthday party a few days ago. Some of my best gals and some of my male pals had been invited. It was a fun evening. We ate and drunk and laughed and I got quite a few nice gifts. My ladies got me some lovely stuff from my favourite surfers' shop. Nice. My boys also got me some amazing stuff: some of my favourite music and books..which I already had. Don't get me wrong. I have been taught to be thankful for a present whenever you get one, and I do. Frankly, I thought their presents were kind and lovely. However this brought me to make some considerations. Wasn't it emblematic that the wonderful things my "potential-princes-charming" had provided for me where the things I already had? May be I may be accused of being cynical and cold-hearted, but why should I make sacrifices and compromise to get something I already have? Just think.

Human Autopsy

2009-04-29T22:52:00.005Z

A couple of days ago, I finally went to assist to a human autopsy. It was something I had been wanting to see for quite some time and never really got around to do. My main interest was strictly academic. I am one of those who learns from experience. Nevertheless, I also went I guess you could say to "test myself", to get a proof on my real predisposition and attitude for the medical profession. Having been preparing myself for any possible (and very understanding) shock or insufference, I was totally surprised to see how incredibly well I took the whole thing. I was impassive,couragious, strong and, dare I say, excited somewhat like a little girl in a candy shop.. (I truly hope you won't judge this harshly as it is a mere representation of my profound passion for medical sciences). On the way home I started to elaborate what had actually happened: the 65, male, cancer patient suddenly became a father, friend, employee, neighbour. His body may have been torn apart on a slab, but the memory of who he had been still remained. Who was he? What had he been up to his whole life? It made me think of the "Everyman" morality play from the XV century when Death comes knocking on the Everyman's door and he has to figure out, before he hits the grave, what really mattered in life. Beauty vanishes. So do Discretion and, obviously, Strength. A man's strength had definitively left his body and I couldn't help but wander what had he actually left behind,but more personally if I will actually take Knowledge and Good Deeds away with me to Heaven one day.. I'll sure try to do my best.

Blue Valentine

2009-02-14T14:15:00.000Z

Quiet as a tornado..

2009-02-13T00:03:00.010Z

Pretty much anyone who knows me,knows me as the most effervescent single girl they have ever met. I have had a few romantic stories. Some of them have changed me profoundly..influenced me into being the person I am today...with some regrets,of couse,as all of those stories did, eventually, come to an end. I love my life, despite all of it's quarky flaws and wrongs. I love being free to like and eat and listen to and watch and read what I like when I like where I like without having to be reliable on or responsable for anyone else. Guess that's called "being in your twenties and appreciating singleness". I have a few highly trusted friends, a zillion acquaintances and I meet dozens of people on a daily basis whom I share life and have fun,and cry and laugh with them but then, I keep a whole inner me secluded home for me to find when I get back..and that seems to be when the fun really starts..when I take my make-up off,put my trackies and my favourite music on..put off lights, light up candles and scented oils and get engrossed into reading,cooking,painting,writing, or merely speculating on the news or some random thought. My sister and her fiancè say they can totally picture me in a couple of decades living with a whole bunch of dogs, sporting long white hair in a dusty country house full of books. Suddenly, someone then walks into your life. As quietly as a tornado, he doesn't sweep you off your feet but worse: he can read you so well to put your foundations down. And you still have no idea of how he did it. And suddenly, even if you have a few trusted friends, a zillion acquaintaices and a few dozen strangers to talk to you wish to hear no-one's voice but his..Unfortunately, he is the one person you have asked to stay out of your life because it scared you how much he got you inside and because,somehow, the mistakes and hurts of the past haunt you worse than a ghoast. I miss you.

As you said, "It's been raining since you and I". Yesterday the sun came out again, but why is it you won't get out of my heart? I miss you.

Impulsiveness and the Power of Hindsight

2009-02-08T02:55:00.007Z

I am impulsive. I always have been. I got out of bed at 3 am to write this. I must be impulsive.
When you are little, lack of experience, a mystical curiosity for what's out there and a wonderful sense of spontaneity brings you to writing silly messages on a piece of paper to the boy sitting next to you in class..to buzz the intercom at a stranger's place and run off as soon as they answer..to run naked in a field..roll yourself in the snow..spontaoneity. Then one day you "grow up", you become an "adult" and on your way to becoming a woman/man,adulescence,certain attitudes become un-cool and things you should restrain yourself from doing in exchange for make-up, French kisses and high heels. I never cared for those sorts of undefined social agreements and cliques. Instead, I have always prefered to stay as care-free and spontaneous. However there are certain moments in one's life when you realize that it is time to grow up. It is time not to speak everytime you wish to do so (even when it's irrelevant or inappropriate). A time when you should keep your impulses under control.

Unlike the widespread stereotype on postmoder women, I hate shopping, especially for clothes. (I swear I am honest and I ain't lying!!) However sometimes a girl has gotta do what's she's gotta do and I too shop. A few weeks ago I had seen this wee coat I had fallen in love with. But, as I had not enough money on me, I set my mind on going back later on that week to get it. I never got around going back to that shop until this afternoon. I was so excited about that coat when I had first seen it, but as the time had gone by, my interest for it diminished and, when I saw it again this afternoon, it looked aweful to me. The colour was different,the material looked bad and I had generally lost interest in it. I am beginning to love the patience,or you might want to call it "laziness" I am developing in taking time to think before acting upon my emotions, without having lost on that awe-filled sense of wonder and spontaneity for life. So I am just going to get some snow and roll in it! As for moving in with someone..that may take much,much longer!!

Feeling all grown up..Feeling so small..

2009-02-04T00:22:00.005Z

Freedom to Learn

2008-10-31T21:57:00.005Z

Epictetus once wrote in his "Discourses" that 'we must not believe the many, who say that only free people ought to be educated, but we should rather believe the philosophers who say that only the educated are free'. The best of my academic background up to two years ago has formally majored in the field of the humanities. To be perfectly honest, I find much greater pleasure in discovering about the human body and science than reading volumes of literature and philosophy. However, I have always been brought up to respect and revere the knowledge of those who came before me, the valuable lessons that history can teach us and to the wisdom of the ancients. Around about 400 B.C., the historian Tucidides first wrote about the lessons that are to be learnt from history which, as later on Giambattista Vico reinforced, repeats itself. I have always believed that notion to be true.. unlike most Italian politicians! I find myself rather disgusted by the state of our parliament which seems to represent us Italians less and less. We have come a long way since the 1970's..the days when Italians begun to make their voices heard protesting and fighting through the weapons of free speech their dissent on civil rights, education, equality. By the 1980's my parents' generation had obtained for us everything we would have ever needed and more: a stable, prospering economy, highly bureaucratic yet perfectly efficient free public health,educational and legal systems..and the luring presence of private broadcasting. Under the false illusion of colour TV, increasingly shorter skirts and mind-numbing programs..Silvio Berlusconi begun his crusade for personal gain though corruption, delusion, politics and privatization. I am not here to make of him the "Antichrist" but imagine living in a country governed by, as an American television put it, "one man combines the political powers of President Bush, the media influence of Rupert Murdoch and the wealth and ambition of Ross Perot and Steve Forbes" (If you have about 30 minutes to spare and the necessary empathy to find out more about the devastation that is taking place in my beloved homeland, please to follow the link above and spread the word around!!!!) A new law was just approved yesterday on Italian education (from primary to University and Research) which risks to dangerously undermine our educational system by making university into elite privatized factories for the wealthy, making our country poorer and poorer and less knowledgeable which in my opinion implies making it easier for unscrupulous leaders to subdue the masses. Let us keep our freedom to learn.

***The pictures in this post were taken by me this week at the protests where thousands of intellectuals, students, teachers, professors, researchers and common people alike have been demonstrating apolitically against the newly approved 133 law. We are currently awaiting the possibility of an abrogative referendum.***

The Bionic Woman

2008-10-08T12:35:00.010Z

On the way back from a delightful evening at the cinema with friends, we laughed away and discussed about life, how it's changed us, what we have become. So it seemed that us 20 something girls have gone from dreamy-eyed, romantics to seemingly cold-hearted, pragmatics..some sort of bionic women!

I have grown cynical.

All this makes me wonder whether I was always this way, or something along the way changed me into being like this.
Was I always as independent and non-conformist, was I conditioned somewhere down the line into becoming a little princess, dreaming of wearing a white meringue dress, giggling at banal cheesy chick flick movie lines and expecting that same cinematographic behaviour in my own relationships? I remember a phase of my life where I would be watching pop girls’ films, long for a tall, blue eyed "Prince Charming", becoming a Betty Crocker style mother, a perfect wife, an exquisite chef and hostess, condescending with wistful eyes to my lover’s desires.. not too far behind down memory lane, however, there is me skinny brown eyed self-confident tomboy, who loves climbing up trees and demands to be taught how to read and write aged 4… who enjoys solitude, nature, beauty and adventure…who wants to graduate as her top ambition…who is not afraid of competition nor spiders or sleeping in the dark alone… who is unafraid of thinking and acting outside of a box, but is fearful of becoming a stereotype, of being stuck in a box.
I think the wild little girl with grass stains on her knees, uncombed hair and lively eyes is back and she is happy and feels so free to be herself again…too bad that now some people would like her back onto being a little princess. Now the question is: would men of our time be able to deal with all this? I wish I could be the kind of girl who loves conventionally, who, when you give her a flower, doesn't laugh in your face and actually appreciates that you took her out on a romantic dinner, who could love a traditionalist man as well as he deserves to be loved… Am I unable to commit? Am I just scared of taking the plunge again? Or is this just the way things are meant to be for now? God, am I a cynic?

Crime and Punishment

2008-08-17T09:04:00.011Z

I have been renown for opposing to death penalty as a method of crime punishment. Coming from a very long line of literary tradition, from Cesare Beccaria's "On Crimes and Punishments" to Alessandro Manzoni, Dostoevsky, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, I just cannot possibly bring myself to accepting that someone may ever take responsability to decide of somebody else's death, unless expressedly and informedly asked by that same person to do so. Even when it comes to horrific crimes such as paedophilia, I much rather impose life sentences, hard jail and chemical castration than death row. I have suffered over the years watching the executions in various so-called civil countries, but why is that that I often feel a satifying sigh of relief, the feeling one has at the end of an action movie when the good ones beat the evil. I have many reservations on the American war on terror, but I secretly rejoiced in seeing the footage of Saddham being executed. I feel ashamed of what the Nazi and the Fascists did in 1900, despised their brutal massacres and racist politics, yet stifled when I first came across the picture of Mussolini and his closest being hung upside down in a public square at the end of WW2. I cried when I saw Sudanese armies torturing women guilty of violating retrograde points of the Shia constitution. Knowing that Hitler had died in a house fire made me happy. So what is it that makes killing another right? What may be logical and just for me may not be for another and viceversa. All of a sudden it is like not being able to wish that the Joker may die at the end of "The Dark Night", because it is like, now, it is not only the evil Joker, but it is someone you have got to know and whose death you may not possibly wish any longer.

Pillows of Salt and Sand..

2008-08-08T10:12:00.005Z

Brand new sounds for my beloved Coldplay. Audacious, experimental, fresh, impressive. "Viva la Vida and Death or Death and All His Friends" is currently my favourite album - I have been listening to it for over a month now repetedly and totally enjoyed the discovery of increasingly more profound meanings and interesting musical nouànce. We have been singing "Lost!", as an anthem of hope and rebirth, sweetly, "Lovers in Japan" and, as singing "Viva la Vida" ... perplexedly stopped at the enigma over what it could mean..

Before I tell you what I think, I would like to hear what you make of this song - unabridged, spontaneous, unconditional. My next post is already written.. I value your opinion.

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemies eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing:
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt, and pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can not explain
Once you know there was never, never an honest word
That was when I ruled the world

It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in.
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People could not believe what I'd become
Revolutionaries Wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can not explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world

Hear Jerusalem bells are ringings
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can not explain
I know Saint Peter will call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world

What if?

2008-07-26T20:56:00.004Z

Regardless of my many attempts to write a post on the "What ifs" of life, this is the first time I feel daring enough to go through with it.
"No regrets!" has always been my motto, but what if the turn I took, the road I chose, the things I did, felt or said were a different closed envelop than the one I picked? The movie "Sliding Doors" (1998) may not be the best film ever produced and we all might agree on the fact that Gwyneth Paltrow's best feature is Mr Chris Martin, but it is a great starting point for a discussion of what would have happened if someone missed a certain sliding door in life..would that just mean they'd have to catch the next train to the same station or the possibility of commencing a brand new life adventure..
As you all know, I have recently returned back to where it all started from and I am glad I did even if this choice carries along a great deal of implications. Fox is currently showing a TV serial called "October Road" - the show has actually been on for the past year or so, but I have not managed to watch any of it if not the trailer. Apparently it tells the story of an author who returns home after 10 years to face the people he had based his book on. The catch phrase is "because only the fool does not return to the place where he had been happy". I wanna be no fool. Despite my constant criticism of Naples and of the things I disagree of on my hometown, I lived wonderful years here.
Exactly a week ago I was at possibly the swankiest pool party of the year for a dear friend's graduation. Elegant venue, chic dresses, superb cusine, free bar, good music, beutiful young people, warm laughters, genuine affection.. perfect, I'd say. I was at first a little apprehensive about seeing people I had not met in 3,5,10 years even. What would they make of my life story? How would they perceive me? Would I be pretty in their eyes? Don't get me wrong: I am a generally extremely self-confident person, very much at peace with my self and, as I said, with "no regrets". But the situation required a little self awareness, I guess. So I got ready, adjusted the last few details before the mirror by the entrance door and entered into a new/familiar world. Beyond any of my expectations, it was like being once again the popular girl in jr high, but I did not have to pretend to be anyone else but me. After a couple of years of feeling worthless, ugly and misunderstood, I felt..well..at home!
All this often made me wonder on whether ever going away was the right choice.. what if the cute young doctor who was chatting me up had been a classmate of mine five years ago, what if I hadn't snobbed off that group of people, what if I had never fallen in love with the guy who ended up scarring me for life, what if..what if..what if...!??!?!?!
But the answer is always the same: you cannot judge life backwards because the person we are today is inevitably the result of experience - the right choices and the wrong turns alike.

Determined..

2008-07-22T22:09:00.006Z

Coldplay, "Lost", (Viva la Vida or Death and All of His Friends)

Coldplay Lyrics
Lost Lyrics

As You Really Are..

2008-07-22T15:47:00.003Z

Typing on the notes of Giovanni Allevi, a young musical genious if you ask me, I am going through the emotions of the past few hours..of the past few days..the past few months..years even.. it all feels like a flow; an unstoppable, alternate flow which sometimes feels like a flood..at times like a dry river bank in the hottest season..sometimes its flow is nice,smooth,constant; others it is rough like a stormy sea..and I may feel like the boat that floats and sinks and sails and harbours..or feel like the river itself which, to people's not noticing, feels and sees and hears and cries and smiles and lives. Learning. Learning that even to the most righteous, intentions must be examined before expressing judgement on one's actions. Learning that the people we put the most expectations upon are the ones who, rather predictably, are most likely to fail those expectations and, viceversa, those we sometime overlook, may be the most suitable canditates to amaze us. There is a lovely analogy in the movie "Under the Tuscan Sun" where a rather odd lady tells the story of her being a little girl desperately looking for a ladybird for hours and hours until she fell on the grass, started to despair and eventually fell asleep. To much of her surprise, by the time she got up she was covered in ladybirds. We are often too busy looking for something that is right under our noses. Another really good line is in the follow up from "Bruce Almighty" when the "Noah" of the situation talks to God and God tells him that He does not answer to our prayers by giving us something other than what he has already provided for us, but rather by offering us situations which will enable us to take what we have asked for. It's only movies, they are only words, but I am beginning to learn to embrace whatever beautiful surrounds me in this unlikely beautiful world of ours...thus embracing the life which was not so freely given to me.

Beyond Writers Block

2008-07-03T16:49:00.002Z

Hi there

Just read Tanya's message and feel really quite bad for having abandoned the bloggers' world!!
I would have so much to say, but this does not compare to the little time I find myself having to spare to elaborate my many opinions and thoughts into a comprehensible written babble..apologies,will try to get back asap.

Just hang in there! xx

To Stay Focused...

2008-04-05T08:07:00.004Z

...without ever depersonalising people,situations,variables around you. Staying true to what you believe whilst keeping interested and attentive to the issues and needs of those around you. To stay focused on the goal whilst keeping a 360 degrees view. That's my desire.

The Humiliation of Love

2008-03-29T23:11:00.003Z

"Love Hurts" Incubus.

Tickled by a Gentle Soap Bubble

2008-03-28T22:19:00.007Z

When my mother was still undergoing treatment, she wrote me a text message to encourage me throughout a time of great emotional and existentialist turmoil for me. Yap. How strange? She was sick and I was disconforted! Anyway. My phone broke the other day and I am now using an older phone where some dated messages were stored. The message read: "I love you. When one is serene and accommodating of other people's needs it means that you appreciate the gifts God gives." It didn't make much sense then. Now it is perfectly clear. Don't get cross; don't try to make justice for yourself; don't torture your mind with neverending "why's?". Love unconditionally. Love will bounce back at you as a gentle soap bubble, a soft breeze on a spring day, a lighthouse out at see at night.
(Matthew 13:1-23)

Facticious

2008-03-13T00:44:00.009Z

I have always considered Robin Williams to be a versatile and very talented actor. From Peter Pan to Patch Adams to Good Will Hunting, he has never failed my expectations. Tonight I am feeling a little sleepless, so I thought I'd kick in the good old blogging habit after watching yet another Robin William's movie, The Night Listener (2006). To be fair, I found it a rather predictable psychological thriller..yet another one based upon a successful American novel
( Armistead Maupin, "The Night Listener", 2000), a roman à clef as they call it. Robin Williams was intriguing in his I believe first role as an older gay writer. Gray intellectual beard, a bit of a belly, cord trousers and reading glasses look. Very intriguing,charming. The focal surprising twist towards the end is,however, not about the protagonist, but the undermining and unfathomable dualism of mental illness. Fascinating. I have always found the issue of mental illness interesting. Knowing how complex and perfect machines the human bodies are is one thing, but the ability of the mind it's quite a stunning concept. The issues highlighted by the movie can be related to a series of syndromes known as Factitious Disorders, when a person's mind is able to recreate the pathology of the illness they believe to be affected by or even arrive to the point of making illness up of their keens or even make up the people in their care. At first sight,these disorders could be assessed as blatant lies of unbalanced, shameless subjects. However, on a closer analysis it is easier to noticed that this is often the subconscious work of unhealthy people who, out of feeling unworthy of attention, recreate desperate situations, personages, "lies" which they believe will gain them more popularity. As many of you probably already know, I wrote my BA dissertation on the possible contribution of psychiatry and religion to the cure of mentally ill patients, with particular regard to schizophrenia. Despite the fact I was on the point of giving up on a number of occasions (here it's a recomandation to anyone undertaking an undergrad degree not to complicate your life with a difficoult topic for your first dissertation!!!), I thoroughly enjoyed the research and I was pleased with the end result. What stunned me the most is how mental disorders are nothing much more than the exasperation of human emotions which should make us all more symphatetic to those issues. Maybe none of us would have result to similar solutions as those highlighted by the movie (am trying real hard not to spoil the movie for you!) but who has never,not once felt unworthy of love to the point of being willing even to lie in order to feel better included? To undergo compromises. To lie. To exaggerate a story. To laugh at a rude joke. To cheat. Just for that priceless feeling of acceptance,belonging. If we think hard enough we are never too far from those we are judging and condemning.

A Deeper Way of Loving

2008-02-03T20:32:00.000Z

"How do we befriend our inner enemies, lust and anger? By listening to what they are saying. They are saying "I have some unfulfilled needs" and "Who really loves me?". Insted of pushing our anger and lust away as unwelcomed guests, we can recognise that our anxious, driven hearts need some healing. Our restlessness calls us to look for the true inner rest where lust and anger can be converted into a deeper way of loving.
There is a lot of unruly energy in lust and anger! When that energy can be directed towards loving well, we can transform not only ourselves but even those who might otherwise become the victims of our anger and lust. This takes patience, but it can be done."
Elsewhere he also says that patience it is not waiting for something out of our control to happen, like waiting for it to rain, but "Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste here and now, to be where we are. When we are impatient we try to get away from where we are. We act like as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later or somewhere else. Let's be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand."

I found this quite inspirational and I thought I'd share it with you all. Words from my most cherished late author, Henry JM Nouwen, "Bread for the Journey".

Scarlet

2008-01-26T22:18:00.000Z

I often find myself reminiscing about my childhood. Maybe because it was a carefree, happy period of my life – the best dare I say. Possibly because deep down I am disappointed with the way I have turned out to be as an adult…do I really match up to the woman I dreamt of becoming as a little girl. Maybe I just find it hard to accept the fact that, in reality, I don’t seem to have changed that much. Tonight, for instance, I feel lonely and rejected like that one time when I walked over the lizard all the boys were playing with, thus ending the ‘game’, I guess. They hated me at that particular moment and made sure I knew about it too. Fair enough everything was soon forgiven and forgotten, but their refusal upset me a great deal. I remember I cried for hours…even ended up vomiting on my parents costume-made silk sate. They weren’t impressed either but, like today, they were understanding of me. Parents. Shortly after the lizard episode, we were climbing up trees again, but that period in between my peers rejection and one of them knocking on our front door whilst the others were waiting on the landing trying to look the least mischievous they could (useless attempt must say..), hurt me, like this self perceived distance is hurting me now. Even though we are not climbing up trees anymore, I am still waiting for you to knock on our front door, hold my hand again and hear you say, ‘She is my best friend!” – with pride, joy, nostalgia, awe.

“Teach a child the way that he should walk, and even when he will be old, he shall not depart from it” Proverbs.

Farewell

2008-01-19T23:01:00.000Z

Farewell it's a word that I cherish. It is not as harsh as 'adieu' nor as semplistic as 'good-bye'. Nevertheless, I still don't like good-byes. I have learnt to be less emotive about it, I am contineously seeking not to get too involved emotionally..but I still don't seem to have learnt how to be detached, emotionless. I get attached, I love, I care, sometimes I love people so much I can't help but overwhelm them with affection, thus, to pull them away from me..and that kills me from the inside, it rottens me like a worm slowly consumes an apple cork, like a burning fire painfully consumes a log of wood..reducing it to ashes, mere dust, easily swept away by the gentle breeze.. Why couldn't love be easier?

Sophia - from the album, De Nachten...
If only
hand in hand we spend the night
love comes easy by candlelight

we lie about our past to make each other believe
that this is the love that will last for eternity

if only, if only
if only, if only
if only I could believe that tomorrow
when I wake from my sleep
that you'll still be with me
oh my love
my love will always be

A Year...

2007-12-27T15:00:00.000Z

The changability of life is an issue that will possibly never cease to intrigue me. Life that moves,changes,evolves somehow. As most people, I have a little "End of the Year" ritual - I assess the year that has just gone by and ponder upon valuable or less significant changes I would like to see in the coming year. In other words, I think...way too much. Nevertheless, I have always found this sort of meditation on life really handy in giving me better direction, more precise goals, aim better and, one would hope, make things better each year. Sometimes I manage,sometimes I fail, sometimes I learn from it all. This year has been incredibly difficult on so many levels, but I stand here with a smile on my face, a tranquil and serene smile, because I now know for a fact that what doesn't break us, makes us stronger indeed. A year ago I made a set of good intentions and resolutions for 2007. I randomly stumbled upon them again this morning to discover, to much of my surprise, that, with the exception of improving my French, all of them did come true!! May be not in the way I had thought those things would take place, but eventually they all happened and I am much better off as a result! But this is certainly not meant to be a paternalistic, condiscending message of victory, but an attempt to keep on trying to improve. If I could give a title to this year like one gives a title to a book, it would probably be "The Year of the Second Chances" - rarely does it happen at my young age to be given an opportunity to be transferred back to their life when they were half the age they are now and facing people and circumstances with a newly acquired sense of maturity, stability, experience and self confidence. I feel truly blessed for this. I truly do not want to mess it all up this time around. So here it is to second chances and the experiences which have made us the people we are!

A Movable Feast

2007-12-08T13:12:00.000Z

Only Hemingway, in his linguistic confidence and exquisite intentness with words, could have coined such a sublime, perfectly describing title for his book, A Movable Feast. "A Movable Feast" it's an expression which encompasses a great deal of significance; narrating the author's Parisian years through the bohemian 1920's, one is transported into life through Hemingway's eyes - the cafes, the places, the people, even the smells which intertwine, encounter, cross, enrich and mark his life. In the opening chapter, it is described the scene of a man, sitting outside a Parisian cafes on a cold autumn day... I can't remember exactly how the story goes, but I have this picture vivid in my head of a middle aged man, sat by a small wrought iron table, longish going grey haired, wearing a long beige rain-coat, a gray woollen scarf, intellectual looking tortoise-shell specs, black hat on the spare chair, writing onto his Moleskine notebook whilst smoking a cigar, his coffee cooling down on the table...As he writes, people stop by, meet up with him, are noticed or ignored, stories are being born. As I sat on the train on Wednesday, a man kindly gave up his seat for me. Instead, he had to go and sit opposite another man, pretty much his age. They started to converse under the most banal circumstances to then end up discussing roughly everything under the sun - politics, philosophy, society, economics, justice, love, stereotypes, life. A feast that can be movable. How can lives so diverse from each other, so varied, so different, be shared, reinterpreted, discussed, expanded upon, in strange contexts. All this is the alchemy of our common humaity where, on the journey of our lives takes us to all sort of places, even without ever moving.

Captive Markets

2007-12-06T16:33:00.000Z

Like hot chocolate in a small mountain cabin after a long day skiing, like a bottle of fresh water during a walk through the desert, like shops opened all day on Sundays before Christmas. We have all been in certain situations where, by choice or obligation, we have become victims of the so-called "Captive Markets". By definition, capitive markets have a much more specific meaning. A web sites offers this comprehensive definition: *A captive market is a group of consumers who have limited choice in terms of the products they can select/purchase (no choice)! This type of market was common during the production era when there was a limited supply of goods (and great demand). It occurs when the market is monopolistic, thus there is only one supplier in the marketplace. This is more likely to occur with digital products (Microsoft is a good example of this). It can occur when a marketer has achieved significant lock-in for its installed based. Thus the switching costs for the consumer to try a competing product become prohibitive.* In' my book', a captive market is when the "producers" know exactly that you will need their product, hence they will make it available to you at prohibiting conditions: if you can afford it, good for you; if you can't, on the contrary, too bad. In "developing" countries, this form of dispotism is, renownly and shamefully, common practice. Liverpool John Lennon Airport has got their own take on the matter. Given that only 'economy flights' land and take off from there, one assumes that they are saving on their travelling costs...big misunderstanding! The mere price of the shuttle from Manchester to Liverpool has gone from £5 to £10 in a mere 6 month! That's like a 100% increase, 100%!! And how do you explain that one set of scales indicates one is 2.5 kg overweight and the other check in set of scales indicates 3 kg less than the first?! (every kg overweight is charged at a price, of course!). Then there is the cue for the compulsory security check - 25 minutes long. Long enough to miss a flight. But, at the accessible price of £2 per passenger you can soar through the cue and get priority. What kind of message are we preaching? Money as a tool for priviledge even in a context, security, where everyone should be the same? It's £2, I know, but it is the principles that concerns me. And makes me cross.

Only one hundred steps away...

2007-11-26T12:44:00.000Z

I recently re-watched a beautiful movie called "I Cento Passi" (One Hundred Steps). It reached international acclaim a few years back together with more popular movies about organized crime, a denunciation of Mafia and its effects on the lives of many people who coexist with it. "I cento passi" (one hundred steps) was the distance between the Impastatos' house and the house of Tano Badalamenti, an important Mafia boss, in the small Sicilian town of Cinisi. The movie is the story of Peppino Impastato, a young left-wing activist that in the late seventies (when almost nobody dared to speak about Mafia, and several politicians maintained that Mafia did not even exist) repeatedly denounced Badalamenti crimes and the whole Mafia system using a small local radio station, with the arm of irony. In 1978 Peppino (30 years old) was killed by an explosion. The police archived the case as an accident or a suicide, but his friends never accepted this thesis. Note: This is a true story. More than wenty years after Peppino's death, the case has been re-opened. Tano Badalamenti, meanwhile, has been convicted in USA for drug traffic. I thought again about it this morning, whilst stuck in a traffic-jam caused by an abandoned vehicle on the side of a narrow city road. The car hadn't properly been abandoned by its owners. The car had previously been stolen and, under the owner's refusal to pay money to get it back, the robbers burnt it and left it on the side of the road, a so called unpaid "cavallo di ritorno" (return horse). You see I often wonder what you think about this. As a southern Italian, even if from a rather privileged background, I am aware and accustomed to all these idiosyncrasies. Weird. Weired that one can live so close to injustice, those physical hundred steps that suddenly become conceptual, ideological, moral and back and be accustomed to it.

"I Cento Passi" - Modena City Ramblers

Happy

2007-11-16T19:27:00.000Z

I know you are already hearing the legendary song by the Rolling Stones resounding in your ears right now as I mentioned "Happy" (that's of course, if in the Beatles/Rolling Stones diatribe you were not a Beatles fan!) Rock on! The young lady in the picture, on the contrary, is my wonderful dog, Happy. She is the 'daughter my father never had', the life of this house and the cause of a heck of a lot of laughter. Jeez, I mean we are not stereotypically "pet-people", but ever since we have had her as a family pet we have experienced so much...well...happiness! Doh! Happy is also how I feel right now. Do you ever fear that changes are going to kill you,that if life takes a different turn from what you had expected you'll die of remorse and heartache? Well,not necessarily. Sometimes it's true: what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Happier. So here it is to change and life unexpected twists!

Take a Chance

2007-11-11T15:27:00.000Z

Today it is "Remembrance Sunday"in the UK. It is meant to be a day to remember those who lost their lives, suffered, sacrificed in war times. To me it has a very different, individualistic meaning. Remembrance Sunday five years ago was the day when I had been given a chance to get rid of a bondage, metaphorically speaking, that has shaped my life ever since. Today I live in a bondage-free world. Too bad it's taken me five years to get to this stage and put my life back on track.
Do you ever wish that, at a cross road you had taken the other direction? Today, in as much as I am conscious and grateful for the situations that have occurred in so far and filed my life, transforming into the person I am becoming, I wish I had taken that chance, I wish I had chosen to go my way instead of compromising my ideals for a more agreeable, ""conformist"" path...choices,ah?

A View of a New Old Life

2007-11-06T12:40:00.000Z

This tiny rugged window overlooking the breathtaking Neapolitan gulf, inspirer of many poets, singers, painters, inspired me to change the title of my blog. "A Room With A View", like the title of the homonymous novel by E.M.Foster. A reniewing view onto an old life lived in a fresh way. My life back where it all began 24 years ago, Napoli, the land of my ancestors. Back where it all begun spiritually, artistically, in terms of taste, passions, vocations...to start where I left off - hopefully better this time. So enjoy the view!

What Where You Up to in 1983?

2007-11-01T14:17:00.000Z

The last song that soundtracks "Mio Fratello e' Figlio Unico" it's a song my sister and I often sing hysterically in the car or hum as we are getting ready to go out. It's a what now seems to be an 'old song', first recorded in 1983. I still find it quite bizarre, to say the least, that I listen, like and even know by heart songs that were conceived when I was! I am such an 80's kid! Think about it though: 1983 was such a good year. The Eurythmics recorded "Sweet Dreams (are made of this)", "All Night Long" (Lionel Richie) came out together with "Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel, "New Year's Day" by the legendary U2 and "Every breath you take" by Police! In 1983 Swatch introduced their first watches, the Vatican finally retracted their ban on Galileo Galilei, Nintendo game console was about to begin to change generations of kids, the first democratic elections are held in Argentina after 7 years of military totalitarianism, my mom and dad were busy handling a screaming little baby girl and there I was! But what about you? What were you up to in 1983? - sorry it doesn't rhyme!

Ironic

2007-10-31T20:11:00.000Z

The guys I tutor have a tendency to laugh at my unorthodox teaching methods, my diagrams and schemes, not to mention that, so they say, I know a song for pretty much most words in several languages - they laugh a lot at me, most of the time with me, which I think is nice. When it comes to the word "Ironic" need I explain what song comes to mind? Of course, it is the tune that officially beckoned Alanis Morissette into stardom in 1995. I have liked her ever since her first album! In 1995 I was a 12 year old version of myself and the acoustic abilities, the unusual vocal nuances, moderate feminism and alternative looks of Alanis Morissette together with slightly controversial lyrics made me a big fan. Tonight that song, the word ironic, are on my mind. So I would like to leave you with a video from my youth and a song that right now expresses my disappointments whilst cheering me up.

How To Save a Life

2007-10-25T19:16:00.000Z

I am a former theology student - now embarked upon a long journey of medical studies. In theory, I should know all there is to know about saving lives. This theme, concept, has been meaningful to me for a number of years. I wrote my first BA dissertation on the possible intersession between medicine and theology and I long to be living out those ideals in first person. When I wrote that paper, I quoted a simple, yet explicit, line from the movie "Patch Adams"; that movie and the real life character of Dr Adams have been a source of inspiration for me over the years. The protest against unfounded accepted stereotypes, not merely for argument's sake, but for the reinstatement and affirmation of sacrosanct humane and godly values such as compassion, unconditional love, kindness, overall justice. The quote is that when Patch Adams reminds his friend who is afraid someone may eventually die, even after receiving the necessary medical aid, to which he replies that a doctor's job is not to prevent death, but to improve the over-all quality of people's lives. Just today I have been pondering on the subject of suffering, death. Unfortunately or actually not that unfortunately after all, we cannot prevent death; death is part of life and I guess life would not be equally as valuable, precious, worth fighting for if we were immortal in this skin of ours. Nonetheless, we must strive to make it better, to make the most of what has been given to us not just as individuals, but as a whole of people associated by a common humanity. Saving lives is what doctors try to do day in day out, but ultimately I believe only God can truly save one's soul, hence their eternal life.

I have been wondering a bit recently over the gigantic internal changes that have been happening to me. In as much as I have tried to deny it for so long, I have grown harder, more cynical, less loving. I have loved someone so much that I guess all of the love I was capable of feeling has now combusted and now dedicating my life to other people's problems seems like a much more viable option. Caring for other people's children in order to avoid committing wholly to someone again and choosing to have children together; choosing to live in a tent not to pay a mortgage; saving lives in order to avoid facing my own.

"How to Save a Life" (The Fray)

Quicky News

2007-10-22T19:09:00.000Z

Hiya!

For those who have been following on the story and are interested. There is some great news about my mom - and some not as great. The good news is that, even though the diagnosis will only be thoroughly confirmed in 5 years time, mom has been declared in COMPLETE REMISSION from Lymphoma which is an unbelievable result and a huge sigh of relief. Nevertheless, the cancer has left a severe lesion to one of her spinal vertebrae for which she is due to be undergoing surgery by Friday this week. If the situation hasn't deteriorated since her last scan, the procedure should be relatively simple and micro-invasive. If not, they will need to implant her with an artificial vertebral replacement - which is a lot trickier. If you are a believer, please do pray for her. If you aren't, just may her life be an inspiration to you. We, as a family, have certainty that your thoughts and intercession have made her feel a supernatural straightening throughout the whole time she's been ill and will surely continue to encourage her. Doctors wise, we are in good hands. Even better hands when we consider that God watches over us all. Thanks for your time.

PMT: Italian Style!

2007-10-20T17:48:00.000Z

When I say, "PMT" women throughout the world will immediately know what I am talking about. For the men...mmm...well, think of your girlfriends, your wives, your sisters, your mothers, even, at that time of the month when they say "oh, I feel so bloated", "does my bum look big in this" and generally are uneasy to be around. Alternatively, think of Bridget Jones in full depressed mood scraping mould off the last piece of cheese off her fridge! I am not a particularly PMT prone person. I used to HATE it when my best friend's girlfriend used to emotionally blackmail him by blaming her every selfish outburst onto her, alleged, PMT!! What? A PMT that is 360 day long?!?!?! Anyway. The inspiration for this post comes from a minor cultural difference I noticed today for the first time since I moved back to Italy. When I was studying in the UK I looooved to lounge around in my pj's for as long as I could, especially around does days..I mean I salute the Brits who can do depressed, feel sorry for one self so well (obviously this is a huge generalization). But, blame it on the weather, blame it on a major drinking culture, my observation of the English has brought me to form an opinion on the above explained matter: people drink a lot, it's colder and feeling miserable seems to be more of an option, I guess. When I was in England, it was a piece of cake to walk into any supermarkets, fill up my basket with junk, comfort food and wine, wearing track suit bottoms, trainers and pinned up hair, no make up, looking as scruffy as one can look and go back home and have some "quality time" with one's couch, watching cheesy "chick flicks" and crying like there's no tomorrow! No wonder I put on weight! Anyway. This afternoon I walked not into one, but two supermarkets and I came out both times empty handed...well, should I say with a celery stick and a bag of chestnuts! I felt guilty and looked upon as some sort of alien every time I even set eyes on a piece of choc! You see, Italian women just don't do self pity! As a response to life lemons', they ask for tequila and salt! They put their designer shoes on, go to the local spa, get their hair done at the salon and hit the shops before going out with some handsome, perfectly groomed Italian stallion! That's PMT Italian style! Right, I am off for tonight! Byeeeeeeeeeeeee

Hard Work!

2007-10-18T14:25:00.000Z

The making of dreams is hard work! I have been studying all day, I am off to teaching a class in half hour and I've got a shattering swimming training session at 8! Doh! I am tireeeeeeeeed!!! Ciao for now!

***Will be back with more interesting posts soon!"

Crumbs from Your Table

2007-10-03T22:05:00.000Z

"How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" is the album that fuelled my study for my BA dissertation. There are a few songs off the album that are significant to me for a number of reasons,"Crumbs from Your Table" being the most significant. Released in 2004 at a time of great fervour over the "Make Poverty History" campaign and a general high of media coverage and public interest, and action, with regards to social justice issues, it treats on the subject of social disproportions. One of my favourite lines reads 'where you live should not decide on whether you live or whether you die'. I am often criticised because I desire to work as a medical doctor amongst the most destitute in the so-called "Developing world". They say, "why do you want to go so far when there is evident need and poverty virtually at your door step". The observation is realistic, nonetheless inaccurate. Indeed there is a lot of poverty in the south of Italy. Some of the areas where I minister are oozing with undereducated children who live on the street with little or no care from a parental authority. Often abused, mistreated, malnourished, unloved. However, the beauty of our assistentialist state is that their basic needs are, theoretically, catered for. The level of disparity and injustice that I observe in the developing world is, in my opinion, of colossal proportions. Just this morning I was reading that in Sierra Leone there is one surgeon for every 1.000.000 people - one million.
Although 'colonialism' in the most degrading and terrible connotation of the word is officially over, exploitation ain't. In order to cure disease in our countries, the pharmaceutical industry experiments, or worse freely administers faulty drugs which will necessitate the purchase of further medicinals, onto human test animals in the southern hemisphere. Because we have polluted most of our environment, we go growing OGM corn crops in Africa's most fertile fields to produce eco-friendly biofuels, pay the residents a misery and force them to relocate to worse, less salubrious marshland infested by parasites responsible for the transmission of malaria onto humans. Malaria alone kills over 150.000 children a month, the same number of victims killed by the South East Asia Tsunami in 2004. The Italian government pays for its members of Parliament to be flown on a personal jet to the F1 races, pays their restaurant bills and private medical care when an anti-malaria pill costs less than $0.60 a dose. Despite the embargo on the 'blood diamonds', Lebanon still manages to ship them at more reasonable prices to the West. Think.

"Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend"

2007-10-03T16:10:00.000Z

...and a million lives worth.

God help us not to be blind, not to be vile, not to be mere observers. We have done enough damage already.

Cultural Full Immersion

2007-09-24T21:50:00.000Z

They often ask me if I ever missed home, felt homesick during the time I was abroad. Strangely enough, I doubt I ever did. Inevitably, there were times when I missed my origins, 'what it's good about the land of my nativity', our unique way of 'doing things', 'living life'; times of slight frustration over occasional lack of cross-cultural-communication abilities. Other than that, maybe due to both my flexibility and the British tolerance to coexisting realities, I have always comfortably felt like a cosmopolitan, a citizen of the world. My return to Italy it's a big surprise for everyone - me included. Nonetheless, it is a rather comfortable surprise, fluid, 'flat as a pancake'. Currently, it feels like when an exchange student goes abroad and experiences the culture and folklore of a different country. That's a very similar experience to my 'Italian Full Immersion', with the added value that this time it is not a holiday, it is lasting and it is mine. I like that. The always filled with busyness life of the Wee Italian Chick, has not chased to be so. As a result, the past few weeks have been oozing with Italian-ness.. Based on a 2003 novel by Antonio Pennacchi, Il Fasciocomunista, "Mio Fratello E' Figlio Unico" (literally "My Brother is an Only Child"), it's a fresh and refreshing product of contemporary Italian cinematography I had the pleasure of watching on Monday night. Directed by Daniele Luchetti, starring the now super-acclaimed, by both public and critics, Riccardo Scamarcio (the hottie off generational movies such as "Tre Metri Sopra il Cielo" and"Ho Voglia di Te"), tells the story of two brothers growing up in the immediate post WW2 and, in doing so, with incredible irony,acumen,lightheartedness, narrates the story of a changing country from a political, cultural and social point of view. Another movie I recently watched about a changing Italy it's leftwing genious director, Nanni Moretti, latest work: Il Caimano.Il Caimano is an open accusation of Berlusconi's politics, corruption and popularity.Nevertheless, in Moretti's words, 'Il Caimano ' is not only a political film. He stated that the film deals mainly with the cultural vices of Italian people, and also the story about the dissolution of a common family. Is this the sign of change?

The Fashionist

2007-09-21T12:42:00.000Z

At uni, I got a heck of a lot of nicknames. One of the most ironic ones was "the Italian Stylen" - me, the only Italian who can't dress!? I am not much for fashion, though I seem to have a strong sense of what I like and what I most definitively don't like.
I remember laughing hysterically as I used to look through my mom and dad's old photos wearing big 'hear-dos' in the 80's, flared jeans in the 70's and so on. Me and my little sister would laugh and laugh and remark we would never ever wear flared jeans. Liers. By the mid 1990's we two were shopping obsessively for the most flared pair of jeans. By last year, we two were wearing those hideous buffooned fringes and leg-warmers. Not funny. That's why now I am a little weary to be too judgemental about the ever so comfortable as ever so ugly footwear of the year, the crocs. So I would like you to make up your own mind on the matter, maybe with a little help from our Canadian friends (see video below)

Stereotypes (part I)

2007-09-09T15:15:00.000Z

On one of my last flights from England to Northern Ireland, I came across an article in the Easyjet magazine about the stereotypical differences amongst European men and women. After all, it is a 35 minute flight and at 6 am I am rarely in the mood for profoundly intellectual thinking - so trashy magazines normally do the trick. The writer presented a blatantly over-simplistic description of moody-ever-super-slim Parisian women, never-failing-punctual German men and overly stylish Italian ladies wearing big sunglasses even after sunset. When it came to Italian men, they were described as impeccably stylish, perfectly groomed and possessing the irresistible charm of a thousand Casanovas. I inevitably giggled. I am often amused when people abroad have these mental images, stereotypes, fantasies, dare I say, about foreign citizens. In E.M. Forster's novel, "A Room With A View", the gentle ladies of England are warned against the brute, passionate nature of the Italian males. I just love that book. It is like the much cheekier, more raw, even kinkier version of Jane Austen! What causes me hilarity is that, from personal experience, I am not entirely sure on whether the Italian male is raw passionate, incurably romantic or merely arrogant and sleazy. Even though I have always known it to be in my nature to be an observer of people around me, how they behave and interact with each other, I have noticed this inclination has increased ever since I made a return to the Homeland. In Notting Hill, Anna Scott recites the lines "Rita Hayworth used to say: ' They go to bed with Gilda and wake up with me'." To which William replies: "Who is Gilda?" and Anna Scott says: "Her most famous part. Men went to bed with the dream; they didn't like it when they would wake up with the reality." I wonder if often it is the same with stereotypes. Many people dream, fantasize about others in the hope they will be better than what they have, often forgetting that it is what we are intrinsically that makes us unique, not or national identity...right?

***To Be Continued***

Stereotypes (part II)

2007-09-09T09:00:00.000Z

***Continued from Part I***

In part one, we have explored how stereotypes may often be the result of over simplistic analysis and unrealistic fantasies, which are unlikely to be met in real life. In this new chapter, I would like to assess the nature of the Italian men and how they can be categorized. Specifically, we will analyse the Neapolitan men as they are my prime source of observation. Like Neapolitan ice-cream, they come in three flavours: Lo Scugnizzo, il Macho Latino and il Figlio di Papa'. The fist category is what we will call, for ease sake, the "Scugnizzo"literally rendered into English as "Street urchin"; traditionally this term acquires a completely different meaning, however, we shall utilize the word "scugnizzo" to describe a category of Neapolitan men characterized by the following qualities: scugnizzi are incurable 'grown up kids' who generally tend to despise higher education, people in authority and all that law and knowledge encompass. They make a cult of their outward appearance: all of their clothing items are carefully selected in the respect of the latest trends and their hairstyles modelled upon the newest fashion - paying no attention to whether a certain style will suit them or not, neither to if the cost of the item may cause them to go in debt or even steal. Their image is identifiable amongst many: gel hard hair, structured like an engineering master piece (ideally sleek flat side parting and spikes at the back); piercings (generally one diamond on the left year); over-powering after shave fragrance, big labels tops, trousers, shoes, coats. They drive brand new scooters (most likely stolen) and listen to neo-melodic Neapolitan music or techo/house - loud. Tendencies to chauvinism, violence, rudeness, sleaziness and illegality. Expressive and extroverted emotional outbreaks to be expected. However, it is to be highlighted that the "scugnizzi" can be tender lovers, respectful sons and responsible parents, able to live by "honour"...whatever it takes.
The second category is every foreign woman's dream, il Macho Latino, the super hot, perfect body, sexy talking bold, daring and reckless ultimate manly man. Il Macho Latino, like his scugnizzo cousin, places a great deal of attention to his outer persona. Every item of clothing is indeed chosen with maximum attention to detail, tailored like a fitted glove to accentuate and valorize every secret of manly charm. Labels and brands mean very little compared to how something is supposed to make him look. The Macho Latino's, like their Barbie sisters, do not give much importance to their "inner beauty" - they may read about philosophy, history and poetry but that's because, of course, history has proven that it always works to pull. Jewelry is worn like a winning prize, with pride and arrogance, the more the better. The gym becomes a real sanctuary of beauty and beauty parlor's their weekly confessions. The Macho Latinos are witty, handsome, proud, self-confidence yet often lonely, shallow and dissatisfied. Commitment is,for obvious reason, not an ability on the Macho's list. Does it need to be?
Last but definitively not least is the "Figli di Papa'" category, the "Daddy's boys". Life has been fine and dandy for them: they come from a good, often excellent household. They have attended the best schools, lived in the best homes, eaten the most delicate foods, travelled the globe, speak several languages, wear fine clothes, go to university. Their summer attire consists of white linen trousers, striped white and blue shirt, blue pullover over their shoulders, designer trainers, big sunglasses, golden tan, golden Rolex, soft long-ish hair gently blown away by the sweet sea breeze as they sit onto their boat. Characteristics? They have everything, but rarely comprehend the value of what they have. They can be sleezy strong of daddy's money ~ not knowing that money doesn't always buy everything.

When Stories and History Meet

2007-09-07T07:10:00.000Z

"Aurevoire, Big Luciano!"

By now everyone in the global community has been bombarded with images of the, undiscussedly, greatest Tenor of all times, "Il Maestro" as he was known, "Big Luciano", the Italian opera singer Luciano Pavarotti, sadly departed yesterday morning in his villa in Modena, Italy. From the BBC, to La Repubblica, Le Monde and other news agencies from all over the globe have grandeously celebrated and reverently mourned what El País describes as "A divine voice that has been silenced" . I get the impression most people expect us to mourn. After all we are Italians, right?: we are bound to be emotional, extrovert and overly expressive. I have sometimes tried to detach myself from the stereotype, but as I heard the news yesterday and re-watched some footage of Pavarotti's career several times, I became sad. Pavarotti represented, with his voice and international involvement, a positive image of what is beautiful, precious, rare, unique about our Land. He was an icon, a pillar. Like "the Olympic Torch", carrying the flame of sportive spirit across the world; like the Eiffel Tower in Paris reminding the French about their heritage, the "Big Ben" in London, Clocks in Switzerland, Clogs in Holland, Guinness in Ireland, "Big Luciano" was an institution for my country, and we all loved him like as if he was a member of each one of our families. We grew up watching him singing at every significant event of our lives - every new year's day, at midnight, the opening of the Olympic games, the "Pavarotti & Friends" charitable events. Music was his life and his music accompanies every Italian like the soundtrack of our lives, passionately stroking the most sensitive cords of our spirits, pride and love. Now that he has gone, exactly two days after Gigi Sabani, an iconic representative of Italian comedy and television for over thirty years, it's like as if a brick had been taken out of an old castle. Even though its base stands strong of ancient values formed and reinforced throughout history, it's most intrinsic beauty has been robbed of a precious element and we sure will miss you, Big Luciano!

Ruth

2007-09-01T08:34:00.000Z

Meet my friend, Ruth.

She is petite, but has got the heart and the fierceness of a giant. She is the one and rare example of a woman who lives by ideals, abides by heartfelt morals and loves unconditionally. She does her utmost for people, infuses passion and enthusiasm in every job and cherishes friendship in a way I have rarely seen anyone do. She is the kind of friend who makes sure you get a card in the post on your birthday, who rings you from a coach in Croatia to check up on how you are doing, who cries when you tell her you are moving on somewhere else. I love Ruth. Ok, she does talk A LOT and she is a wee brain-box, but I wouldn't change her for the world. She is our Ruth. That's why I feel so terrible I forgot a very important birthday of hers! Ruthy, if you are reading this: HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY! I know it's a little late, but it's truly heart-felt. Love you lots, buddy. xx

Shattered.

2007-08-31T19:55:00.000Z

Throughout my life, I have always had it in me to be a contestant, a rebel. Not necessarily 'burning my bra' in front of the masses, but always being inquisitive and, somehow, argumentative about various issues. I am of the kind of watches telly and argues-out-loud with the news reporter because he is 'talking bullshit' or vivaciously criticise the ref in an important football match I am not even at, responding on my mother's behalf when my sister is playing 'spoiled-brats' and similar.. When I was in senior high especially, I was rather obnoxious and arrogant. I even made my Faith an occasion for constant 'Bible Bashing' and verbalised debates. My all time favourite was biology, ethics and philosophy classes - best ones for open discussion. I even took it against Darwin, the Papacy and Sigmund Freud. In fact, the latter was a special target for mouthy me. I despised his theories, made his arguments a joke and bull-eyed his distressed personality. These days I like to refer to my past behaviour as 'teen-age arrogance'. As you all know one of my favourite topics is 'pantha rei', the issue of change. I feel I have changed. A lot. Having worked with troubled teens, children from disadvantaged backgrounds and people in general for quite sometime, I have grown to appreciate some more expert and wiser words from others, like Freud, for instance. One of his theories suggests that our adult behaviour is, to say the least, influenced by our upbringing. Don't get me wrong: my upbringing has been close to idyllic, perfect, dare I say. What bothers me the most right now is what my teachers said. Teachers, instructors, professors of life. I often reflect on whether most of the academic profession is totally in the wrong job. Frustrated, middle-aged, dissatisfied academics who take it onto their students through mental humiliation and lack of sufficient stimulation. My classical Greek lyceum professor, for instance, who seemed to find an incredible sense of satisfaction in humiliating me in front of my whole class by saying I would have never achieved anything in life, that I was a nobody, that I was mediocre. Isn't it weird how, at the eve of a decisive step in my life, those are the words that are resounding in my head. I not stupid, not smart; I am mediocre. I have often reflected on that woman's cruelty and often wondered whether she was a, pardon my French, b!*$%# or the only person who ever really saw right through me. I am shattered.

"Shaddap You Face!"

2007-08-26T12:46:00.000Z

I felt we can all always do with a little 'cheering up', a short moment of happiness and positive, worry-less thinking. So here it is a little gift of """"Italian""""" joy! This song makes me smile every time I hear it - likewise I pray that it manages to bring a wee smile onto your faces as well. And to anyone who doubts us, mocks us, for any thought that hunts us and makes us sad, lets implore that emotion to "Shaddap You Face"! (Hey!)

Stress Valve

2007-08-24T17:38:00.000Z

Hi. I know I'd said I wouldn't have written until after the exam...but I am studying so hard and being so secluded from any form of social interaction that I am beginning to feel like a pressure cooker that is about to explode. My family and friends are being simply great. They are standing right beside me at this time of incredible stress and pressure, preparing meals, being ever so tolerant of my unsociable behaviour and supporting me in every way possible. So here goes a huge, massive thank you to all of you who are supporting my pursuit of a dream.

I never thought I would, but I have actually started missing the blogworld a little. More than I ever thought possible, writing here has been an incredible 'stress valve'. Whereby a journal often becomes self-indulgent and unresolved, writing one's thoughts for public display appears to be ever so much more cathartic. I have also realised how some of the people who read this blog regularly have surprisingly become people I feel I know, I may have a connection with, friends. And like we all miss those who are dear to us when they have gone on holiday, moved out town, or have been to busy to keep in touch, I have missed you. So here is another wee 'hello' and a 'thank you' for the person you are...to me as well as to the world. Ah! Feel better already! Biochemistry: here I come again!!!

Only a Temporary Interval..

2007-08-16T09:21:00.000Z

Dear all,

We are currently in the full of summer here..yesterday was actually "Ferragosto", Mid-August, (originally a religious festivity). We are experiencing a rather pleasant hot weather which makes a change from the unpredictable English summer weather. Even though I have been spending some quality time in some of the most beautiful locations on the southern Italian coast, enjoying some of the most exquisite cuisines in the world and drunk some of the best coffees and wines, I have been rather busy studying, preparing for a very important exam on September 4th. So this post doubles up as an apology for my seemingly lack of interest in the blogword, and a brief 'farewell' to the days when I will be a little bit more relaxed to find something to write about that does not involve eukariotic cells, chemical relations, physics and you name it! Good-bye and see you soon!!!

Facing the Demons

2007-08-10T14:59:00.000Z

When I was seven, a little girl found the skeleton of a homo-sapience lying on a beach somewhere along the Northern African coast. An archeology enthusiast back then, I was totally thrilled by the news and sat closely by the telly in order to see the presenter unveil this remarkable historical discovery. Little did I know at the time that putrefied skeletons are not much of a pretty sight and I spent the evening being terrorized by flashing images of the once cave man. At night, I reluctantly waved my parents good-bye, made my way upstairs and walked into the darkened bedroom. Lying in bed I kept on being haunted by those images I had seen earlier on the screen. I shivered, I was scared then, I vividly remember, I sat up in the middle of the bed, turned my wee side table lamp on and gave myself a little declaration about why I shouldn't have been afraid of a dead man. For a dead man cannot do me any harm; same reasoning went for beetles, who are too small compared to me, ghosts, insects, animals, monsters and all sort of creepy creatures. The same reasoning goes for most things still now. Guess in many ways Faith has helped me exorcise a lot of fears and made me a much braver person. Time changes us, man, doesn't it change us. I have now returned to an old reality, to the things I loved and I had forgotten I did, to the places I always liked, the mentality I could never embrace, the people I disagreed so much with, but never felt adequate enough to confront. Now a much older, hopefully wiser, woman I face the world with very little fear. It doesn't mean that I have the answers to everything, nor that I am fearless or invincible. It is just that with the light on, even in the middle of the night, it becames much easier to face monsters, demons, life.

The Realm of Possibility

2007-07-31T19:16:00.001Z

"The Realm of Possibility" is the kingdom where I dwell.
It is a place where injustice and discouragement do not exist. A place where people are honest and genuinely wish each other's best. I am a day dreamer, an eternal optimist and nothing seems to have stopped me from being so. When my mother was first diagnosed with cancer, I sat in the oncologist's study with her, my father and a doctor friend of ours. The oncologist was somehow brutal in his diagnosis of the case: two months of life expectancy if not cured, chemotherapy, nauseous states, invalidity, bone marrow transplant, more therapy, hair loss. Any sane person would have been disconcerted, to say the least. My dad grabbed my mother's hand and held it tight, mother had tears in her eyes, our friend asked loads of worrying questions. I sat in the corner, in my green coat; I smiled a reassuring smile. I smiled a reassuring smile knowing in my heart it was all going to be alright. The issue is that I smile all the time. I am no idiot, right? It is just that it feels like, in extreme situations especially, I am overwhelmed with an exceptional steadfastness and inner strength which enable me to react promptly and efficiently to the problem. When we were in Kenya last summer a friend of mine badly hurt his hand. Though a grown man, he got scared he may not be able to move his hand again… I got a little scared too. In a second reached him, pulled off the cloth that was over my shorts and rapped it around his bleeding hand. Held his hand and reassured him that ‘everything was going to be alright’. Eventually he was; so was my mother. And I wonder whether my great sense of Hope comes exactly from that sense of confidence in a divine providence whereby, even when the outcome of a given situation is not that we would have hoped for, I know there is a much bigger plan in a much wider spectrum of Grace. And on this warm summer night, I am well and truly into my anatomy textbook, carried by dreams of Hope, inspired by Grace, surrounded by Love in an unending realm of possibility where dreams, reality, impossibility, surrealism and, why not, a wee touch of madness create a unique mystic fragrance that makes me smile…even in a stormy day.

C'era Una Volta..."Once Upon a Time" Does Not Mean "Happily Ever After", Right?

2007-07-29T21:24:00.000Z

One week into my newly re-found Southern Italian life, I am already starting to notice the differences. Despite the sun, the good food, the relaxed attitude to life, the excitement of things to be and all that, I am beginning to being confronted with a new thing in a familiar place. The reality of being an adult and no longer the teen-ager who left home five years ago, it's truly starting to sink in. Last night I watched a repeat of my favourite television program from when I was in junior high, a political satire programme entitled, The Pippo Chennedy Show. When I was thirteen, it was iconic. We all watched it, the nation was in hysterics for its clever ridicule of the late 1990's society we were living in...with its faults and prides, idiosyncrasies and contradictions, common places and taboos. I used to laugh my little head off with my friends, or by my self. Last night I waited for the show with great anticipation: I sat there, sang along the opening tune (I was ever so surprised I could still remember the lyrics, one of those events that makes you giggle), listened to a few jokes (most of which were still, scarily, appropriate to the current government and political scene..) then got bored half way through. I was initially adman to resist all the way through the show, out of respect for what it once represented for my generation, then became sad at the thought of things that have passed, gone, belong to a time that is now past. Tonight I went to visit my younger sister at the youth camp she is attending this week. Loads of her friends were there (some of them are the younger siblings of my friends); many familiar places, many familiar faces..I even met this guy I used to have a major and I mean MAJOR crush on age 12!!! He had become fatter, shorter than I remembered him to be. As he came towards me I smiled (he must have thought I was nuts, but probably didn't have the faintest idea that what I was laughing about is the thought I ever even liked him!!!).
What I have realised is that you can't put new wine in an old bottle, clean clothes on sweaty arm-pits. You have gotta move on, and stay truthful to who you are.

Spot the Difference...

2007-07-22T12:00:00.000Z

A taste of my "old life" - The view from my bedroom on Tuesday 17th July 2007 at 12.29 pm.

Saturday, 21st July 2007 12.29 pm...what was in front of my eyes just yesterday...38°c..sunshine...the beach...crystal clear waters...ahhh!

... can you spot the difference?

Jolene

2007-07-15T23:10:00.000Z

A dear friend wrote me these words recently: "Yeah blogs are great, I just wish mine would kind of update itself as I cant seem to find the time!! haha, but yours is excellent, we love reading it... for me it shows how you have changed and grown so much since I first met you, but how at the same time you always remain the same Ivonne we have always known and loved... the same but different, I guess most of us are like that!" I think that is such a beautiful yet truthful reflection. We change. It does not matter how old or young we are, we all change. It is so funny to look back at life. It is like when you get you hands on some old journals and fathom thoughts of old which now cause you hilarity. What's really funny is that, at the time you wrote those things you now laugh or cringe about, you actually used to believe them, they were you. I am reminded of a delightful love poem by Turkish contemporary author Nazim Hikmet; I have never read it's English translation so my translation from Italian will have to do..

"On this autumn night I am full of your words

Eternal words like time, like matter

Heavy words like a hand, sparkling like the stars

From your head, from your flesh

From your heart your words have reached me

Your words full of you, mother

Your words, love

Your words, friend

They were sad, bitter;

They were joyous, full of hope

They were courageous, heroic.

Your words, they were men."

I am also reminded of Kierkegaard when he expressed that "life can only be understood by looking back but only lived by looking forward" - words were never truer. There are times when things happen and you can only scream why. You are angry, outraged, in despair. People telling you that is going to get better suddenly become unsympathetic enemies. No-one understands. Six months ago, I was ready to give up, to run away, to hide, disappear because the pain was too much to bear. Everything I ever loved, everything I ever wanted was being taken away from me. My safe mansion was becoming a sand castle blowing in the wind before my very eyes and it hurt. You sing songs of despair, pull your hair out, find yourself crashing on the kitchen floor, sobbing, in the middle of a working day..No strength to look at yourself in the mirror, no real urge to get out of bed in the mornings..sadness being your daily bread. Then you look back - this time a content sweet smile crowns your relaxed face. Outside is raining in the middle of July, but your heart is pounding with excitement. Excitement for possibility. Faith: being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Jolene, originally interpreted by the lady at the top of the page, Ms Dolly Parlton, was majestically interpreted by the White Stripes (material to give you goose-bumps guaranteed). That song at one point became my song of despare, painfully encompassing my suffering (even if on different and diverse levels). Now it is the wonderful Jolene by Ray LaMontagne that, together with "Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens, accompany me on a journey of re-discovery, beauty, love. Here is one for you, my dear readers.

Public Service Announcement

2007-07-14T17:29:00.000Z

I am currently out of office and unexpectedly surrounded by a myriad of cardboard boxes.Please leave a message after the tone - will be back as soon as I manage to surface again!!! - 4 days to the big day.

A Better Way?

2007-07-10T12:15:00.000Z

On Sunday night I briefly scanned through a couple of channels. On "Come Dine With Me" there was a vegan contestant who challenged a carnivore contestant to take up a vegan way of eating and life style. It was so compelling: I mean, the guy obviously fancied the red-head-vegan lady,but it was incredible to witness to a blatant example of positive peer-pressure. You see, the guy was astounded to hear for the first time in his life about animal cruelty, vegan cuisine, Mr McDonald's destroying acres and acres of valuable forests to create green pastures for his soon-to-slaughter cattle..not to mention the farmer's families who, for little money's gain, are forced to flee the countryside, populate the already over-crowded cities to become then unemployed, unresourced, under-skilled and often homeless, in need of aid. Oh, and don't come and blame him when your house gets flooded in the middle of July.. I must say I never was a big meat-eater (blame it on my grandma chasing me around the place in an attempt to force-feed me cow's brain and lamb's liver..) There are still stories being told about me, aged 7, sitting around the dining table, opposite a solitary sole for over two and a half hours. Going into my teen-age years I chose I would become a vegetarian..experience which lasted a mere two years, led me into anorexia and amplified my issues on control. Things then begun to pick up when I realised that all is good in moderation. I would love to share embarrassing pictures of me at a Carnivore dinner at a renown carvery in Nairobi, Kenya, where I scoffed off the equivalent of half the Kenyan fauna. On my healthier days, I am a very conscientious eater. Like you have heard me ranting about a few days back, I try really hard to lead a good and righteous life - I would feel hypocritical and discontent if I had it any different. However, I often consider whether I should be doing more to be truly ethical. Unlike other groups, vegans seem to live up to what they preach. I like that about them: they are integral. Last night I had a bit of a moment. As you all know by now I am cat sitting for my friends' hairy cat. On my way back from the gym I stopped by to feed Mr Cat. As I walked in I noticed an unidentified object on the floor. After a close inspection I discovered that my worst fears had met their day: it was a featherless baby chick, cruelly murdered by the assassin cat. Despite my notorious nick name, the wee Italian chick, and my celebrated fearlessness to blood, human disease and other nasty phoenomena, I have an unexplainable phobia of birds. I hate pigeons, I hate birds flying low, I feel squeamish eating chicken and please don't mention where the egg came from when I am eating it.. All this is giving me space for considerations.. Today I have submitted my proposal to make the Learning and Skills council a fair-trade/ more environmentally friendly institution. What if veganism was the next step? We'll see.

Gimme the Week-End! (I've got a whole week to get over!!!)

2007-07-06T15:49:00.000Z

Hey, Folks! It's ten to five on a gloomy Friday afternoon! I sooooooooo wanna go home and sleep but, hang on, I haven't got a bed and the house I am house-sitting at the moment is infested by evil cat hairs...no rest for the wicked!?! (sorry, I am incredibly sleep deprived, need a break!) and guess what the weather forecast for the next week is? Rain and more rain! Have a lovely week-end, xx

Freedom Is...

2007-07-05T10:46:00.000Z

When my mom and dad first started dating in the late 1970's, they used to write each other cards representing a semi-naked chubby character (cupid-like) who made statements such as "love is.." (Nothing kinky relax - I promise I will scan some of them in as soon as I get back home). Must admit it was a bit of a shock when, age 9, I found those cards in a box at the bottom of mommy's wardrobe (not to mention my dad's personal journals...) - do you think one goes to hell for nosing into their parents journals?! Anyway. All this just to explain the title of my post! Also it has just occurred to me that writing kinda runs in the family.I wish I could say "we don't talk much", hence we write, but that would be a blatant lie. What can I say: we are just a communicative type of family, that's all... This morning I was reading the Metro on my way to work. In front page an article about Alan Johnston, the BBC journalist freed after being held by Palestinian militants for 114 days. On being free he rather articulately stated, "You want to do everything at the same time, to read books and papers, go to the movies, beach and sit in the sun, and eat and talk and all the rest of it." But is that really what freedom means? I am intrigued. Karen recently introduced me to a new American slang expression, "to check one's vitals",to check your email, myspace, facebook, blog, and/or any daily essential websites. Check your vitals. For example: "Get off the computer, whore. I need to check my vitals." "Hey, wanna go get something to eat?Sure, but lemme finish checkin' my vitals first." I mean how free can one truly be when the indication of their freedom is judged against their ability to possess a certain knowledge, communicate interactively, access the right facilities. The idiotic former Italian prime minister, Silvio Berlusconi, once stated, with regards to the "War on Terrorism" that the Eastern world is an uncivilized world. He is an idiot and there is no doubt about that, however, how often are many of us guilty of considering, more or less consciously, non-Western civilizations less erudite, cultured and, let's face it, 'civilized'? In Italy we have this Encyclopedia called "Treccani" - the whole collection costs an average of £20K (that's, of course, without the dictionary and the additional supplements..) I know because my dad very generously bought me the whole thing when I was about 12. Along goes the opinion that if you don't have one of those, you are a nobody. What?! That's outrageous, isn't it? What about those who use the public library? (after all the fact that you possess an encyclopedia does not automatically imply that you read it) Moreover, who decided what "civilized", "cultured", "hip" is? How free we really are if our lives are so much dictated by the gym we go to to get the body magazines impose us to have by eating/not eating the foods we are told are "good for us", listening to the music we are told to listen to, watch the movies we have heard about and read the books of the moment? I am sick of the package holidays. Sick of doing the things everybody else does without even questioning them. But, for all of my talk, I am caught up in this huge spiral deeper than I ever thought I could be. Make up, wax, scrubbing, moisturising, tonic, three liters of water per day, 5 portions of fruit/veg, exercise at least three times a week (anything less is sloppy), walk instead of taking the car, buy organic and fairtrade, take your own recycled bag to the supermarket, buy "Word" magazine once a month and, when no-one is watching, get "Glamour" too (just for the little free gift, of course), skinny-sugar-free-fat-free-heck-taste-free fairtrade drink...ENOUGH!

Check-Out-This-Post!

2007-07-05T09:25:00.000Z

Courtesy of Mrs Karen Cool Daze, http://karennkool.blogspot.com/2007/07/what-hll-does-that-mean.html kool.blogspot.com/2007/07/what-hll-does-that-mean.html

Soooooooooo Funny!

Reaching for the Sun

2007-07-03T09:15:00.000Z

Raaaaaaaaain..RaIn...rAin...and more RAin!!! Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! I am going mad!!! I keep on reminding myself there are only two weeks to go until my return to sunnier shores..THANK GOD!!!!

Yes, You're Pretty Good Looking (for a girl)

2007-07-02T12:33:00.000Z

1959 is not only the year my mother was born in. My mother, in fact, shares her birthday with another modern blond icon, the Barbie doll. For all my feminism and strong sense of idealism, I used to love playing with barbies up to the age of 10. I had loads of them and I used to love to mimic their lives as independent career women who magisterially juggled life, work, family and relationships always looking pretty as a picture - invincible, strong, sensitive, intelligent, opinionated, outspoken and beautiful modern women... That is what I aspired to be for most of my childhood and adult life: intelligent, successful, beautiful, always with a smile on my lips and a kind word to say. I am not quite sure on whether I did succeed in that intent, but I can say with confidence that in life I have no regrets because I have always given it my best and my all. Another thing that I am sure of is that I am not cut for fitting into the stereotype of a barbie doll : dumb, hare-brained, hollow and blond. Quite frankly, I am nothing like that and I will never be (not even for the love of a man). Maybe I am the only person who has ever felt like that - I don't expect everyone to understand - but it frustrates the life out of me (strictly speaking) when a. some women allow themselves to be considered as silly barbie girls, mere fashion accessories beside a weak man who expects to look better, cleverer, more macho beside a woman who is only good to look at, talk at, use. b. Men who, for all of their talk, are truly insecure, manipulative, gutless idiots who haven't got the balls to stand up to intelligent members of the opposite sex?! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! That issue really bothers me. In the same hand though I can somehow understand why the postmodern Man may feel emasculated by his contemporary allegedly impeccable bionic women. As most of you know I have been living in Manchester for just over two years. Before I moved here little did I know about the vibrant homosexual community who predominates the city. I have said it before that my encounter with the Mancunian gay community has been a massive eye-opener for my rather traditionalist views. Especially amongst the gay women I noticed a high professionalism, stead-fastness, loyalty and strength at various levels in life. Amongst the gay women I also observed a great sense of loneliness, insecurity, weakness, confusion, disillusionment. Nonetheless, it is interesting to observe how most heterosexual men would judge those women: all they can see in them is their unfailing confidence, like as if they never had a moment of weakness, a care in the world. It takes a truly extraordinary man to love a confident woman and allow her to release the beauty and affection within.
*** The title of the post is the title of a song by The White Stripes***

Life Is Beautiful

2007-07-01T15:34:00.000Z

Meet beautiful baby Daniel Kenshi McKee born on June 29th,2007
My 24th Birthday
The Sinivirta family with gorgeous baby Saku Luucas, 15th June 2007

Come With Your Dancing Shoes On!

2007-06-28T14:24:00.001Z

My birthday do is a mere two days away and the prep is getting a little hectic...that aside, I am looking forward to a night of celebration, seeing mates from all walks of life and DANCE MY LITTLE SOCKS OFF!!! (Thanks to la Cayetana Altovoltaje for putting the music together!) So, got your dancing shoes ready?

Water Every Growing Seed

2007-06-26T12:32:00.001Z

You have heard me say that journeys, and bus journeys especially, offer me an opportunity to reflect. Sometimes it is as shallow a thought as "did I take the chicken out of the freezer this morning" or "how about capers and black olives in the sauteed aubergines?"(I am a deep kinda lady, ya see)..sometimes I read a book, and totally get absorbed by it. Other times, I simply sit there, observing strangers' every move. I often wonder whether I have a 'stalker's strike' in my genes, I am a good observer of life or I am plain nosey. I sit there - normally on the luggage storage box - don't ask: I know I am weird.. Guess Freud would have something to say about that one too! I observe people coming in, people walking out, how they relate to the bus driver, how they smile, how they graciously squeeze in, how frantically they push their way in, how happy they look, how weary their eyes are, the boys listening to their i-pods out loud, the girls talking on their mobile phones. Last night the bus home was rather empty. I sat down, just on the chair near the entrance. At the next stop a seven year old, a five year old and a one year old boy in a pram got in followed by their young father. Shaved head, track-suit-bottoms, heavily tattooed arms, bitten nails, hoarse voice, unsteady pace. Sits the five year old, still wearing his school uniform (happy-faced because his daddy had just bought him a small bottle of pop and a chewing-gum with a sticker in it), places the pram by a group of senior men; the seven year old maturely makes his own way to an empty seat. The dad goes and sits at the back, engrossed in his text-writing. The youngest one is a little smiler: smiles at every face in his sight. Smiles a little more. The middle one observes the world around him, often calling for his father's attention. The eldest brother offers them both the attention they crave: experience has taught him that their father will not respond. He has seen him like this before. As soon as those boys get a little attention from us, mere spectators, their eyes brighten up ever brighter than they had before. Bright lads indeed; craving for an attention that they may never receive and may constraint them to follow the same path, the same self-destructive pattern, the same destiny. I wish they could see how wonderful they are. I wish they could make the most of the life that has been given to them. I have worked with children all around the world. More and less disadvantaged ones. It always saddens me when in a world of plenty, not all growing seeds are watered.

Caught Up in a Bigger Story

2007-06-25T13:52:00.000Z

Flicking through the various channels at dinner time, I often wonder why are there so many soap operas, why are people so bothered to actually watch them. Although there may be a hundred different psychological, marketing and cultural reasons behind it, I generally get a feel that we all like stories. Whether it is a little child sitting by their grandfather's armchair opposite the fire on a rainy winter night, a teenager texting her best mate with all the details of last nights date, two mothers telling each other of their toddlers progress standing at a bus stop, a school boy telling his mom about his day at school as she prepares dinner, an old lady reading a gossip column in a magazine as she is waiting for her hair dye to dry at the salon; it is undoubted: we all love stories. Stories you hear, stories you tell, stories you make up, stories you want to forget, stories you make sound funnier, stories that make you laugh, stories that make you cry. Stories that make you react, stories that make you frown. Stories that bring back memories of a much bigger story. Stories that bring you hope: because, after all, if you have made it through it once, you surely will do it again! Stories you learn from, stories that scar you. Stories that scare you, stories that strengthen you. I love suitcases because the older and more used they are the more stories they tell you. My father once bought a beige thin leather hard back suitcase at an antique fair in the early Eighties to use in a window display. Over the years, the antique suitcase has been used for a variety of purposes. When I was a young girl I used to love passing the suitcase over to my dad, touching the soft skin, smelling the old leather, imagining who it may have belonged to, where would have it travelled, what happened. I have a bit of a thing for second hand stuff (especially books). That air of mystery that comes from the freedom to imagine a past story behind something which is now beginning a new story which I am part of.
Sophisticated cigar smoking thin tall men in Paris sipping coffee in Montmatre, like freshly stepped out of a Hemingway novel. Career women smelling of expensive perfumes quickly and composedly checking in for their next connection to New York. Nuns on a train with a little baby who has finally found a welcoming family to look after him. Young suffragettes cycling to their next protest with a bag full of leaflets and a heart full of dreams. Then coming caledoscopically back to a young woman's journal. A precious, sheltered tale of life. She thinks she is alone in the world, that nobody can possibly go through what she goes through, feel what she feels. Yet keeps on reading stories others wrote to express similar emotions to her own.

Hurray! Even I Finally Did It!

2007-06-25T13:00:00.000Z

Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Having tried pretty much everything in life, I am proud to announce you that today I have had my first ever taste of MUSHY PEAS! I used to think I'd reached an all times low with "fish 'n' chips, shocked myself enough with Scottish Haggis, proven my point by eating Croccodille meat, experienced a true 'taste-sensation' with beans on toast, but no, oh no: there behold -lunch time on a gloomy and rainy day I was sitting in a traditional chippy in Manchester city centre with a pot of tea and plate full of fish 'n' chips and mushy peas with buttered white bread...(I am really praying Matt will never find out about today's lunch..doh!)

***I am now officially ready to leave the country.***

Release

2007-06-24T21:53:00.000Z

"Release Me" (Oh Laura,2007)
I am the wilderness locked in a cage
I am a growing force you kept in place
I am a tree reaching for the sun, please don't hold me down
I am a rolling wave without a motion
A glass of water longing for the ocean
I am a nice flower breaking free, but you keep stopping me, release me, release me.
I am the rain that's coming down on you that you shielded yourself from with a roof

I am the fire burning desperately, but you are controlling me
Release me, release me

Harvest Justice

2007-06-20T13:22:00.000Z

That's it: tomorrow summer officially begins. June 21st, the longest day of the year. Summer: the sunshine, the trees in bloom, succulent water melons, water games, the beach. I love it, I love it, I love it. I love the zest of lime squeeze on grilled fish. The sun on my skin. The smell of mature yellow peaches in sweet white wine. The taste of apricots that melt on your tongue ever so slowly. My grandad used to call me, and often still does, 'the little apricot lady'. He delights in telling the tale of the day I was born. A hot summer day when they were picking apricots in the fields and they had to rush to the hospital because little baby me was born - with a two week delay... Then growing up, in the shadow of my grandparents, spending my summers playing about around convivial apricot pickers. Then making jams and fruit juices in my grandma's kitchen out of the more ripen ones. In goes the sugar, the hot water bubbling away in the scorching sun, the stench of chicken's poo (which God knows why you are told 'is good for ya'!) mixed to the fragrant aroma of blended fruits..a cheeky little finger stealing a taste of the precious nectar..Nana telling you off, then my little hurt frown, then her heartily laugh; she chocks a little from too much laughing, her voluptuous figure fluttering, then brings her wrist to her face and one at a time swiftly dries her eyes from tears of joy. There is no-one in the whole wide world like my nana! I started off writing this post with a completely different agenda in mind - now, having stumbled upon some beautiful memories, I realize how lucky and blessed I have been. I received some of the most precious gifts in this world: life, a great family and, above all, the gift of a truly happy childhood. I wonder how many people can count on that.

Too Stingy for a Card..

2007-06-20T08:54:00.000Z

Hi folks! I forgot to wish happy birthday to John O yesterday - sorry!!!!- HAPPY Birthday, mate! And of course, today it is Lili' and Susanna's birthday...oh, then it will be Pablo's on Monday, Smeedy's on Wednesday, wee Joshua's is on Thursday next week, Laura and Matthew's birthdays are next Saturday and then, of course, it is mine on the following Sunday... may be I am trying to save the environment by avoiding sending cards, maybe I am too disorganized at this moment of chaos to remember to post them on time or have I become PLAIN STINGY!?!?!?! A joke apart, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you all! Lots of love xx

Adventurous

2007-06-17T17:26:00.000Z

"If you tell life what it has to be, you limit it; but if you let it show you what it wants to be it will open doors you never knew existed."

Nice quote, isn't it? This is actually a line from a bit of a girlie movie called "Tortilla Soup". Back home we often say "never say never", which, when you are young and it is your grandmother telling you that you will end up marrying the spotty, greasy hair son of her next door neighbour, makes you wanna cringe, stump your feet and scream: "never, never, never"...Having said that, there are things in life that I have deliberately chosen to say 'never' to, like doing drugs, tolerate injustice, watch Titanic again..but then again, what makes those never so permanent. When I was in senior high, my classmates would have openly accused me of being retrograde, presumptuous and stuck-in-my-ways, brainwashed, even. I was an opinionated young girl; only problem is that I had no idea what my opinions were really based on. Now nearly 24 (two weeks yesterday to the final count-down) I am an opinionated young woman. The difference, however stands in the fact that I have rolled up my sleeves over the past five years, dug deep down, lived for real, sought to see from a 360 degrees angle, questioned everything I even believed in, dismantled it, shaped it, tried to make sense of it, built it up all over again - with sense, this time, from the foundations. Unwrapping life: some times like an eager child on Christmas day; others, more like an archaeologist carefully and painfully retrieving a precious treasure. "Don't tell life what it should be, let it show you what it wants". I have dismantled, reconstructed, settled. Now I am packing it all up. Figuratively and practically. The picture of the "treehouse" at the top of the page is one of my favourite. It reminds me of me. Isn't it wonderful to have intellectual freedom? The paradox of Free Will: we are free to choose; but we are truly free when we are in tune with the will of God which cries out for all mankind to be freed up from the bondage of slavery to death and sin. Paradoxical, but so liberating. I have dismantled, examined, explored, then built again. I believe: and I now know the reasons why.

To Be Brought to the Light

2007-06-15T14:15:00.000Z

Today, it is a wonderful day! This morning at 6 am (2 pm local time) my best friend Rie gave birth to their second child, Saku Luukas Sinivirta ... ok, ok, I may be biased, but you've gotta admit this baby looks gorgeous and incredibly sweet!!! Mommy and baby are well and daddy and big bro Riku were happy to meet the new addition to the Sinivirta family! So proud of you guys. Love you more than words can tell. Auntie, Ivonne xx
"To be brought to the light" is how the Italians call birth. Never paid much attention to it until I watched "Under the Tuscan Sun"..beautiful expression, isn't it?

"I Don't Care What the Weather Man Says When the Weather Man Says It's Raining"

2007-06-15T11:10:00.000Z

Another lovely rainy day in Manchester.
Please don't ask me again why I am moving back to Italy, would you?
Here is your answer.

Murphy's Law

2007-06-14T09:47:00.000Z

People who know me well, always get me books (or music/movies) on special occasion. On my 13th Christmas, my auntie Laura got me my first ever Murphy's Law book - since then, I was hooked. For those of you who have never come across it (shame on ya!), "Murphy's Laws" are a random logical, and less logical, collection of considerations of the cliques on modern life. They include reflections such as "Anything that can go wrong, will—at the worst possible moment", “If there are two or more ways to do something, and one of those ways can result in a catastrophe, then someone will do it.” My mate Stefan, who I have recently discovered secretly reads this blog (hi there!), has re-adapted some of those sayings for me, for example: "if there is anything to be walked into, Ivonne will walk into it", "If anything tragic is going to happen, it will happen to Ivonne" . Thing is that: he is right (doh! I hate to say those words!!!). Ivonne could be a dictionary entry under synonyms for clumsiness, dizziness, frequent lack of common sense. Prime example, last night I was training at the gym with my cheeky personal trainer (I swear that guy is getting meaner by the minute!), doing some chest presses on the Swiss-ball; once I finished, I put the weights down and ridiculously fell off on my butt in a rather un-lady-like manner - not once, but twice! Totally Bridget Jones' style (too bad I got my own back when Matt, showing off as he was demonstrating an exercise, fell off the main stairs in front of the whole gym..his face turned raw red and we all laughed loudly!). The story does not end here. As I have previously told you, my departure is only five weeks away and, because my beloved housemate has decided to move out as well (can't blame her: how do you find some one like me to share a house with?! - in a bedlam) I am in the process of selling all of my furniture on e-bay. I am dizzy, but highly organized. So, in order not to waste time and run the risk of going crazy few days before I leave, I have listed pretty much everything on e-bay - somehow thinking that no-one would have wanted to buy my stuff.. so I sat there on Sunday night and made a list of all the pieces of furniture I'll need to sell: fridge, washer, sofas, bedside table, bed.. and what's the first thing that the 'blond' lady puts on the market?! and what's the item that sells within a day?! Moral of the story: as from tomorrow, the wee Italian chick shall be camping in her own home for 4 weeks!
Have a laugh on me.
PS: Stef, can I borrow you air-bed?! (",)

Anger MaNaGemenT!?! Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

2007-06-12T12:34:00.000Z

Nosing about a number of other blogs, I have noticed that a few of us have been having issues of anger recently. Alongside that, I have also discovered that the lovely Mrs Heasely used to be an "anger management therapist". Ever since I moved to England, I am a changed woman. My friends and neighbours may tell you different, but I truly believe I've come a long way from my fiery, quick-tempered days. Maybe it's got something with God shaping my character, maybe it's all about maturing, growing up, or possibly I have acquired something of that beautiful "English phlegm" as the Italians call it.. together with that, however, I also seem to have acquired an irresistible urge to complain about everything wrong and stump my feet at injustice. Prime example of this is yesterday. I rang up my bank about a week ago to make an appointment with the bank manager to discuss the arrangements related to closing my account when I am gone. 1 o'clock pm on Tuesday 12th June, we established. So at 12.50, I am there, firmly determined not to be late. I cue up at the custumer service desk to be announced to the manager I had an appointment with. The custumer service fresh-faced young lad looked at me blank and politely gave me the same answer he had been giving everyone: "Please take a sit, a customer advisor will be with you shortly". First of all, I had made an appointment so that I wouldn't have to wait together with all the 18 year old foreign students who have only just landed at Manchester airport, hungry, inexperienced, jet-legged and not very fluent in English as the alleged thick Mancunian blond prison-warden-like bank manager bosses them about shouting at them louder and slower ('coz that way they will certainly understand better) ... together with all the old ladies with thousands of penny coins to be counted .. I am sitting there, tapping my right foot on the lilac coloured dirty carpet, drumming my fingers on the table, starring in the empty space, turning my head a heck of a lot, puffing a lot, pulling weird faces and throwing angry looks at every customer that goes before me.. after all, I had booked an appointment!!!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!! Getting up off the chair, walking up and down, cuing up again to speak to the same clueless guy who gives me the same answer again, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, I am going insane, 12 minutes, 20 minutes, my temperature is raising, I can feel it, raaaahhh. 21 minutes later the manager calls me in to then leave me with the only person who knows what she is talking about in that branch - an unassuming young customer advisor who has always impressed me for her humble professionalism. I am out in 3 minutes. She tells me what to do and I am happy again. I suddenly don't feel like killing the patronising blond manager anymore. Does this make me a rage-aholic?

Miracles Do Happen

2007-06-12T08:33:00.000Z

Recognise this handsome young man in the picture on the left? He is a little 'plumper' now but indeed, this is Diego Armando Maradona, El Pibe de Oro, "the golden boy" as he is was known in my childhood years, is the man who made Napoli football club, the Neapolitan people and a whole generation feel unforgettable and unrepeatable emotions on a football pitch. Simply sensational. Regardless of other undisputed talents I have come across in my life time (Ronaldo, for Brazil, Christiano Ronaldo in Manchester, David Beckham, etc..), no other player had the same charisma, velocity, tactic, exhibitionism to single-handedly (La Mano de Dios, comes to mind, ahahaha!) **Caution please: Sheer comedian talent at work here** destroy a whole opponent team!!! Pure class. Anyway, those where the good days for our local team, when we won all the time: the scudetto,twice, UEFA Cup, Super Coppa Italiana...good days, good days indeed. Then the decline: between 1990 and now it's been a succession of disastrous events (we went as low as serie C for a couple of years) but Sunday, oh Sunday, was a wonderful day - after 11 years (can't believe it's been that long) NAPOLI is back in SERIE A!!!! Happy days, happy days! Here are a few pictures of the celebrations in Naples - heck do those Neapolitans know how to party!!!

The Final Count Down!

2007-06-11T11:55:00.000Z

Ok, maybe the last p ost on my imminent departure was a little bit to poetical and way too long for most of you to be bothered enough to read that I am going to return to live in ITALY in a mere five weeks time. On a purely informative level, it is my birthday on July 1st and I will be holding a big birthday/leaving do in Salford (if anyone is around, drop me an e-mail, I'll give ya all the details). Apologies for using this post as a personal information board, but it's so hard to keep everyone informed at once!!!! (Sudden lack of/decrease in posting to be expected)

Ok, forse il mio ultimo articolo sulla mia imminente dipartita era un po' troppo poetico e troppo lungo perche' voi altri vi curaste abbastanza da leggerlo, ma volevo annunciarvi che torno a vivere in Italia tra 5 settimane. Per motivi puramente informativi, il 1 luglio sara' il mio compleanno e daro' una grande festa a Salford (se siete nei dintorni, mandatemi un'e-mail, che vi do tutti i dettagli) Scusatemi per aver utilizzato questo articolo solo per scopi personali, ma e' difficilissimo tenere tutti informati allo stesso tempo!!!

Would You Please Big it Up for RIKU Superstar! Un Applauso per Riku Superstar!

2007-06-06T08:55:00.000Z

Meet Riku Marcus Sinivirta, who is turning 3 today!!!!

Riku is Taneli and Rie' s, my best friend, first born. I only met Riku once in person when he was one week old. Flabbergasting to think that that little bundle of joy has now become a gorgeous little man! So, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, wee Riku.

Lots of love, auntie Ivonne xx

Vi presento Riku Marcus Sinivirta che compie 3 anni oggi!!!

Riku e' il primogenito di Taneli e Rie, la mia migliore amica. Ho conosciuto Riku in persona una sola vota quando aveva solo una settimana. E' scoinvolgente pensare come quel piccolo batuffolo di gioia sia ora uno stupendo piccolo cucciolo d'uomo! Quindi Tanti auguri, piccolo Riku!

Con tanto amore, zia Ivonne xx

Practicalities, Practicalities, Practicalities!

2007-06-06T08:33:00.000Z

One of the concepts I feel I have firmily consolidated over the past five years is that women are increadible multitaskers. Be it by nature or circumstances, women have to learn from a very early stage to be many things at once. However, in our postmodern context, this need is even amplified. Females, daughters, mothers,companions, sisters, sisters-in-law, daughters-in-law,house-keepers, events organizers, workers, supporters, friends, professional, shrew, caring, beautiful, effortless, strong, weak..I tell ya: being a woman is a right pain in the bottom at the best of times! Having all the same responsabilities as men, times ten, plus periods! What a great calling in life to be a woman! D'oh! Anyway, despite it all, I love being one - I am very proud of being rushed off my feet most of the day and to still be able to do everything with a smile on my face! It's like going to the gym after a hard day's work, have an intense work-out, then showering, mosturising, make-up on, fresh clothes, clean hair and feeling wonderful on the way out! It is all worth that feeling of gorgeousness in the end. With my departure coming up fast and furious, you can imagine I have around about a zillion things to organize...the joys! but I keep on reminding myself it will all be worth it in the end! (I hope so, anyway!).

Spiraling into Costant Universal Flux

2007-06-05T15:56:00.000Z

Remember good old uncle Heraclitus? Despite the terrifying nastiness of my classical Greek tutor in school, the woman who made three years of my life an utter misery, I have always manifested a respectful fascination for the ancient Greeks and their philosophical efforts. I don't remember a great deal about Heraclitus really, but his Πανθά ρέϊ (Pantha Rei, apologies to the Greek scholars here present, but I don't have a spell check for Greek characters..) everything changes, everything flows, the universal flux (as some have interpreted it), is a concept that has stayed with me and has acquired increasing significance over the years. At a youth camp few weeks before I left for England and Bible college, a newly met friend gave me a passage of Scripture from Isaiah which loosely translated is "You will set forth with joy and return in peace". At the time, that verse gave me a lot of encouragement because somehow I felt like as if God himself was commissioning my departure and sealing a pact of constant vigil and protection over my experience and development. I look at the past five years and I can so very definitively see that. I left home aged 19, with a great deal of passion, zeal, enthusiasm and, yes, overpowering excitement and blissful happiness. However, I was very much like a caterpillar.. I felt ugly, unworthy of love, crooked,inexperienced, unfinished, arrogant in her ignorance, strong of her smallness, overwhelmed by possibility, scared by opportunity, incredulous of dreams. That ever changing, moving, passing of time forces that caterpillar to shake, shiver, evolve..I wonder if caterpillars actually ever wonder if all that pain is worth it in the end..how many times even when people around us encourage us by giving us a picture of what all the hardship will be "worth in the end", it is still hard! Five years later is still 'me', just an adult version of me. Despite the trials and difficulties, the joys and the sorrows, the good, the bad and the damn right ugly, it is still I, still the ugly caterpillar, now enabled to spread my wings to fly. Many times have I complained over the past five years why had I been endowed with the gift to fathom the possibility of flight, a big blue sky to fly, but no ability to actually fly; how many times have I actually felt that my wings had been cruelly plucked out by some unkind giant..what I had not yet realised is that I was still a caterpillar and my wings had not yet developed enough to fly! "Every thing changes, everything flows", and now grown, reinforced, changed and hopefully matured, I venture back to the parental nest as a daughter, as an adult, as a woman.

Moving back to Italy six weeks from tomorrow, can you believe it?

Stand Up and Be Counted!

2007-05-30T13:58:00.000Z

Ok, ok. Rather surreal experience today. Got a comment from a friend of mine from college who used to study with us in first year (that's a whole five years ago). Apparently, he reads my blog. So does Rev. John Glass. I know I have asked the question before, but I get the impression that there are more people nosing about than it meets the eyes. So, I am asking again: please stand up and be counted if you read my blog!?!?!?!?!?! (The last time we counted, only five of you, including myself, read my blog!) (",)

Changing the World over a Cup of Coffee

2007-05-30T09:03:00.000Z

Predictable. Tired of reading my blog for the past 8 months, you will all be expecting an article on fairtrade. Wrong. Or, at least, partially wrong. Last night I came home early, trying to rest my voice and recover from this terrible laryngitis. As you do, I thought I'd treat myself to a cup of caramel macchiato from Starbucks (small,skinny, no cream, of course!). I have had issues with Starbucks last year, before their fair trade choice, Estima; I did not pay enough attention to understand their "fairer option".. Starbucks is an American multinational with a gigantic turn over each year - let's say that life as Mrs Starbucks must be pretty pampered! As such, we are talking money, not ethics. Ethical consumerism is often, in my opinion, a contradiction in words. Nonetheless, public pressure on coffee shops is the evident proof of how the individual can, collectively, impact society in a positive way. Mr Starbucks charged me £3 for a small cup of coffee - that's roughly five coffee grounds, half a cup of skimmed milk, a splash of caramel and some hot water..obviously that three quid needs to pay for the girl at the till, the lad who wrote on the plastic cup, the lady who actually made me the drink and the young chap who is sweeping the floor around me..that's not to count the landlord who owns the place, the suppliers, the energy suppliers, the coffee growers, the shipping company and, of course, some profit for Mr Starbucks - after all, it's his business we are talking about! But this discussion will be for another time. Perhaps, just give a little thought to the coffee growers who has never even tried a cup of coffee and gets paid £3 a week (best possible scenario). But that's for another time.. What I wanted to draw you attention upon is that as I was about to pay for my coffee, I noticed a couple of charity boxes for the Lymphoma association. Isn't it bizarre how much more sensitive we become to issues when they touch our lives personally? I felt like a hypocrite. Nevertheless, if it wasn't for cancer research associations such as this, funded exclusively by people's generosity, my mom may not be here today. So when you buy a fairtrade cup of coffee, or a charity wrist band, or give spare change to someone..you are virtually changing the world. Just think.

The Sound of a Good Week-End

2007-05-29T09:10:00.000Z

Yes, more than 'the sound of a good week-end', it is the lack of sound, in my voice, this morning that makes me reminisce on an hilarious week-end in London, baby, London! For my frequent readers, you may remember the tales of our funny Arabian night in the beginning of May with some newly met friends from London whom we ended up exchanging a visit with this bank holiday week-end. The whole thing was quite surreal - confusing the night for the day, the scorching rain like we were in the middle of December, making friends with singers, waiters and random strangers, running in the rain at 3am, having breakfast at 5pm..totally awesome! Good times, good friends. So, without further ado, here is a photo diary of the week-end (saves me time, really)... Hope you all had a nice bank holiday too!

A typical British summer day in London..The Sweetness: Tiziana & Linda, best friends from school! Dancing in the Tube station..as you do...
Wanted?Cueing outside "Ain't Got Nothing but the Blues" in Soho for nearly two hours..freeeeeeezin'!
Worth the wait!

Meeting Oscar Wilde and Dorian Gray, aka Wayne and Tim. It was a rather surreal experience - for starters, we were in an underground, prohibitionist mid-20's America style Jazz club in Soho. Got chatting to this two random guys who ended up being quite a pair, not to mention that both me and Linda (who hardly know each other at all) thought that Tim (in the middle) looked like Dorian Gray..indeed a fictional character out of a book..the weirdness!!!
Singing the Italian national anthem at the top of your loungs? Priceless. The Sound of a Good Night indeed!

Treasure Hunt on the Traces of a Beautiful History - Gli Amici Ritrovati

2007-05-25T09:37:00.000Z

Neapolitan gulf:The view from my parents'!

Sitting at my desk in my Manchester office, looking outside of the window at a concrete city hovered by a berely illuminated sky..I am feeling invigorated, energetic, nostalgic. I had the break of a life-time on the traces of a past I thought was lost; however, it was never lost, it was simply concealed under a pile of papers which are effortlessly blown away by the gentle summer breeze..It is wonderful to speak not only the same language, but to share a common story. I love you all very much; I have missed you!!!

Seduta alla scrivania del mio officio di Manchester, guardo fuori dalla finestra ad una citta' di cemento, coperta da un cielo appena illuminato..mi sento invigorita, energica, nostalgica. Ho trascorso giorni stupendi sulle tracce di un passato che credevo perso; ma non era mai stato smarrito, era piuttosto nascosto sotto ad un mucchio di fogli che sono facilmente rimossi dalla dolce brezza estiva..com'e' meraviglioso parlare non solo la stessa lingua, ma coindividere una storia comune. Vi amo tutti tantissimo; mi siete mancati!!!

The Family
My mom has just had the results from her post-theraphy tests which, insofar, all came out negative. She is still quite weak, but we cannot stop but praise God for what appears to be an increadible answer to prayer. In this instance, I would wholeheartedly like to thank you all for your support and encouragement. May God reward you double-fold for all of your kindness.

Mia madre ha appena ricevuto i risultati dalle sue prime analisi post-terapia e, fino ad ora, sono risultate tutte negative. Si sente ancora abbastanza debole, ma non possiamo fare altro che ringraziare Dio per questa che sembra essere una risposta a tante preghiere. A questo proposito, colgo l'occasione per ringraziarvi del vostro supporto ed incoraggiamento. Possa Iddio ricompensarvi del doppio di tutta la vostra compassione.

The Friends

Laura (aka 'Corpo, "the body") and I in San Martino and Parco Virgiliano. Good friends, good times!

Me and Ida (aka Super Zeta) - The sweetness!

"But sometimes you close your eyes and see the place where you used to live when you were young"- The memorable Via Scarlatti.

Me and Vale (aka Valina/Gazzella, "The Gazelle"), hadn't seen each other in five long years but it's like as if time had never passed. I am so proud of her! (BTW, I swear I am not sticking my middle finger at anyone! Accidents happen!) (",)

Pop, happily singing away in the car..

My Transport! I love to feel the wind on my face!

Sunbathing in the garden..

Happy, our fam dog!

Ho Voglia di Te - The Update You Have All Been Waiting For

2007-05-22T08:04:00.000Z

A brief phone call, the sound of what used to be a familiar voice and it's like as if time had never passed. Ten years, whatever stage in life you may be at, it's a long time. When we were last together, his little sister was only three. She is now a teen-ager. When we last were together, we used to think the Spice Girls were the next big thing. At the age of thirteen, everything seems like a major struggle, a drama. You think that your greatest achievement will be to get out of high school, yet you dream big: senselessly and fearlessly. You think that you know what real love is. I think you do; I think that when you are thirteen you know a lot more about emotions than most people would give you credit for - it's just that that wonderful little butterfly is bottled up in a glass jar by hormonal tempests, inexperience, youthfulness. Ah, to be free like a thirteen year old again, but with the experience of a 24 year old! I think this is just what happened to me yesterday. A brief phone call, the sound of an all too familiar voice made me feel emotions I did not think I could feel ever again. We talked for quite a while and I felt happier than I have been in quite sometime. In my previous relationship, I was always trying too hard to impress this un-impressible man, thus forgetting myself, the real me, the things I love, the person I want to be; I was on the phone to this wonderful person from my past and I suddenly felt like a re-invigorated, spring butterfly who is no longer afraid to show her true colours, her true self. It was a wonderful symphony. It was easy and beautiful to be me. I even wrote a small poem about the revitalizing emotions of the past few days. I felt like poetry, beauty, sunshine, laughter, wonder. At the sole thought of this wonderful young man. To the point: I only managed to get through to him the day before I left - he was all and beyond I thought he would have become, well on his way to making his childhood dreams come true. Unfortunately, we couldn't meet, but we parted with a lot of joy and the prospect of seeing each other again next time I am home in a few weeks time..."Ho voglia di Te", is the title of an iconic teen-age novel and homonymous Italian movie by Federico Moccia. It literally means "I feel like you", "I have a desire of you" sort of. Self explanatory?!

Tiziano Ferro, "Ti Scattero' una Foto"(Nessuno e' Solo) from the movie "Ho Voglia di Te"

...Rummaging Through the Dust Bins of Memory Lane...

2007-05-18T19:47:00.000Z

Buona sera a tutti da una calda serata a Napoli! For my numerous non-Italian speaking readers, I have just said 'hi' from the homeland. The weather has been disappointingly mild for the locals - refreshingly sunny and hot for me! (I have become so British!!!) Today I have finally found a huge plastic box in the cellar containing, well, what is left of my adolescence. A little box of rubbish for the rest of the world; a magnificent chest of treasures for me. Amongst a funny collection of random shots, used train tickets, journals, school pictures and posters, the poems and letters and pictures from a boy who knew me at the age of thirteen a great deal better than I knew myself and lavished me with love. A boy I selfishly hurt. A boy who is now a man, a gorgeous young man who's phone number I am now holding in my hands. Shivers are running down my spine, palms are sweaty, heart is warm and I have a besotted, somehow nostalgic look in my smile, in my eyes. Should I ring him? Even after I broke his heart? Even when we haven't seen each other in nearly ten years? Gosh, I feel thirteen again!

Gimme A Break!

2007-05-16T00:33:00.000Z

*(From the left: Esther, Shell and the Wee Italian Chick having a picnic in the park on a warm spring Sunday afternoon)

Dear Fellow Bloggers,
Public service announcement: there may be a slight lack of posting over the next seven days since, as from today, I am on annual leave! Yuppy! Happy holiday to me! I shall try to blog again from sunny Italy - that is if, of course, I am not too busy sun-bathing and eating nice food! Blog you soon. Lots of love, Ivonne xx

An Ache of the Heart

2007-05-14T14:08:00.000Z

Dear fellow bloggers,
Considering that a number of you have never even met me in person, I feel like I owe you all some explanations.

First of all apologies for Friday's depressing post. I am not a compulsive winger. I am generally an incredibly bubbly and happy person. I wake up every morning (most days) with a big grin of joy on my face; I don't really walk: I tend to bounce a lot. I laugh rumourously (my wee sis is so embarrassed of my 'heartily' laugh). I am honest; I am outspoken. One of my ex-boyfriends always used to say that for all my love for talking, when it comes to emotions, feelings, I needn't really have to say a word because my face and my eyes in particular are like a mirror to my soul; guess that you could say that 'what you see is what you get' with me. Throughout life's heart aches, hard times and disappointments, I have been renown for lifting my head up and carrying on. However, the last six months have thrown a lot at me, more than I sometimes think my heart can bear. I am bubbly, in-your-face, self-confident (cocky?!?!), but it doesn't mean that I don't hurt!!!!
Since my upheaval first started, I feel like I have made steady progress; I feel like I have re-discovered a passion for Life in all its fullness, rolled up my sleeves again and continued to strive. Nonetheless, behind that self-motivation, aspirations, optimism, Faith and dreams, there is a very fragile heart. Despite all the gains, I walk about the streets feeling constantly bereaved, lost. My mom is doing a great deal better; we are now waiting for the results from her final tests to see how well she has responded to treatment. Despite not getting into med school first time around, I have been offered to do an Mph in pharmaceutical research which will be contributing greatly towards my future medical studies; with the loss of my uncle, I have seen God's comfort being generously poured over my auntie and family. In feeling rejected by the person I thought I loved the most in this world, I have been hurting a lot but I am also experiencing a surreal dispensation of divine grace : I have chosen not to beg, not to be miserable, not to be nasty, but to do right by and keep on loving that person unconditionally (even when that means to get nothing in return or to occasionally and involuntarily be trampled over emotionally) I have good friends; a job; a home; family, clothes to wear and food to eat; I have Faith. . But I guess we have all been there - such is life and I will soon be back to full strength, blogging about music gigs, humanitarian enterprise, happiness, movie reviews, holidays. My only concern was that I did not want to 'bottle it all up', pretending that everything is alright whilst feeling subconsciously and emotively shattered, exhausted. That's why I blog. Writing is a cathartic expression of my soul. Often the expressing itself, represents the cure. Other times your thoughts inspire me to be a better person, to love others more and also to love myself a bit better. SO, apologies for the whining and please, do keep on reading and commenting, even when I write a lot of bull! Your honesty may help to keep me sane!!!!!

Stuck in a Moment...

2007-05-12T03:59:00.000Z

3.37 am. I came home early tonight, even skipped youth (so out of character for me to dishonour my commitments), opted for a relaxing night in and the opportunity to catch up on some long yearned sleep. Vain efforts, of course. Chris Martin’s words from “Fix You” are tormentingly resounding in my head, yet nothing seems to be able to fix me. After three chamomile teas, a hot bath, two movies, prayer and endless tears go and explain to my old pastor back in Naples that Christians don’t have trouble sleeping! Of course, there is something profoundly calming and peaceful about living in the knowledge of God’s care and protection (Psalm 5 springs to mind ‘in peace I will lay down; and in peace shall I sleep because you, oh Lord, make me rest in safety’) Nevertheless, this truth does not change our human condition. As real people living in a real world, religious and non-religious people alike experience an often painfully tearing dualism. Don't take this harshly, but I am not looking for answers and empathetic support. Guess I am simply trying to articulate what is clouding my blessed, wonderful life. Baring my soul, feeling as naked and vulnerable as a desperate woman bent on her knees, sobbing and crying in the middle of the street at night as her mascara is running down her face and a malevolent cold breeze is blowing her fine dress, which feels like dirty rags, away. There is no pity in that wind, so she feels yet the cool breeze is a wispy awakening call of an inner sense of Hope that speaks Life even in the lowest pits. That's what tonight feels like.
I first bought the album X&Y, which includes the song 'Fix You', around about the same time I moved to Manchester. I had only just graduated and I felt on the top of the world. I was an idealistic day dreamer who believed that if you work hard and honestly and honour God in all you do, life will be good. I suppose you could say that I haven't changed an inch over the past two years. Despite an increased sense of cynicism and sarcasm, a natural defence mechanism perhaps, I so desperately want to believe that 'there must be more than this'. For all the failiures, I want to learn to stand up again more and more quickly; for all the disillusionment, I want to become even more loving; for all the tears, I will seek to smile my heart out; I will learn to continue to love even what is lost, because it is only things which break beyond repair. On the contrary, hearts and emotions can be mended; therefore I shall persue unconditonal Love; for all the sleepless nights, I will post about it - express my fears, insecurities, self-perceived sense of failure and persue Beauty, pant for Grace.

*At the top of the page, Salvador Dali "The Persistence of Memory"(1931)
On the left, an iconic image of Sofia Loren in Vittorio De Sica's "La Ciociara" (1960) based on a wonderful novel by Alberto Moravia.

51 days,11 hours, 42 minutes and 20 seconds

2007-05-09T13:18:00.000Z

...to the Big Day, 100th Post and 5000 Ways to Change the World! ...

This is my 100th post! I have written a lot - mainly gibberish, but also a lot of outpouring of my little soul and introspective analysis, helped by your inspirational comments. One of the evident outcomes of this is that I know to be nothing but convetional, so I choose not to write a commemorative article on blogging. Instead I would like to send you all an invitation.
In 51 days, 11 hours, 42 minutes and 20..ops 19 seconds now, it is the BIG DAY (aka my 24th birthday) - the 1st of July for your diaries, thanks. The day however is "big" for a number of reasons:
1. I was born on that day: a little respect, would you mind?
2. Viva the Smoking Ban! England will celebrate the first day of SMOKING FREE PUBLIC BUILDINGS!!! Yuppy!!! Thank God: no more concerts, dinners, pubs and clubs filled with deadly and stinking fumes! Alleluja!
3. It will be my first "Random Acts of Kindness and Senseless Acts of Beauty" themed birthday.
It basically consists of this: whether you were planning to or were not remotely thinking about being kind enough to buy/make me a present, then, don't. Instead, in the likes of "Pay it Forward", do something good and beautiful to make three people's world, day, life...well...better. Whether it involves buying a homeless person a cup of tea, donating money to charity, giving blood, telling someone how special they are, walk instead of driving or wherever your creativity and kindness takes you, do it! The sky is the limit! Sure enough I shall be reminding you of this initiative closer to the time meanwhile, the title of this post is how long you have to think about how to make the world a better place on my birthday! Call it a "Hippy Birthday Meme Tag!"

An Arabian Night

2007-05-08T15:13:00.000Z

Back, I am back, I am back! After a brief pause from the blogworld I am back with the tales of one of the best nights out of the past few years.
We change; we grow; we mature and evolve, but I believe that deep within we all crave for an unaltered desire to be at peace with oneself, with the grown-ups we have become and to still laugh wholeheartedly, like little toddlers. I think that is what Sunday was all about. Despite having had a late one the night before (simply to accommodate my friend's urge to watch Spiderman 3), I woke up early to a beautiful sunny day, went for a short-lived jog, had breakfast, went to church, talked to people, had lunch, preached to a lovely group of senior citizens (a captive audience of fifteen 90 odds!). Went to the pub to watch the Chelsey-Arsenal match (even cheered Arsenal for the first time in my whole life! - congratulations, Man Utd!), leisurely walked to a coffee shop for some tea, had an Indian in Rusholme, then headed to the local Arab cafe for some mint tea. We did not have a single drop of alchol yet were as giddy as one can be - we even got told off by the owner..it was like being back in second grade! Class. Drinking mint tea throughout the night. I suddenly felt like an adult, like a proper little person yet with comparable energy, laughter and joy to that of a little child who does not worry or reminisce about yesterday and has no fear of tomorrow, who at the core of her innerself knows her blessed state. Indeed I am truly blessed.

**thanks to Titi', Lily, Dr Cipolla and Stefano!** the girone of return in London, babe!**