Category Archives: wanderlust

Tomorrow

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He is looking at models on his phone. He is laying beside me and looking. He looks at them like a computer. He looks at everything -calculated and precise. He gives little room for errror. He looks and looks and then he finds the one. The perfect match.

She is a model, 23 yrs old. She has sun-kissed brown skin like me. She has his tired eyes, my nose,  his forehead and my almond shape face. She is tall and thin like him.

He turns to me, smiles and says this is her.

Who is she?

A model.

I hope you are not asking to look like her because it’s not happening. Plus I can’t grow any taller.

Lol, no fattylicious….she is what are kid would look like..

How long have you been thinking of this?

A while now. It’s a fixation.

In so many ways my workaholic boyfriend says the things I need to hear. He knows all. He is a computer of a man. Luckily, he has humour or we would have faded.

Yet, he is a workaholic. He lives for his first born-his company. I think of what kind of life we have and it’s really warm. However, there are many faint days because his work takes him away so much.

I wonder if I would take our story for granted or he me. I wonder if we can have a family. I wonder what he will think of my little lost family. I have no “dowry” of sorts.  I am a screwup.

He is flawed too, however in an over perfectionist A -type manner. He comes from comfort and unumeral resources. He has it good and he works to keep it so.
I am thinking of my financial woes, student loans and my credit card debt. My ADD way of changing occupation as my mood changes.
My family is broken on a personal level, yet they are mine. I love them. Could he?
Would his mother love me? After all, he’s her baby. Her only family, more or less.

I ask him, how would we survive?

Easy …don’t ever let go.
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Pregnant

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Her sister’s words rang through her that morning straight into the next day. Pregnant. So final and real. She always knew that it would happen. She just never prepared herself for that/this moment. It was here. It was happening. A baby.  

It is not the first time she felt shone up by her little sister nor would it be the last.  Her sister , despite exhausting problems, always received. It never failed. Fate was never for her but her sister. She wanted a family, a partner, children, to be in love instead she was dealing with her father’s lack of interest, poor choices and lack of options with boyfriends, and the curse that her granny told her; ”  children love you thus you will never have your own”.   Overall, the short end of the stick.

On many occasions she pushed forward and others she hid in her shell. She felt forgotten and undesirable. They say what you feel is what you call into your atmosphere. In truth despite of what you feel life makes you what you shall be. In her case, her current and continuous mood was hunger.

She hungered by the minute. She hungered to be in love , to be noticed, to be taken seriously, to have an easy day, to finally step out of level 1 and into level 2,3,4. She hungered to plant roots, have a dog or two, to be somewhere and know it’s her home.

It was an obsession,  a fantasy with no reality….a constant letdown. At times she thought she made it only to be again on level one. Even her hair would tease her. She really wants big curly hair. She  craves hair that could be wild and free yet tame-ish and elegant.

She wants to win.

Her career has finally shown potential yet there is a major hurdle preventing the moment of exhale. She thinks of how she would finally buy a house  with this exhale.  Get a dog, and shop with a truth. She thinks of how her life would improve at least financially. She hopes and is afraid. She feels sick often thinking of this.

She is getting older and worries about her eggs. Could she every make a child. Another being with ten finger and ten toes, a face that may resemble her own . She wonders if there would ever be love in her life. A partner of pleasure and friendship. A co-conspirator in this constant world wind called life. Would the fates ever allow. Would God ever have mercy on her?  She wonders these things daily. They are an obsession.

She is going to be an aunt.

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Foolish Daughter

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How can I be so powerful yet so dependent on the affections of a man? How is it so? What is the curse that I “believe ” in what he thinks, feels, and understands … he is just a man. What is the curse that I take so much more meaning of his feeling towards me, that have some how overrided MY feeling and attitude about me.

How can this be? My body can carry life, harbour it until it is ready to leave the shore. I am the power, the nature, the nurture, the magic. I am so lost on this constant cycle I experience , as well, women I know.

He is not all, yet I make him so.

I am still the little girl waitng for her daddy to really fight for her.  He never did nor will he. He is content in his  inadquate space in my life. He is not trying to be more. He never tried. I know daddy issues are my key problem. I know he never was a fighter. He was never a brave man.

My dad  just exist.

I see this reflected in my relationships. I want bravery. The little girl in me knows her dad is not a defender yet she keeps hoping. The woman in me pushes on and yet is still holding hands with the little girl ..waiting to see.  If maybe.

In all the debacle, the mother is left holding the world in one hand and her children in the other. The children , especially the eldest, me. I take for granted so much of what she did and does because I was waiting on my dad, to be brave.

I neglected the true warrior. The bravest, boldest, gentliest human ever-my mother. The true life force. I kept looking past her and not at her. I was and am  a foolish daughter.

I am lucky .  My mother is still alive. I am given time to rectify the misguidance of my younger self. Hopefully, it  will start to reflect in my relationships.

I love both my parents. But I am in love with my mother.

 

Night in the Park

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I have never been to the Borghese at night until now.  I am here , waiting to watch “The Lobster” at a tiny cinema that is called  Cinema dei Piccoli ( tiny cinema). It is so small that you have to wait outside until your designated movie starts.
Why go to the movies in the middle of a park at night?? Because sometimes I feel abandoned and thus I go places that I feel I could disappear into.  In a few days I will be at a  Christmas party and I will be eating and forced to eat endless yummy artistry and drink countless vino….yet tonight, this second….I feel abandoned. Go figure.

I was walking around the park , waiting for my designated time  and  discovered this staute.  I have never been this side of the park before so it was interesting to find her. I have no clue about who or what it means. I know she lost her head and it was a  tragedy.   I would have to Google or asked a historian friend for details yet I prefer to make up her story.

Let’s begin…this is llaria the mother of Joy.  She was always a happy woman even when someone died, or when she stubbed her toes or a major disaster happened she continued to be happy.  It was not that she was mocking peoples’ suffering but she could not frown. She was blessed and curse with happiness. Llaria was a beautiful woman for her features were diverse.  She had curly dark hair that depending on the time of day went from light brown to black. Her eyes were like water. Her skin like Nutmeg.  She smelled of lavender naturally and was a helpful woman.
Like all women she desired to be in love. After a time she encountered a robust man with a  moustache that curled and who was charming despite his selflish laugh. Soon they were married and she was pregnant.
Llaria was always happy. Her life seemed happy, however, it was not. Her robust husband became more robust. He treated her bad while she was pregnant.  If you didn’t attend the wedding you would think she was a servant of the house and not the lady.
Llaria endured.
One day she was in the barn feeding the animals when her water broke. She screamed for help yet the noise of the animal drowned her out. She screamed and push and screamed and push until a little head pop out, then shoulders , arms,body and tiny toes,looking all wrinkled and bloody.  She felt a tear and it was joyous. She named the baby Joy.  Joy was a boy.  He was her joy. She had felt pain,anguish, anxiety and tears, sweet tears for the first time thus he was joy. When she had enough strength she ran away into the forest. To whom or where no one knows for she didn’t reach far. She heard her husband shouting her name and turned around in which she ran into a tree that took her head.

Joy never knew his mother, only the tales told. So he made a grand statue in the garden. For she was his tragedy.
                           FIN

I do think that the park is quite calm at night despite the cold. I can see my breathe! I am sitting on a dilapidated bench …….

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writing this post on my phone and waiting to see if the Lobster becomes a lobster.  Ciao

Squirrel

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I have never seen a squirrel in Italia. If they exist they are ninjas because they hide super good. I was in the Big Apple this summer and when I saw this guy posing for the people I was hooked.
He would turn his head so that you captured his essence and grace. A true model. Yes, he/she is a bit plump but it’s not its fault-protein diet :Nuts.

I miss squirrels. I miss these little ninjas that steal your food or make nest in the drain.  I am waiting to see one here….no luck. There are pigeons , ravens and green parakeets that love shitting at metro stations on waiting passengers.  Yet, no squirrel in Roma or any part I have visited so far.
     Oh Squirrel,  where art though????

              

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This has been rambling from a late sleeper that hasn’t had brunch yet on a cool, sunny day in Roma.   She will now stop and make a caffè . ciao!

Fairy Tales

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It’s hot in Roma. It is so hot the choices are 1) stay at home in your underwear and drink everything cold in the house, never  use the stove because that will make heat  2) go away –far away from  Roma  3) go to the beach daily if you cannot afford to travel or  you have time to use before your vacation 4) Stand still.  I chose option 3- the beach is what i did for a week or so , more or less. I spend my days burning my already brown skin ( with SPF 30) until was completely even.

Ostia is easily accessible by train. The station is Piramide in Ostiense. It’s about 40 minutes from beginning to end . Then a 10-15 minute  bus ride, depending on what type of beach you fancy. My fancy is the free beaches that are closer to the end. Ostia doesn’t have picturesque beaches. Its a usable beach that works.

I went for a few days to pass the time sometimes solo or with friends. I am so tan right now my mother is going to have many words for me when I see her in a few days. Anyway, I was at the beach, trying to practice my weak swimming in peace when a man decided he should invade my space. Like a true shark he swam around me for about 2 minutes getting closer and closer  and then  creating dialogue.  He ask formalities and I answered with short answers. Then he decided to talk about the beach. “This beach is used also by nudist:”

Me:  I know I see them.

Man: I usually am too

Me: Good for you

Man: Would you like to try to?

Me: Why are you so uninviting?

Man: it is perfectly normal,….in fact i will do it now…( HE took off his shorts in the water) ………He was standing there feeling proud in his unclothing .

I turned and swam away. On the sand my friend asked me if she just saw what I witnessed..I shook my head yes.  We sat in silence.   The man comes out the water , puts on his pants and disappears for some time. When we are settled and relaxed , like a shadow, the man appeared.  I was getting ready  to responded when the couple beside us jumped in and told him to go away. He left for good. This is Roma.

I am a woman of color. I have many experiences of highs and lows of living here.  This is just one encounter that was UBER extreme. Overall, my experiences have been graceful and respectful. This guy was the first to just disgust me and I am sharing it.  When men ask if I am Brazilian , it’s more due to what they know of black culture. Despite watching all modern programs , music artists and pop culture…a large group of Italians are still un-evolved on foreign women. It is not only dark skin women in this boat. I am only mentioning my experience.

I have met normal guys here , yet as in all things the asinine encounters really stick with me.I don’t let them become my personality  I just don’t forget. I have on many occasions confront them , which makes them run. Having a strong character is a must here.  I have a great love for Italy in a whole . I love the feel of living in this ancient slightly modern world. I just have no desire for romance, which many women find here , as the Italians call it EAT PRAY LOVE moment.  I would love to have such a moment even a temporary one. This would  require a brave guy to rise from the non-commitment, mammoni , bubbled culture.  It sounds impossible …however I still believe in unicorns.

varco 3

Big Sister

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I am an emotional loon hiding in Roma. I have been so blessed, fortunate or just dumb lucky. I think it has a lot to do with my mindset. Despite my fears  and insecurities life has been opening her arms telling me to walk and don’t worry…………. ..”I gotcha”

Lesson: Openness 

On my first day in Roma; I cannot write Rome anymore; I stayed at a hostel.  I am familiar with the owners so it made perfect sense as I was waiting on housing to come together. Once I registered and put my bags down  my first mission was to get a phone sim. Luckily, there was a TIM store at the end of the block of my hostel so the search was quick.

The store is very small and there was only one person ahead of me, a lady with long black straight hair. She spoke Italian with a thick Asian accent. The sales clerk was a bit annoyed with her because she making him do his job instead  of sitting and doing nothing. At one point , the clerk asked me what I needed while he was helping the lady before me. I  responded in Italian-English I needed a sim card. He was use to foreigners and comprehended my  nonsense speech.

The lady before me, turned and her eyes grew big! “ You  American?!” I said yes. “ Oh! good I need  practice  English. I do not speak very good and need  practice” She then turned and said something to the clerk. Unfortunately, I could not understand at the time.  The clerk was getting annoyed since she was talking to the two of us at the same time. She was talented, switching from Italian to English in a thick Asian accent.

She later forced the clerk to help us simultaneously so that we could talk about her English lessons. This is how I met my big sister-the opera singer. After frustrating the clerk for about an hour she took me to find a hairdryer. I had mentioned I just arrived and needed to get somethings..hairdryer, flat iron, cosmetics. I figured it would take a few days to acquire the essentials. However, with my sister I obtained all my necessities within two hours. She then told me I would be coming to her house tomorrow for lunch and then SWOOSH  she was off to another appointment.

It was too unbelievable yet I made a friend in under an hour and was going to have lunch with her the next day. It sounds odd from State sides that a person would do all of this, plus going into a strangers car in under an hour. It is a bit different. I knew her name and address in twenty minutes and for some reason I said OK.

My sister made me an amazing lunch of fresh , homemade sushi. It was amazingly good. I know it’s Italy, yet how often do have fresh made sushi in Italy..rare. In truth many Italians are skeptical about the sushi places in Roma. (There is a theory about fish bought far from shorelines is questionable. I have found one that I will recommend called Yoshi in zone Ostiense; visit countless times and still livin. Another place is Fish Market, it’s an Italian restaurant. Fish Market smells fishy yet the food and service is good). Anyway,  my sister has been a great source to  my life here. She pimped me out. She did. She took me to restaurants, events and community centers, she introduced me to many important people she knew from the orchestra hall to celebrities. She pimped me. She knew I was an English teacher. I would not be working at my school until September. I had a few months to get adjusted.  She helped me get business cards offering English lessons over the summer. It seemed far-fetched to me yet I had income coming in.
She has been in my life heavy and yet like the wind she leaves, touring through Europe and making trips to Korea. Now I barely see her.When  she is here, I check in giving full details of what I have been up to; who i am dating, any new plans, ecc. She is always cooking for me or treating me to a meal.  No matter how I ask to pay or try to contribute she reminds me, “ I am the big  sister, it is my duty.”  She is just this way. She is off always now. I miss her. She has become my family here and I am forever grateful to her.  This is what happens when I open up and just be.

Tanning 101

                                  This is how she tans…true story

Republic Day !

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Rome is an active city. In fact, compared to the rest of Italy it’s the best place to be for an active social life, in my opinion.  This week began with a four-day weekend, thus the masses heading to the sea for sea air, burning sun of 30 grad Celsius and just chilling. One of the perks of living in Rome is the lifestyle.

On this lovely day I woke with a lovely headache, probably from the Moscow mules I drank at an aperativo; as well, I had forgotten to close the blinds thus the day woke me too soon ( 5am). With this lovely feeling pounding in my head I cancelled my plans for another beach day to remain in the city.

I tried to fall back into my sleep-like state yet no luck. My mind began to wonder: lessons plans for the week, man problems, how to get my hair to stay straight for more than a day and what to do later?  I slept maybe another 40 minutes after my racing mind calmed down again.

When I woke again, my headache was still present so I got up and embraced the day. A friend recommended I get a coffee and aspirin to  get rid of the headache. I got a cappuccino and cornetto (intergrale) and set off. My first mission, actually my only mission, was to reload my metro pass. I kept pushing it off and so I had to find a place still open to recharge on a national holiday. I had money for the metro yet I hate paying for a single ticket and the local buses were not running. I walked through the neighborhood and ask any newspaper stand and tabacchi shops open if they could do it.  After an hour successes!

Since I was out and my head started to feel better I decided to check out the parade in the center.  I had seen some of the prep work in days prior, so I had an idea of what the parade would look like yet I knew little about the holiday.  So what is Republic Day? Italy was a monarch society governed by Mussolini and a fascist regime. Festa della Repubblica is the celebration of the people of Italy voting the monarchy out and creating the republic. It was told to me the holiday was originally celebrated the first of June and in 2000 was changed to the second.   In Rome, the parade is conducted near Piazza Venezia with an air show and military march.  Near Termini, the train hub, there was a free concert which was really beautiful to hear as you make your way through people. It gave the day an uplifting feel. Plus I am happy because this is a three-day work week!

Bacio!

2015

2015 Festa della Repubblica

FR2

2015 Corazzieri

2015      Corazzieri

how to watch a parade

how to watch a parade

Termini 2015

Termini 2015

BUS CHRONICLES: one

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I ride the bus and metro to get around. I have been told I should buy a macchina (car) of some sort and join the Roman rush-hour of terror. Since I am quite indecisive and only been here a year ( already!) , I  get around by metro, bus, feet , taxi and Friends.

Riding the bus is an adventure for me always.  I have used the  bus for educational  purposes; it’s how I learned the language for getting off the bus.    On the bus I have to be nosy in order to understand Italian. It’s where I get a short and sometimes long sightseeing tour of the city I call home-Roma.

Today, I experience something many females  have encounter…the  guy who  “accidently” touches you.

I am tired often in the afternoons and in many situation getting a seat on the bus requires gladiator skills. In the country of tolerance , there is NONE for the seats on the bus. Where I work buses are few , cars are plenty and metro is somewhere far. I wait for the bus every afternoon and so I am zombie routine numb.

This afternoon , I boarded as always , quick gaze saw there were no seats available and thus my next favorite spot is where the handicap/ baby strollers would reside. I am not super tall so this area makes an okay back rest for me. I use this time to check emails from across the pond, instagram/Eyem post -routine.

Another thing with the bus, people touch you especially when crowded and the driver has to murder the breaks every five minutes because everyone cuts him/her off or he/she is on their phone chatting.  

Today was not so bad, there was a lot of space for breathing room… personal space doesn’t exist here. If this is a problem for anyone, don’t visit. So, I have my arm around the rail  so I can check my messages, to my  right,  to help my balance and my feet in a firm mountain climbing stance when I felt the bus jerk. Normal. Again the driver breaks , someone bumps into me. Normal. Again, a jerk happens, someone hand is on the same rail I have my arm wrap around and touch me. Normal.

The bus is moving …I feel something light like  a fly touch near my neck. At first, I was  so into the phone it took a moment for my consciousness to alert me.  As I become  aware,  the  feeling was gone. The bus  stops and again I feel a light touch , however this time a few quick soft “brushes”. I realize someone is touching my neck on purpose.  I am a notorious shades wearer, which is good  for bus situations. I was able to see if I was crazy or not without being noticed and in this case I was not crazy.

This is not the first time nor will it be the last someone does this. The first  few times, I made a scene. Now I just move myself.  In this case I  shifted to my left and turn to look at him. He moves his hand from the rail and looks the other way. The end, right? No

He decides to move more in my view by two feet and a half, facing me. He stares at me, for a minute or two then turns around to exit at the  stop.
He was an okay looking business suit wearing guy, yet he resorts to such measures on a bus is beyond me. Yet, he is just one of many that do this.   When speaking to my girlfriends they all have experience it and the taxi guy who asks if you’re single (luckily, this hasn’t happened to me).  If you take a bus from the center to Termini, touchy guys practically live on the bus to touch people; mostly ladies. It happens, be alert and aware. However, from where I work the bus is not a tourist packed region and so to experience this was really unexpected.   The moral is people touch on the bus they just do.

life moment: Dating

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I am really sorry but I don’t know how to date or cross paths with a decent guy. I have met a guy here that is adorable to me, he is tall, slightly funny and we like barely anything the same. We connected in a strange , social media way with our common love of parks here in Rome.  I know it  seems hard to believe with my magnificent wit and sarcastic charm that I prefer quiet solitary activities (and met a guy on social media). I function better with quiet moments. I have been flooded with social activities that at times I make up  excuses  just to be alone. Rome has nice parks and some that look like a dump yet there are parks everywhere.

Back to the guy;  we  met , we talked, actually he loves talking and talking and is heavily opinionated without considering the alternative of what others think or feel. He is religious and very critical of others, very Christ- like, I know.  He sees life in black and white, HIS version of black and white.   I see silver grey, fuchsia, teal and  mahogany. We were not a match made in heaven, he was adorable though. Open dialog  with him always ended with him running away every time I said something he felt was insensitive or disagreeable. It was not only me he acted like this with; no the whole world received this treatment. At times I wonder if he was bipolar. Anyway, he always came back. I would still  be lost on what I said that was so wrong. I felt like the man and him the woman. He is older than me yet he was a bit like a newborn baby not childlike which I think we all have inside of us. No he was a big baby. The biggest problem with letting go of the big baby was  me being new here still (my excuse).

Half a year had past and I was holding on to a big baby because making friends was a bit hard at first.  As well, I was feeling homesick and down, he was beccoming familiar in a bad way.  It’s  barely mentioned when you relocate to another country and maybe even a new city, with 10,000 miles between you and what was home, fear and doubts devour a person especially at night.  Thus the cry baby felt like nothing and I tolerated. Then one day , maybe by magic we faded out.  I was still grasping my homesickness  yet I survived. Every now and then big baby messages , wanting to fix our situation at times because he is adorable I start to think yes then I think and realize no is better.

I met another guy, he was a more accepting of my personality.  It always works that way the guy I really want to be into disapprove of my personality or I down play my true self out of fear he will dislike the real me. Stupid! I know. Dove should do a campaign about that. Anyway, guy two saw the real me, liked it and took me to amazing places , concerts, met dignitaries, embassy parties,  Hollywood people of Italy. He was a great friend, however, he hoped I would love him or want more than his friendship and I wanted to wait. He hated my answer and the outing continued.  I was hoping that maybe I could feel what he felt , I felt bad that I didn’t have a chemical attraction to him.  He is an awesome friend yet I never felt excited about him in that way, SHE never wanted him  and so nothing. He thinks I am being too “American” and not letting myself go with  nature. I never told him about the lack of chemical attraction just I treasure our friendship and  I didn’t want it to end. I even said lets wait let time happen with us, but nope, he wanted us to be in love. We had a rough patch yet we are friends again, I think.

Now i just date. I am pretty clear that a friendship is my goal.  The responses have varied from silence to feelings of outrage  because of my friendship request. Few actually respect this. I want a man who is a friend on some level not just my boyfriend. On my dating adventurous, I  have been  kissed on the cheek by a strange guy at a party. He was like a lion in the Serengeti,  he would pop up and kiss my face and disappear.

By his third try I caught him and punched him, then I was called “American”  They think calling me American will make me upset.  Go Figure.

I went out with the quiet professional guy , who is highly routine and attached to his mother, who he visits every weekend  and calls three times a day. We went out three times, we had the same conversation three times.

Another professional guy, who only believes in labels and designers, took me out. Now I teach him English.

and now my dates are with girlfriends and group events. This works for now.  I don’t have a romantic ending,  I have no ending…..I  just continue living my story.  Ciao!