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
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
26 December 2012
A Real Italian Christmas
This year represents my fourth holiday season in Italy, and tonight, Christmas Eve, is the first time I spent it with an Italian family. Many similarities, a few differences. The real joy of the evening, for me, were the 7-year-old girl and 9-year-old boy who believe in Babbo Natale (Santa Clause).
The tradition in Italy is Santa Clause arrives at mezzanotte (midnight) of Christmas Eve to bring the gifts. Christmas Day is a day to relax and have another large meal. (More food!) No TV, no calcio (Italian soccer), and no football (American-style) is watched on the 25th. Fat old Santa, I thought, would never fit down the chimney because the flue is pretty narrow and Santa's bacino (pelvis) is a bit wide. It turns out, Santa rang the doorbell at right about midnight. Babbo Natale arrived with armfuls of gifts. The little girl is rather furba (clever, smart, sharp), and she immediately called Babbo Natale on it. "E' babbo!" (It's Dad!) "It's Dad's face, Dad's shoes!" And then she commented, "Your belt is made of paper. It's not a real belt."
I do not know if these kids believe in Santa or have already learned how to play the game, but all those doubts about Babbo Natale were soon replaced with the excitement of the gifts. Just like everywhere, the wrappings and ribbons did not last long while the children clawed to get at the hidden treasures.
Meanwhile, the evening proceeded. Good food was prepared and eaten. Lots of Italian was spoken. I tried to keep up. I even tried to joke in Italian. Everyone said my Italian is very good. I believed none of them until Andrea, the 9-year-old, piped in and said, "E' vero" (It's true). For me, the ultimate compliment is for a child to tell me my Italian is excellent. Finally, I believe and accept that my Italian just might be better than I think. I value kids' opinions (especially in this regard) because kids are usually straight up. I have often wondered what do children not necessarily old enough to "understand" that Italian is my second language think when they encounter someone like me. It was the way Andrea piped up with "E' vero" that convinced me. It was as if he knew better than anyone else, and his compliment was not patronizing like often the adults who say I speak well might be. My Christmas present.
After the festivities -- the food, the conversations, the smiles, and the gifts -- I descended the 89 steps back to the street with a belly overstuffed from too much indulgence, where, to my surprise, I saw many people out on the street with perhaps no real purpose but to amble about with everyone else. And then it hit me. Inside or outside, everyone was with someone...even if they were with everyone. During my short walk home, I overheard many kids speaking with their parents about Babbo Natale and observed the knowing smiles of their parents as they replied. A few winks here and there, and I finally understood. English is my mother tongue; Italian, my adopted language. But universal is people. Even if we do not speak the other person's language well or at all, we still (can) communicate.
The kids taught me that. Christmas suddenly took on a new meaning. A fun evening to see it through the eyes of young children and their parents. And what presents I received!
Merry Christmas
-- Giosalina
Firenze, Italia
The tradition in Italy is Santa Clause arrives at mezzanotte (midnight) of Christmas Eve to bring the gifts. Christmas Day is a day to relax and have another large meal. (More food!) No TV, no calcio (Italian soccer), and no football (American-style) is watched on the 25th. Fat old Santa, I thought, would never fit down the chimney because the flue is pretty narrow and Santa's bacino (pelvis) is a bit wide. It turns out, Santa rang the doorbell at right about midnight. Babbo Natale arrived with armfuls of gifts. The little girl is rather furba (clever, smart, sharp), and she immediately called Babbo Natale on it. "E' babbo!" (It's Dad!) "It's Dad's face, Dad's shoes!" And then she commented, "Your belt is made of paper. It's not a real belt."
I do not know if these kids believe in Santa or have already learned how to play the game, but all those doubts about Babbo Natale were soon replaced with the excitement of the gifts. Just like everywhere, the wrappings and ribbons did not last long while the children clawed to get at the hidden treasures.
Meanwhile, the evening proceeded. Good food was prepared and eaten. Lots of Italian was spoken. I tried to keep up. I even tried to joke in Italian. Everyone said my Italian is very good. I believed none of them until Andrea, the 9-year-old, piped in and said, "E' vero" (It's true). For me, the ultimate compliment is for a child to tell me my Italian is excellent. Finally, I believe and accept that my Italian just might be better than I think. I value kids' opinions (especially in this regard) because kids are usually straight up. I have often wondered what do children not necessarily old enough to "understand" that Italian is my second language think when they encounter someone like me. It was the way Andrea piped up with "E' vero" that convinced me. It was as if he knew better than anyone else, and his compliment was not patronizing like often the adults who say I speak well might be. My Christmas present.
After the festivities -- the food, the conversations, the smiles, and the gifts -- I descended the 89 steps back to the street with a belly overstuffed from too much indulgence, where, to my surprise, I saw many people out on the street with perhaps no real purpose but to amble about with everyone else. And then it hit me. Inside or outside, everyone was with someone...even if they were with everyone. During my short walk home, I overheard many kids speaking with their parents about Babbo Natale and observed the knowing smiles of their parents as they replied. A few winks here and there, and I finally understood. English is my mother tongue; Italian, my adopted language. But universal is people. Even if we do not speak the other person's language well or at all, we still (can) communicate.
The kids taught me that. Christmas suddenly took on a new meaning. A fun evening to see it through the eyes of young children and their parents. And what presents I received!
Merry Christmas
-- Giosalina
Firenze, Italia
18 December 2011
Dark Days, Light Heart
We are only a few days away from the winter solstice, the darkest time of the year, which also means we are well into the holiday season. In America, the Christmas holiday season officially begins with Black Friday, the day following Thanksgiving, and that offers sales galore for shoppers. In Italy, the Christmas season officially begins the day of Immaculate Conception, December 8. The streets are lit with Christmas lights and decorations. Christmas festivals fill piazzas. Stores here also are busy with holiday shoppers. The hustle-bustle of the holiday season has taken hold.
This time of year can be emotionally challenging and stressful for many of us. Many people can grow disconsolate, even despondent. I am one. I find the holiday season to be especially trying, as my family and long-standing friends are scattered around the world with the greater majority in California. I am in Florence, Italy. My newer friends here have mostly all returned to their "homes" wherever those might be. An Italian family has yet to adopt me. As a result, this time of year can feel very dark, just like the winter solstice.
In a time of gift-giving and romance and great cheer and spirits, it is unnerving to be alone and apart no matter how beautiful and memorable your surrounding environment. Florence is that beautiful and memorable. The choice is clear, even stark: We can focus on what we do not have or lack rather than what we do have.
I choose to be grateful for what I do have this season. Though my situation is not exactly how I envisioned it would be this year at this age, I make the most of what it is. In addition to my general good health is where I live. And I have work. I moan and whine about having to work. (At my core, I am a lazy slug.) But having work not only earns some money, it keeps me involved in my career and it makes me accountable to someone somewhere and helps keep me out of trouble. I have people in my life that matter to me, and I know I matter to my family and friends. This year I stick to my routines and rituals, which ebb and flow. However, the last couple months I am in the flow. It feels good to do some of the things that support my emotional, physical, and spiritual health.
In only a few days we will be on the other side of the solstice, and the days will begin to get lighter and brighter and so will the spirit. During some of the down time during the holidays, I make it a practice to reflect on the year now past and map out where I want to go and what I want to accomplish for the year ahead. I note my specific and clear intentions on paper. I look forward to that project, which requires my attention and diligence and is positive in direction and result.
What holiday / year end / new year rituals and practices do you engage in?
This time of year can be emotionally challenging and stressful for many of us. Many people can grow disconsolate, even despondent. I am one. I find the holiday season to be especially trying, as my family and long-standing friends are scattered around the world with the greater majority in California. I am in Florence, Italy. My newer friends here have mostly all returned to their "homes" wherever those might be. An Italian family has yet to adopt me. As a result, this time of year can feel very dark, just like the winter solstice.
In a time of gift-giving and romance and great cheer and spirits, it is unnerving to be alone and apart no matter how beautiful and memorable your surrounding environment. Florence is that beautiful and memorable. The choice is clear, even stark: We can focus on what we do not have or lack rather than what we do have.
I choose to be grateful for what I do have this season. Though my situation is not exactly how I envisioned it would be this year at this age, I make the most of what it is. In addition to my general good health is where I live. And I have work. I moan and whine about having to work. (At my core, I am a lazy slug.) But having work not only earns some money, it keeps me involved in my career and it makes me accountable to someone somewhere and helps keep me out of trouble. I have people in my life that matter to me, and I know I matter to my family and friends. This year I stick to my routines and rituals, which ebb and flow. However, the last couple months I am in the flow. It feels good to do some of the things that support my emotional, physical, and spiritual health.
In only a few days we will be on the other side of the solstice, and the days will begin to get lighter and brighter and so will the spirit. During some of the down time during the holidays, I make it a practice to reflect on the year now past and map out where I want to go and what I want to accomplish for the year ahead. I note my specific and clear intentions on paper. I look forward to that project, which requires my attention and diligence and is positive in direction and result.
What holiday / year end / new year rituals and practices do you engage in?
11 June 2011
Satisfying Heart, Soul, and Belly in Florence, Italy
You know that sharing my experience and knowledge of Italy in general and Florence in particular is something I love to do, if you have been reading my blog. Every now and then, though, I am embarrassed or disappointed when my sharing does not go off so swell. You know those times when you take your friends or family to a favorite restaurant, but it turns out to be an off night and the service is less than usual and you know your guests are unhappy or even displeased. Perhaps the waiter forgets to place the order of someone's pasta dish, or the food comes out one plate at a time and lukewarm. That type of thing happens, of course; so I become a bit reluctant to share my beloved favorite places. We all do.
The other evening I passed a woman on the street whom I overheard asking in English to her husband, "Should we just ask someone?" I spoke up, as I usually do, and offered my assistance. The woman was delighted and receptive. They wanted to have a good meal, and I sent them to one of my all-time favorite restaurants in Florence. And off they went. I hoped my recommendation would prove just the place they sought...
This morning while Mabel and I were on our morning walk, that woman was standing at the base of Ponte Vecchio on the Oltrarno side staring at me. I didn't recognize her. She spoke up, "You are the woman who sent us to the restaurant for dinner, aren't you?"
Uncertain whether her experience was good or bad, I responded with hesitation, "Most likely. Where did I send you, and how was the food?"
Sweet pleasures
For the love of cappuccino
This morning while Mabel and I were on our morning walk, that woman was standing at the base of Ponte Vecchio on the Oltrarno side staring at me. I didn't recognize her. She spoke up, "You are the woman who sent us to the restaurant for dinner, aren't you?"
Uncertain whether her experience was good or bad, I responded with hesitation, "Most likely. Where did I send you, and how was the food?"
The girls at OSP
She replied that throughout their dinner, she told her family that she wanted to find me and kiss me. The family loved their food, the service, the locale, and the piazza. And they loved that they were the only American family there, or so they believed.
Osteria Santo Spirito
Osteria Santo Spirito is one I happened upon in 2003, my first time in Italy. I was attracted because of the energy and atmosphere, and, all these years later, I keep coming back because the food is that good. It is simple, not fancy, elegant, nor expensive. The food is authentic and, oh, so delicious, though many tourists now know about it. (I am certain the fact that I direct nearly every tourist there that asks me for a dinner recommendation and each friend I take there ends up adopting the trattoria as their own adds to the number of tourists that eat there.)
Amy with risotto zucchini
As we were talking, the rest of her clan showed up - they are a family of 8 from Minnesota - and she told her family, "I found her; I found her. This is the woman that told us where to have dinner two nights ago."
Chitarra
A young girl about 9 years old asked her mother if she had kissed me yet. And the little girl told me she loved her spaghettata (spaghetti meal). I inquired which pasta dish she ordered and realized it was the chitarra (guitar). I explained to her the reason that particular homemade spaghetti is called chitarra is because, when the fresh pasta is being made, it resembles the strings of a guitar as it comes out of the pasta machine. She immediately grasped the connection, and her face lit up having that little bit of new information to take home with her. They all piped in, speaking at the same time, saying they needed me for other recommendations the last two days and wished they had had my phone number.
Mango, fragola, lampone gelato?
Local gelato supporters
Today is their last day in Florence. They asked me about gelato. I volunteered a lesson on the real stuff (gelato, that is) and sent them in the direction of Cantina del Gelato.
Getting coned
The ultimate compliment for me is the genuine feedback I receive and happiness I witness in others as a result of sharing my passion and experience. It's so simple and pleasurable that it makes me want to sing.
22 May 2011
My Dog, Mabel, Leaves for her Holiday in Campi Bisenzio, Florence, Italy
written by La Mamma Ansiosa
Today Mabel packed her suitcase -- a blue Ikea bag filled with her favorite things, food, and toiletries -- and has left to begin her week-long vacation with a family in Campi Bisenzio, a suburb of Florence, Italy. Her adopted Italian family for the week includes the two cutest 2 and 5 year olds, Niccolo and Sara, with gorgeous giant globes for eyes. It is like summer language camp. Mabel will have a week of immersion and return home with a much stronger understanding of the Italian language and culture. (I want to go to summer camp too.) The little girl arrived with a couple of her stuffed animals to take Mabel to her house. I do hope Sara will hold on tight to her toys because Mabel has a thing about hoarding other dogs' and children's toys. She places them under her neck and all around her body, and when the dog or child wants one of their toys back, Mabel just looks at them very smuggly as if to say "haahaa, you can't have it" while the other wimpers and cries afraid to reclaim the toy.
Today Mabel packed her suitcase -- a blue Ikea bag filled with her favorite things, food, and toiletries -- and has left to begin her week-long vacation with a family in Campi Bisenzio, a suburb of Florence, Italy. Her adopted Italian family for the week includes the two cutest 2 and 5 year olds, Niccolo and Sara, with gorgeous giant globes for eyes. It is like summer language camp. Mabel will have a week of immersion and return home with a much stronger understanding of the Italian language and culture. (I want to go to summer camp too.) The little girl arrived with a couple of her stuffed animals to take Mabel to her house. I do hope Sara will hold on tight to her toys because Mabel has a thing about hoarding other dogs' and children's toys. She places them under her neck and all around her body, and when the dog or child wants one of their toys back, Mabel just looks at them very smuggly as if to say "haahaa, you can't have it" while the other wimpers and cries afraid to reclaim the toy.
Mabel sprawled out on two of her beds on a hot day
I hope Mabel and her host family will enjoy many adventures and lots of fun together.
Mabel was unaware that she is going on vacation and that I will not join her. After the children were buckled into their car seats, Mabel climbed into the back of the SUV and settled in. We closed the door after many kisses. My heart broke as they all drove off. Mabel looked at me, her eyes fixed on me, not understanding why I was left behind. The look in her eyes was as though she thought that would be the last time she would ever see me.
I cried.
But meanwhile, there is the mommy, La Mamma Ansiosa. That would be me. I am in favor of Mabel going off and exploring new things, but she is still my baby.
A giant sea separates attachment and detachment. Letting go is very painful for those of us who suffer from our attachments. But in this case, I know we will soon see each other again in just under a week.
Non vedo l'ora. I can't wait / I look forward to it.
01 January 2010
Mio Compleanno (My Birthday)
Tuesday, 29 December, was my 50th birthday. I know it's just a number, but this particular number has caused me to freak out a little bit, not that I actually feel my chronological age. I hope I don't look my chronological age! But the number brings up some things that I have to face, like the aging process, which I accept not so well.
And yet this birthday was one of the best I remember ever celebrating.
My blog is for myself, although I hope my readers can relate to my posts. And I still wonder about the direction of my private musings on a public forum. But, oh well, it's all about honesty. And like I said in the "About Me" section, my intention is to share some of my experiences, which includes the emotional and personal aspects of my experiences. So here goes some self-revealing aspects...
Historically, the December holidays and my birthday have not usually been a happy, joyous time of year for me. As a child, having my birthday during the winter holidays during the school break, I often felt forgotten and unrecognized; my teen and adult years, I experienced more of the same with people involved with their families and holidays and being tired of the holidays by the time the 29th rolled around or too hungover to remember; and also being in the tumultuous and rocky relationships I have had caused a lot of sorrow the holiday season often exaggerated. Not expecting much from friends and family, I would downplay my feelings so as not to feel the level of disappointment.
Deciding to finally make this transition to Italy for many, many reasons, one of which is to take my life in a direction I want it to take was the best birthday gift I could have given to myself. The morning of the 29th, I woke up to many meaningful and beautifully written emails, SMSs (text messages), and phone calls and received many more throughout the day. I felt good. Happy. Love in my heart and beaming. Went about my day. In a place I truly want to be, doing what I want to be doing. Visiting friends. Being remembered. Feeling like I do matter. I returned to my apartment and found this gorgeous and unexpected bouquet of flowers at my apartment door (photo) from one of my best friends, sent to me from Switzerland.
I asked for what I wanted, and I received what I wanted. It was a special birthday. Several new and old friends in Italy -- we had dinner together in a restaurant I enjoy and have a lot of fun at and ate two of my favorite dishes: Pepate di Cozze e Vongole (peperoncino hot in an Italian parsely with white wine broth overflowing with mussels and clams) and Bistecca Fiorentina (a seared on the outside, medium rare two-inch thick T-bone steak). We later went to a guitar club to hear live music.
A girl couldn't ask for much more. Truly one of my best birthdays ever, as we continue to make new memories, laughing and getting to know each other better and creating our own little family in Florence, Italy.
-- Josslyn 'Giosalina'
Florence, Italy
And yet this birthday was one of the best I remember ever celebrating.
My blog is for myself, although I hope my readers can relate to my posts. And I still wonder about the direction of my private musings on a public forum. But, oh well, it's all about honesty. And like I said in the "About Me" section, my intention is to share some of my experiences, which includes the emotional and personal aspects of my experiences. So here goes some self-revealing aspects...
Historically, the December holidays and my birthday have not usually been a happy, joyous time of year for me. As a child, having my birthday during the winter holidays during the school break, I often felt forgotten and unrecognized; my teen and adult years, I experienced more of the same with people involved with their families and holidays and being tired of the holidays by the time the 29th rolled around or too hungover to remember; and also being in the tumultuous and rocky relationships I have had caused a lot of sorrow the holiday season often exaggerated. Not expecting much from friends and family, I would downplay my feelings so as not to feel the level of disappointment.
Deciding to finally make this transition to Italy for many, many reasons, one of which is to take my life in a direction I want it to take was the best birthday gift I could have given to myself. The morning of the 29th, I woke up to many meaningful and beautifully written emails, SMSs (text messages), and phone calls and received many more throughout the day. I felt good. Happy. Love in my heart and beaming. Went about my day. In a place I truly want to be, doing what I want to be doing. Visiting friends. Being remembered. Feeling like I do matter. I returned to my apartment and found this gorgeous and unexpected bouquet of flowers at my apartment door (photo) from one of my best friends, sent to me from Switzerland.
I asked for what I wanted, and I received what I wanted. It was a special birthday. Several new and old friends in Italy -- we had dinner together in a restaurant I enjoy and have a lot of fun at and ate two of my favorite dishes: Pepate di Cozze e Vongole (peperoncino hot in an Italian parsely with white wine broth overflowing with mussels and clams) and Bistecca Fiorentina (a seared on the outside, medium rare two-inch thick T-bone steak). We later went to a guitar club to hear live music.
A girl couldn't ask for much more. Truly one of my best birthdays ever, as we continue to make new memories, laughing and getting to know each other better and creating our own little family in Florence, Italy.
-- Josslyn 'Giosalina'
Florence, Italy
18 December 2009
I Biscotti
Twice-baked cookies. An easy recipe but nearly impossible to make just right. But I'm on a mission. I'm determined to get it down.
Not being the most proficient in a kitchen, I'm no master chef nor baker. I blame it on my busy professional lifestyle, but reality is I had other priorities and grew up eating out more than in the home.
In the past several days, I have attempted to perfect my biscotti. I have compared countless recipes and tried a number of them. Only a few ingredients are called for, yet it is amazing how differing the quanties are per recipe. Not only that, some call for huge amounts of butter or olive oil or only a small amount of butter or oil, but most call for none at all. Being health conscious but also being peccato di gola ("having a sweet tooth"), I prefer the recipes that don't include butter or oil. Each day I learn something I need to do differently; mostly, I use one recipe and learn from my mistakes. I have the flavor down. The form needs some work. The batter is different with each batch I bake. Of course, it probably doesn't help that I don't have any apparecchiatura ("equipment" in this context, "measuring cups" or a "scale"). Even though Italians eyeball measurements and learned their family recipes by watching their mothers cook who watched their mothers cook, who in turn watched their mothers cook in the generations prior, not being so well-versed in the kitchen, it may behoove me to at least buy a bilancia ("scale").
I have been timidly making the rounds to my friends in town, people whom have probably been eating biscotti since they were teething. Even the local police have tasted my biscotti and identified which ingredients I have included. I am receiving valuable information, feedback, constructive criticism, and even compliments. Oh, and I have the one friend that claims to have broken her tooth on my biscotti, which I know was a joke. Overall, everyone says the flavor is right on. I have several people volunteering to sample my biscotti daily. Getting just the right amount of croccantezza ("crispiness") with still a bit of chewiness is what I'm going for as well as the form.
Who knows? At 18 to 22 Euro a kilo, I may be able to start selling my special biscotti soon. A girl's got to make a living!
Cantuccini is most often enjoyed following dinner with Vin Santo, a sweet dessert wine. I prefer it with my coffee. However, I like it just fine all by itself.
Today's batch seems to be almost perfect. Time to go make the rounds ... after a few biscotti for energy.
-- Josslyn 'Giosalina'
Florence, Italy
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