True Reflections

When you look into a mirror
Do you like what's looking at you?
Now that you've seen your true reflections
What on earth are you gonna do?

Find some inspiration
It's down deep inside you
Amend your situation, yeah
Your whole life is ahead of you
Your whole life is ahead of you

Those are the first few lyrics of a song written by Boyd Tinsley of the Dave Matthews Band.  I'm not sure why at 6 am I woke up singing that song, but it completely fits the situation.  My last year or two have been full of reflection. 

Sitting in church yesterday morning, the pastor's sermon made me reflect on a few things.  His message was titled "Finding Permanent Joy" and its three points are summarized with "Deal with your life's difficulties, understand your life's definition, and establish your life's direction."  There are two ways to do each of these things.  You can do them the world's way, or you can do them God's way.  The point that really struck me was "understand your life's definition" and the fact that the world's way is to allow your life to be defined by its circumstances rather than God's way, which is to realize that those circumstances are just that, circumstances, and to ensure that your life is defined by Christ.  The circumstances may change, but Christ's love does not. 

My circumstances have changed a great deal in the past year or two.  Looking back, moving to Europe seems more of a dream than a reality.  It's hard to believe that I had that adventure and it's even harder to believe I'm back in Charleston now, doing what I was doing before.  I've been going over it in my head a lot and questioning things, trying not to sound dissatisfied with my life here, because I'm not, but questioning my future.  I was speaking to a friend in church yesterday and she said something that I really need to take with me from here on out.  She said that I may be back in the same place geographically, but I'm in such a different place because of all I've gained in the last year.  No one can ever take away the experiences I had and the knowledge I gained while living in Europe.  I know I've said it before, but I am quite different, and although I'm still Hannah, I'm a better version of her. 

It's Come to This...

It was exactly one year ago to the day that I flew to Dublin for the most amazing adventure of my life.  I was frazzled after spending the night in New Jersey (I gave up my seat on an overbooked flight), but I finally made it to Dublin early on the morning of June 28th.  I remember getting to the airport and realizing that I had no luggage (minus my carry on) but it didn't discourage me too much.  I was too excited to get to my new apartment, of which I'd only seen pictures.  The cab took me to 54 Leeson Street in Ranelagh and I waited to meet my letting agent.  I had just one day in Dublin as I was flying out the next morning to teach in England, but I accomplished so much that first day.  I ran to several shops to get linens and other necessary items for the apartment, met a friend of a friend for drinks that night, and in a rather intoxicated state, made it back to my studio for my first night as an expat.  It seems like forever ago. 

I can't recap everything that took place over the past year, but hopefully the blog will help me remember all the adventures I had during that time.  It's strange to me, but it's sort of a twiglight zone thing happening here recently.  I have spoken with other friends about it, friends who have lived away for extensive periods of time.  I know that you have reverse culture shock upon your return to home and I expected it, but I can't quite describe what exactly it is.  It's hard to believe that I was gone all that time.  It's hard to believe I actually lived in Dublin, and then in Milan.  I miss it so much and I find myself yearning to return (more so to Dublin). At the same time, I'm so unbelievably happy to be home.  I'm having a fantastic time catching up with friends and family and am constantly amazed by the simplicity of things here (it's much easier to accomplish tasks here) . 

I know I have changed in the past year and a half since Dad passed and I can tell you, despite that awful experience, everything since has by far surpassed any dreams I may have had.  I am a better person for the time I spent away and I'm thankful, more than you'll ever know, of the friends and family who supported me through it all.  I became a calmer, yet more adventurous person.  I learned to be more appreciative of what I have and at the same time, to go out seeking more of God's wonders.   I am now mindfully aware of the simple blessings bestowed upon us and I try to give credit where credit is due.  My personality has changed because, through all my travels, I discovered myself.  "It’s a curious thing that happens, it seems when we get to a place where no one knows us, we become most ourselves…trying new things, making new friends, laughing out loud, and dancing in the streets.”  Lucky for me, I had the opportunity to do all this and I thank God for making it happen.

So we're left with "It Comes to This..."  In certain cirsumstances, that can sound a bad thing, but I am happy to say that I'm not looking back sorrowfully to the loss of my Dad and I'm not living in the year I had abroad or woefully reminiscing about what happened and how I'm here now.  "One problem with gazing too frequently into the past is that we may turn around to find the future has run out on us."  My future is bright...my life in Charleston is beginning again and it's exciting.  I've got lots planned (as usual) and will be quite busy working on several interesting projects.  I'm enthusiastic about trips I'm sure I'll take, but I'm also happy to be here in Charleston with loved ones and thankful that those dear friends I met abroad will be part of my life, in one way or another, in the future.  In "It Comes to This," "This" is life, and life is looking good!

The Great Adventure

Hard to believe that in a few hours I'll be boarding a plane to head back to Charleston.  Harder to believe that I've spent the last 11 months living in Europe.  At this time a year ago I was planning an adventure that I had no idea would end up changing my life.  I knew I'd see some sites, meet some people, eat some great food, etc., but never in my wildest imagination would I have anticipated all that actually lie ahead, and now as I begin to write something to explain just how blessed I've been along the way, tears are already streaming down my face. 

It all goes back to Dad, as you know, who encouraged me to follow my dreams.  It also helped that he financially supported my first few European trips with Carol Poole (who deserves all the credit for me getting the travel bug in the first place)!  Then, acknowledgement also goes to Mom, for her support before and after Dad passed, and the amazing love she's always shown.  That woman is the ultimate.  T'Lene and Edgar went above and beyond because, as they didn't necessarily want me to leave and surely didn't enjoy all the favors I asked of them while I was away, they loved and supported me through everything.  My amazing friends who missed me yet encouraged me, I couldn't name you all, but you are loved and appreciated.  There is also the faculty and staff at Stiles Point Elementary, who were ridiculously supportive before and during.  More thanks goes out to all of you that I met along the way, but I'll get to you shortly...

On June 26, 2011 I boarded a plane for Ireland, but en route, was called to work for a company in England, so I flew to Dublin, ran to some shops to buy necessary linens and household items, met a contact I'd only emailed a few times for a drink, slept one night in my new apartment (which I'd never seen before that day), caught a flight to England and taught for three weeks.  Wow, that seems like a LIFETIME ago. 

I flew back to Dublin and attempted to sort out my life, hoping to get a visa and therefore a job, and wishing I knew more than one person!  The magnificent Luke O'Mahony (who you'll remember I met years ago on an EF tour) didn't need me hounding him for advice in both the work and social scenes...I slowly adjusted to the Irish way of life.  I don't really even recall my first weeks in Dublin, but that's probably because I spent much of it travelling.  First I met two Carolina boys, Ryan and Jonathan, and headed down to Cork.  Then I spent a lot of time with Allan in Wales and Scotland.  I met Ryan and Jonathan again in Paris (along with Angela) for a weekend and my mom came to visit Dublin for a week. That was just through August! 

I think sometime after T'Lene's visit in September and my amazing birthday party with my sister, Jeremy, and all my new friends (Jamie, Tommy, Amy, Jim, Chelsea, Adam, and Josh), I realized there would be no visa and I needed to find some other sort of work.  That's when I put an ad on Gumtree (like Craig's List) and was interviewed to babysit for little Ari.  I started tutoring Andre.  It was near this time that Luke invited me to help at DCU also.  Finally things looked good for me...I would have some income.

I kept enjoying weekends with Allan and other friends, like when Beth and Greg came to visit in October.  I met more contacts and really felt good about myself, but I was constantly worried about the future because I wasn't making enough to offset the cost of living (and travelling) and I didn't want to go through savings so quickly.  I had just written and begun the publishing process for my books, but that wouldn't be enough to help me, at least not quickly enough. 

In November, Allan and I called an end to our relationship and I had to deal with the one year anniversary of Dad's passing.  I was miserable.  Luckily, I had support from Jamie (God knew what he was doing when he introduced us) and the opportunity to visit family of friends down in Brighton Beach, England.  Despite the horrid stomach bug we all contracted that weekend, it was a much needed escape and I am thankful to Bud and Eugenie for allowing me to come. 

In the beginning of December, I took an amazing trip to Tuscany with Jamie and Kit (who was living in Germany at the time) and enjoyed what I thought would be my last hurrah abroad.  I assumed when I went home for Christmas, I'd have to stay.  I was really disappointed and remember talking to T'Lene about how much I would let myself down if I didn't return to Europe...it was a goal to stay a year, and I needed to reach that goal.  I had to prove to myself I could do it. 

Many thoughts went through my head.  I had previously considered moving to Wales to be with Allan and to attend school, but that wouldn't work now.  I didn't want to come home, but I didn't see a way to stay in Ireland either.  Luckily, the Lord had a plan for me and I just didn't see it yet.  I had been praying about it and trying to trust Him, but I found it so difficult.  That was the hardest part.  How do you KNOW what the Lord wants you to do? I asked my pastor and mother for guidance and I'm sure a number of others got an ear full from me during this time.

Something finally came about.  Just before I went to Italy with the girls, I put a profile together on a website called AuPair World.  I was contacted by several families, but I began talking to one seriously and in early December, the decision was made for me to return to Italy.  Now we were talking...I had a chance to continue the adventure abroad!

The next few days flew and on my last weekend in Dublin, at a party with Luke, I met a lovely guy who whisked me off my feet.  He was beautiful, and I think that last weekend was a dream honestly...more like a movie than real life.  It was nothing but romantic: walks along the sea, staring into one another's eyes...goofy in a way because it didn't seem real.  I suppose it wasn't.  It was absolutely an amazing way to end the adventure in Dublin though and to give me hope about the future.  He even drove me to the airport and toted all my luggage for me, then bought me breakfast and waited for me to pass through security.  Thank you, dear Marcin, for being such a gentleman.

It was December 18th, 2011 when I arrived at the Charleston International Airport.  I was greeted by my dear sister, Ashley Henson, Amy Freeman and Dave (posters of my man).  It was such a surprise.  My sister's always so thoughtful.  I slept in my own bed that night and was delighted.  I visited with everyone I possibly could during the time I was home, but of course, it flew. In January, I packed all my things again and headed to Milan.

I had a terrible flight path from Charleston to Miami, Miami to London, and London to Milan Linate.  Luckily for me, the longest flight from Miami to London was a pleasant one.  I sat in the middle row with two empty seats between me and the passenger on my left, who fortunately was a nice young guy from England.  We chatted until I could no longer keep my eyes open, and exchanged contact info before we exited the plane.  My new friend Andy has ensured me he'll come visit in Charleston as he never made it to Milan to see me!

I remember getting off the plane at Linate and waiting hours for luggage that never came, then walking through the doors and meeting Daniele who drove me to the apartment to meet his family.  I came through the door and everyone greeted me so warmly.  It wasn't awkward in any way; I didn't feel like a stranger in the least bit. 

Although I felt comfortable, I questioned my purpose here because I had intended to be teaching English quite often, but at first, I seemed to be a chauffeur more than anything else.  As the weeks passed and I learned my responsibilities in the family, I tried to also build a social life.  I bonded with Connie (from home but living here) and Katy, met Gianluca, Micole, Alessandro, Charlie, Abby, Gianni and others, relied on dear old Luke again to put me in contact with an English school here, and attempted to make the most of my time.  In February, I went skiing with the family in Aprica and to Verona with Katy.  In March, I did more small side trips and went back to Dublin for St. Patrick's Day.  In April, I spent a week in Hungary (alone but loving every minute of it) and in May, Katy invited me to Morocco to enjoy a Groupon she had procured.  Life was uncomplicated, and oh so exciting!

During the time I was actually in Milan, I grew to love the family.  I think it was really in the last month that we truly came to enjoy each other's company...it was just in time too, as the days were passing and my departure was becoming a reality.  The children, Matteo and Elena, also known as "ME," were entertaining if nothing else!  They are bright, creative, funny, loving and playful.  I will miss them and I know my house in Charleston is going to be so quiet after living with the two of them.  I suggested I record their banter so I can play it when I'm lonely, or when I need a good laugh!

I learned a great deal about myself during this year away from my home, family, and friends.  I learned how to be humble for one...God's created a unbelievably stunning world for us to live in and I am honored and blessed to have had the opportunity to travel it, I'm also eager to see more!  I learned who my true friends are, and am overwhelmed at how many of you there are!  I learned that you can be happy with simple, simple things in life.  Please appreciate them all.  I learned how important it is to show the ones you love that you do care and that they are valued.  I know I am a better person for having taken this trip.  I thank God that He allowed me the chance to explore all that I did.  I thank God that He never doubted me, even when I doubted myself, and I thank Him for introducing me to some friends that will FOREVER be in my heart.  All my love to those of you who made my adventure abroad a memorable one.   My appreciation is not enough, my words won't aptly express my true gratitude, but I am honored to have you in my life and I am so grateful for the time we spent together.

So, it's not goodbye, I won't say farewell.  It's until next time, until whatever great adventure may be in store, but at this moment...I've got a plane to catch!!

Mad Fun in Morocco

I have been fortunate to have travelled as much as I have in the last year.  I've been on three different continents and in 9 different countries.  Is that amazing or what?  It's been such blessing. 

Two weekends ago, I was able to visit Africa for the first time!  I only spent a few days in Marrakech, but it was amazing and I will absolutely try and get back to explore more of that continent in the future!

Katy, my new best friend (I love how many of you there are!), invited me to Morocco and she got a Groupon to an amazing resort so we could really live it up.  We stayed at the Hotel Kenzi Club Agdal Medina and had everything we needed at our fingertips.

We flew down early on Saturday morning and took an overly priced cab to our hotel.  We were in awe upon arrival, and quickly greeted with a hot mint tea.  We weren't able to check into our room for a few hours, but the bellman took our bags and we walked towards the pools.  It was a beautiful day so we got a drink and sat in the sun, then decided we needed to change into our bathing suits...why waste any time?! 

We stayed at the pool drinking our complimentary drinks and soaking in the rays, until it was lunch time.  The buffet had a mix of cuisines, but we both stayed away from the Italian section and opted for more traditional Moroccan food.  It was amazing.  After lunch, we went back to the pool and continued bronzing. 

That evening we rested in the hotel room a while then showered and got ready for dinner.  We stayed at the hotel and had another great selection at the buffet.  We contemplated going in to town that night, but the shuttle wasn't running and neither of us really felt like getting another taxi.  It was a laid back day and night, but very much enjoyed.  It was funny, but as we both live in small flats in Milan and sleep in tiny little twin beds, we enjoyed the California Queen we had in our room and were quite content watching TV and drinking wine. 

We woke up on Saturday morning, had another beautiful meal for breakfast, and scheduled our shuttle to the city center.  We wanted to spend some hours browsing the markets.  It was an unreal experience.  The energy was something like I'd never seen before.  By far, Marrakech is the most exotic place I've been.  I think I most enjoyed watching all the women dressed in there kaftans and veils ride on the scooters that buzz through town.  The streets were lined with beautiful roses and many gardeners were out tending the flowers.  The architecture was what you'd expect, but there were tons of demolished buildings and dirt fields where new buildings were attempting to pop up.  I don't know much about Marrakech or the economy there, but it seems like they are trying to revamp the place, yet keep the tradition alive.  I will say, the people were all very friendly.  I really appreciated the amount of hospitality we were shown. 

Katy and I tried our hand at haggling and did a pretty good job, getting two "genuine fake" bags.  I got talked into a Henna tattoo and Katy was almost roped into having a monkey sit on her shoulder!  We ran quickly from this guy.  Pictures don't do the city justice, not because of it's overwhelming beauty or anything, but because of the energy and the color.  I attempted videoing some of it, but you have to be really careful about that sort of thing as most of the locals won't even allow you to take their photo. 

We were only in the center a few hours and then headed back to the hotel for lunch and pool time.  I think we were both seriously Vitamin D deprived!  That evening, we had a complimentary entrance into the steam rooms and booked pedicures, but unfortunately our schedule didn't allow time for that.  We had a lovely dinner again at the hotel and then returned to our room. Our flight would leave the next Morning.

We didn't get a lot of time in Marrakech, as I said, but the resort itself was so nice, I think I would have enjoyed just that.  If we had more time, I definitely would have explored the area more.  I would have loved to take a camel ride.  That just gives me an excuse to go back one day!  The girls' trip was just what I needed before ending my year abroad, and I was fortunate to spend it with a great friend.

Schooled

As you know, I'm a teacher.  It's not a title I have because it happens to be my job; it's a title I feel I earned because of my passion.  There's not a bone in my body that doesn't have this mark.  Even during this year abroad when I've not had the "title," I've said I was a teacher because I am.  I teach every day, in one way or another. 

Living in Ireland was great, but unfortunately I didn't get to have a classroom there as I expected.  I did, thanks to my great friend Luke, get to participate in teaching at Dublin City University.  I also tutored in Ireland, as you probably know, so that made me happy. 

I came to Italy with the intention of teaching these kids English.  I ended up more of a chauffeur than anything else, but we did have our occasional English lessons.  I think more of what they learned from me was by my actions than by my lessons.  You know how they say that kids are always watching and they imitate their parents?  It's the same sort of thing here.  I think, whether they know it or not, they learned from me because of who I am.  I say please and thank you.  I acknowledge them each day.  I don't curse, I don't say shut up, I don't insult them.  I believe that I set a good example for them and that they have a little seed planted inside them now, that hopefully, will grow.  I will say I've noticed a lot more please and thank yous and how are yous in the past few months than when I first came.  Yesterday, separately, both kids asked me how my aunt was doing.  This was such a sweet thing because my aunt's been very sick with Cancer and in the hospital, so to hear them both, completely unknown to the other, ask this really touched my heart. 

I have learned too.  I have learned a lot actually.  I've learned that no family is perfect, even though I've always put mine on a pedestal.  I've learned that we all have skeletons in our closets.  I have an amazing family and we love each other dearly, but we were never really touchy feely love kind of people.  I don't recall lots of hugs and kisses.  I don't remember my parents holding hands except on a few occasions.  This may sound completely strange to some of you, but it's what I grew up with.  We say "I love you" often and we certainly showed it in other ways, but hugs weren't given out freely.  This family is very much the opposite.  Quite often the kids (even at 11 and 15) get kisses from their mom.  They lie on the sofa with legs intertwined.  They are playful in a way I don't recall being with my parents.  This is a beautiful thing and I hope I can take the good of their family and mine and one day implement a mixture of these qualities into my own family (God willing I have one).

In a completely different area of schooling I learned something else.  This goes back to the teacher in me.  I asked and asked if I'd be able to get into Matteo or Elena's schools for observations, lessons, or just to meet the teacher.  I was told repeatedly that it wasn't possible.  Wouldn't you know my persistence paid off though and I was able to get to Matteo's teacher a few weeks ago!  I met with her on a Friday and the following Monday I went to observe classes.  I then continued to observe/assist for the following three weeks.  I taught lessons in grammar and then finally was invited to do a special lesson of my choice.  I chose Gia's adventures in Charleston as a way to segue into a lesson on Charleston itself.  Many of the kids had been learning about holiday spots so I thought this was appropriate.  The lesson didn't go as I would have really liked, but I had to make do with what I had.  You see, the schools here in Milan are very different.  Ok, this school is very different, but I'm told they are typical for Italy.  I found it to be so strange...

On my first day, I arrived into this 6 story building and headed up to the teacher's lounge.  There sat all the "profs" as they are know to the kids.  No one goes by "Ms. Salters" for example.  Even the kids aren't addressed by their first names, it's always their surname that they are called.  The classes are separated by year, which I still don't fully understand.  For example, Matteo's in first year (which I would equate to 9th grade) but I think after that it gets a bit confusing.  The classes of kids stay in one room all day and the teachers rotate.  This means that the "profs" have to carry with them whatever they need for lessons, and from what I saw, it was never much.  There were no supplemental materials past worksheets and occasionally a stereo. 

As I entered the classrooms, I was amazed at how little I saw.  There were one, maybe two, posters on the walls and the rest was bare.  There was a white board and above it a small crucifix.  There was a platform (about 4 inches high) at the front of the room where a teacher's desk sat, and in it, the teacher remained throughout the lesson.  This blew my mind.  It's lecture at the most boring level.  There is no way I could sit in front of my class and speak to them in this way.  I have to be up and moving to keep my energy level high and to keep their attention.  How can you possibly monitor if you're not walking around?  You can't!  The few days I walked through the classes while the prof lectured, I found many kids off task and their assignments either not complete or not correct. 

Another thing that flabbergasted me was the use of "interrogations."  Yes, these poor kids are put on the spot quite literally where they go to the prof's desk (in front of the class) and are interviewed on a topic from class.  This means that the prof gets to know exactly what each student is thinking and understanding, BUT it means that the remainder of the students (20-29 depending on class size) have to sit and listen.  What a waste of class time?  How can you possibly think it's ok to allow 28 students to twiddle their thumbs for a hour?  I understand that they should be listening and perhaps even taking notes on what the interrogation is covering, but let's be realistic here, they aren't!  I have so many issues with this method, but obviously it's not my war to fight. 

It interests me that the teachers are given so much freedom in the schools here.  I showed them the standards I have to follow, which I do believe are a bit overkill, but at least we have guidelines.  The profs here choose what they want and teach how they want and thus there is no consistency.  Within Matteo's school I did see all three English profs using similar books and lessons, but I think it's because Matteo's prof is quite the leader and the other two seem to follow.  I appreciate this because it means they must plan together so they collaborate on some level. 

I have to get up on a soap box for a minute and then I promise I'll end this blog.  We may have low scores in South Carolina and we may not be known for our success in the classroom across our country, but we know what we are doing at Stiles Point.  Our teachers are well educated and well established.  We have teaching methods and best practice that would blow some schools out of the water.  We're lucky in Charleston County because we have many fine schools.  I'm sure I could investigate further and find teachers that "wow" me in Italy, but of the little I observed here, I was not impressed.  I can't imagine being a high schooler here and having to sit through hour after hour of lecture.  I never saw hands on, I never saw group work (unless I assigned it), and I never saw engaging...never.  I believe that education is supposed to ignite an interest in learning, not just from a textbook, but in every aspect of life.  These kids, in my opinion, could have cared less.  I am not perfect, I am not the best teacher in the world, and I don't know every method for engaging my learners, but I can tell you that my classroom is inviting and I feel pretty confident that my learners "get it."  That's more than I can say for what I saw here. 

Where Did the Time Go?

Oh my goodness, it's been almost a month since I wrote anything and not only that, but my time here in Italy is almost over!  I head home in just a matter of days (5 to be exact).  I have had the time of my life and I've been so blessed to have these opportunities.  I have a list of things I want to write about and so I'm going to attempt to post several blogs in the next few days to try and catch you up on all that's been happening and all that I've been feeling.  The long and short of it is this:

-I visited Franciacorta Wine Country with great friends
-I taught lessons both on Gia's stories and Charleston, SC to the highschoolers at Matteo's school, Alexis Carrel Lyceo (spent three weeks volunteering off and on)
-I went to Marrakech, Morocco with my dear friend Katy
-I worked on resumes and cover letters with an Italian friend (just goes to show how God puts people in your life for a reason)
-I learned about the most amazing gelatto place just last night!
-I bonded, really bonded, with the kids here (of course just before heading home)
-I was reminded time and time again how lucky I am
-I've been working on some great ideas for Gia and making her a bit bigger than she is (Rick Steves, Foders, etc.)

Now, I doubt I'll get to write a full blog on each of these topics and the other ideas that are floating around in my head, but I'll do my best to catch you up.  Stay tuned for more to come!

Budapest: Hungary for More!

I've always wanted to visit Budapest and for years now I've been talking about it.  My roommate in college, Sarah, went with her parents when we were living together and I remember her bragging about how amazing it was.  I spent a month in Prague in July of 2008 and thought I'd get the chance to head to Hungary then, but unfortunately, I never did.  A few weeks ago I started thinking about the time I'd have off for spring break and I searched flights to many nearby countries.  I considered Croatia, Switzerland and many others, but Budapest ended up being the place I chose.  The flight wasn't so expensive and being that I had 6 full days off, I thought it'd be the perfect time to go.

Last Thursday evening, I took the bus/metro/coach/airplane to Budapest and arrived in town late that evening around midnight or shortly after.  I had researched before arriving and I knew there was a shuttle that I could get to my hostel, even that late at night.  Sure enough, I got my tickets and I headed towards the Jewish district.  I had booked two nights at the Treestyle Hostel which was in a perfect location.  The two different staff members I dealt with throughout my time there were super helpful and the hostel itself was decently nice.  I say decently because I have pretty high standards when it comes to cleanliness and I was disappointed that the bathrooms weren't all that clean, but for the price of the place, it wasn't something I complained about.  I was just very careful to keep my flip flops on when I was walking around to and from showers, etc. 

I woke up on Friday morning and headed out towards the city center.  I had picked up a brochure for Free Walking Tours and I new which direction to head since I had downloaded a few free apps on my iphone.  I walked first past the second largest synagogue in the world, the Dohany Street Synagogue, and then on towards the downtown area.  I had my map, but I more or less walked aimlessly for the first part of the day.  I took pictures along the Danube of Castle Hill, the Chain Bridge, the Royal Palace, etc.  I got a few shots of interesting architecture.  I made my way down Vaci St and then to the Great Central Market.  This was such a cool place.  I had time to walk around the many stalls and bought a couple of souvenirs as well as some dried fruit (which lasted me all the way through my flight home yesterday).  The dried pineapple was my favorite, but I also had apricots that were quite tasty. 

After the market I walked around a bit more looking for a place to have lunch.  I found a side street with a restaurant (I try to steer clear of main roads when I'm looking for food in a new place) and "settled for" the goulash.  In all honesty, it wasn't settling as it's just what I wanted.  I ordered a bowl which came with bread and I also got a nice big beer.  The goulash was good, but not as flavorful as I expected.  Maybe it was the restaurant's take on it, maybe it was a watered down version, I don't know, but I was expecting a bit of a kick and there was none. 

I wanted to do the afternoon free walking tour of the city so I went over to the square at St Stephens Basilica a bit early, stopped at a Starbucks for a treat and free wifi, and waited for the tour to begin.  It lasted from 2:30-5:30 and was SO GOOD.  We walked all over and got great tips on the city, an abundance of history and other useful information, and ended the tour up near the Fisherman's Wharf. 

One of the guides mentioned that he was in a band and playing that night, so I decided to head back to the hostel to nap and then I went out to hear him play.  The show was at this place called the Drunken Taylor which was a 15-20 minute walk from my hostel.  I went alone and got a beer at the bar, then immediately heard some English coming from a nearby booth, so I ended up making small talk and they invited me to join them.  There were three American girls and their couch surfing hosts from Budapest.  Others joined but I didn't really chat with them too much.  It was a fun evening as I love any kind of live music and I had "friends" to talk with so I really enjoyed myself.

Saturday morning I got up and had to check out of the hostel so my new adventure began when Eszter (my Air BnB host) came to pick me up.  We walked about 5 minutes to the apartment I was renting a room in for the remainder of my stay.  I settled in there quickly and then headed out to hit a few of the places I'd seen on the previous day's tour but wanted better pictures of (it had rained during most of our walk so pics were a bit dark).  I also wanted to get a better idea of the city so I'd know exactly where I was going the next few days.  I headed down the Champs Elysees of Budapest (Andrassy Ave) and went to the House of Terror.  It's a museum dedicated to those who fell victim to the communists.  Nice museum, although I wish I had more knowledge before I went because it was hard to follow some of the information.

After the museum I planned to do another free walking tour but the weather was bad and I was quite cold so I had lunch (sausage from a street vendor) and wandered over to the basilica again to have a cup of hot chocolate and get out of the rain.  It was the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted.  Milk chocolate with orange and it was thick and creamy and delicious.  So good I went back on Monday for another cup!  I was freezing even after the coco so I decided to go home and change into my bathing suit to hit the Szechenyi Baths (warm water and steam rooms on a rainy day sounded like a good idea).  Back in February, I wrote about the crazy experience of visiting Acqua World with Matteo for his birthday.  The baths in Budapest were an older version of this, minus the water slides. 

After you pay the front desk, you walk into a locker room for both sexes where you find a tiny room with two doors, one on each side of you.  The stalls reminded me of where the horses are kept before a race.  You change and, "on your mark, get set, go" to the pools.  Walking around in a bathing suit has never been one of my favorite past times and neither is sitting in a pool with hundreds of other strangers.  I can manage a friend's pool or a pool at an apartment complex if there are a few people, but this is not the same thing.  You wander around until, like Goldilocks, you find a pool with just the right temperature.  You settle into a nice spot with your new friends all soaking in one another's filth.  It grosses me out just thinking about it.  I lasted about 10 minutes before I got up and headed to a sauna.  At least here you're not floating around in that water.  Staying in the sauna would have been the best bet for me, but after half an hour I was a bit dehydrated and dizzy so I headed back out to the pools.  I had booked an evening massage so I had about an hour to fill so back to the cesspool it was...ick.  All of this is made worse when you're alone and thinking about it rather than talking with friends and enjoying what's meant to be a relaxing time.  Luckily, I had two Americans on my right and not long after sitting down, a Scottish guy came and plopped next to me on the left.  I chatted with all the guys a bit and the time passed a bit more quickly.  Then the "fun" began.

I went upstairs and sat (again I'm only in my bathing suit) in the waiting room/lobby for my massage.  After 15 minutes or so the receptionist (I guess you can call her that) escorts me to a room.  I'm told to lie down face first and take off my top.  This leave me with only my bottoms on and did I mention I'm not on a table with a sheet, but rather a pad on the floor and nothing to cover with.  A few minutes later I hear an "Ok?" from outside the curtain.  I said yes and in enters my massage therapist.  I don't see him, but he quickly straddles me, yes, that's what I said, and begins his massage.  Other than the fact that I've got a stranger sitting on my back while I'm half naked, I am able to relax a little and get into the massage.  He never speaks and after an hour of work, he disappears.  Not a word.  I'm left, still half naked, lying on the floor wondering what to do next.  I've had some crazy massages all over the world now but this, by far, was one of the weirdest.  There was that time in China Town in London, but I digress.  After I put my top back on I walked back to the locker rooms to get changed and I headed home for a much needed shower.  I think I spent half an hour bathing trying to get the water, and the memory of the stranger, off my skin. 

I went out to dinner on Saturday night at a place called 400 which was about 5 minutes from the apartment.  The food was good, not fantastic, but decent.  I had a Serbian burger that the bartender suggested.  I had three giant beers over the course of a few hours and I met a lovely girl from Budapest and a nice guy (bartender) from Spain.  He was funny because he asked me early on in the night why I was alone, then he made a point to come back to me several times and ask more questions...each time sneaking up on me from another direction.  He was also busing tables so he was wandering around the place a bit.  It was a funny night and I was given tons of suggestions about where to go after, but given that I was in rain boots and a cardigan, I didn't think clubbing was an option.  I also planned to get up early for church the next day so I went home around 11.

Sunday morning came and I headed out to a cafe on Andrassy before going to church.  I ended up sitting at a table next to four American girls (English teachers in Spain) and chatting with them a few minutes over tea before I walked to church.  I had found this English speaking Scottish Presbyterian church on the web and because it was near, decided to check it out for Easter Sunday.  I walked in an the pastor greeted me in an obvious American accent.  I sat through the service trying my best to focus on his sermon but very distracted by a little boy who literally was running down the aisle screaming and stomping his feet.  His father didn't do anything but yell his name a few times.  I don't know how the pastor was able to concentrate on his message but I sure kept praying that the Lord would take care of that distraction.  It was nearly impossible to focus.  We had the Lord's supper at the end of the service and I was able to stay after for lunch.  As I was talking to the pastor, I learned that not only was he American, but he's from Florence, SC!  What a small world.  It's crazy that the one church I chose was a place where someone from my state was preaching.  The Lord works in mysterious ways for sure. 

After our Easter dinner of ham, pasta salad, and an assortment of soups, I offered to do the dishes.  I thought I'd start and someone else would join me, but no, I was at the church for an hour or more after we ate washing everyone's plates!  There was a cute little man who was from Serbia, I think, who put an apron on me and he did actually dry the dishes and put them all away.  I guess he wanted to thank me for my help because he went and got the chalice of wine from the Lord's supper and offered it to me!  Then the pastor came in later and gave me a box of jelly beans as a thank you.  Too funny.

Hmmm...Sunday afternoon was a good one as I went home to change into warmer clothes and then met the free walking tours for the Jewish tour.  It lasted the same amount of time but was led by a different guide and went only through the Jewish district.  We saw some great places of historic relevance, but also learned about some cool, trendy new places called ruin bars.  We visited one called Szimpla, which is where we ended our tour.  It's the neatest place, like a junk yard really, but super cool bar space.  I didn't drink anything there, but rather asked the guide where to get dinner and went to Koleves just down the road.  I hadn't eaten much at lunch at church so I ordered a salad and a venison stew.  Delicious.  After this huge meal and a beer, I went home and called it a night.  It was early, only like 7, but I was exhausted.  I watched a few movies in Hungarian, and I'll say that even in a foreign language, Marley and Me is a tear jerker!

Monday morning I got up and headed out full stop.  I went back to Castle Hill for better pics (sunshine finally) and had my pastry horn.  I walked down to the cafe, Puncs, where I had the amazing hot chocolate before and this time ordered one with cinnamon.  I sat inside out of the cold waiting for the communist tour to begin, but I was a wimp and went home out of the cold instead.  I had checked weather prior to the trip and I expected rain, but not the temperature we had.  Don't tell Carol Poole this, but on my last day, I took a two or three hour nap!  I just couldn't walk any more. 

After I woke up I went out to Hero's Square and walked around the city park a bit so I'd feel like I was accomplishing a bit more sightseeing then I had dinner at a place that a friend had suggested.  I had two glasses of Hungarian wine, the chicken paprikash, and a huge chocolate fondant at Cafe Vian.  Perfect way to spend a few hours my last night in town. 

I went back to the house and tried to pack and go to bed early, but I didn't sleep much that night.  I woke up at 3:15 on Tuesday morning to get my coach back to the airport for a 6 am flight.  Standing on the street waiting for the driver, a nice British boy came by and asked if I was ok.  He and I made small talk after his friend walked away and before the driver came and I was off. 

When I went to Dublin I smiled, rather foolishly and uncontrollably, riding in the coach from the airport.  Somehow, even heading back to a place I am not super thrilled to be living, I had that same giddy smile on my face.  I think it hit me that I'm going home in 33 days and I just was so thankful to have had such an amazing time in Budapest.  I've learned so much about myself this past year and it's such a blessing that I've been able to do it traveling the world.  I've learned to really appreciate all the opportunities I've had and although I've had plenty of journeys, I'm still "hungary for more."

In Good Company

Two years ago, just before Easter, I joined First Baptist Church of Mt. Pleasant, SC.  I had been visiting off and on, but after a pretty big scare with a friend, I committed to get back to church where I belonged.  I really enjoyed the fellowship I had with my new church family, and just like leaving my friends and biological family, I had a hard time saying goodbye to them. 

When I arrived in Dublin, I was pleasantly surprised to find a nice church just minutes from my apartment.  It was a small congregation, but a friendly one.  I attended almost every Sunday while I was in Ireland.  I really enjoyed making friends there and having that time each week.  It was especially nice, when on my last Sunday with them, the pastor made the announcement that I'd be leaving and they all said goodbye and gave best wishes.

Coming to Italy has been a little different for me.  I didn't seek out a church because I assumed, and was too lazy to research it, that it would be difficult for me to find an English speaking church.  I've watched my pastor from home on a few internet sermons, but I haven't made the effort to get out there and find a church.  With Easter quickly approaching, I was beginning to feel even more disconnected from my Christian family.  My friend Katy and I attempted to go to a Palm Sunday evening service last week, but we arrived at the church only to find they weren't holding evening services.  It was a disappointment for sure.  Even though it was in Italian, it would have been nice to attend.

As I was walking home the other day, I passed my neighbor, and elderly woman from NY.  I don't know why it didn't occur to me before, but she has lived here 40+ years and she's American, she must know where an English church would be.  Sure enough, not one hour after I asked her, she brought me the name of an Episcopal church very near the Duomo.  I checked the website that night and found that they were holding an "English for Fun" meeting on Tuesday night (that would be the next night).  I was so excited!  I told Katy, and on Tuesday, we headed over to the church. 

It was a bit of a let down in the sense that there was no Christian fellowship, no prayer, nothing at all resembling a church meeting, BUT it was a great time.  There were four Italian women, one Irish woman (you know I loved her) and two British men, one my age.  The meeting was/is held to help non-native speakers learn English.  It wasn't a lesson, but games to encourage speaking.  We were given crepes with Nutella and wine, which I found hilarious.  The meeting was in the church after all.  I'm just not used to that being a Southern Baptist!  The strangest part of the evening was at the end when the leader said, "we like to encourage you to give a little something to help support the church, so if you'll put 10 euro in the basket, we'd appreciate it."  I wouldn't have minded giving an offering, but again, I would have appreciated a prayer or blessing or something to quench my thirst for Christian fellowship!  It was also strange that they were "encouraging" us to give, but then specified exactly what to give.  Oh well, it was an interesting evening and it got me out of the house for a few hours so I'm happy I went.  I'll certainly try one of the Sunday sermons over at All Saints Anglican Episcopal Church, and oddly enough, Katy found another English church for us to try!    I'm also excited because I've found a Scottish Presbyterian Church to attend in Budapest for Easter...I'm just determined to get to church soon, and be in the company of other Christians.

It Still Stings...

Months ago, 4 to be exact, I had a break up after a short but serious relationship.  It was serious in the fact that my feelings were real for this person and although the circumstances were a bit out of the ordinary, I meant it when I said I love you.  I think he meant it too.  In November, however, we ended the relationship due to two major issues. 

The first big issue was his; he wanted me to commit to being with him in the UK and I couldn't do that, not so early on in our relationship.  I am born and raised a Charleston girl and due to my overwhelming love for family and friends there, I wasn't ready to uproot, permanently.  The second issue was mine; he lost his faith and I needed (need) someone strong enough to support me in mine.  There were other smaller issues, but these two were the ones that we argued most about. 

In the days before the breakup, we discussed many options for our (my) future.  I considered moving to be with him, I considered doing my PhD, I considered teaching...are you noticing a pattern?  I considered my life and where I was heading, but I didn't consider how it would affect him.  This became the basis for a later argument.  My selfishness was something I never really noticed until he pointed it out, and made a huge case of it.  I was hurt, but my eyes were opened to something. 

In the months following the breakup, I continued to consider my life and my future (it's still something I have to figure out).  I moved to Italy and pondered all my options.  Would I stay in Italy, would I move home, would I go to another city and try to find my way there?  I believe that things happen for a reason and I'll end up where the Lord wants me, but it's hard in the moment trying to understand what the plan is.  That's been a prayer of mine for a while...let me have faith that the plan is in action...let me have faith that the Lord knows what he's doing...let me be aware of the way the Lord is working in my life so I can see the path He wants me to follow.  All of this is difficult, but I am trying.

In the past few weeks I've had a more positive attitude about life and I've been even more appreciative of all that I've accomplished or had the opportunity to participate in.  I've thought a lot about the x and I've said prayers for him too, because I honest to goodness want him to be happy.  It's hard for me because I don't like it when people are upset with me.  That may be me being selfish still, but I want people to be happy with me; I need to know things are ok between us.  Unfortunately, I'm having to swallow a big pill here and accept that things are not ok with this one particular person and there isn't anything I can do about it. 

I happened to notice on Facebook today that I've been removed from his "friends" list.  This is something that shouldn't bother me, but despite everything, it still stings.  I'm blessed in the fact that I have so many friends and family members that love me and they are blessed in the fact that most of them are moving along beginning their own families, so I praise God for that.  I'm trying to go against any selfish ways I once had and just be completely happy for them...to be thankful they've found happiness and that I'm part of it, even in the smallest of ways.  I hope that I can take the lessons I've learned in the past year, many of them from the x, and apply them to my life so I can continue to grow.  I hope that I'll remember to hold my head high and to continue to appreciate all that life has to offer.  I hope that whether or not I ever speak to the x again, he forgives me for any part I played in hurting him.  I hope that the Lord will give me peace with it so I can forgive him, and myself, and move on.

Nothing Either Good Nor Bad, But Thinking Makes It So

A week ago I wrote a lovely blog about the lessons I learned in just one day here in Milan.  Unfortunately the blog didn't save so I lost the piece and was too lazy to rewrite the whole thing, but I was amazed at what I could accomplish in just one day. 

The blog essentially said that there are lessons all around us...that it's just a matter of opening our eyes so we can see them.  For example, I learned that we really shouldn't judge a book by it's cover.  I had assumed this girl who worked in the tea shop was an immigrant and working there because it was an easy job, but I later found out she had her PhD in anthropology...completely unexpected.  Who knows why she works in the tea room, but it's certainly not for a lack of education. 

This past weekend has been, by far, the best I've had in Milan and probably one of the best in general in quite a long while.  Granted, I had a fantastic time in Dublin last weekend with my dear friends there, but this past weekend in Italy was just what I needed to restore my sense of wonder and appreciation for the small things. 

Friday night started out pretty low key.  I went to my friend Katy's apartment to have aperitivo with her roommates and her.  We sat around the house until midnight talking and that simple thing mad me so happy...probably because I was with people my own age and not just the family I've been living with.  It's so nice to have your own space and to have friends together.  Just like last weekend with Jamie and Tommy in Dublin, having dinner with friends and socializing with them is such an easy way to have a good time.  We even played stupid games last weekend but it was so much fun!

After the aperitivo on Friday night we went to a club near where I live in Milan.  It was a 50's theme party with DJs playing all the great songs from that time period.  We danced until 4 or so in the morning.  I am surprised I was able to stay up that long but we had such a fantastic time.  I even met a nice boy who walked me home because it was so late.

Saturday was one of those perfect days where you do nothing extraordinary, but enjoy every minute of it.  I went into the center to get my race packet for the 10K I was doing on Sunday, then I sat in the square in front of the duomo waiting on Katy.  I got a watermelon slushie and enjoyed the sun while I people watched.  I'm telling you, I could do this every day.  I smiled and had to control myself so I wouldn't laugh out loud.  People watching has to be the best activity ever.  I saw so many things that made me smile.  There was one guy, I'm guessing Swedish, dressed in jean shorts, hemmed with a burberry like fabric, and a white undershirt that made me giggle...I kept picturing my friend Josh in this outfit and it makes me laugh still.  There were some American girls that were complaining of walking too much, and a tiny little boy, maybe 2 1/2 years old, riding a bike around everyone's feet.  Simple things, but so great. 

When Katy arrived, we went to this place near the duomo called Mama Burger.  After drinking a bit too much on Friday, it was the perfect cure to our night out. The burgers were gigantic and came with fries and a beer (hair of the dog and all).  Amazing doesn't even begin to describe it.  We left the burger joint and got a few beers for our purse and then we walked down to Parco Sempione.  In the sunshine, there were tons of people laying out, playing soccer, etc. in the park.  We put a sheet out and enjoyed more people watching (my jean shorts guy passed again) and chatting about future plans for travel, etc.  We decided to move to the bar/restaurant in the park and were enjoying more people watching, I'm telling you it's the best, when I started drooling over "Maverick" from Top Gun.  I couldn't stop staring at this guy and Katy agreed, he was beautiful. 

We were trying to be serious and talk about all our future plans, my not knowing what to do next and what path the Lord has laid out for me, when all of a sudden a bird pooped on my head!  Just last weekend, Jamie and Tommy and I were talking about this and how it had never happened to us, but that it is supposed to be a sign of good luck.  I was a bit grossed out, and laughing uncontrollably, but finally said, "It's ok; it's good fortune."  The waiter brought over some napkins and also laughing, he said the same thing "Buona fortuna," so Katy and I are convinced something good is coming. 

My race was first thing Sunday morning, and honestly, I didn't think I'd make it the whole way.  I got up and went to the duomo (starting point) and waited an hour before we began.  I haven't been running much so I wasn't sure the 10k was possible, but adrenaline kicked in and it was actually quite easy.  I got before and after shots of myself to remember the day. 

Sitting back at the duomo with beer in hand after the race (rebuild those carbs) a guy walked up and sat down next to me.  He was in Milan visiting for the weekend.  He wasn't someone attractive and actually I found him to be quite a slob upon first impressions, but he was so nice.  He spoke very little English but we enjoyed chatting a while.  In a text he later sent, he said "You are beautiful, me thinks."  So, so kind.  I believe, whatever the reason, he was meant to be at the duomo with me yesterday, maybe as a reminder for me to be polite to everyone, to give everyone a chance. 

After I got back home I made a big plate of pasta bolognase and then went out to the park to lie in the sun a few hours.  I actually am beginning to get some color back!  My friend from Friday night called and invited me out that evening so I met him for gelatto and a walk through the park.  It was really a nice way to finish the weekend.  I think it all goes back to keeping eyes open and staying positive about things.  I'm not always good at this, and often, I complain about things, but I'm getting better.  I found a Shakespeare quote that says "Nothing either good nor bad, but thinking makes it so."  I think this is my new motto.  Things will happen, one way or the other, so why not stay positive and enjoy life?  Good things from now on.  :)

Parenting 101

You might read that title and ask yourself "What is Hannah doing writing about parenting; she doesn't have any children."  You are absolutely right too.  I've got no kids, but I have helped, in some small way, to raise quite a few. 

I began babysitting when I was ten, and yes, that means I've got 20 years of experience in the "field."  I went to school to become an educator and thus taught, raising my experience level even more, for another 7 years.  I've done diaper duty to prom preparation and everything in between.  I've kept kids who have already graduated college for goodness sake...and are quite likely to marry and have kids before me!!  In this time, I've not been a parent, but I've certainly had some of the responsibilities of one and I think it's been fantastic preparation for what will one day, hopefully, be the chance to put all that I've learned into practice with my own darling children. 

Last week, I wrote on my personal Facebook page and Gia's page about kids' chores.  I was curious if kids in Italy were required to do less than kids in the states and if that's a cultural thing or not.  I had a friend comment on all the tasks her four year old daughter (in SC) does to help build responsibility.  I didn't get paid for chores growing up, but there were certain things around the house that I was required to do, and I don't think I complained too much about it (I'll check with Mom on this).  I believe it is important to teach kids to be responsible from an early age because it carries over into adulthood. 

Here is a list of some of the things the children here in Italy, in this family, DON'T do. 

Girl (11)                           Boy (15)
Put away pjs                     Put away pjs (he actually leaves them on the sofa each morning)
                                         Put away dishes (leaves them unless I ask)
                                         Flush the toilet...quite often, he "forgets"
Make bed                         Make bed
Put away wet towels         Put away wet towels
                                         Put lid on toothpaste when finished

To my knowledge, there are no "requirements" in this household of things the children must do.  They will, with reluctance, do things if asked. 

Along with the lack of responsibility, the children, in my humble opinion, are learning no respect for elders.  At first, I thought it was a "lost in translation thing," but I'm becoming more and more familiar with their tone with their parents and I can see it's not about the language.  For example, the 15 year old has all to often addressed me in a tone which quite frankly, wouldn't fly at home.  "Hannah, you need to cook the pasta more."  "Hannah, buy the pesto from Essalunga."  Now, I let it slide a few times, but after a while, I politely reminded the child that there is a right way and a wrong way to ask for something.  He will not tell me what to do.  If he'd like something, he can simply put it in the form of a question and add a please!  "Hannah, would you please buy the pesto from..." will go a lot farther than the latter. 

Two weeks ago, on the mother's birthday, we all went to the mountains together.  The mother came downstairs in tears because she was upset with her daughter and she didn't know what to do.  The child was so difficult.  It was hard for me because I was there when the daughter pitched a fit about her ski bib not fitting and refused to ski with her mother.  We (the mom, son and I) went on without the daughter but it was a miserable day as "Mom" was upset from it all. 

Last night, the 15 year old came home from a tennis tournament which required him to miss school on Wednesday.  He and his mother got into a screaming match for over an hour about how he didn't want to go to school on Thursday.  I thought the mother would win when I heard her telling him, in Italian "be more responsible."  To my great disappointment, he's home today.  Yes, he woke up at a nice 9 am and went straight to the TV.  Again, this wouldn't fly.  I asked him why he was home, he told me it was because he didn't have an assignment that was due today, and he went back to watching TV.  AGH!

I do realize that I've only been here two months and I don't know the entire situation since I can't understand all of the language, but I do know from observation that something is off in this household.  I can't come right out and say the family is doing things wrong because there is a lot they do well.  When they are all happy, it's a pleasant place to be.  They get along great and crack jokes.   The children say their please and thank yous (to me) and are polite the majority of the time.  When they are arguing though, it's a different story. 

I try not to look at parents and judge because you never know what another person is thinking or doing, but living in Italy has given me a true behind the scenes look at the way this family ticks. It's also made me really grateful for the amazing parents I had growing up, and instilled in me values I hope to pass along to my own kids one day.

"Here comes the rain, here comes the rain."

Years ago, I went to New Orleans Jazz Fest with my dear friend Ashley Henson.  It was one of our many trips to follow Dave Matthews and Widespread Panic.  We arrived at the fairgrounds for the shows to begin and not long after Dave took the stage, it began to rain.  He was about to sing his song JTR, and with the instruments already playing the melody, he sang "Here comes the rain, here comes the rain."  Then in true Dave Matthews form, he muttered some incomprehensible phrases to himself and the show went on.  It was one of the best concerts I ever went to, despite the rain.  We left soaked to the bone and with blackened feet from our flip flops in the mud, but none of that mattered...it actually made the event more memorable. 

Living in Ireland, I got a good taste of the rain.  It didn't matter if it was terrible outside, you still got up most days and did something.  It might have been a walk through St. Stephens Green to Grafton Street or a jog down the canal.  It could have been miserable outside, but life went on because it had to, because it was normal in Dublin and people had jobs to do, no matter the weather.  There were days when I would prefer to sit on the "couch" and watch movies, but most days, if I didn't have to work, I got up and did something just to get out of the house.  My friends and I commented on this a lot because back home, if we had weather like that we'd just stay in the the house and lay low, but you can't do that in a place where the rain is so common.  It becomes depressing. 

It hasn't been rainy here in Milan much, but it began yesterday and is supposed to continue throughout the middle of the week.  It's funny, but I woke up in a better mood today with the rain than I have in several days with sun.  Yes, I love my sunshine and I will do just about anything to make sure I build back my tan, but the rain doesn't seem so bad here.  It's coming down heavier than it did most days in Dublin, but it's refreshing here in Milan.  Maybe it's because the city is so gray and dirty looking most of the time that the rain is almost a symbol for the cleansing of winter and freshness of spring.  The grass is getting greener, the air is crisp, it's actually put me in a great mood.  Waking up today, I planned to immediately go for a run but the rain was coming down too hard so I opted for a workout video.  I showered and got ready for a grocery store trip and then even walked through the open market that is near my apartment on Monday.  In Charleston, I'd probably go to and from work and that's it on a day like today, but Dublin taught me to get out there, even on the yucky days, and not let the rain bring me down.  Yes, there are still times I'd rather fix a cup of hot tea and watch a movie, but for the most part, I'm learning to embrace even the rainy moments as good ones...from now on, I'll try to "seize the day" no matter the weather!

Non Parlo :(

I had very interesting learning experiences yesterday and today, so I thought I better get to blogging so I could share them.  Yesterday was an ordinary day...I had to pick up the kids and drive them home from school.  The good thing was that noone had appointments after school like they normally do. 

It was a sunny day and warmer than it's been, so I enjoyed getting up and going out for a short run yesterday morning.  I took Mia, the Border Collie, and we sat in the sun for about half an hour.  When we came home, I went out on the balcony in the sun for another hour or so.  I left to get Matteo from school, but didn't realize he was getting out an hour later yesterday so I was in the car waiting for a long time (not happy as I'm trying to get some sort of color back on my pasty skin and I could have been in the sun this whole time).  As soon as I found out Matteo would be late, I headed towards Elena.  I needed gas, but I had to pick up Elena from school first.  She and I went to the gas station after I got her, which hasn't been a problem for me in the past, but yesterday we had some issues. 

We drove into the station, which is closed for lunch hours, and attempted to do self service.  I've not done this before in Italy so putting the cash in the machine and figuring out what to do next was a trick.  I asked Elena to press the button for our pump, but I guess she didn't do so because another man came up right behind us and put his 20 euro in on top of our 30.  This means that when he pressed the pump number it assumed he wanted 50 euro in gas...in his moped.  He was polite and told us to move the car so we could get gas after he was done, and he gave Elena the pump to hold so it wouldn't reset.  Well, it did anyway.  We couldn't get anything . I was on empty and had been for three days but we couldn't do anything now.  The station was closed and I was out of cash.  I don't use my cards here so we had no choice but to leave.  Another couple had offered to give us 5 euro to make sure I had enough gas to get to Matteo and back but I declined.  We raced to get Matteo from school and went back to the station (which opens at 2) to explain to the attendant what had happened.  Luckily, I had the receipt from the earlier attempt so we were able to get our money back and then retry.  I was so frustrated as noone at the station spoke English and Elena had no clue what to do or say.  It was hard for her to translate what I was trying to express.  Thankfully we accomplished it after a while and we were good to go...and I now know to make sure to press the number on the pump without asking Ely to do it!!

This morning was another "fun" experience for me.  I've been trying to find a salon to get my hair cut and highlighted and finally found one near the apartment that looked decent and sold good products (I often judge based on what is stocked on the product shelf).  I made an appointment for this morning, but was nervous because the salon owner spoke little English and I didn't know what was going to happen.  Elena taught me how to say "Come questi capelli" and I have been practicing all week to say this when I planned to show a picture of Jenny McCarthy's hair.  I even used a mneumonic device and sang this phrase to "Ice Ice Baby" to help me remember.  Well, wouldn't you know my phone wouldn't open the internet site I had saved with the pic so I had nothing to go by this morning.  The salon owner and stylist understood pretty well what I was trying to say, but when she took the razor to the back of my head I started crying!  She stopped and said "calmo, tranquile" over and over so I tried to repeat in my head "it will grow back, it will grow back" over and over.  Luckily, she saw my nervous reaction and didn't take much more.  The back of my head is stacked pretty well and the color turned out ok, very blonde, but boy that was nerve racking this am.  I kept thinking I'd need a glass of wine later to help me relax! 

All of these simple little tasks become so complicated when there is a language barrier.  I'm learning a good bit of Italian, but it's mostly vocabulary or random phrases.  I was proud to have my one beauty shop phrase memorized and I didn't even get to use it!  I am taking all of these moments in as learning experiences though...I have just a few more months here (which is hard to believe) so I will do my best to gain even more Italian knowledge and go home better for it.  I've gotten pretty good at finding a way to communicate so I'll just keep on trucking and hope someone understands!

Ups and Downs and Ups Again

It's funny how sometimes you miss home so much you think there is no other place on earth quite as good, and then sometimes you think, "Gosh, I'm having the time of my life and I don't want it to end."  It's been this way for me all throughout this journey.  I had my ups and downs in Ireland and I certainly wanted to be home a lot of the time while I was there, but then there were those moments where all I could do was pinch myself to realize that I was actually on this amazing adventure and it wasn't a dream.  I was living a life that many people only hoped they could. 

Moving to Milan was a bit different for me as I had never been here before and quite frankly, it's not the most attractive of places.  Ireland has an allure to it because of the green...which happens to be my favorite color...you just get drawn to it.  Milan doesn't have the same appeal.  I will say though that in the last few days, I've really started to feel comfortable here.  I've made a new friend who is from New York, but living here in the city.  I've been out a few times both here in Milan and to other surrounding areas (day trip to Verona last Sunday).  I've had the best mint julep I've ever tasted here in Milan (random how a southern staple like that was done so well here in the North of Italy).  I've accomplished the daunting task of learning to drive stick (and I'm having so much fun with it).  I tell you, I'm enjoying the crazy traffic circles.  It's fun with the kids in the car to go round and round...it's like we're on a roller coaster or something!!  I am enjoying the rise in temperature and the fact that I can run with the dog in the park.  It may sound boring to many, but my daily routine of exercise, carpool, making lunch, teaching, etc is really quite pleasant.  I think that's because basically, I'm playing mom and it's always been a dream of mine to actually be a mother. 

Yes, I miss teaching at Stiles Point.  Yes, I miss my family and friends in Charleston (and Dublin).  Yes, I would like an actual income instead of this little pocket change I'm getting here, but I am so thankful for these opportunities.  I was really worried about going home to my "old" life and getting a bit frightened by 1) going back to the real world and 2) things not being as exciting at home, but you know what, life is what you make it.  Traveling is and always will be a part of me, but so is Charleston.  All of these experiences I've had, places I've been, and things I've seen are part of the great puzzle that is me...it's what makes me who I am. 

I'm going to make my time here as memorable as possible.  I'll miss it when I'm gone, but instead of being sad that the trip is over, I want to be grateful that I ever had the chance to take it.  I hope that when I get home to Charleston I'll be able to fondly look back at my time abroad...I hope that when I'm home, I will remember this roller coaster of emotions in the attempt of reminding myself to appreciate what is in front of me rather than looking over my shoulder for something "better".

Life Goes On

This phrase is often used after something bad has happened as a way of saying, "Oh well, move forward."  That's not the meaning of the phrase I'm thinking today though.  In my mind, "life goes on" means simply that.  I may not be in Charleston, but life there is going on. 

Leaving Charleston last June was difficult for me because I was worried about what would happen while I was away.  I knew that things would occur, good and bad, and I constantly checked in to see what the latest scoop was.  I'm a very attached person, especially to my friends and family, so I called and emailed very often to hear the latest news.  Before moving, I was told that life in Charleston would be the same when I returned.  I knew part of this would be true.  The family and friends I had would be there when I returned, the school where I worked would more than likely have the same kinds of lessons going on; nothing too extraordinary would have taken place in my absence.  I found this to be comforting because I didn't want to miss out on anything at home. 

Unfortunately, I moved before one of my best friends got married so I missed the wedding.  I let this hang over my head for a long while upset that I'd missed out on this special event.  Then I pulled it together and thought about all the wonderful experiences I was having while I was away and I was happy to have the opportunity to make such fantastic memories. 

While home for Christmas, another one of my best friends got engaged.  I was so thankful to be in town for this because I was able to be part of the celebration.  Now that I'm in Italy, I've missed another very special proposal and will soon be missing the birth of a first baby for another couple. 

It's bound to happen, when you're away, life goes on.  People don't stop living because you aren't there.  I've always realized that this was the case and I didn't expect for anyone to put their life on hold waiting on me to return, but I guess living away has proven to me that I am even more of a home-body than I ever thought.  I'd never change the fact that I've travelled and I'd not be completely against having to be away from home in the future for whatever reason may cause me to leave again, but I will say, I love my family and friends and I love Charleston, and I'm very sorry that I'm missing out on such special occasions with the ones I care so much about.

All in a Day's Work

Teaching is my job, but more than that, it's my passion.  When I'm not teaching, I'm not whole.  I struggled with this in Ireland because I was only in a classroom once a week.  It was a blessing that my friend Luke set me up with Dublin City University though because without that small amount of time in front of students, I'd have been lost. 

It's coming up on three weeks here in Milan and Luke has helped me, yet again, to find a place to teach.  I went a few weeks ago to visit a school out in Cesano Maderno (one hour from where I am in Milan).  I met the lovely woman who started the school and since then, she and I have been emailing back and forth trying to create a schedule for me.  I was contacted yesterday to see if I'd like to start teaching a private lesson to a student once a week.  I said yes, of course, and went this morning for my first "lesson."  I have to put lesson in quotes because my student, cute as he is, is only 15 months old!  I wasn't teaching so much as playing, but still, it was a start. 

This morning I drove the car to the metro station, took the metro to the train station, took the train to Cesano Maderno and then walked the last 5 minutes to the school.  I met with the child and his mother in her office above the school.  She is a dentist (perfect because I need my teeth cleaned!).  We played for two hours before I took the long journey back home.  It was fantastic though because in my one session with little Georgio, he learned two English words, "Hi" and "Bye." 

I know it's not the same as being in a classroom, but with the tutoring I'm doing with Elena and Matteo, and a session a week with Georgio, I'm on my way back to what I love the most.  My plan now is to meet with Matteo's teacher (we've already sent messages) and see about volunteering in her English class.  I'd like to do the same for Elena's school.  If I can have at least 3 mornings a week doing what I love, I know I'll be happier for it.  I also know that it is all AMAZING experience to put on my resume for when I return to CCSD!!

"It's Ireland," Wait, Where Am I?

If you've read any of the posts from my time in Ireland you know that my neighbor and friend Josh had a way of describing all the strange things that happened there...he just reminded himself and all the rest of us simply that "It's Ireland." I think of this quote often and it's done me well to remember that traveling is about experiencing and I'm bound to come across things that I haven't experienced before...it's part of the fun so I should take it with a grain of salt.  I suppose Josh would have me saying "It's Italy" now that I've moved to Milan.

A few weeks ago I wrote that I was disappointed in the graffiti on all the walls here in the city because it made it look like a rather grungy place.  I'm so used to the old villages in Italy or the beautiful Italian countryside with vineyard after vineyard.  I know that coming to a new place is about experiencing all it has to offer though so I've come to accept the graffiti as part of the city and although it's not the most beautiful place, it's growing on me.  In a conversation with the family last night, Clara, the children's aunt, was asking me if I liked it here.  She put it very well when she said "it's got what you need."  There is fashion, food, fun, family for many, and work of course.  Those that live here (that I've spoken to) seem to like it and so I'm game for living here part time...of course I know I get to leave in a few months, but that's not what I'm focusing on.  I'm trying to take the "It's Italy" attitude and appreciate it more than anything else.  Instead of "It's Italy" as an excuse or explanation, I'm trying to think "It's Italy!" with an exclamation!

Last weekend it was freezing out, but I decided to brave the cold and go to the Navigli (canal) for the antique market that takes place on the last Sunday of each month.  This is something Italy does well...very well.  The market was fantastic and when it's slightly warmer, I can guarantee I'll be out for a longer period of time.  I had just enough warmth to get me to the end and back with a bit of browsing, but no lingering.  I could barely feel my toes when I returned home!

Another thing we know Italy does well is food.  The great thing about Italy is there are many types of restaurants you can choose from depending on your appetite, and often wallet.  Check out the list below from Rick Steve's Italian Phrase Book and Dictionary for a description of each:

risorante-a fine dining establishment
trattoria-typically a family-owned place that serves home-cooked meals
osteria-more informal, with large shared tables, good food and wine
pizzeria-casual pizza place that offers pasta and more
pizza rustica-a cheap pizza shop that sells pizza by the weight of the slice (usually take out)
rosticceria-a take out or sit down shop specializing in roasted meats
tavola calda-inexpensive hot/cold buffet-style
bar-the neighborhood hangout that serves coffee, soft drinks, beer, snacks, etc
enoteca-wine shop or wine bar that also serves snacks

I haven't eaten out too many times, but I've had great experiences so far.  I am looking forward to aperitivo this week with some friends (drinks and appetizers) and the big highlight is my plan for Valentine's Day.  I figured I might as well do something so I think Connie and I are going to try out ATMosfera.  It's an old tram that takes you on a tour around the city center and while doing so, serves a three course dinner!  What fun! 

I've got to share one more example of "It's Italy" before closing out this post.  Yesterday was Matteo's 15th birthday.  Let's pause for a moment and consider that that makes him half my age.  Ugh!  Ok, so for his special day we went to Acquaworld.  This was a first for me.  Yesterday it was about 30 degrees and there was snow on the ground from the previous day's weather, but we all bundled up on top of our bathing suits to head to this massive place for swimming and water slides.  Please understand that I haven't put on a bathing suit in 8 months and that was exactly the last time I saw sun so I was a bit self conscious of my white body compared to all the lovely hues of the Italian's skin, however, with the family I went inside to peel of the layers and headed straight to the slides.  I was surprised to see all the names in English rather than Italian...Blue Ice, Turbo, etc.  I went down a few times and then promptly headed to the adults only "Relax World" where it wasn't so relaxing, but I was able to go in the sauna a while as well as swim in the outdoor pool.  Snow was on the ground but it had the steam coming from off the water and it was actually a pretty cool experience.  It's not something I'd do back home, swim when it's soooo cold out, but hey, "It's Italy," what else was I supposed to do?

Pasta, Pizza, Panzerotti, and More!

Before leaving Charleston I said I was worried about one thing with this move to Milan...gaining weight!  Italian food is probably my favorite and although I thought I already ate too much (2-4 times a week), I had no idea what I was getting into.  I said it would be hard, but I have to try and keep the weight off for my friend Ashley's wedding in November, not to mention I just don't want to put any on after losing a little in Dublin. 


I've been here exactly one week and not a day has gone by when I haven't had pasta at least once.  Yes, these Italians truly do eat it at every meal...well, this family doesn't eat any breakfast so you know what I mean!  At lunch I prepare pasta for the kids and I too have been eating it (small portions for me).  One day I had to make myself a salad instead because it got to be too much.  We've had pasta as our first course every night and then a second course of meat, and I can proudly say I've eaten fish several times.  I've only had a few little bites out, but over the weekend I had the funghi pizza (read Language Barriers) and last night I took my friend Sarah's advice and went to Luini's near the duomo for panzerotti.

Panzerotti is a snack by comparison to other Italian dishes.  It's essentially a "hot pocket" or mini calzone, but the thing that makes it so special is the dough.  It's more like a fluffly doughnut (no glaze) than flaky or even pizza dough-y.  Now that I'm thinking about it, I'd compare it in texture to the dough on the onion rings at Bessinger's BBQ in West Ashley (think light).  You have your choice of filling and although I ordered ricotta and spinach I ended up with the popular mozzarella and tomato.  It was my first, but surely won't be my last while in Milan.  If interested, check out the recipe at Panzerotti Recipe.

I've obviously had gelatto here, only once, and I've had my share of cheese as well.  The gelatto I got was chocolate and tasted like pure (thick) brownie mix...very rich.  The cheeses I've had...geez, I can't name them all.  I've enjoyed every bit of the food and I'm so happy to say that after weighing this morning, I've actually lost weight since arriving!! Whoohoo...now, enough writing, more exercising as that's all that's keeping the scale down!!

Language Barriers

In my first day of "work" yesterday, I found I had a lot of free time while the children were at school.  Actually, only Matteo was at school and Elena was home sick but there wasn't much to do for her either.  I am looking to teach in an English school while the children attend class in the morning, but I don't have a meeting with anyone until tomorrow so yesterday and again today, I'm sort of on my own.  This is no big deal as I can find ways to occupy my time, but it really got me thinking.

As Elena sat on the couch watching tv yesterday, I did a few things...run, walk the dog, research lesson plans, read, and then I pulled out my Rick Steves' Italian Phrase Book and Dictionary.  I sat on the couch flipping through all the pages and trying to learn some new words/phrases.  I highlighted a few  of the basics that I already knew and also a few I needed to learn.  My list includes things like:
Mi chiamo_________  "My name is_______"
Permesso                      "Excuse me." (to pass)
Quanto costa?               "What's the cost?"
Me lo scrive?                "Write it."
Dove posso comprare? "Where can I buy?"
Ripeta?                          "Repeat"
Capisco/Non capisco     "I understand/don't understand."

Rick Steves says "a good phrase book should help you enjoy your Italian experience, not just survive it. "  He also says that the Italians are forgiving of "linguistic fumbling" so not to be frightened by the language, but to embrace it, and attempt everything with a "per favore."  Keeping this in mind, I have attempted at times to speak in Italian, but usually as soon as I do I quickly get an English response.  For example, on Sunday night, I ordered a pizza from a take away place.  I approached the counter and said, "Vorrei pizza funghi" but may have forgotten the all important please.  The pronunciation on my "funghi" was all wrong and the guy looked at me like I was speaking Chinese instead of Italian.  I repeated, then repeated again, and finally said, "mushroom."  He of course spoke English so he made the correct pronunciation and sort of laughed at my mistake.  By the way, "funghi" is pronounced "foong-gee" while I tried to make the "fung" sound.  Lesson learned there.  Well it got better of course because as I went to pay I handed the guy a 5 pound note rather than 5 euro note so I looked like a complete idiot...it happens. 

Both yesterday and today I've taken Mia, the family's Border Collie, out for a walk.  In doing so I've met two very nice fellow dog walkers.  One was a young Italian man, but spoke English to me and then the other was a Croatian woman who spoke Italian and English.  Here's where my frustration begins.  In both cases the other person began speaking to me, "Ciao, Come sta? etc."  I can reply up to this point and then nothing...my next line is always, "Parla inglese."  The other either speaks English or doesn't, but more often they do.  I speak English very slowly and make polite conversation...it's not so difficult.  I say I'm an English teacher and then I feel like such a hypocrite.  I'm teaching my language to others but I don't speak theirs.  I can get by in French, but it has to be a very basic conversation, and a very slow one at that.  I can tour Italy and get by on holiday, but I can't communicate with anyone outside of a tobacco store it seems (and for those of you who don't know...the tabacchi shops carry everything from stamps to parking permits to cigarrettes of course, because I don't smoke).

This morning, I was home alone and the front door rang..."Pronto" "Si" "Italian, Italian, Italian" "Si" and I rang the carpenter in.  Now, I knew he was coming so although I didn't understand what he said, I knew he needed to get in the flat to fix something.  He came in and we spoke the casual hellos and he went straight to work on his 3 minute job of using the electric drill to fasten the cabinet door back on where it had come loose.  He left and said something along the lines of "Tutto finito. Buon Giorno."  I replied "Grazie" and then he was off.  I feel like such an idiot when I can't use more than 4 words in Italian and when it's time to use them, I usually freeze!

Ok, so I realize I've only been here 6 days and even if it only took God 7 to create the Heavens and Earth, I am going to need more time!  I am hoping to do some sort of exchange for teaching English and learning Italian, but while I'm here it the house, I am listening very carefully to all that is being said and trying to pick out words I recognize.  I'm reading children's books in Italian and I'm going to have to take it from there.  I would very much like to get out of these five months in Italy with a basic knowledge of Italian...more than the phrase book can offer me anyway.  That being said, I've got some learning to do today while the kiddos are out so, ciao for now!

Milan the Beautiful?

Before coming to Milan, I knew that it was an industrial city and I wasn't expecting much when I arrived on Thursday.  I came in during the evening so there wasn't much to see on the drive from Linate to the flat where I'm staying.  Friday morning, however, I was outside during the day (getting driving lessons in stick shift).  I got my first taste of the neighborhood where I'm living.  I was a bit shocked at how dirty everything looked in the area around the house and schools.  It's reminiscent of a ghetto, or what I'd imagine one to look like.  The apartment buildings are basic brick complexes, the walls of every building are covered with graffiti. 

I'm am fortunate that the interior of the flat where I'm staying is very nice.  The mother, Daniella, is an architect and she designed a great space.  It's very simple with clean lines on all the furniture and lots of glass partitions.  I really love the bathroom I'm sharing with the kids...green tile the walls, two simple basins for "washing up," and a great glass shower with two "rain" nozzles.  I am extremely happy that the family is clean too; they are very organized which is a relief.

Saturday I had another driving lesson around the outskirts of town and then I was dropped off closer to the center where I met Connie, a friend from Charleston who is also working as an au pair here.  She and I walked around the center and to a few "hot spots" in Milan.  We were mostly complaining about how dirty the area is and how we were shocked to see such a thing because it's supposed to be a very wealthy city. 

As we walked closer to the fashion district, were were relieved to see a bit more of what we originally expected...areas that reminded me of Florence and some other great Italian cities.  Again today I drove into the center and then walked around, first with the family and then with Connie.  We were near Via Dante which is close to the castle and is much nicer than the majority of what I've seen so far.  Connie and I went to the Irish pub we found yesterday to have a pint and lo and behold, I met an Irish guy.  I miss that accent so! 

I've just gotten back to the flat and am quite tired after walking all afternoon, but slowly I'm starting to feel better about Milan.  It may not be a beautiful city, quite the contrary really, but I think I'll grow to enjoy my time here.  I have to keep in mind that even the graffiti can be considered art, and like the washed up boat on Folly, part of this city's culture.