So: starting with the previous weekend.
I had a FANTASTIC time with Joseph. I was spoiled rotten with hotels, gifts, attention, food, and fun. He's a peach, and I'm bummed that he's headed back to the states and I probably won't ever get to see him again...but like the mental chessplayer that I am, I've calculated that he and I should be in California again at about the same time, and there was definitely a strong connection, so I hope we stay in touch. He's been good about it so far, despite his hectic flight schedule this week (his payment for getting last weekend off).
Friday night we agreed to meet at the central train station in Palermo. I figured it would take somewhere between 2-3 hours for them to come from Catania (where the base is)...so I planned on a 10pm at the earliest meeting point. At 10 pm I situated myself in front of the train station wearing my bright ginger colored coat, with my mp3 player and a cell phone to keep myself occupied. For the next hour every time a car stopped in front of me I would look to see if it was the boys, but instead it was inevitably some horrid sleazy Italian man who was convinced I wanted to get in the car with him.
This phrase really came in handy: "Mi dipiace, ma non vado con gli uomini stranieri nelle macchine." Which means, "I'm sorry, but I don't go in cars with strange (unknown) men." I feel like a child being approached by child molesters!!!!
I had one a**hole actually accuse me of lying, and called me Pinocchio because he was convinced I was a prostitute (despite being covered from head-to-toe in conservative clothing and an incredibly bored and non-sexual expression)...
...and which point this phrase comes in handy: "non sono una puttana e tu sei un cornuto. Lasciami stare." Which translates to: "I'm not a whore, but you're a fool [and this is THE worst insult you can say to an Italian man...it's the equivalent to calling an American woman the "C" word]. Leave me alone." And homeboy STILL didn't get the hint! So I just moved position. I was being propositioned (again) by another, and I was pretending not to understand Italian when the guys showed up. I just ran up to Joe and kissed him (at which point the Italians abandoned hope and left). He was so shocked. But I didn't care, I was sooooo happy to feel safe and respected again.
I NEVER thought I would appreciate a big, strong, red-blooded, REPUBLICAN (gasp, I know), American military man so much in my life. But suddenly I could breathe again. I could move again. I could just relax and not be afraid. Most of the Italian men are really sweet and wonderful and I have several friends who are incredibly chivalrous and respectful...but there is a minority of especially horrid and vocal Italian men that just ruin the reputation of the rest of them. I can never imagine my friends Ennio or Davide or Antonio EVER pulling BS like that...which is why I spend so much time around them...because I feel safe and cherished at ALL times. And they don't tolerate other Italian men treating me any other way when I'm with them. But when I'm alone, I feel like I've walked into the lion's den. Yikes.
Sooooo...the guys had arrived, and we set off to find the hotel. Turns out they had arrived in Palermo at 10:15, but had then gotten lost for the next 45 minutes, and having no cell phones or Italian language skills, it took a while. We thought that would be the end of it...but no such luck. My trusty Google map was totally, utterly WRONG. And the point on the map where the hotel was supposed to be didn't, well, actually even exist. Um, right. So, we walked around for 2 hours up on street, down another and nothing. I finally sent out an SOS message to 5 of my friends in Palermo, and bless their hearts, ALL of them had responded within minuted. Ennio actually drove to where we were and saved the day...he took us right to where the hotel was. Oh--did I mention that we had walked right past that address at least 4 or 5 times, and when I sent out the distress signal we were about 100 feet from the door (but just around the corner). Good grief.
As a side note, I got one of my favorite text messages ever from Ennio: Aspettami li che vengo...: ) x natale t regalo il gps. Which means: Wait there for me, I'm coming. For Christmas I'm giving you GPS.
lol. Classic. I probably need it.
Finally made it to bed around 3am, but I woke up at 6 FREEEEEEEZZZZZIIINNNNGGGGGG. The stupid hotel didn't have any heat, and this was the beginning of a bitter cold spell. There was no way I was getting back to sleep being that cold. So I woke the boys up to and we went and got breakfast.
We left after breakfast and went back to Catania. Bill had an early morning appointment on Sunday--at 4am. Yikes. I hadn't driven through the central part of Sicily before, but it was beautiful (well, the part that I was awake for because 1/3 of the way through I made like Sleeping Beauty and curled up in the back and slept soundly). See pic below:
We dropped Bill off at the base, at which point Joe found out he had a meeting the next morning which he had not known about. His sailor's mouth came out and I heard a string of curses that caught even me off guard. But, like he says, when you're in the military it's a 24/7 job. So his unhappy self knew he had a 5:30am wakeup call--on a Sunday. But we made the most of our day in Catania, and found the train station and got the logistics down for getting me back to Palermo the next day, and we had a great lunch at a little tratoria. Back at the hotel I did something that I don't think I will ever forget--I took a long, luxurious bubble bath while he napped away. It was bliss. After showering for the past few weeks in my apartment which has the world's smallest hot-water heater, and you only get HOT HOT for 3 minutes, lukewarm for another 5, and then cold after that...I can't even tell you what it was like to soak in a roasting hot bath with a good book (The Golden Compass III if you're interested).
That evening we headed to Catania to go to the Hard Rock Cafe because we were both in the mood for some good ol' American food. I was going to have the ribs and some COLD milk--not like the tepid shelf-stored crap they have here...NOTE: I LOVE and ADORE the Italian food, and prefer almost everything, but it's impossible to get a COLD glass of fresh milk unless you go to the Hard Rock. So...we follow the many signs which were posted on the street to get to the restaurant, and after a few wrong turns, we arrive at the restaurant, and ummmmm, can we say lights out and boarded up? Nobody had bothered to remove the tourist info and directions despite the abandoned premises. So that was 8:30pm. We talked about what to do, and decided to go to a town nearby to a restaurant he really liked and was familiar with. We arrived there at 9. We walked to the place, walked in, and were about to be seated when he stopped walking suddenly, turned heel and quickly led me out. WTF? Welll...he saw a bunch of his superiors having dinner (ahhh...those would be those 4 guys I saw with the short hair sitting in the corner) and TECHNICALLY he was supposed to be in Palermo WITH Bill...because they aren't ever supposed to go off base alone. And not only was he NOT in Palermo, he wasn't with Bill. So he would have been in big trouble. Ok, new plan. We drove around the little town for another 1/2 hour to no avail. So we headed BACK to Catania...and it took us another 40 minutes to get oriented and find someplace. By the time we parked, got in the stubborn door, and were seated it was 10:30. Sooo...two hours of being lost, refused, or narrowly escaping him being in trouble. But dinner was really good, and we had fun anyways. But you can see that only a few hours of sleep and a whole lot of time being lost had taken its toll. See photo:
And this would bring us to the part about the flight suit. Ok, ok, I know it sounds crazy, but I can't tell you how delighted I was to wear it. There's something that is just so sexy about a uniform, and also it's something that as a civilian I would NEVER get to do unless I hadn't come across this little stroke of luck found in a big sexy military guy.
Before putting it on, I rubbed an entire handful of my yummy vanilla spice lotion (most of you know EXACTLY what this smells like) all over, then got into it, and rubbed myself all around until the lotion wasn't on me and was instead on the inside of his flight suit--and a lot on the collar. Then we took pictures of me being the goofball that I am. See below:
Remember the meeting he had the next morning? He told me after that he was standing at attention and the guy standing behind him was like, "Dude, Joe, what did you shower with? You smell like a woman!" All he could say was, "Shut up." But he was smug when he recounted it, and I knew he secretly loved it. It made him smile, and it made me laugh.
Mission accomplished.
So, that was my weekend.
---
On Monday, I had a hard day. Things were mounting in my mind, and I had been off for a decadent weekend with a great guy, and it was back to reality. Things that were bumming me out:
1. I still hadn't heard anything from the schools and I was getting impatient about work and money, etc. I was getting pessimistic about my prospects, and starting to rearrange the possibilities and consider back-up plans, and I just didn't want to do that. I took no news as bad news.
2. And I missed Joe. I didn't think I would, but I did (and still do). I like him a lot, and I think he's just a really special person. I'm getting REALLY good at quickly recognizing men who are compatible with me, and it's hard to let them go. But, at the same time, it's good that we only had a little time together because I'm leaving for other parts of the world, and our schedules and lives are at very different points. Besides, it's one thing to have a delirious weekend, it's another thing to actually make a relationship work...because reality sets in and you see different sides of people. So, I am very grateful for the time because it was perfect for what it was. And this is all terribly presumptuous of me anyways, because this doesn't take into account his wants and needs. I'm just going off my own thoughts and calculations. Situation normal. Only child syndrome.
3. This week was Thanksgiving, and I realized that I really missed my family. This past summer was easy and I was never homesick because I new that I would be home in a relatively short amount of time. And I was on vacation, so really didn't have a care in the world. But when you live somewhere and are trying to make a life work, not having your most reliable and precious support-system is difficult. I don't have even the slightest regret about my decision to move overseas, and I consider this to be one of my greatest character tests for myself, but I can't help but wish it was easier to see/talk to them. And the Italians don't give a hoot about Turkey Day.
4. I realized how much I miss having my girlfriends around. I've gone from being at a women's college where I was constantly surrounded by my sisters who I could talk to, cry on, and generally just get stuff off my chest... to being in a country where female friendships are shaky at best. And trying to establish trusting female relationships while being an American girl is highly unlikely. They don't trust me at all--mostly see me as a threat. They know their beaus/husbands would cheat in a second if I offered--not because I'm especially perfect, but because I'm a)an American (i.e. independent and uninhibited) b) tall and fair (i.e. exotic), and c) friendly (i.e. not a cold bitchy Italian woman). They know it, and I know it, and they know I know it. And the men don't give a damn either way. So, while I have made a couple female friends here--one is a British woman, and the other has an American mother and Sicilian father but has the American mindset...finding true Sicilian female friends is going to be damn difficult because they would rather hate each other (and me), than anything else.
That's something that really bothers me here. Last night I went out with some friends and my boss's girlfriend, Viviana, saw him talking to a girl, and she immediately pulled me aside and started talking about how ugly the girl was. That seems to be a constant theme here. Women tear each other down, and compete with each other. It seems to me that a smarter philosophy is to view women as allies, not enemies. Divide and conquer...and that's what the men have done to the women here. In places where women create alliances and trust, they put up with WAAAAAY less crap from men, because they know men are secondary in importance to their self-esteem and happiness. I know that men will come and go, but my girlfriends are my heart and soul and will be with me forever. '
Besides, nothing shows pettiness and insecurity more than blatantly criticizing someone else's looks. True, the girl wasn't especially beautiful, but SO WHAT?!?!? It's not in the least bit important. I sent the girl a compassionate thought and thanked the goddess for my looks, and moved on. But Viviana wouldn't give it a rest. She talked about that girl for the rest of the night and more this morning. And it's like that with most of them...they size each other up and then spit poison. It's stupid and I've got better things to do.
So, I've been bummed because I don't have anyone to really talk to who will care and/or understand the nuances of my language. But my half-American, half-Sicilian friend is looking good, and she knows EXACTLY what I am saying, and has a more American mindset and agrees with me that the mindset of the Sicilian women is foolish. In general, of course.
5. The hardest thing has been the memory of Eli. This week marks 5 years since he was killed by a drunk driver. We were 19 at the time. It was Thanksgiving. I can't believe it's been this long, and while my memories have faded, the hurt hasn't. My heart still breaks when I think about him. I knew him longer than anyone other than my parents. I still remember getting the phone call that there had been a terrible accident and he was in the hospital dying. I remember walking into the intensive care unit and seeing Sal (his mom and my mom's best friend and basically another mother to me) sitting next to him, holding his hand. He was unconscious, and he looked like a doll because his head was swollen and totally still. His feet were bare, and very soft. I gave him a stuffed elephant that was very plush and had pink ears...he was later cremated with her. I bought 2--and the other one (a gray boy elephant) is on my bed in the next room right now, and I sleep with held closely. I remember getting the next phone call that he had been taken off life-support. I remember hitting the ground and just sobbing. I remember picking up his cousin (and my first love) Josh at the airport because he flew from Michigan for the memorial. Pics of Josh and me taken that week:
I remember the next night writing the eulogy I would give, and I remember at one point, putting my pen down, getting up, and then just starting to howl and scream. Josh came running, and had to hold me up because I couldn't even stand it hurt so much. I just beat against him and cried and cried. I remember seeing his other best friend Antonio (who would die two years later in a similar accident) at the memorial, and he couldn't even speak. They had gotten into an argument not too long before, and hadn't made amends. I know that ate at Antonio until his death. I remember watching Eli's father lie on the wet ground, and use his bare hands to scoop soil over his son's ashes in the small hole where the urn had been placed. I remember holding Sal with another of Eli's friends Sean on his knees, with Stevie (the redhead and an Auntie) and Debrin (another Auntie) clinging to us. See pic:
I remember all of that, but I find my memories of time we spent together slipping away, and that grieves me terribly. But I have some pics, which keep memories alive...
See us in the bath at age 4:
See us at a school dance at age 14:
(and now Im 24, another ten years later, and this blog is a replacement for a current photo).
And I'm not at home to go to his grave and talk to him. And that hurts a lot too. But I know he's keeping an eye out for me, and hanging out with Antonio somewhere, causing after-world mischief. But I miss him terribly. I miss them both terribly, and I just can't believe that they lost their lives in separate accidents, but eerily in the same way. I'm the last of the three of us alive. And that frightens me in a way. I wonder sometimes if I'm doomed to suffer the same fate, to make it tidy. But, I don't spend more than a passing thought on that because I feel like I have MAJOR things to do in life...and I can't dwell on things out of my control.
So, in the meantime, I am here typing away and putting my heart on my sleeve. Yep, miss alpha-female has some chinks in the armor. Who woulda thunk it? But, it's a new week, and I did eventually hear from the school and have semi-positive news about work and money, I'm keeping in touch with Joseph as much as is practical, I'm trying to cultivate friendships with women, and I'm holding good thoughts and love for Eli, where ever he is.
Again and again I marvel at the strangeness and wonderfulness of my life. It's a good life, and never ordinary. I maintain gratitude, and I ask for things I want, and those things usually arrive. But there are always surprises and tragedies. It's a journey.
But, it's the path that I have chosen, and I have no choice now but to keep walking down it.
Until later, I leave you with the poem by Robert Frost that my English teacher Mr Toone in 8th grade taugth me:
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
---Ciao Ragazzi.
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