Humanities 101 (Notes from a Recent Trip to Los Angeles)

More than two months ago, on 2 February, I left Florence in a hurry ... and arrived to Los Angeles with a sad and heavy heart under a cloud of unpleasant circumstances.  This trip home was not planned, but sudden.

The generosity of my friends and family overwhelmed me then, and now, when I look back, still overwhelms me. Each and every one of you played a part in my feeling loved and cared for at a time when that was precisely what I needed. Many of you went out of your way to be available for me in one form or another. Words alone cannot adequately describe my gratitude for your kindnesses. Nonetheless...

In a short month's time, I had the opportunity to see so many old friends, and family, which helped restore my faith in humanity during a crucial personal crisis. During our too brief time together, we enjoyed plenty of laughs, tears, stories, love shared, love lost, bonding, re-bonding, meals, and even a bit of shopping.  (Needed that!)

A big THANK YOU to all of you.

With love from Florence, Italy

Leaving Italy

Which verb tense do you use when you are suspended in time?  I think in "Leaving Italy" time, but that was 3 1/2 days ago.  On the plane I caught a cold, which leaves me listless and fuori la testa (outside the head).  It feels as though time stands still, but I know better.  Time does not wait for me to catch up.  So even now, I am in the past tense, or so it seems.

Boarding the flight

Here I am back in Los Angeles, an unexpected, unplanned, but necessary trip.

The wonderful 101 Freeway

I try to come to terms with who I am today.  In my adult life I have been a responsible, productive, type-A personality, a small business owner who works hard.  I had control and strove to make a name for myself in my career, which I accomplished successfully.

Nearly two and a half years ago, I had an injury to my back that changed my life.  No longer was I able to work the way I used to. In addition to my injury, there was the economic crisis.  My career changed drastically as a result of the two.  It was then that I decided the time was right to make real my dream to live in Italy.  With my personality type, comes the gotta-have-it-all-figured-out-in-advance mentality.  I went against my usual grain in late '09 when I packed up and relocated to Italy.  I didn't have all the answers.  What I did have was an unwavering faith that, come what may, I would be okay, everything would work itself out, and with a little time, improved Italian language skills, and more contacts, doors would open wide and opportunities would present themselves.  I still have the faith, though, quite honestly, not always unwavering.

Being an expat has its own set of challenges to overcome.  It is no easy path.  In fact, only a small percentage of people who relocate make it beyond the first year.  Studies indicate that something like 5% of the expat population last five years in their new home land and actually assimilate, which means they learn to speak the native language and live like a local instead of in the safe confines of an expat community.

I have made it beyond the first year, and it is important now to assimilate and speak the language and live like a local, if I want to stay beyond the typical five years or fewer.  I try to assimilate and plan to last far more than five years, but...

We often hear of la dolce vita (the sweet life).  La dolce vita, though, is a bit of a myth.  It is not to say that some don't experience it, but for the most part, it is not a reality for the average Italian nor the average expat.  In fact, la dolce vita is more typically for the well-to-do pensioners who can afford extended vacations.  Especially in today's economic climate, when the dollar is $1.42 to the euro, it is a struggle for most expats, especially American expats, to make ends meet. 

I find that I, a once driven, type-A gal, now lack motivation.  I care less about the things that used to matter. Now I struggle with questions such as:  Did I do the right thing?  Have I thrown away my life and the things I worked so hard to achieve?  Will I ever be able to overcome the obstacles and challenges I face in Italy?  Do I dig my own grave just so I can live in Italy? Am I truly an expat, or am I becoming a nomad? (That is, no fixed home, caught in a purgatory of not completely assimilating in Italy and keeping a grubstake in the U.S.)?

During this unplanned visit in Los Angeles, one task is to close up my existing office.  I had previously downsized and effectively closed shop. But I left a physical presence "just in case."  I get emotional comfort in having my desk set up that has my personality all over it.  My desk is glass, which I turned into a vision board. It is one thing to pack up boxes of books and file folders.  But what do I do with the mementos that surround my desk?  They say much about who I am and what I worked for. How do I box up or file away those miscellaneous pieces of paper and trinkets?  I have an Italian phrase sandwiched between the two pieces of glass of my desk that says, "Mi piacerebbe lavorare e vivere a Firenze," (I would like to work and live in Florence). Now done; check. But can I stay?

Also, while in Los Angeles, I will finally free myself of my car and some other personal belongings.  This is all rather scary to me.  The more belongings I slough off in America, the less I straddle the two countries and the more permanent I make myself in Italy.  That spells F-E-A-R in capital letters. Yes, I do want this. But it is not that simple.  (I cannot be entirely forthcoming on this public blog.)  So the questions keep coming at me like tsunami waves.

The car gets towed for maintenance

I struggle with living in the moment, enjoying what I have today, for fear of what could happen tomorrow, next week, next year.  I know it is against the principles we are taught, but I also believe it would be irresponsible of me not to give thought to those very real issues that could happen to any of us, but especially to me, as I straddle two homes, two cultures.  It is not that I want to manifest these negative situations into happening, but I also know it would be denial on my part to ignore their possible reality.  Heavy thoughts weigh on my mind.  The questions I ask myself cause discomfort. I am determined to live a simpler and more basic life in Italy. Some days I do.

I love the home I have made, and make, for myself in Italy.  I strive to create my own form of la dolce vita, and I succeed (to a greater or lesser extent).  I will not give this up, no matter the difficulties that face me or my own thoughts that sometimes punish me. These past few days in Los Angeles tell me that Florence is my home, my destiny.  That said, I also recognize that, when I return to Florence, I must spend more time indoors working. But when I choose to go outside, life awaits.  I live in a place full of history, and I do not take it for granted.  I try to be mindful of the beauty that surrounds me and to notice something new each day and definitely not to allow it to become ordinary.

An extraordinary life in an extraordinary home.  That is the theme of this blog and also my mission in life ... one step at a time.

--Josslyn, Los Angeles, California, USA

Moving Day

Without much choice, it was time to move.  Our lease came to an end, and our apartment had already been rented.  Since my return, I have looked at dozens and dozens of apartments.  I never imagined the task to be so difficult. In the past, when I've looked for apartments in Italy, I did it from the States in advance of my travels.  But now that I'm looking for more permanent housing and am here, it's been work.  I have seen enough apartments that I think I could work as a housing agent.

Time flies, and I wasn't finding a place to sleep June 1.  Out of all the apartments I found, only one I would  consider living in, but it will not be available until the second week of July.  So with that place in mind, a proposto (proposal) made and a deposit left, I continued to search but didn't anything else acceptable.  Yesterday I met the owner of the one apartment I could live in.  We conversed for over an hour and shook hands, and now I am the proud l'inquillina (female tenant) of a "chic" apartment beginning in a little more than a month from now.  Of course, the transaction was not without fear.  It's scary signing contracts in a foreign language in a foreign country where most things are done differently than what I am accustomed to.  Don't forget also that I have worked with attorneys for a couple decades and have heard all sorts of lawsuits.

Meanwhile, I needed to find a place to sleep in the interim.  A friend told me about a monolocale (studio flat).  I met with the owner in person five times and spoke on the phone with her at least a dozen times.  Thirty-six hours before moving day, we met to exchange money and keys.  She got cold feet, kept mumbling things under her breath and then asking, Mi capisci? (Do you understand me?).  My response was, "No, because I can't hear you."  In the end, she told me repeatedly, Lascia perdere (forget it). Tears welled up, but I didn't cry when she reneged on our agreement.

The last few weeks, I was asking everyone I knew if they knew of apartments for rent.  I had everyone working for me.  People were stopping me on the street, asking if I'd found a place yet and then proceeding to tell me about an apartment they knew about. One such person told me his wife has a friend with a cute, small apartment, and he put me in touch with his wife, who, in turn, put me in touch with the owner, a very kind and gentle man.  We met.  The apartment is one of the nicest apartments I have seen as well as one of the smallest.  I could not envision all my things fitting in this place.  That appointment was an hour before I was to meet the owner and exchange money and keys for the apartment I described in the prior paragraph.  Later in the day I phoned him and explained my plans have since changed and I'd like to take his apartment.  The kindness and ease of dealing with this man and his wife are much appreciated as well as all the kindness and help that has been bestowed upon me by the many people that are either my friends or acquaintances.

I find it interesting that as moving day approached and I had not yet found a place to move and then 36 hours prior to moving I found out I still had no place to go, that I was ridiculously calm about it all, though inside I did have fear and make jokes about which bridge Mabel and I would be sleeping under.  Somehow I have much more faith here in Italy than I ever did in L.A. that things will work out no matter what.  Also, a lesson I had the opportunity to learn once again is that when things don't turn out the way we want, hope, or think they should, we often end up in a much better situation.

But what I wonder is:  How is it possible that I have so much "stuff" when I'm trying to simplify my life.  Yes, those are my things in the Ape (three-wheeled vehicle that doesn't require a driver's license to operate) below the window of my new, temporary digs.

-- Josslyn "Giosalina"
Firenze, Italia