Return

We're back safe and sound from Florence. We got back last night after 9pm, just enough time to dump my bags on the floor, skype with my family, read a few emails and fall into bed.

Florence was amazing, and I'm incredibly glad that I went. It's a gorgeous city, and we had sun. Sun (Yes, it's bolded and in italics because I haven't seen it in 3 weeks). The two days flew by, and I would have loved to stay.

But, when I rounded the corner on my walk home from dropping off the rental car, I decided Trieste looked pretty good, too.

Companion

I'm headed back to Florence this weekend. Yes, I was just there...less than a month ago. Yes, I had good company and yes, it was marvelous.

But, I'm going back. There's a marathon, there's a friend running and there's a car going. There's a cheap hotel and cheap transportation.

I provide the weekend.

There are a million other ways that I could spend the time. There's a huge wine tasting in Gorizia with Massimo. There's a belated Thanksgiving dinner hosted by two girls who will be sure to make the most amazing feast ... both of those are alluring options. Very alluring. Less alluring is the stack of papers that needs my attention and that little thing called curriculum.

I'm not going to Florence alone. There will be a car packed with people (great people with whom I'm excited to travel!), but that's not what I mean. I'm bringing myself along. Not the 'me' that lives in Trieste and can rent a car and head to Florence when she chooses. Not the me that just got back from a big trip, not the me that finds delight in ordering espresso and wearing great boots.

I'm taking the me that lived in Montana for 5 years and spent the winters in Bozeman and Billings and Butte. I'm taking the me from one year ago who could not have comprehended heading to Florence for a weekend. The same me that wished fervently that it was possible.

And, now it is. So, the two of us have packed a bag (one that will include papers to grade) and will squeeze into a rented car for a 4 hour drive. And, when we end up in Florence tonight, both of us will be very very happy.

Grazie

I'd almost forgotten that it was Thanksgiving this week. We've had our November break already and there's no long weekend to remind me.

But, tonight, tonight was Thanksgiving. After school (and Italian class for me), Abby, Sarah and I commenced cooking, heating and reheating. We planned a timeline, opened cans, added butter (an important step to almost all of the preparations) and prepared for the arrival of the turkey. More and more food showed up as well ... and we figured out how to serve 50+ people from a table for 8.

When the time came, we served with a smile ... and did our best to explain candied yams and green bean casserole in Italian. The candied yams were the most intimidating to the Triestini who made up 40 or the 50 attendees. The meal was hosted by the church here for students of the English classes that they offer, but the door was open to anyone. The meal was a hit ... people came back for seconds and thirds and then simply to thank us.

Despite the fact that there's no translation for it in Italian, Caleb's gravy was a hit as well.

After the meal, one of the American teachers explained (in Italian) the story of Thanksgiving, pausing at one point to take another sip of Prosecco (something that improves everyone's language abilities a little bit). The Italians in the room would chorus in corrections of pronunciation and conjugation, making the Americans laugh.

Of course, as is tradition as much as the turkey and stuffing, we went around in a circle (more or less) and shared what we were thankful for. I couldn't hear everyone's answers, but those that I heard were familiar: family, a husband that cooks, friends, faith, teachers. I knew it was going to be my turn eventually. While the list of things for which I'm thankful isn't short, the list of things I'm thankful for that I can clearly communicate in Italian is.

But, when my turn came, the answer was quite simple ... and true.

Ringrazio a Dio per la mia famiglia negli stati uniti e anche per la mia nuova famiglia qui a Trieste.

Proof

I've been getting some grief from people, especially on facebook, who take one look at my photo albums there and assume that I don't work. Okay, just because I go to Venice once a month and will be in Florence twice in November doesn't mean I don't have a day job. I do. It pays for my trips, including the ones to Paris in January and Dublin in February. What about December? Glad you asked. I'll be in Venice a time or two ... nothing much.

Sorry. That's the part of me talking that's insanely amazed that I get to do any of this. I'll try to keep her quiet.

So, as proof that I work - fairly hard, I'd say - during the weeks, in between the trips that supply me with the rest of my blog posts, I thought it was about time for an anedote or two about my days.

Today, one of my classes was squirrelly ... to say the least. They came in arguing, they spent the class period criticizing each other, and they wanted to disagree with everything I said. For a while, I forgot to laugh at them. See, there's something that it's easy to forget: they're just kids.

Today, after a bit, I remembered to find them funny. Not in a way that meant I laughed at them ... but just funny enough to want to lighten the mood instead of come down harder on them. Since we were reading a play, I put the entire class in a circle in their desks. It helped a little. Then, after a while, and a little more bickering, I began to call the arrangement the "Circle of Unity." A few repititions of that and they liked it. A few more and they were repeating and a few after that two of the boys named themselves King Arthur and Lancelot and began vying for a mythical Guinevere.

Of course, before that, I had to clarify that no, I hadn't created the Circle of Unity to make it easier to throw things at each other.

Like, I said, just kids.

Animal Kingdom

I'm still working on an explanation and accompanying illustrations for the Venetian leg of my weekend trip. So, in the meantime, amuse yourself with the following sequence. O and I strolled through the streets of Padova on a misty Sunday morning, enjoying the "fall"ness of it all.

In the major piazza of the city - more a park than a piazza, really - we encountered the following scene.

What could he be watching so closely? A cat? Falling leaves?

Or perhaps another dog, being chased by a man ... and deftly eluding capture.

It's a good thing the man had help ...

Snapshot

I've just returned from a weekend spent exploring: new streets, new food and new bookstores in Venice and a new city entirely in the form of Padua. With a delightfully-packed two days behind me, I should be brimming with stories.

I probably am, in fact, but the two hours spent reading on a train (racing to finish a book as I drew closer to home) and the general preparing-for-school-because-remember-you-teach-too of my Sunday evening mean that my words aren't in any particular order.

I'm proud, though, of what I've chosen to share instead. I've taken thousands of pictures in Venice. I've tried and tried to capture something elusive about the city. And, I think, with the picture below, I've come a tiny bit closer. The stories will wait. For now, it's just a man in an overcoat standing beside a canal.

I wish every one of my thousands of pictures spoke as clearly to me as this one does.

Day Late

Okay, first of all, I like Kevin Costner. Field of Dreams is one of the movies that defines my family. It is the most reputable, the least necessary to explain and justify. The second is a Western and the third is about curling...watching all three enters you into a strange, but beautiful, brotherhood from which you can never escape.

But, liking Kevin Costner didn't help at all when I watched Rumor Has It. I thought the movie was idiotic, maybe because I don't like The Graduate and that Simon and Garfunkel song has always sounded a little grating. Sorry, Mom.

In the movie, though, there is at least one grain of truth. One that I missed when I was actually watching it but ended up cutting out of a Reader's Digest a couple years later. Yes, I used to receive Reader's Digest. It was a gift. Yes, every once in a while I cut something from it. In this case, the tiny quote was taped to the front of my refrigerator for a long time. Joining it were pictures of my friends, tacky magnets from any number of locations, receipts, business cards...even a Sobe bottle cap or two.

We'd defined Thursday as the new Monday. A little slow, a little grey, a little painful to realize it's not yet Friday. All of this made the quote perfect:

'Life should be a little nuts. Otherwise, it's just a bunch of Thursdays strung together.'

Considering that Thursdays are now my 'busy day' (what you call it when it's the day that leaves you with a deer-in-the-headlights look, crazy hair and an eye twitch), I'd rather life were not a whole bunch of them strung together.

Considering, though, that yesterday heralded the end of two weeks that have been entirely focused on grading and entering grades, then grading some more, then double checking grades, then learning something new about our grading and entering more grades...and wash, rinse, repeat...well, considering that, yesterday wasn't so bad. It was even a bit celebratory. Of course, to celebrate, I bought a jar of nutella, watched an episode or two of House and started a lovely new book.

That's a nice evening...Thursday or no.

Just a Tuesday

And, sometimes on a Tuesday, it's a good idea to look at pictures of artfully-arranged vegetables. It makes life seem orderly and meaningful...and healthy.

These particular vegetables were artfully-arranged in Alghero, Sardegna, just outside of our marvelous, last-minute apartment. By the time we'd roused from our amazing night of sleep on clean, soft sheets, showered in our spotless bathroom, eaten the breakfast thoughtfully layed out for us and bounced down 5 flights of stairs, the owners of the stand across the street had created this art.

It was a bit symbolic. Everything about Alghero - from our apartment to our meal at the enoteca the night before to the peace we felt about being there - was comfortable and beautiful. We smiled our way through that city. Even when I was knocked flat by a threatening cold, I was knocked flat on the comfortable couch of the 'private' apartment where we were encouraged to stay for the day.

We'd planned our day in Alghero at all but the last minute, hoping for some of the beauty that the guidebooks promised, but not really having done our research, not knowing just how much we'd love it there and hope to return. Not knowing how much we'd wish we had another day or two before leaving, browsing the stores in the neighborhood. Returning to the cheapest internet cafe we'd found so far, walking along the sea and maybe even buying a thing or two from the stand across the street.

It's just too bad that backpackers don't have a lot of use for fresh fennel.


** Abby wrote about the trip too! Click here for all the details and, of course, the other side of the story.