Reunion

I missed my boys way more than I expected while I was gone, and I think the same goes for Josiah.

While in Italy, my parents were giving me constant updates as to the boys overall physical and emotional health.  Caleb was enrolled in a day camp for four days with his cousin Gavin, which was a huge success.  He was having way too much fun to miss his mommy too much.

But Sam had a more difficult time.  My mom came up with the brilliant idea of placing 11 paper bags on top of her piano, each one filled with a little gift for the boys, counting down the days until I returned.  On the last day, there was a bright red bag to indicate my homecoming.  Apparently, Sam was continually asking for the "red bag, mommy home!" before the appointed time.  Then my mom would have to go through the whole explanation again of how the system worked and when I would return.  Sam was also constantly taking attendance during my absence.  Sam:  "Ahma here (that's my mom), Bompa here (that's my dad), Bay-bub here (that would be Caleb), mommy no here, daddy no here."  Every time someone left the house he would have to take attendance again.

When my plane landed, Caleb was busy at camp.  I knew that my mom or dad would be there to pick me up, but wasn't sure about Sam since it was pretty close to his nap time, and figured he might be at home with one of the adults.  I realized after I started going through customs how much I was hoping that he would meet me at the airport...I really wanted to see my boys!

Sam was there, with both my parents.  When he saw me from a distance of about 50 feet, he got an intensely concentrated look on his face and started running as fast as his little legs would take him, fists pumping.  Without a word, he ran straight into my arms and latched on tight, which brought me to tears, and felt a lot like Heaven.

Day 8

Day 8:  I decide to spend my final day in Parma, which is 15 min. from Reggio Emila by train.  If you hadn't guessed it already, this is where Parmesan orignated.  I spend part of the morning in their national gallery, getting my museum-fix where I get to see lots and lots of paintings of the Madonna and child by Corregio, and a teeny tiny painting of a woman by Leonard Da Vinci.  I step outside to find a huge street market in session, which I peruse.  I wander the town and check out another duomo.  I indulge in a guilty-pleasure for lunch--sliced keebab, tomatoes, lettuce, mayo, and fries(!) all wrapped in a pita.  "Istanbul Keebab" restaurant also serves Italian-style pizza, and is run by Asians.  A mouth-watering multi-cultural experince!  

I walk through the giant city park, which just happens to have a palace in the middle of it.

Oh, Italy, I will miss you!

Ciao!  I have to stop blogging in order to have one more Italian meal with my hubby...

Day 7

Recovering in Reggio Emilia. I read.  I eat.  I get lost on a bike ride.  Says Josiah cheerfully, "What a fun
adventure!"  Says I, "Yes, because I found my way home!  If that nice lady hadn't been willing to show me where to go by leading me on her bike for a mile until I returned to town, I would be crying on the side of the road somewhere!"
Thank goodness for nice Italian ladies.

Day 6

Day 6:  Bologna is a 45 minute train ride from Reggio Emilia.  It takes 30 minutes to walk from our apartment to the train station.  Between the walk to and from the train station and around Bologna, I think I walk about 8 miles this day.  Between this day of walking and the butt-crunching hike we did over the weekend, my legs are really beginning to ache.   Although I am in pain, I am happy, because this means that surely I can continue my daily consumption of gelato without guilt.
In Bologna, I get a little frustrated, as it is Monday, and I had forgotten how many museums and shops are closed on this day.  I keep walking around, looking for such and such a sight, only to find that it is--closed.  I do manage to explore three churches (one of which is the fifth largest Basilica in the world), a medieval quarter filled with mouth-watering food shops, numerous sculptures, an ancient library, and...well, more.  the funny thing about Europe, and part of why I love it so much, is that you can be searching for item A which is listed in your guide-book as a must-see, perhaps fail to find it, but stumble upon item B, which is not in the guide book, such as this:

Or perhaps this:

Or maybe this:

Europe is full of history and amazing architecture every where you look!

Day 3-5

It's hot.  REALLY hot.  Josiah and I had planned to go to Bologna for the weekend, but we quickly scrap that plan and decide to head to Vernazza in Cinque Terre, a beautiful little city on the beach we visited together 9 years ago.  When we roll into town after our 3 and a half hour train ride, we drop off our luggage and head straight to the beach.  We end up at an amazing restaurant, which turns out to be the same one we ate at 9 years ago, and even have the same meal...which we don't realize until the end.  Fresh bread, local wine by the carafe, ravioli stuffed with spinach and ricotta in a white walnut sauce...oh the food we ate!  Italy is worth a trip for the food alone.  We also get our fill of gelatto and fresh foccacia bread during this trip...these are things I will dearly miss when I return home. (guess I'll have to learn how to make foccacia)

Since 2004, Cinque Terre has aquired national park status, and you must purchase a ticket to hike from town to town.  We decide to hike from Vernazza to Monterrosso, which looks like a pretty easy hour and a half hike on the map, but turns out to be quite strenuous, with it's steep stone stairways up and down the mountain.  We truly enjoy every minute of our new butt-crunching workout, however, due to the beautiful countryside and views of the towns and ocean.

 We spend the rest of the time laying on the beach, swimming, eating, and then--surprise!  It turns out that the town is having a special festival, which we find out when a parade starts making it down the one, cobbled, tiny street through town. There is some sort of religious aspect to it, and all the children are dressed in little white outfits with black collars and red bows, and they proceed back up the street where they meet a priest in front of a picture of Mary and say some sort of prayer.

Later that evening we are treated to an hour and a half long performance of Vivaldi by an amateur brass band.  Watching the locals during the performance proves to be just as entertaining as the performance itself.  One man with a bushy mustache watches the entire concert through his phone while grinning ecstatically.  we can only guess which teenager in the band belongs to him and how embarrassed they will be by this recording for years to come.  There are also a band of young children who run around the town, apparently unsupervised.  We decide they must be in charge. Of everything.  They play tag during the performance, disrupting the elderly and knocking over tourists. Since they town is so small we start giving nicknames to the people we see repeatedly.  Oh, there's speedo-man.  Comb-over guy.  Neck-beard. Maybe that's not very nice.  But then again, who wears a speedo all day with only tennis-shoes?  That's definitely going to garner some attention.

By the time the concert is over, the entire town has assembled on the piazza next to the beach in anticipation of the fireworks show.  This is no small-town fireworks show...all day men have been unloading giant canons onto the jetti that is next to the beach.  The fireworks show is astounding close--which means that it is LOUD, BIG, and kind of SCARY. Occassionally the fireworks don't go up, but out, and explode in the water, at which point everyone stands up and gasps and we can't help but wonder, "was that supposed to happen?" and, "hmmm...what if they accidently point that at the piazza?"

Returning to Vernazza was truly the best possible way for us to celebrate our 10 years of marriage together.  When we first came to Vernazza, we were young, had been married only a year, and at the very beginning of our journey.  Now, after ten years together, we were able to reflect on how life has changed since then, how many wonderful memories we've created, and how we are looking forward to another ten years together.  Who knows, maybe we'll return again for our 20th anniversary?

Italy!

It's late afternoon the day before I leave Italy for Seattle and I find myself with a charged computer, a cold diet coke, and
some free time while Josiah is in rehearsal--seems like the perfect opportunity to do a little journaling about my time here
in Italy, since when I get back I know I will have to hit the ground running and return to my parental role full-time. 
So here goes...

Day 1 and 2:  Reggio Emilia, where Josiah is attending his theatre classes, is a "small" town of about 180,000.  It's right
in the thick of things, and you can easily get to Parma, Bologna, Pisa, Florence, Venice, and more in 3 hours or less.
The first couple days I stick to Reggio Emilia. I'm still recovering from Jet Leg, as well as trying to adjust to the fact
that I have hours to myself while Josiah is in class.  There is no one to interrupt my thoughts, no one who is dependent on
me to have their needs met, no one who needs to be fed.  There is just...ME!  I do not remember the last time I have had an
entire day to myself.  It takes me a few hours to wrap my head around this new state of being and stop feeling guilty for
beginning to enjoy this time away from my doting children, but after I let go of the mommy-guilt I find this new-found
independence to be GLORIOUS! (cue angels singing)  

I drink Cappuccinos in cafes and read books.  I peruse bakeries, grocery stores, and shops at my leisure.  I play paparazzi
during Josiah's outdoor rehearsal in the park and get the following pictures:

Each evening, one half of Josiah's class does a performance for the other half of the class, which I am allowed to attend. 
It's so fun to see what they are doing, albeit a little confusing.  The 30 students in the class are from all over the world,
and during the performance, Spanish, French, Italian, Russian, and English are spoken.  Thankfully for everyone, Commedia is
an extremely physical style of comedy, which translates well between cultures.  Because guess what?  Jokes about passing gas,
falling on your face, sexual humor, and mistaken identities are apparently funny all over the world!

I won't go in to a description of Commedia too much, but in order to understand the pictures, there are a couple things you
should know.  In commedia, the actors play different characters which have been honed over hundreds of years.  In order to
indicate these characters, many of the actors wear masks and walk and talk in a very specific, stylized manner.  All of the
zanni, or servants, also carry a "slapstick" (yes, this is where the term "slapstick comedy" comes from) which is used to
make a loud slapping noise when they want to "hit" another person--which happens quite often in Commedia. 

On the second evening, Antonio Fava (the teacher) and his theatre troupe have a special community performance of a Commedia
Del'arte play.  Even though I don't speak a lick of Italian, I am able to understand much of the play, and enjoy the
experience thoroughly.