Bellini's, Champagne, Birthday's and passing the olive branch

I am wee drunk and exhausted from sipping on bellini's and champagne to celebrate Adrian's birthday. He seemed amused by the Battlestar Gallatica comic book I gave him and happy with the Beatles shirt and poster. He is slowly being assimilated into the Italian culture as he listened to Nek with me in the car and Ti Amo and L' Italiano at my house while we tried to book a van for tomorrow. It appears I do not have to do all my work at work and can work at home, which means I can also move out on the real date. I think I will just load up more boxes and then stuff them into my car if I do not hear from the rental companies tomorrow and just start transferring things to our new place.

As for my parents, I think they finally understand that I never meant any harm and so we are all trying to pass the olive branch to one another. They are trying to be as peaceful as they can be since this is the last night/day together. I really did enjoy my first day of the new school and was delighted to see an old HNM teacher and a fellow St. Martin teacher at Cabot. I think I will enjoy myself at the new school and will continue to work hard. There is a part of me that truly misses my boys at St. Martin and that is one thing the former supply teacher and I were discussing. Well cheers for now as I really must retire for the evening, but I do wish thee all the best.

last days at home

I leave this house with happiness and sorrow. I had an uplifting day with Krista as we went through shop after shop searching for things for our condo or apartment. We even picked up a few Tuscan pieces at Michael's and then met Adrian where we went through Ikea together. We had a delightful meal and strolled through the store imagining different pieces in our new place. I didn't want the moment to end.

I came home and my mother was rummaging through our closet and cupboards searching for things to offer me, but I told her I did not want to add any more conflict to the household. I knew my father would get upset if I took more items and I am just too worn down to deal with any more drama. My mother tried to be kind to me, but she has a tendency to stray away from things.

I have warned my parents about pushing me too far. I have told them if they continue to be upset whenever I am happy I will have no other choice, but to cut them out of my life. I cannot continue living or associating with people who only want me to be miserable. I have done it for 28 years and just cannot handle it anymore. My mother wanted to know how Adrian made me happy and I said it was because he loved me for who I am. He doesn't expect me to follow the latest trends and look like some supermodel. He doesn't care if I am strange, quirky, bloated, silly, or cannot speak properly. He just wants me to be me and tries so very hard to make me happy. I can tell he loves me and for many more reasons that I can ever possibly say I love him too.

She just keeps nagging at the same points over and over. She keeps ranting on these incoherent babbles about Adrian using me for money and trying to get my inheritance. She droans on and on about him taking forever to return to school and not working harder at getting an appopriate job. Both my parents refuse to see the obvious and continue to conjure up these cockamania stories and I remind her that she is pushing too much. I remind her about all the times Adrian paid for things including the time he placed $700 cash on our kitchen counter to physically prove he was paying for his trip to England and Germany. The cash laid on the counter for days as a reminder that he paid and yet they continue to say he never pays for anything. Adrian and I have tried numerous times to reason with them, but they never seem to listen. They go on and on and on and on with these nonsensical discussions about nothing.

I point out to her that it is my mother who often asks me for money. She is also the one who has been calling me fat for the past four years despite my six year history with anoxeria. I don't know any other parent who would constantly criticize their children and do such things as that. I ask her if she thinks it is odd that I refuse to tell them where I will be living specifically, because I don't want them to be a part of my life in Toronto. I told her that I will eventually come back to this house and remove every evidence of me. All the books, cds, furniture, papers, etc will all be gone. We can then say our goodbye's and I will simply step out of their lives. This way we no longer need to fight or get upset. There will be no christmas cards, phone calls or visits. I will simply disappear and we can just have that last moment together.

The only way I see it being otherwise is if they light up and just be happy that I am happy...just let go of their fears, worries and just take pleasure in knowing they did their best to raise a decent and smart girl who is generally respected. If they can just love unconditionally and act without judgement, things may have a chance of getting better.

My father, Adrian, God and Timeless Bliss

I highly doubt that God frowns upon people sharing household duties such as washing the dishes doing the laundry, buying groceries or watching tv together, but for some reason people often associate living together before being married as some form of sin. I think most people have committed the sin they fear the most long before they marry and it has nothing to do with co-habitation. It simply has to do with pre-marital sex and most people assume once you move in that the one bedroom may be a bit of a concern. I guess you could say that I am confident that I have nothing wrong in the eyes of God, but I do worry about the misconceptions.

My father reluctantly loaned me the car yesterday so that I may buy more things for the apartment, but I did not think it was worth mentioning that I would also be dropping by the airport to pick up my boyfriend who I had not seen in five months and drop him off at a hostel in Toronto. I thought the shopping and transferring would only take a couple of hours and I would be at home in ample time.

My mother called while I was at the airport saying that Adrian had called to notify me of flight delays and I assumed that both parents knew about my side trip. I was so jittery to pick up adrian and kept worrying that I did not look my best for him. I remember watching him pass through the doors and I ran towards him and flung my arms around his neck. It was so great just to have him there so that we could kiss and walk towards the car together holding hands. He was getting hungry so we made a slight detour to our new place together and ate dinner at Eden, a local Italian resteraunt. Although I could not eat much of my delicious Pasta Primavera, Caesear Salad and Broccoli poppers, I truly enjoyed just sitting there with him and talking about little things. It was great to show him around and even point to which room we were going to be living in and the little deli's along the street. My mother had called with a certain urgency in her voice.

My father had to go to the hospital due to a severe migraine. He thought I had lied to him about the car and became so enraged that he began to vomit and have these disabling migraines. My mother later told me that she believed that he has built up so much anger and resentment against Adrian and I for moving out, because he is a traditionalist and does not approve of the idea. She also pointed out that it was him that gave her the crazy notion that he was a gold digger. My father was so angry at my mother for being civil with Adrian on the phone earlier in the evening that he forbade her to watch TV! He called her stupid and went on this rampage. She asked me to sit down with my father and talk to him about the whole thing.

It seems that my brief interlude of timeless bliss has come to an end. I truly enjoy not knowing what day or time it is. Although I feel bad for constantly missing appointments, I also want a life of no worries more than anything else. I want to roll out of bed on my own time and flow through life with a more relaxing pace and step. I have always hated conforming to the Type A ways when genuinely I am a Type B person. Sometimes I think the conflict between the two will eventually explode and I will be like the other celebrities who just take off to Africa and live in in the jungle for a year due to some mental breakdown. *sigh* I just read an article about how long workhours and intense jobs link to hypertension and diabetes and I would not be surprised that my teaching experience is the true link to most of my health problems. I am just happy that I am on my way towards a brighter future either at my new school or perhaps another profession once I can stablize myself. until we speak again...

peace, love and harmony
amanda

Some after thoughts and more memories

My cousin asked me whether I like Riccardo and I told her the answer was complicated, but I do love my boyfriend and I am very excited about moving in with him. I did promise her that one day I would explain the whole Riccardo phenomena so here is my first try. (not including the other blog enteries).

Sometimes you meet someone and if you believe in fate or destiny, it seems that your paths were destined to cross at some point in your life. This person does not have to be a romantic link like some John Cusak movie. I am thinking of Serendity. It doesn't have to be religious either as it is true sometimes God does appear to us disguised as a beggar or some other random person. It just means that you were suppose to meet this person and perhaps through this experience you learn more about yourself and the things that you desire.

For example, I know that Riccardo and I shared an equal fondness for the Texan family, especially the daughter. She is fourteen years old - the same age as his eldest daughter and the same age as my students. I guess you could say she reminds me of my favorite students and parts of her remind him of his daughter. I remember one occasion when we first arrived at the Chianti hills and he was offering everyone a glass of special wine. I could see him looking ahead at me and casting his eyes on the girl. The daughter was standing just ahead of me in the line and I could tell she reluctantly accepted the glass. When it came to my turn to accept the glass, our fingers brushed up against each other and I could feel a spark rush through my fingertips and throughout my body. I blushed and our eyes met for a while. I could tell he had felt it too as he had a similar expression on his face and then both of our eyes averted to the daughter. We looked at each other and smiled. I walked away.

I could hear her telling people that Riccardo had given her the glass and she was reluctant to drink it, because in America the drinking age is 21. I had tried to explain that in Italy everyone drinks a glass a wine with their meal regardless of age and for her just to enjoy the evening. I knew at that point it could be percieved that a man giving a girl a drink may not be appopriate, but when you are in a different land with different customs the most innocent gesture could be taken the wrong way.

I also noticed that we had similar speech patterns and would often make similar types of jokes. Some of them are rooted in heritage such as being Sicilian and shooting people or doing things my way. There are other mafia references and it is done as a form of protection from the onslaught of comments we have heard over the decades and we just want to beat the person to the punch. Then there are other jokes about coming from a mixed heritage. For example, as a child I would often joke about being Chinese today or being Sicilian today, so it was quite amusing when we had to write our tour director's name on the comment card and someone exclaimed, "Richard" and he replied "okay so I am Irish today." Then there is the actual speech patterns where you place the intonations and such that do remind me sometimes of myself.

I also noticed we shared similar mannerisms and could make the same jokes there as well. Some of the gestures were from our heritage while others such as mimicing the papal or priestly blessing come from what we simply think is funny at the time. I can see a slight look of recognition each time the other does something that only we would know that we do ourselves. So I guess you could say Riccardo reminds me of what I may have been like if I had grown up in Sicily rather than Canada. It would be like the Sliding Doors phenomena.

I also learned a few things about myself and one of them is my desire for children. I always knew that I wanted my own biological children and to start a family, but what I did not realize I am also okay with joining other people's families. You often hear one of foopah's of dating is that when you have children of your own that others will be reluctant to date you, because of what they deem as emotional baggage. I really don't understand now why anyone would think such a thing.

For example, we were on our way to drop off my Vice Principal from Grade 2 and her husband at the airport when they had asked Riccardo if he had any children. He began by telling them (and later me who was looking on in the conversation) that he had a daughter who was 14, a son who was 8 and another daughter who is 4 months old. He glanced up at me with this awkard smile as to indicate one of two things: (a) sorry I am taken or (b) sorry I didn't want you to know I had kids. In any regards, I thought to myself that fact that he has kids would not stop me from dating such a person. It was more the fact that I am taken and there is a woman somewhere in Sicily who just gave birth to his child four months ago. It was a pleasant feeling to know that my desire for children extended beyond simply my biological children and if for some reason I could not have ones of my own at least I know that I would be okay to raise others.

I also discovered that he has a degree in Ancient History and that this will be his last year as a tour director. He doesn't want a moving classroom anymore and would much prefer to be a teacher in Sicily. I can tell that he would make a great teacher, because of the way he structures the day. He begins by telling his audience the agenda for the day and then proceeds into telling them the history and sometimes asking refresher questions and then ends the day by reviewing what we saw and what we will do tomorrow. If that is not a classic technique in teaching, I am not sure what else is...lol. The former Vice Principal, her husband and I agreed he would make a fine teacher who would really inspire his students. I guess you could say he touches that part of myself as well.

There are so many things that I discovered about my identity and dreams that it will take a while before I can convey them all in words, but in the end I feel that he is partially responsible for this personal journey and for that he will always be a part of me. I cannot count how many times his conversations with what now would be his children, friends, collegues, random people and perhaps a mistress or wife (although he claims to be divorced) helped me in my relating to and speaking to people in Termini.

I remember our very last moment together. I was the last off the bus and he had just kissed my mother's hand to say good night. He looked at me and beckoned me to come over for what he said would be more kisses. I felt a flood of emotions overwhelm me. A part of me thought I may be foolish to read so much into innocent gestures and perhaps most of what I recall may be a figment of my imagination. A part of me was upset about being upset that he had checked into a hotel with a lady in Assisi. A part of me never wanted to leave Italy and perhaps continue the dream in Sicily. Most of me just wanted to keep learning about what was going on inside of me. I knew that if I looked at him, I would be completely lost. I simply opened my arms and said, "hug". We wrapped our arms around each other and I could hear his heart beating against his chest and it seemed that we both really should say something. I wanted to speak, but could not get the words out. I simply raised my head, unravelled my arms and jogged to Li who was walking ahead. I threw one arm around her waist and we laughed back to the hotel. I never did look back, because there I could still feel his gaze and was scared what I do if I had met it.

Chianti and The infamous photo

Okay so I didn't handle that very well. I wasn't sure how to make it up to him, because I could see him looking at me sitting in my dinner seat now and then...Riccardo announced he was going to sing a song made famous by a Sicilian who lived in New York so we all gathered around him. I thought my heart was going to melt as soon as I heard the first beat. He began singing Frank Sinatra's song, "My Way".

To everyone's surprise he sang quite well. I felt so embarrased for the time when we were in Venice and I teased him about being our singing gondolier and that is when he started turning away from my photos. I felt so stupid for if I had known he could actually serenade us, I would have implored him to do so. I just stood there trying to find a way to record the event with my camera, but despite my greatest efforts I could not make my camera work. I just listened to him. I saw a woman next to me throwing coins at him, which he tried to catch while singing. I asked the lady if Riccardo was her husband and she started laughing and said no. She knew that I had spotted them together at dinner. I looked back at him and I could sense some feelings brewing inside, but I wasn't sure what they meant. I knew that we couldn't possibly have feelings for each other, but then why did I feel like we had some kind of emotional attachment? I wasn't sure if all the travelling was getting to me and I was reading into nothing or whether it seemed so clear. I am sure Riccardo did not know that My Way has a huge emotional and sentimental meaning to me nor did he know that it was my ulitmate favorite Frank Sinatra song, but there he was doing everything perfectly.

He asked us to board the bus and so after he was done singing we all wandered to the bus. Tony and Riccardo took us to the piazza michealangelo where we saw David lit up at night and Flourence sparkling like stars twinkling on a romantic night. I was one of the first off the bus and so therefore always within reach from where Riccardo was standing. Someone suggested we take a group photo and we handed all our camera's to our drunken tour director. Although he did look funny with ten cameras dangling from his arms and neck, he tried his best to take the photos. People would make fun of his prolonged delays in pressing the button and how he would keep staring into the screen, but I kept defending him saying that he had a lot of camera's. When he tried to return the camera's, he actually dropped the Australian woman from Brisbane's camera on the ground. luckily, it did not break!

I thought it might be nice to have a picture with the tour director since we were taking good bye photo's anyways. I walked over to him and asked if he would mind taking a photo (also hoping that would make up for me kinda running away from him earlier in the evening). He agreed and said he wanted to do a serious pose. (Think Nek) I laughed and said I would tickle him if he did that. This is where reality and memory travels on two different paths. It is funny how we can percieve a event entirely different than how it occured and how our sense of truth can be altered.

I thought we were standing beside each other shoulder to shoulder when he said "I want to take a picture like this" and then he had an intense stare, but his face softened slightly so that it was mainly his eyes that felt like they were penetrating my soul and that there was something he wanted to say. Our faces were so close that I could feel him breathing. Our lips seemed even closer like if either were to move one inch, we would be locked in an embrace. I forgot about everyone and everything around us and all I could do was feel his stare. Although I could hear him whispering to me, I can no longer remember what he was saying. Finally, "I said I don't think my mom knows you want the picture to be taken this way" and I thought we turned our heads completely to face the camera and we had regained our standing beside each other shoulder to shoulder pose. I could hear someone saying "aaawwwwwww" in the background and I sensed some people were looking at us posing for the picture.

It was a very funny drunken ride back home to our hotel, but the next morning seemed a bit strange. I sat down with everyone for breakfast and when I say everyone I mean David from Melbourne, Peter and Lucy, Shuyan and Ruth and my mom. Everyone went upstairs, but David and I remained behind talking about our time on this trip and how his wife wanted specific deodrant which he was trying to find in Venice and how I was trying to ask those people to wax my eyebrows and lips. I could see Riccardo watching us while sipping on his espresso and he had such a serious expression almost jealous or angry look. I thought David and I must be running behind schedule so we both agreed to go to our rooms, which happens to be next door to each other. We got up and started walking to the elevator together. The doors opened with my mom inside. I was trying to hold the door open for David when I saw Riccardo charging towards our direction with that look again.

I observed Riccardo that morning and still he seemed upset about something. I wasn't sure whether he was just tired from last night or perhaps something happened that morning to make him upset, but I didn't think I had much to do with it. I knew something happened between us during that photo shoot and that we shared a moment, but still had no idea what it all meant.
Whatever happened I noticed had some affect on our relatioship, because once we returned to Rome things were a bit different.

I noticed that something happened in Assisi that he was not very proud of and that for whatever reason I had taken some preference in the pecking order. If someone had a question for him, he would tell them he wanted to talk to me first and would brush them aside. It was not until that I specified he could handle the other people then assist my mom and I that he didn't do that. I noticed that we both seemed wanted to say something when we were alone together on the couch, but for whatever reason said nothing.

Then that night, we were having our last dinner and Joe and Drina told me that they saw Riccardo check into a hotel with a woman in Assisi. I am not sure why that upset or shocked me, but it did. I noticed Joe went silent after that and later went to talk to Kiery. It took me a few days to put it all together when my mom sent me the infamous photo.

I examined the body positioning and facial expressions and I concluded that we were never standing shoulder to shoulder. We were standing facing each other with our arms wrapped around the other's waist. I recalled how he said twice to my mother, "You shouldn't leave your daughter with a Sicilian man, because she will become pregnant in two minuites" and how there must have been some sexual tension between us. Now I understood why my mom didn't know when to take the picture, because it would have looked like two people staring at each other and why would you take a picture of two people gazing into their eyes? It made sense why Riccardo charged to the elevator, because he probably thought I was running with David after this romantic moment in the piazza. It made sense why I seemed upset, because although nothing physical happened, I guess you could say it was like an emotional affair and so therefore reason enough to get upset. It made sense why Joe would seem awkard afterwards.

So next email will go further into what I think of Riccardo although I do believe I must have covered the Sicilian connection. There are a lot of things that happened and this picture was only the tip of the iceberg.

Chianti Hills

I rested at the hotel before going out to our "crazy dinner at Chianti Hills." Riccardo opened up the night with a little spiel on the bus about the count who works at the resteraunt and his little problem. He said the count never smiles so anyone who can make him smile will win a bottle of Chianti wine. I am not sure where they hired the performer to play the Count, but they could not have asked for a more entertaining person. He had black suspenders, bright red pants, socks up to shins and a classic expression on his face. He immediately zeroed on the Australian woman from Brisbane and kept checking her out. Although I can only imagine how annoying it must be to the person who would end up entertaining the count, it made the night so memorable. I am not sure whether I would want him to grope me, touch my bum, or dance with me but we could not stop laughing. It truly was the most amusing thing until the music really began. Riccardo orginally compared the night to one from Godfather Part 3 and to some extent I could see why.

We sat at tables with white linen table cloths and the count came along to take our orders. He would write our orders on a pink post it note and stick it in front of us. I ordered the salmon and was so happy to be sitting with Rick and Rosemary who are also from Australia and don't live too far from where I had lived. I really do enjoy their company and it is great fun to talk with them. I also enjoyed talking with Kiery and her daughter who are from Texas and Louis and Olga also from Australia. Like I said before, I have several stories to tell about the others.
But first let me try to explain this whole thing about Riccardo and how it is all intertwined with my memory, life, etc...

I didn't discuss my boyfriend while on the tour, because my mother hates him and cannot even utter his name. We have been dating nearly two years and she has only referred to him name two to five times. It means that I usually need to suppress how I feel about him and deal with it on my own if I want to ensure that our trip together remains peaceful. I had just spent several times yearning for my boyfriend, but at the same time I found a blurry image of myself. I was conflicted between my feelings for my boyfriend and trying to discover more about myself and what this new found identity means. I will tell you more about that later too.

Whenever a romantic song came on, I would wander off and try to call Adrian with my mobile. There were moments when my yearning for him became so overwhelming that I wanted to cry. I would start walking down the stone steps onto the gravel drive way and look through the darkness and trees until I would raise my head and stop short in front of the stars. Somehow I found it comforting that I could be looking at the same moon or stars as Adrian and perhaps there was a connection from afar. I would take a few moments just to imagine him next to me and despits his hatred for dancing, we could be swaying to the beat together.

I remember one time Louis was hanging off the rails and looking at me returning from my usual visits to the parking lot and screamed, "Are you looking for a Latin lover?!" I smiled and looked up at him and shook my head. "Sorry darling, I am taken!" Louis exclaimed with a huge grin on his face and I could not help but burst into laughter for the whole thing was just so sweet and silly. I lifted my skirt above my ankles and watched it flow gracefully up the stairs as I returned to my dinner seat. A few people had noticed these usual disappearances and the solemn expression on my face and enquired why I looked so sad. I had told them of my boyfriend and for a moment they thought of me on the dance floor or just seemed genuinely surprised I had a boyfriend and then proceeded to comfort me by saying that my boyfriend would not want me sulking at the party so why not enjoy myself.

So for this dance floor incident. Keep in mind that we had an unlimited amount of wine and champagne and what I said earlier about how hard it is for me to keep guarded when there is alcohol in my system. I have always been shy of dancing and will usually only go on the floor if I can disappear in the crowd and never be seen. You can imagine how I felt when Riccardo finished dancing with other people and made a bee line towards me. There is no way to fade away when your tour director picks you out of a crowd. I thought if I gave him a compliment, he would smile and then boogie over to someone else. I slid my arm around his waist and leaned in to speak to him over the sound of the music. There was some disco music playing in the background so I said, "You dance like John Travolta" and smiled. Hah! I looked at him, but then realized that I just did another of those international flirting things, which probably means I just drew more attention to myself. Damn.

He smiled and I could sense that this was going to be one of those moments where we are going to get the signals mixed up. I thought I could remedy the situation by slipping my arm around his waist and disappearing behind him. Since he is taller than I am, I can just hide in his shadows. yay!

My plan backfired when he turned around to see me hiding behind him. You would never think it would be so hard to get out of the limelight. *sigh* Now he had a perplexed look on his face, because he must be so confused by the signals. I leaned towards him and just told him I am really shy of dancing and don't like to dance. His eyes washed over me as he grinned and said, "You shouldn't be shy. Your body moves well to the music. very beautiful." I wasn't sure what to do next so I did what I do best - run away.

a dramatic entrance and ironic fates

I will be spending a few blogs narrating my events with the wonderful people on this tour for there are several stories to be told. This series of narratives are about Riccardo so it can lead up to the infamous photo and then it will feel like a tiny secret will be revealed.

Once we all arrived to board our bus, my mom and Rosemary noticed that Ruth was not present. Shuyan looked disapointed, because she tries so hard to be on time but is always seen as the person with the late person. My mom and someone else began talking about how Ruth was late again and Riccardo raised his arms in the air and exclaimed, "I didn't say anything!" Suddenly someone noticed Ruth stumbling towards us. She was bleeding and looked to be in agony. A rush of people gathered around her and sat her down on a curb. Apparently, Shuyan and Ruth were waiting for a while outside the Santa Croce when fifteen minuites before we were all suppose to meet Ruth wanted to explore the church. She must have tripped on her way through the church and hit her head against the cobblestones. Her fall caused her to bruise her knee and scrape her forehead before she bit into her lip making it bleed.

The Australian woman from Brisbane (orginally from New Zealand) announced she was a nurse and broke through the crowd. She was doing an excellent job, but nobody seemed to be taking her advice except to get more ice. People were recommending to get peroxide which Riccardo did and the Australian woman and I kept saying that you are not suppose to put peroxide on wounds, but the others were saying it was like rubbing alcohol. Finally, Riccardo took a damp cloth and put some peroxide on it and began to dab Ruth's bruised knee and forehead telling everyone that she would be okay now. He seemed slightly frustrated by the whole drama and thought that perhaps Ruth was overacting, although he said nothing and wanted to be respectful as possible. I thought Ruth's pain was genuine and so despite the fact that I was the only other sick person on tour, I linked arms with her and began to assist her back to the bus.

I continued to talk to her in hopes that would get her mind off her pain. It wasn't until a few minuites later that I even realized that Riccardo was on her other side helping her along too. I could hear Shuyan saying she could help Ruth, but I wanted Shuyan to relax. She deserved a moment of rest and I felt okay enough to help Ruth along. I could feel the sun's hot rays beating down on me and the sweat starting to trickle down my back. I could sense the heat strokes creeping along and I would have to turn my head to the side to take long breaths. I didn't want to let go of Ruth, because I like helping other's out. I could hear her asking Riccardo whether she would need a doctor. He looked back at her and asked if she would need a doctor. I clung onto Ruth, but I could hear Shuyan offering to assist Ruth because she felt bad that the sick was helping out the sick. I told Ruth that Shuyan and I were going to switch people and I could see Riccardo looking at me.

I slid behind Ruth and was still holding her ice in one hand while the other I began to gulp my water. I walked on the other side of Riccardo behind Ruth just in case she needed more ice. Riccardo turned towards me as I was swallowing almost the entire bottle in one gulp and for a moment he caught my eyes before I turned away. He looked at me with great concern, "How are you doing?" I looked over at Ruth trying to avoid his gaze and joked, "Well I am much better than her." He knew what I was doing and saw my eyes look down towards my bag, because I wanted to get out my hat. He continued to look at me. "She will be okay, I want to know how you are doing." I smiled again trying to reassure him that all was well, but I knew he knew I was becoming concerned about something. We finally arrived to the bus and I helped Ruth out again with the final steps on the bus.

stories leading to the infamous photo

I had dinner that night, but despite my greatest efforts I could sense my health decreasing. It took everything in me just to stare at my waterglass and make sure I do not fall off my chair, because I was so dizzy. Since I am not a person who really likes talking about exactly what I am feeling, I just excused myself from the table and tried to go upstairs to rest. I staggered and wobbled past a few tables when I heard someone say, "Hey, what's wrong with you?" I spun around in a disorientated haze and saw Riccardo eating with Tony and it caught me off guard for a moment, because he normally sits with the other female guide and others. I tried to speak, but it sounded like I was angry instead of just trying to remain calm. "I have been sick for a very long time and I need to go lie down now." I turned abruptly and continued staggering to the elevator where I tried to steady myself against the wall while I waited for the doors to open.
I could feel his eyes still on me as I quickly glanced at the table from the corner of my eye and then entered the elevator.

The next morning was not much better and I heard Riccardo talk about an hour and half walk around Firenzie. Since I already had a remarkable time in Firenzie when I landed, I decided to pull myself away and allow others to enjoy their time. I thought I could simply walk to the meeting place at the end of the tour and not bother anyone. My mom was trying to resist, but I kept insisting. Once the tour departed, I asked Riccardo how to walk to the Santa Croce. He looked at me like I was some poor misinformed tourist who could simply walk from one place to another in my condition. He told me to get on the bus and I automatically boarded Tony's bus. Riccardo thought I should head back to the hotel, but he doesn't know my mother as well as I and I know she would freak out. I practically had to beg her just to let me give up the walking tour. I knew if I concentrated I could probably walk for 15-20 minuites, but not a hour and half.
He told me to sit across the street infront of these doors on the curb and wait for a bus to escort us to Santa Croce. He met an elderly couple also waiting for the bus and began to talk to them. I would occasionally stand up, see him with the couple and then look around for this bus, and then sit down again.

He called me once the bus arrived and I boarded it from the middle and he sat in front with the elderly couple. Once the bus came to a halt, we jumped off and crossed the road. He looked at me as we were walking and said "What's wrong with you?!" I wanted to giggle, because I could not distinguish whether he was just tired and the English translation came out differently than he intended or whether he was genuinely upset because I would have spoiled some pre-paid plans. This is why I say for the most part we were just two people who had a common interest, but it never expanded further from a completely professional relationship between a tour director and customer. This will be important when I start to explain the photo. Then he hung his head low and said, "I feel really bad for you. I think you should have rested at the hotel and not be in pain." Then his phone rang and he asked me to walk ahead to the Santa Croce and wait for him on the steps.

I held my head high and began to take some confident strides before I noticed I would have to pause for a moment, because I could feel my body swaying side to side. I finally got to the steps and recognized the church from my first visit. I waited on the steps and after a while I saw Riccardo walking with the elderly couple. I could not make out whether he was pointing straight ahead and indicating for me to continue waiting or whether he was swinging his arm for me to join him. I decided to remain still. I waited for a while before I thought to myself that he was probably not coming back anytime soon. I got up and took a few photos before entering the Santa Croce.

I feel like religious places can be very uplifting and rejuventating for the soul. Sometimes being close to God gives us strength that we thought we never had. I strolled around inside looking at the different monuments and chapels before wandering around the garden and stopping in the loo. I found the experience exactly what I needed to continue. I peeked out from the exit and saw Riccardo at the top of the stairs. His body was facing me, but he was looking over his left shoulder at the piazza. I lifted my long skirt and walked up the stairs. He looked at me and said, "Where were you?!" I wanted to giggle again, but thought it inappopriate. I said, "I went inside to use the washroom. sorry." He looked at me and said it was okay.

I told him I had something for him and began rummaging through my Ciao Bella bag. He smiled and said, "You have something in your pink handbag for me?" I looked up at him and met his gaze before smirking back at him. "It's from my mother" I said as I finally found a folded white envelope. I handed him the envelope and he looked perplexed for a moment. "Is this for the optional excursions?" He inquired, but I looked at him confused for a moment. We had just paid him for the excursions a few days ago. "No, money for you." I have a tendency to speak in broken English around him, which probably sounds so patrionizing to someone who is half Irish. I find that I spend so much time translating what he says in English back into what should be Italian in order to get the full understanding, but then I end up thinking in Italian and cannot translate fast enough back into English so it always comes out so strange. lol. He smiled at me. He leaned closer and opened his arms with his face coming closer to mine. I gave him a hug and felt a light kiss on my cheek. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and pulled back. I could tell this was another one of those moments when I was probably reacting to nothing so he smiled with a flushed face and said, "Sicilian kiss to say thank you" and leaned in again to kiss the other cheek. I hugged him and leaned back to see the red slowly fading from his face.

Then he asked what I would be doing for the rest of the day. I could not make out whether this was suppose to be an invitation or a note of concern for the fact that I had to spend a whole day in Flourence while sick. I shrugged my shoulders. Sometimes it seemed that I could finish his thoughts before he spoke, while other times it was like a complete cloud blocking my view. Sometimes he could finish my sentences while other times he seemed confused by my mixed signals. We stood there awkardly for a moment before I sat down on the steps and began checking my mobile to call my father. Riccardo walked away to give me some privacy. I spoke with my father and then began to fiddle with my MP3 player to listen to some Andrea Bocelli. I could feel Riccardo occasionally looking at me not sure whether to approach me or just let me be. Then he left and I saw the group return and my mom told me to join the group.

The tour guide made a joke about Riccardo not being there and since I wanted to reassure her and the group that our tour director did not wander away, I said, "He just stepped away for a moment but will be back in a few minuites." It took me a few minuites when I saw Riccardo kindly reminding me with his eyes that I was still listening to Bocelli while the guide was talking. I took my earphones off and then a slight paranoia came over me. I realized what it must have looked like if I stayed behind with Riccardo and then suddenly announce his whereabouts. It was the first time I sensed a slight rumour starting to brew. I looked at Riccardo again and forgot all about my paranoia's.

Once the tour was over, I joined Kam and my mom to wander the streets of Flourence because I really enjoyed hanging out with Kam. We had a lot of fun together in Verona as the two English teachers checking out Juliet's house. We even had gelato!

professional or something more?

Although I will discuss more memories once I can see my photos again and start uploading my mother's photos, here are some other memories. I remember checking into our hotel after our bus ride from Pisa. I was still quite weak and was trying to help my mother with the door key. I stood up for a moment and turned my head left over my shoulder. I saw Riccardo at the end of the hall carrying a black briefcase. His right hand was holding his room key just about to turn it to enter the room and he was looking over at us. I knew that he was probably just concerned about whether we could get into the room and whether he would need to walk over to help us, but there was something in his gaze. We actually stared at each other for longer than usual. It was almost like our distance apart seemed to crumble and everything seemed to fade away for a moment. We were the only ones in the hall just staring at each other and then when I thought the moment became too intense I turned to my mother again and pushed the door open. I could see him turning back to his door and stepping through the doorway. We had several moments where we would act completely professional with no interest in each other, except for a common bond of being Siclian and then there were moments when it felt like there could have been something more if we wanted to act upon it.

tony, riccardo, pisa and international flirting

There are certain moves a woman can do anywhere in the world and the man will think she is coming onto him. One such move is lightly touching the man's arm and smiling. Here is how the story unravelled.

I could tell I was starting to become sick and knew that whenever I sit in the front of a bus I feel much better. I love gazing out the big window and seeing everything the driver sees and how the world opens up and God bestows all his beauty and magic right in front of your eyes. I also love watching Tony drive. It is quite amazing, because a simple gesture like changing lanes requires so much skill! I would see him flick on one switch to indicate he wants to move, then flick another switch to begin the merge into the other lane, and another switch to complete the merge, and finally another switch once the merge is over ...or something along those lines. He kinda looked like a puppetter controlling his marrionette. I loved how he would let the natural breeze blow through the window. I never knew that these Italian drivers had to weave through traffic with such dramatic precision. There were moments when I thought we would collide into another car or unanimated object only to see Tony pause inches away from contacting that object and swerve safely into traffic again. If I ever wanted a break from the gorgeous scenery or I thought the tranquility would lull me into a peaceful slumber, I would watch Tony or Riccardo.

Riccardo was interesting as well, because I know some people thought he was lazy. I could see him checking and double checking his bright red clipboard and working. Sometimes he would be reading his Bernard Cornwell novel while other times he would be on his infamous phone that would either ring every half hour or he would be ringing someone. There were so many things to preoccupy me while I sat at the front, I completely forgot to be sick. I think most of the time the pain and illness is psychosomatic so if you simply forget it exists or become so absorbed with something else it feels a bit like a throbbing pain that comes in different rippling waves rather than one tidal wave after another.

I remember going to Pisa and it seemed that no matter how hard I tried to take a picture of how I saw the tower leaning, it always seemed straighter in the pictures. I would try to twirl the camera around and experiment with different angles when I was suddenly hit with sharp pains in my uterus. It was the same type of pain when the doctor's speculated I had cancer and it was so severe that I actually just collapsed on the ground temporarily, because I kept whimpering and wincing with pain. Despite the pain, I kept wanting to enjoy myself because I didn't want the stupid pain to destroy my time in a wonderful place. Needless to say most of my energy was spent on returning to our cute little train that takes us from the parking lot to Pisa.

Imagine the toy trains you use to play with as a child or perhaps a brother..and imagine the train is painted bright yellow with black stripes with a cd playing imitation Andrea Bocelli songs. I remember approaching the train when my tourquoise skirt began to slip off my hips. It started slipping after a few days in Italy, because I started loosing weight from all the sprinting around with water and backpacks. lol. I was wearing my Canadian Idol hat and I later noticed that Riccardo was the only one to pick up on the reason why I wore the hat (other than to get the hair out of my face.)

We boarded our tour bus and the pain began to ease away, but only gradually so there were moments when I could feel it shoot throughout my entire body. I took my seat behind Riccardo's one and after he gave a little spiel he sat down next to me. I knew that my seat had all the air conditioning and that he had to sit in that God forsaken seat surrounded completely by glass windows for six hours at a time so I asked if he wanted my seat. He looked hurt for a moment and then said, "What? You don't want me to sit with you?" That is when I did it. I rolled my head towards him and placed my hand lightly on his biceps and said, "no, I do want you to sit with me" and smiled. I could tell by that one moment pause and the smile that creeped upon his face that he thought I was coming onto him.

I knew that I am naturally affectionate. I use to have unique friendships with males where we would always hold hands, link arms, have candlelit dinners, stroll by the lakeside and out at night. I would often wrap my arms around people's waists and rub their shoulders as a way of saying I am fond of that person, but my friends and I got a lot of heat for being misleading and since my university years I have tried to be more cautious of how I interact with people. I find it more difficult to keep my guard up when I have had something to drink or when I am sick, so in this case I knew I was too sick to really censor my movements or words. I think this is when Riccardo and I began to think the other was interested in them, but really you just have two people who are quite alike who can end up misleading the other.

We began talking about our lives in brief detail. I told him I thought he had a difficult job, because he had to be ready for us at 7am yet some of these excursions would not end until 12am so it was a rather long day. He told me he had been doing it for years and so he was use to the schedule, but I sensed that he was getting burnt out and tired of it all. He asked me if I was a student and I said I was a teacher. We started talking about what kind of English I taught and revealled pieces of each other. It was not until later that I realized that we reminded each other of each other so in essence I reminded him of himself and he reminded me of myself. We never spoke about it, but I think we knew it. He would try to make me laugh by joking about Tony and since I was still in pain and every word took some great effort to disguise as being natural, Riccardo finally thought I was not as interested in talking to him and returned to his seat.

It was only later that I noticed Riccardo picked up on how I try to hide my pain. I will wear my hat so that others cannot really see the pain in my eyes. I will also look down if you are sitting close to me to make it that much harder to read me. I will also speak softly so that you almost have to lean in to hear me, because I don't have much energy to speak and I am trying to sound as pleasant as possible. I know he didn't let me get away with that trick in Flourence. ; ) I actually missed him when he returned to his seat, but was also glad that no one could really see me in my weakest moment and that I could relax and enjoy the view.

venezia

It's funny how far people will travel to do nothing, while others place so much effort in creating the perfect vacation they forget they are there to relax. I know my mother is a person who needs to be active and constantly checking out the tourist attractions, because she is also the person who wants the bragging rights to say she saw the place. I, on the other hand, want to escape from the drama and insanity and like to do nothing at all.

I had already spent a large amount of my trip on a Christian pilgrimage discovering the roots to my Catholic faith and did not feel the need to see another church. Although it would have been interesting to see the Dodge's Palace, I also spent several nights in castles and saw palaces as well. I just wanted to be with the Venetians and explore the place on my own. You could imagine my delight when Li and I went on a little adventure searching for an internet cafe four islands away from us. It was great just walking around and asking for directions and checking our map. I remember we stopped by a man painting near a church and then wandered a few more streets before going into a butcher shop and asking them as well. We took pictures along the way and just enjoyed the time together.

I love being near water so Venice was perfect with all the small bridges and waterways slithering throughout the city. I also enjoyed just waiting for people. I would often make appointments to meet my mother, Kam, Shuyan, Ruth or Li at certain places and then wander on my own and meet with them later.

I also loved going to Harry's bar, because I felt more connected to Hemmingway and Welles. Ernest Hemingway use to go to the same bar all the time and became attached to his bartender Harry so when they opened the bar, it was named after his favorite bartender. Orson Welles also enjoyed drinking there as well. I find it exciting how the waiters are still in beautiful white tailored blazers, black ties and black pants. There is something historical and enchanting about sitting in a place like that sipping on Bellini's. (I didn't have enough money both times I went to the bar so I actually drank the non alcholic version, which was still very good.)

I remember wandering into the tourist information booth and enjoying the air conditioning and they told me of an internet cafe that also had air conditioning. It was around the corner from Harry's, but didn't have a printer. We needed to print tickets for Li so she could get into the Uffizi. I told her that I went to the Uffizi and Accademia, but enjoyed the Uffizi much more. The bookstore reminded me of our Chapters, Borders or WHSmith. It had travel books on the lower level and then general interest and more specific books on the higher levels. I took Kam here to use the net, but Li and I decided to leave since we knew Kam would have to leave soon for the island excursion.

I saw several men wandering the streets loaded with bags, but would quickly run away if they thought someone authoritative was watching them. I also had an enjoyable lunch with Li, Shuyan, Ruth and my mom at a local cafe. I also had fun wandering on my own when I noticed a salon. I remember stepping inside slowly and the lady approached me. We both discovered quickly that she only spoke Italian and I only spoke English so with some great mimicing waxing eyebrows and lips..she understood what I wanted. I do remember looking at her swirling the wax with her popsicle stick and for a moment I prayed she understood me correctly, lol. All worked out well and I gave her most of the money in my pocket.

I felt so bad for my mother and Shuyan at the end of the day when they were searching for Ruth. It seemed that Ruth had taken off on her own, because she didn't want to waste a day in Venice. I know that my mother was running around looking for her and wanting to see all the attractions and Shuyan had sacrificed her whole time there to appease everyone. It seemed so futile, because they should have just enjoyed their time in Venice and just explore the place with less emphasis on needing to see everything. I always believed once the race from attraction to another is over, what do you really remember about the experience? I can still tell you how the seabreeze caressed my face and how I could taste the saltwater in the air. I could tell you how comfortable the pavement felt in the shade as I sat across Harry's Bar waiting for the ladies and the descriptions could go on, but I wonder how much they took from the overall experience. I really do hope they had a great time regardless of how the day unravelled.

my mom, roma and venezia

If you want to capture a woman's interest, do not send her flowers or shower her with beautiful compliments just say two words in your most sincerest voice and you will have her - "I'm lost."
Before I delve into the secrets of courting a woman, I will have to tell you a few background stories.

My mother is an extreme Type A person. We arrived in Roma on a bright sunny day and you could see a slight haze hovering over the stazione that could take your breath away if you exerted too much energy. My mother has a terrible habit of wandering aimlessly until I become so frustrated by carrying 25 kilos on my back that I just explode into a series of expletives and want to throw my bags onto the ground. If you had an opportunity to see my photos, you will notice how red my shoulders become when carrying my bags for two minuites....so you can imagine what it would be like to carry them for fifteen or twenty minuites for no reason. My mom would let me rest for a few minuites as she searched for whatever she was looking for, but then she would return screaming that we had to hurry to our next destination. I would have to sprint in 38 degrees celicus heat with 20 kilos of luggage or carrying two 2 litres bottles of water. I would race to wherever she was going only to discover that I would have to wait in line or sit for a long time. I wondered why I had to kill myself in this way since there would be times I felt like I couldn't breathe with all the weight on my shoulders and running around aimlessly.

A perfect example of her behavious is when we were in Firenzie heading towards Rome and she made me sprint next to a train that was not suppose to depart for another 15 minuites. Despite walking next to the train to the nearest entrance, she thought we would not board on time. Needless to say I had multiple heat strokes due to this insane ritual of having to sprint to places for no reason. Each sprint made me weaker for the next one until I would have spend several hours in the hotel room to restore my energy.

I was pleasantly surprised when I went on my first optional excursion with Trafalgar tours and the frightening tour guide who seemed to be an equal match for my mother in Type A personalities when we strolled around the city at a relaxing pace. That night still marks the best night for Gelato. Riccardo took us into an alleyway sprinkled with small resteraunts and told us to walk further in until we found a place we really enjoyed. It just so happend that my mother and I choose the same place he did. He had a beautiful Italian woman with him and since he wore a wedding band, we simply assumed it was his wife. We finished before them so we decided to walk around and occasionally walk by to see if he was still with the beautiful woman.

Once he was done, we as a group walked over to a place for free gelato. It was honestly the best I ever had. The people would begin by picking up a waffle cone and then ask you what two flavours you would like. Then they would pile the ice cream until (no exaggeration here) it was like four inches high or the size of your hand from the bottom of your palm to the tip of your middle finger. There was such a smooth and creamy taste that made it irrestible. My mother doesn't really know how to eat ice cream, so someone had to explain to her that she should lick the sides or else all the scrumptious ice cream would melt and keep trickling down her fingers.

It was a marvellous evening, but I discovered that the next night was not as great. I was still recovering from my heat strokes at the hotel when I learned that our tour director actually left people behind on his tour to the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain. He left Shuyan and Ruth at the steps and they had to find their way to the fountain. It wasn't that surprising that Shuyan did not want to join us the next night for the gondola ride in Venice. I had also started hearing other people start to complain about the tour director, because they found his humour offensive and sometimes he seemed plain rude to people. Some of the women were taking an interest in him, but were also commenting on his flirtious ways.

I guess I should not have been surprised when Li said she didn't want to drink too much champagne, because it makes people drunk easier and Riccardo replied, "well why do you think I keep offering it to you ladies." I started to take a liking to him once he began speaking about his time in Sicily and his home. At the end of the gondola ride, we joked with him that he should bring his girlfriend or wife for a romantic ride. He looked upset and told us he didn't want to talk about it, because he didn't have a girlfriend or wife. I looked at him with a perplexed expression, because now I didn't understand why he wore the wedding band. I already figured out the dinner woman was a passenger on the parrell Italian Dream tour.

We stepped off the gondola and the group immediately followed Riccardo through the small passageways and footpaths in Venice when he announced twice that we were lost. I think all women can empathize with me when I say this is a rarity for men. I could have videotaped this moment just as proof that men can actually admit they are lost. He asked us whether we wanted to turn back and ride on the gondola's home or to continue. Li suggested that he give us our money back and he gave her that Riccardo look. For some reason, his eyes always look like he is completely mesmerized by what you have to say. You could still tell by his expression that he was not too pleased with her suggestion and then she joked about how he was so drunk that is why we got lost. Although everyone on our gondola was laughing at that reference, he seemed embarrassed. I walked up to him and said, "I trust you." He looked at me and replied, "you trust me?". I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I trust you. I know you will guide us in the right direction. just keep walking." Everyone seemed to agree and so we kept on walking.

I started to explain Riccardo to Ruth in hopes that my crash course on Italian and Sicilian history and how it influences Sicilian humour would shed some light on our tour director. I gave examples of how Sicilians were like newfies in some regards and by the time we wandered into San Marco piazza she had a new appreciation for Riccardo. She said that I seemed to have quite a deep insight and understanding into people and made it easy for others to understand that person. Riccardo suggested that we all get lost in the streets of Venice if we were to really enjoy the city. Despite my experience of getting lost in places like Dublin, Venice seemed a great place to explore without the need to rush from one tourist trap to another. I have always enjoyed just wandering at my own pace and that came in handy the next day.

I had no idea that I would spend the next day or so becoming Riccardo's public relations department or that I would develop a love affair with Italy and Sicily that would change my life forever.

just read the comments and more musings

I just read the comments from Krista and Carey. I will definately have to find a way of posting my brief video clips of the tatoo and new apartment. I am having a bit of difficulty accessing the end of my Italian Dream tour, Sicily, Germany, UK tour, and France from my camera and hoping I can work something out when Adrian comes to Toronto. I have been uploading some of the Italy pictures and cannot wait for a moment when I can start placing pictures on the blog and reflecting on the whole process.

I think people who know me well will understand why I still see Ireland and Scotland as home and how it all ironically ties into Termini Immerse, Sicily. Pictures can convey so much more than what we can say in words or can clarify our memories. I just started going through my Venice at night photos and it is the first time I feel disappointed that they do not really show the true magic and spectacle of seeing Venice for the first time in a gondola at night. I had so many emotions in me as images of Othello with Kenneth Branagh, Madonna's Like a Virgin, my dad's old episodes of I Spy and the recent film Casanova flooded my mind and I felt like I could partake in part of that experience. I think it helps that I am also listening to Nek's cd, Una Parta di mi and the Italian Super Hits while I look back on these videos. I can still feel the slight breeze and the urge to dip my hand into the gentle tides next to me.

The champagne also made the night seem more uplifting and romantic. I remember a time when I felt like swaying and dancing to the music in the distance, but did not want to rock the boat. It was also the first time I noticed Riccardo gazing at me and I listened to his conversation with the gondolier and I was pleasantly surprised when I understood the banter and jokes. I remember wanting Adrian to sit next to me and sharing the whole experience with him and a part of me superimposing those feelings onto the nearest male. Ruth kept saying the whole experience embodied the true spirit of the Italian Dream; well she kept repeating this is an Italian dream and that is when an image of Phantom of the Opera popped into my head. I guess we would have been the leading ladies and this new blend of Adrian and Riccardo would have been the phantom, but that didn't seem too pleasant.

I remember giggling with Li that night about the cute couple. The girl seemed so in love and the boy seemed anxious about something; it was not until later that we discovered that the boy proposed while we were listening to that beautiful music in the distance. I also remember holding her hand as we inched towards the ferry when we left Venice and how we were both scared of the water. My fondest memory of Li that night must be when we were both searching for the moon at night and bumped heads in the process. I really like how we were so easily amused by the water and the beautiful evening.

I fell in love with Venice that night and it only seems appopriate that Palermo was created by the Venetians and I love it just as much. I remember how San Marco glistened and sparkled at night. There was such serenity in the piazza as we strolled around in solitude. It seemed that for a moment we were the kings and queens going out for a lovely walk at night. As I gazed at a few couples dancing to a local swing band. The men in white suits swaying ontop of a red platform creating an intoxicating atmosphere filled with jazz, swing and romance.

We met Riccardo by the bell tower and that was the second time I noticed him gazing at me as he spoke to everyone surrounding me. I noticed a small smile creep onto my face as I sat next to the cute couple who I later discovered were called Joe and Drina from Canada. We all meandered to look at the Bridge of Sighs. Riccardo told us stories of the prisoners crossing the bridge and pausing in front of the window for their last glimpse at the outside world before the entered a dark and gloomy world of confinement and despair. Okay, so I added my own twist there. He told us of how the Dodge's wife rescued Casanova and as a way of expressing his gratitude, Casanova kissed her. He looked at the group and encouraged them to take a moment to kiss their loved ones and then he looked at me from the corner of his eye. I took a step back as he said that we were welcome to kiss him if we didn't have anyone. That was the perfect opportunity for the Australian woman from Brisbane to grab Riccardo's face and give him a light kiss on the lips as we all smiled.

And that is when we walked to the ferry and li and i were giggling about the cute couple and the whole water thing. hehehehehe. I should get back to my work now, but I will tell more later.

Caught in an exciting and tiring whirlwind

I feel slightly upset for not writing as often, because I do find it so relaxing. There has been several adventures lately and my body is rebelling against all the changes and moves. I guess I should begin with rediscovering my roots and will later reveal the absurd. After I enrolled in the Speak Italian course and looked at a few apartments in the area, I finally settled on the first place I looked at. It is a five minuite walk from the subway and fifteen walk from Corso Italia. Adrian and I will be living together and the ironic part is our street name matches where we first met.

Adrian and I met on an aboriginal reserve called Neskantaga, but the locals still called it by it's English name - Lansdowne House. I was a school teacher and he was a Store Manager. We quickly became friends and spent much time in each other's house. It was not until I quit my job as a teacher that I moved everything into his apartment and we lived briefly together in Lansdowne. Now our apartment is near the Lansdowne station, which only seems fitting. I have been looking at furniture places to see how we could furnish the place. I originally wanted an Italian theme so that when I enter my apartment, I could escape to the vitality and spirit of the Tuscan hills or Sicilian villages.

I may have to settle with Ikea and used furniture until I can think of such things, lol. Although it has been exhausting commuting back and forth to the apartment to do brief transactions, I am still excited. I just wish it wouldn't take me three hours to do 10-15 minuites of business.

I also finished reading a few novels. The first one was Bernard Cornwell's The Last Kingdom. Although I squirmed through some parts of the novel where the graphic descriptions of beheadings and slaughters seemed quite real, I became attached to the characters and revelled in reading about the historical beginnings of saints and origins of the places I visited on my trip. Next I read Nino Ricci's "Lives of the Saints" for my Grade Ten English Academic class and it immediately transported me back to Italy and Sicily.

This is when I decided I wanted to do an entire Italian unit with my students, but I am still working on the details. I always think it is best to do the most difficult things first followed by the easy, because you loose them just before midterm. This would mean we would do Romeo and Juliet and Ricci's novel first and both are set in Italy. Can you imagine me pausing in the middle of my lecture and saying, "Ba bene?" and the whole class in unison saying "ba bene!"? lol. Ba bene means okay? you understand?... i understand or okay...my Italian prof use to do that all the time.

After I made some questions for that novel, I moved onto my Grade Ten essentials class. I read Anne Schraff's "Don't blame the children." It is an interesting suspense novel for young teens who struggle with reading. I made some questions for that too.

I've also attended part of a classroom management seminar, but I became quite dizzy and could not stay for the whole thing. I felt bad, because I missed the first day because I didn't know it was the 22nd. I still watch Wonder Woman, because the show is so silly for modern audiences, but quite insightful on social views of the late seventies.

I also went to the CNE with Krista and Adrienne. We strolled through the grounds and were on tv briefly when I asked an army officer a few questions about how my potential students could enroll in their program. We also explored the different kiosks and wandered through the different gaming areas. I bought my father's Christmas gift and something for Frank.

I've also had the chance to go out with Ellen and Mike for Sushi . well i should go now.

arriving home part three

One of the first things I did when I arrived home was enroll in a Speak Italian for Beginners course at U of T. I considered language schools and even looked to see if Sheridan was offering anything, but I guess alumni always sticks with its own school.

I also spoke with Adrian on the phone and we thought of getting a place together. My original intent was to stay at home so that I could look after my father until he retires in April. I had already spoken of moving to Little Italy and after some research I found two places in Corso Italia that seemed nice.

Krista and I went to visit the first place yesterday and I have an appointment today to see the second place. The location seems great. Both places are at the corner of Lansdowne and Davenport with the first place being a bit closer to Dupont. There is a Price Chopper and Zellers one block away and Corso Italia seemed quaint and pleasant. It was about a five minuite walk.

Although the loft looks great, there would be no way for Adrian and I to put our furniture in the place. This second place has two bedrooms and there is one more place where Krista currently lives that has more spacious rooms and could definatley hold our furniture. I will give them a call today.

The one thing I noticed is that the place is not central to both of our needs and it seems that I might have to get a car. I will be taking public transit today to see what the differences may be and I started calculating the cost of getting this new place with a car. If we were planning to marry, was it realistic to pay about $1700-$1900 every month for this new place? I am including groceries, rent, utilities, car lease, car insurance, and gas. I began looking up prices for a wedding to see if it was possible to do both.

The first thing I noticed is that we probably should not host the wedding in Gros Morne or Terra Nova provincial park. Although the place looks beautiful with majestic mountians, cascading waterfalls and sandy beaches, there are no amentities anywhere. The best we could hope for is a few nearby craft stores and cottages to rent out. I began looking into St. John's where I found some wedding photographers and a hotel that will plan the wedding for us. The Fairmount belongs to the same chain that does The Savoy in the UK along with other ritzy places. There is a reason why their services don't list a price. I am still looking, but was happy to hear that with Adrian's OSAP and money he earned over the summer the main bulk of expenses would not fall under my hands. i only earn roughly $2000 a month so there would be no way for me to save for a wedding and pay for our place together.

Although Adrian's intent is to propose one week after he arrives in Toronto from the Artic and have a two year engagement in order to save money, we will have to see what will happen once I can figure out how possible it is to do all these things.

My mother found my paper with all my doodles about prices in Newfoundland and freaked out while Adrian is on the phone. She has already been informed that she is not invited to the wedding, because as much as it hurts me to seperate a mother and child on a special day, she has no sense of self control when she's drunk. She can't even refer to Adrian by name when she's sober and always flies off the handle so despite her greatest efforts to be civil on our special day, I can already see what embarrasements and humiliations will fly out of her mouth once she's had some wine and champagne in her belly. I just don't want to put myself, Adrian, his family or mine in that type of predictment.

Now that she has gone crazy over the potential wedding, I am not sure I can handle staying at home. As Adrian puts it, the one to two hour commute each way to work doesn't seem so bad in comparison to my mom bursting into my room every few minuites to complain about the potential wedding.

So here I sit this morning trying to expfres what has been going on in the past few days. I am still reading my Bernard Cornwell's The Last Kingdom. Adrian found it amusing that an English historical fiction could remind me of Italy.

I originally saw Riccardo reading a novel and glanced over his shoulder to read a paragraph in Italian. I found the story quite intriguing and so found the English translation in Scotland. I often think about how I read the story in Italian and then in English. Since the story revolves around the early origins of the UK when the Danes and Saxons conquered old Roman grounds, it also reminded me of what I have learned about the Romans and early UK settlements.

I was not sure whether to start uploading pictures of Ireland onto this blog and start going through my memories in chronological order, but I am still having a wee problem with my camera in downloading everything off the memory card. I have Ireland to Pompey and Pompey to a bit of Palermo, but I am still missing Palermo to France (which includes Germany, England, Scotland and Wales). I think I will start uploading the Italian pictures so at least I can send them off to the people we met on the tour and then start doing my own personal stuff.

until we speak again,
happy trails to you...

Arriving home part two

We glanced at the screen at noon only to see a new noticed that read "New info 13:15" so now it appeared that we would have to wait until 1:15pm. We read a few magazines, strolled through a few stores and at 1:15 we checked the monitors again only to discover another notice, "New Info 14:15". Okay, so now we shall wait until 2:15pm to recieve more information. Once 2:15 arrived, we were starting to get worried when the monitor read "new info...." We went to the information desk and asked why the monitor was blank. The woman informed us that our pilot tried to land the plane earlier that day and he hit a staircase. A light fixture on the wing had broken and now they were repairing the plane.

We continued to shop and hmmm and hawwwed over whether to return the purchases we made in the airport. It seemed that the rules kept changing every thirty minuites and even the sales clerks were becoming flustered with all the different changes on whether the customers could buy anything in their stores. We were quite happy when Ellen discovered these perfect lip glosses at Victoria Secret that added the perfect shimmer to her lips, but did not seem gooey when she placed it on. We decided to check the monitors at 3:30am and that is when our hearts dropped into the pits of our stomachs. I went into complete denial and Ellen was trying to understand what we had read.

We glanced at the monitor only to discover it read, "Delayed to 04:00" which meant our plane would not leave until 4am. We would have to stay in the bloody terminal for another 12 hours. We were already there for 8 hours and could not phantom staying there for an additional twelve. We quickly headed towards the information desk where a man explained to us that it was true about the pilot hitting the staircase and now he and his crew would need to sleep. Someone would accompany us to pick up our luggage and then we could head off to the Hilton where we would recieve a complimentary dinner and hotel room where we could rest and refresh until 2am. We could then walk over to check in, drop off our bags, whiz through security and board our plane for 4am. That was a huge relief and so off we went.

The buffet was quite good. It was great to talk to my parents to tell them that we would be okay. Ellen and I even met an interesting fellow from Belfast who was going to attend a conference in Toronto. It only occured to me later that he was probably coming for the huge AIDS conference held in our town. Bill Clinton and Bill Gates along with other celebrities such as Richard Gere would also be attending.

After a pleasant slumber in the hilton beds we awoke and went over to the airport. We didn't have any problems and we were so happy to finally be on the plane. I slept through most of the flight, but was surprised to find a lady next to me who never seemed to get out of her seat. Ellen and I would need to use the toilets, but would have to climb over her legs to get out of our seats. It was not until near the end of the flight that she got up and offered her pencil for us to use to complete our declaration cards. I noticed she was sleeping a lot too and so perhaps too exhausted to move. Ellen and I were happily counting down the hours and minuites to when we would land in Toronto.

Words cannot convey how happy we were when we did arrive at Pearson airport and that we could be with our loved ones. The whole experience of walking around with clear plastic bags had been surreal. I felt like we were in some science fiction movie and no one was trying to wake us up. The whole notion of bomb threats had seemed so surreal as well. Even now I only recall our delicious breakfast at Garfunkel's where we had the American breakfast and shared our favorite English side - beans. I remember eating in a cafe at 3:00am where Ellen had a light pastry and some tea with juice. I bought a juice, smoothie and dried apples and we were commenting on the amount of people drinking beer.

I still have no idea how that man who inspired the movie, The Terminal, lived in such a place for so long. I took the next two days to unwind a bit and start making a few changes.

Arriving home part one

I still have not awoken from this haze hovering over me and I feel like I am living in parrallel universes. It has been two days now since I arrived in Toronto, Canada and for once I feel that I might be able to plan my lessons for the upcoming semester and start uploading pictures on webshots to share. I will also start adding pictures to the blog and revealing more details about my trip.

Ellen and I had quite an adventure whilst in London and Paris. It began when we arrived at the CDG. Ellen slung her camera over her shoulder to ensure that it would be safe and covered it with the camera case. I was pushing our luggage along in a trolley when we rolled up to the check in desk for Air France. A lady approached us and stared at both of us sternly before asking Ellen if she was bringing any creams, makeup or mascara onto the plane. She looked directly at Ellen's camera case. We wanted to burst out laughing for it was the most absurd thing we ever heard. Why would anyone care if we had creams and more so why would you think we would hide it in a camera case? Ellen paused for a moment to collect herself and replied "no." The woman asked me the same question and I offered the same answer. Then she looked at Ellen and said, "for it is forbidden!" That was when we really wanted to laugh.

We were able to check in our luggage, but as we passed through security we noticed people taking off their shoes and everyone was padded down. It seemed that they were becoming increasingly more strict with us and it was not until afterwards that I told Ellen that I thought it may because of these potential terrorist attacks I saw on the news briefly. I thought back to the brief pannel discusssions on CNN and to the tidbits on SkyNews, but could not place anything that would require such bizzare behaviour.

We arrived in London and noticed that there were more police than normal patrolling the area outside Heathrow airport and to our surprised two of the guards were holding machine guns. We were a bit perplexed by the unravelling of events, but still assumed it must be something about these potential attacks. Ellen had not heard anything and I was still trying to place the clues from my unconcious together. There weren't any real news at the airport so we would have to wait until we logged onto the internet to discover more details.

We read emails from our parents and we found out that ten American airlines had bomb threats and supposedly people were going to bring the materials in through liquids. Our parents had warned us that we would not be able to bring in carryon luggage and that there could be a four hour wait at the airport. Although there were a few sensational headlines splattered around the newsagents, there was no real big news around the city. We watched the news that night, but there was only a ten minuite segment that was reviewing what we had already known about placing everything in clear plastic bags. The only new news that we noticed was that we could not even bring liquids bought at the airport onto the plane. The new catch phrase was "Whatever makes your life more pleasant and bearable, you cannot have!"

our flight was suppose to depart at 11:40am and so we arranged to be at the airport at 7:00am. I was pleasantly surprised when the whole procedure from check in to arriving in the airport lounge in the terminal only took two hours. We would occasionally check the television monitors for when we were suppose to board and to which gate we should report to. It was at 10:30am that we noticed something slightly odd. It said "New Info 12:00". I wondered aloud why they would give us new info at noon when our plane was suppose to depart 20 minuites earlier. We strolled over to the information desk where a clerk informed us that our plane would be slightly delayed and just to wait for more info. We were not worried for we thought the plane would probably only be delayed for a few hours and were relieved to think that at least we could leave that day. Boy, were we wrong.

France

I cannot write long as our time is running low and i am starving. i just wanted to let you know that france was intriguing as they don't have a main telephone book nor do they have any internet cafes around the main touristy areas. strange. a guy tried to pick up ellen, but we ran away from him. we saw so many random things on our trip and have so many stories to tell. we even saw seals sailing through a creek near juno beach in normandy!

We saw a great show at Moulin Rouge and had an excellent tour of Paris at night! We even spent 5 hours in the Louvre, because we didn't want to be caught in the rain. You really need to see those photos, because we became very silly in some of the galleries. We also have some great pics in Giverney, Normandy and even met a interesting guy called Dan.

Well gotta go now ttyl

Catharsis: Italian Dream 2

I am not sure how many people are aware of what it was like growing up Italian post World War 2 in Ontario, but I can reassure you through my father and Frank's stories it was not very pleasant. I consider my parent's generation a lost one for they were forced (or shall I say compelled or encouraged) to feel that they must erase their Italian heritage in order to survive in their local communities. Although some of the language, recipies and cultural background may have filtrated through the different generations, there is much that the new one does not know.

I was born one year after the release of The Godfather and subsequently I was raised during a time when the media's fascination with the mafia trials complimented the release of The Godfather 2 and 3. This meant that it may have been okay to be Italian, but being Sicilian was different. The Italian community still clung to their old beliefs and stereotypes of Sicilians while the North American audience loved and revered us at the same time. It should not come to a huge surprise that my generation did not always announce that we were Sicilians, because we wanted to avoid the weary glances and suspicions that we were also connected to the Mafia.

I was also raised during a time when tolerance was only starting to bloom and so there had been some effort from the school boards and community to celebrate Toronto's diversity, but they still were unsure what to do with a mixed child. The goverment did not recognize so neither did society and most mixed kids were told to choose part of their heritage to call their own. I chose Italian, or more specifically Sicilian.

It is hard to say what does it all mean. Does it mean that I parade around town every four years screaming "Viva Italia!" and wearing my lanyards, jersey's and shirts? I look at my own family and it seems like that both generations are straying away from being Sicilian and accepting that we are third generation Canadian and most of that part of us has died. My aunts and uncles have carried on the reciepies of my grandparents and my uncle uses the rare italian word here and there on special occasions. One cousin took an italian course, but dropped it after one semester.
Does this mean that I am the last Serio standing? If I wanted to preserve a part of me, would it mean that I will need to carry it on my own?

I think my time in Sicily has truly changed me, since now I want to move to Little Italy and take italian courses. I want to immerse myself in the culture and rediscover who I am. I also would like a job eventually that integrates the two languages and allows me to spend more time being half Sicilian. This does not mean that I have forgotten my Chinese roots or have forsaken that part of my family, for they will always be a part of me. I cannot escape that half nor will I, but I do need to develop the Italian part.

I was slightly torn by my feelings for another man, but the more I search within myself the more I see that we are two parts of the same thing and that it has to do more with my heritage. i shall discuss more soon.

A Taste of Britain

I am almost frightened to see what my visa looks like, but I shall discover the total damage tomorrow hopefully. Ellen and I just completed our Taste of Britain tour. Fiona will appreciate the fact that my Tour Director and Driver was called Michael. We called our guide "Mike" and our driver "Mick".

It has been an interesting four days. We departed London and drove to York, where Ellen and I had the pleasure of walking upon the tower rooftops of York Minister. We also had a lovely stroll through the city, but I did realize that walking up 275 steps after travelling for over a month is not a bright idea and I was the last person to return to the bus.

I also noticed that Mike and Mick teased me for wearing my Italia jumpers and shirts. It was only through talking to Ellen did I realize that perhaps I should not wear such things in France.

Ellen and I were very excited about the Military Tattoo in Edinburgh and I was able to video tape some footage from the show. Although the show runs for about 90 minuites, I probably only have about 5 minuites worth of the show. I kept thinking that I should not tape much, because something better might come along.

We also had a chance to stroll through Grasmere where we saw William Wordsworth's grave and a visit through Stratford Upon Avon where I was able to relive fond memories of my father and I and explore new things with Ellen. We took several pictures along the way. I think it would be best if you were to read her blog as it is more detailed than mine and I am a wee hungry now.

I think I will have more opportunities to explain things in greater detail once I am at home and have started posting pictures. I can reflect on my feelings at the time and how they may have changed since I returned.

Italy, Germany, Scotland, England oh my!

It is delightful to have your own sun room for everyone should have their own sanctuary where they can confess their feelings and reflect on their life. My hotel in Inverness had two oak doors leading to a enchanting room surrounded by glass and had a small couch for you to lie down and just write. The window outlooked the gardens and forest and that is when I began writing my sixteen page diary on how I felt about my time in Italy.

As for Germany, well it is not everyday you can unwind on a boat sailing through the river Rhine and see a train pulling thirty huge army tanks along the way. I really loved how Germany has perserved the past and you can see how early dwellers settled along the river and the castles they built to protect their territority. I also liked how my mother and I were able to stroll through quaint villages and immerse ourselves into the culture.

It is also quite lovely that Jan decided to teach my mother the fine arts of wine. He tried to teacher her how to taste every delicious aspect, but unfortuantely my mother almost spat the wine out in her attempts. He also took great pains in explaining the nation's history and social background of the German people. It was nice that someone could spend time with my mother while I spent quality time with Iris and Vera.

It was so funny when Iris was showing us around town and would stop every few steps to ask my mother and I if we recognized where we were. We would shrug and say no for I think we were too much in a haze. I was (and still do) think in Italian and have to translate my thoughts into English so that others may understand me. I had a horrid time trying to go from Italian to English to German and so therefore decided to let my brain completely shut down, which may explain my ignorance in not knowing where I was...but my mother and I could figure it out soon enough.

I truly enjoyed my time with Vera. It may have been slightly brief, but well cherished. We met in Boppard and sat down for a lovely lunch and then went to the train station where we tried to purchase tickets to return to Mainz. The card almost ate my mother's credit card and we deseperately tried to take it out all the while looking at the train on the tracks saying Mainz. We thought it would leave any minuite so we were able to whip out the card and then we ran to the train. Well it seemed our attempts were futile for we sat there for an hour and half waiting for people to remove a tree that had fallen down in a storm and blocked the tracks.

We finally arrived in Mainz and yet again my mother and I were not too clear on how to get from point a to b, but with Vera's help it all made sense. Vera and I were able to sit down at a fountain and discuss our lives. It reminded me of the times when we sat in our bedrooms or couch in Australia and could talk endlessly about what we were experiencing. It truly was worth it for me. We all went out for a scrumptious dinner with wine, spirits, great food and great company. We ended it the best way..with Gelato! Iris showed us some great places for Gelato, but it was nice that we could walk the dogs and enjoy the walk.

Scotland was like the gates of heaven opening up and welcoming me with a warm embrace. Tears streamed down my face as I realized that I was completely awake in a dream. Everything I had dreamt about for the past 25 years, all the pictures surrounding my room when I was a kid, and all the times I would mentally leave Canada and find solitutide and peace in Scotland were all there right before my eyes. I was so completely moved by the experience in the highlands and Isle of Skye.

I was so mesemerized by its beauty and would often stare out the window for hours searching my soul for answers to questions left unresolved on this trip. I discovered some intriguing things about my life. I was able unwind with a great novel by Bernard Cornwell called The Last Kingdom.

I met with Ellen in England and it has been a true pleasure having her with me. She is a great partner to have around and we have done things here that I have not experience before such as the London Eye and watching her bungy jump in front of Westminister Abbey! I shall reveal more at a later time, but first I shall write about what I did discover.