My Days at Wishard Ambulance

It is strange how something as simple as music can transport you back through the years like a time machine. This past weekend the Italian and I were heading home from a day in Bologna. I put in a Third Eye Blind cd that I had bought many years ago when I was just starting my carer as an EMT. It made me think of my partner, Matt D., who had introduced me the music over 8 years ago. Suddenly my mind was flooded with memories, the ambulances I worked on, the fire houses I worked at, the partners I had and the countless patients I met along the way.

It was easy to remember the good times. Nights spent playing card around the kitchen table at Greenwood Fire Station One (can you believe I got the guys to play Skipboo?). The cook outs, the movies, the ice cream runs on a hot summer night. We became like a family and even spent several holiday dinners together while on duty.
It was a time in my life when the job was new and exciting. I felt like I could make a difference, contribute something to my community.

After three years at a private service on the south side of Indianapolis, I was hired by Wishard Hospital, who is contracted by the city to provide 911 service to Indianapolis. No more nursing home transport for me, it was going to be nothing but emergencies. I looked forward to the excitement of it all.

As I listened to Third Eye Blind blaring from our loud speakers, the memories came alive inside of me. The music reminded me of how I felt, how I saw the world as a girl in her early twenties; excited to be living in Indianapolis and thrilled to be working in EMS.

I looked at my husband and said (for the first time since I quit my job 15 months ago) "I miss my job". He seemed surprised by out of the blue statement.

"But you hated your job when you left". He reminded me.

It was true. I was burned out and tired of all the crap that comes with the job. There were things that irritated me daily about the work, but they seem just distant memories now.

"When it was bad, it was bad." I explained.

There were nights so busy that you hardly set still. It was irritating when people would call 911 and need nothing more then a taxi ride. By law, we were forced to drive them. People who called EMS because they thought we were simply doctors who made house calls. "I don't want to go to the hospital" they would say "I just need some aspirin"! You have got to be kidding (sadly I am not)!

I have driven lights and sirens, putting myself in danger and also the other drivers on the road, for colds, the flu, coughs, headaches, and (my personal favorite) sun burns!

I have seen people shot, stabbed, burned, beaten, bitten, overdosing, puking, run over by cars and knocked off of motorcycles. I have witnessed heart attacks, asthma attacks, sever allergic reactions, strokes, cardiac AND respiratory arrest. I have seen people killed at the hands of others and ,even more sadly, at the hands of themselves. All of that can leave a bad taste in your mouth.

"But when it was good" I went on, "It was really good. Once in a while you DID make a difference. Because of the actions of you and your partner, a person lived to tell the tale. Yes, there was death, but once in a while you were there to experience the start of a new life. Those are the days that remind a person why they ever wanted to work in EMS in the first place. It wasn't all bad".

We arrived in our tiny little town, just after 6 pm. The sky was already black due to the early setting of the winter sun. As we approached the main road through the town, we spotted a van sitting in the middle of an intersection. I saw an old man on the ground with his bicycle resting on top of him.

"Stop the car!", I yelled.

"But what can you do?", my husband asked.

"Just stop the car!", I shouted back.

I hopped out of the heat of the car, with my warm winter jacket still tucked away in the back seat. I rushed across the street to see if I could help. The man who had been driving the van was frantic and shouting at me in Italian, I couldn't understand a word. He had a phone in his hand and was already calling for help. I went over to the old man laying on the pavement, his bike still resting on top of him. I picked the bike up and moved it away.

The van driver was shouting at me again.
My husband translated, "He said not to touch him." I ignored them both.

The old man was awake and started talking to me in dialect. With my husband translating for me, I told him to lay flat and not to move. I placed my hands on the sides of his face in an attempt to keep him in c spine precautions in case of a neck or back injury.

In the dim light I could see blood spilling from his nose and running across my hand. His left eye was swollen shut and bulged out from under his eye lid.
He kept asking me who I was, what had happened. Minutes after he was told, he was asking again; a sign of possible head trauma.

It seemed to take hours for the ambulance, from a nearby town, to arrive. Now I finally knew how my patients felt as they waited impatiently for us arrive on the scene.

The cold January air was blowing through my sweater sending chills up and down my spine. After kneeling in the wet street for a while, my legs had become cold and the muscles started to ache. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse a light rain started to trickle down from the sky. The Italian went to the car for an umbrella, he offered to bring me my coat but I declined. I didn't want to get it bloody.

As I sat there holding this stranger's head with father winter blowing across my cold body, I suddenly remembered all of the things that made my job stink. How many nights were we out on the highway in the middle of a freezing snow storm? How many nights were we out at the scene of an accident in the middle of a thunderstorm? How many hot, sweaty humid summer nights we were out in a parking lot dealing with a drunk while being eaten alive by mosquitoes? It all came back to me in a flash.

I was happy to see the medics arrive. Long gone was the sense of nostalgia that I had felt about my job while listening to Third Eye Blind. Quickly I forgot the way I felt when I first started working in EMS. It was replaced by the feeling I had in the end when I left. This was a quick dose of reality.

I got home, washed my hands (twice) and tried to warm up while feeling happy that I don't have to do that job any longer.

**To my friends and colleges back home still working on the streets of Indianapolis: God bless you and thank you for all you do day after day. I miss you and hope you are well***

The Resturant Revisited

The snow storms hitting Italy forced us to stay home this weekend. I have heard reports of traffic jams, cars buried in the snow, work canceled, cities at a standstill. I have even seen the pictures so I know that I am not being lied to by my fellow country men. So I have to ask, where is the snow? STILL no snow (not even a hint of snow) for our little corner of Emilia Romagna!

Yesterday we stayed home and quietly celebrated the Italian's birthday. I made tortelloni in a cream sauce for lunch. We followed that with ANOTHER cake (hey we hogged my cake down in two days, well we shared a little with the parents too). My husband picked another Bavarian cream cake with zabaglione (like the one at our wedding) as his birthday cake. For those of you who have never had this kind of cake, you don't know what you are missing! For those of you who have tried it, you KNOW what I am talking about!



While Italy continued to get showered with snow, we "enjoyed" a foggy, gray day with the occasional misty rain. We saw reports on the news of the highway traffic coming to a standstill and felt happy with our choice to skip out on traveling to Brescia.

For dinner my husband chose to go to the place we went to on my birthday. You know, the one that was closed! This time I spotted the restaurant from a great distance, standing out against the night landscape; a beacon of light through the heavy fog.


We arrived at 7:30pm only to find it complete empty. Did I mention that the Italians like to eat really late, especially on a Saturday night? A large roaring fire was burning brightly in the stone fireplace sitting in the back of the room. We chose a table near by in hopes of feeling a touch of the heat.

Dinner started off with crostini, little round toasted bread topped with various items. One was covered in mushrooms. In my past life I always hated mushrooms, but I am finding that there are some types in Italy that I like. Can you believe that I ate the crostini with mushrooms Mom? I was feeling brave and even tried the one with liver meat. I knew instantly that it was a taste NOT to be savored. I forced myself to chew it and just as I was swallowing, my sweet husband mentioned that maybe he was wrong about it being liver. He thought perhaps it might be the stomach of a chicken! I downed a glass a water, waited a moment then continued on to the next crostini only when I was absolutely sure that I wouldn't be seeing the one I had just eaten again (dose anyone know what part of the chicken is the fegatini?).

Our first dish was strozzapreti (Italian for choke the priest) pasta with pancetta (bacon) in a balsamic vinaigrette sauce. For our second course we ate grilled beef with grana (cheese) and rucola (a type of salad) with oven roasted potatoes.
We sat near the fire, watching the flames dance across the charred logs, while chatting the night away. We closed dinner with an espresso and a complementary glass of limoncello.



We drove home slowly through the fog, feeling happy to know that home was just around the corner.

Happy Birthday to the Italian

Sending out big birthday wishes to my husband who turns another year older today (I don't dare say how many years). He wanted to spend his birthday checking out the Van Gogh and Gauguin exhibition in Brescia, but the weather had other plans. After learning that the north was being covered in a blanket of snow, we decided we would simply take the train. Wrong again! To get from our town to Brescia it would have taken four train rides and 4.5 hours of traveling to a place that is only 2.5 hours away by car.

So now we plan to spend a quiet day at home, maybe a movie or dinner out. Who knows what the day will bring!



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Happy Birthday Amore mio! May all your birthday wishes come true.

National Holocaust Memorial Day

Auschwitz was the largest of the death camps where over 1.5 million Jewish people were killed. On January 27, 1945 Russian soldiers entered the camp and liberated the remaining survivors. In 2001 many countries like Britain, France, Italy, Russia, Germany and Israel decided to honor the survivors and remember those who perished by making January 27th "National Holocaust Memorial Day". Services, rallies and concerts are held in each of the countries; everyone is asked to take a moment of silence in memory of everyone who suffered at the hands of the Nazis in the concentration camps.

I ask you now to also take a moment of silence in remembrance of the 6 millions Jews who died in the Holocaust and the many survivors who lived to tell their important stories.

We must NEVER forget!

The picture at the top is of the Holocaust Memorial Miami Beach

My Birthday: Male Shopping and Seafood?

Some how our phone miraculously fixed itself. I had the bright idea to shut off our internet connection to the computer. As soon as I did this, the phones started to work again. The strange thing is they continued to work after I reconnected the computer to the internet!

My birthday was a nice quiet day. The Italian had to work and so I spent the day at home with the cats. The Italian came home with a birthday cake. It was the same cake that we had at our wedding (my favorite cake)!

Later that evening we went to Ravenna to do some "male" shopping. I don't mean that we were shopping for males, but rather shopping for guy stuff. On our way to Ravenna I noticed the most beautiful sunset I had seen in a long time. Shades of electric pink and tangerine orange stretched out across the western horizon as the sun slowly sank. I felt as if I had stepped into a Monet painting. As quickly as it had appeared, the fire in the sky was gone. I call it my little birthday gift from God.



Four electronic shops later the Italian found what he was looking for and we headed off to dinner. The restaurant of my choice was a small little place out in the middle of the countryside. It was only 8 pm, but the sky was so black that it felt like midnight. The only light was the occasional street lamp and we drove through the darkness as our car curved around the swirling, narrow country road. At one point a car was coming at us on the one and a half car wide road. We slowed down and clung to the edge of the road being careful not to fall off into the deep ditch at the side of the street. Somehow both cars were able to pass without so much as a scrape. Maybe there was more room then there appeared to be.

I began to get worried as I looked out across the darken plains. There was no familiar glow of the restaurant lights in the nearby distance. Sure enough, we pulled up to the gate only to find it closed. Why was I surprised? This is Italy after all and it is perfectly normal to close a food establishment in the middle of the week!

The Italian suggested a nearby restaurant and so we headed off into the darkness. Soon I was worried again as the landscape appeared black. It turned out that the restaurant was hidden behind trees. As we got closer we saw the sign "Il Cantuccio" brightly glowing in green. It was open!

We sat down and were handed menus. To my dismay, I realized quickly that this was a seafood restaurant (something not normally found in our area). Those of you who know me, know how much I HATE seafood! Thank goodness they had a non seafood menu with plenty of NON seafood items to choose from. The Italian, who loves seafood, was happy to be able to order a meal that he never gets to eat at home (it is hard to cook food that you can not taste yourself).


I dinned on garganelli con panna e salsiccia (a penne type pasta with cream and sausage) while the Italian enjoyed baby clams and later seafood pasta (yuck). We also shared scaloppine in marsala with potatoes. The food was wonderful, but a little bit too much. We got home and couldn't even find room for dessert.

So here I am, another year older (32 years old by the way). Instead of feeling sad about aging, I am very content. This past year has been wonderful and for the first time in my life, I really feel like I have found my place in the world. I honestly have never been happier.


I can't not tell you what I wished for when I blew out my candles or my wish won't come true. But I will give you a hint, my wish was for three members of my family (S,E and P). I hope to see you all this summer!

The Phone is OUT

Of all days to be without a phone! Several people have sent emails (or called Danilo's cell phone) saying that they tried to call our house only to have the phone ring and ring. Turns out that our phone is not working. I am not able to call out on either of our lines. With Danilo at work and me without a phone, I will have to wait before we can even get in touch with the phone company. Sorry I am not able to talk to ya today, but thanks for trying to call!
Cyn

It's My Birthday!

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Ignore the part at the end when I say "Happy New Year"! I meant to say "Happy Birthday"! A big thanks to Gina. Through her blog I found the DropShare.com site that allows me to post videos. I am just sorry that it doesn't work well with a slow internet connection.

Buona Festa!

January is a busy month in my family with several reasons for celebration. Not only is January a party month for us, but this week in particular is a big one.

My lovely Grandma Abbott celebrated her birthday on Friday the 20th. I hope you had a wonderful day Grandma. May all your birthday wishes come true, especially any wishes that might bring you back to Italy soon.



My parents celebrated their 39th wedding anniversary on Saturday the 21st. Can you believe that they were only five years old when they got married? They are an incredible role model to me. I love you both and wish you many more years of happiness together.



Wednesday I will be celebrating my birthday. I can not get over the fact that I will be 25 soon (heheheheh)! When did I get so old? My father always said that you are only as old you feel. I guess that makes me about 90 today!



Rounding out the January party is "the Italian" who turns 30 on the 28th (hehehehe)! May I be the first to wish him a very happy birthday, even if it is a little early. I love you honey and wish nothing but the best for you.

My sister (in-law) Emily celebrates her birthday exactly two weeks after mine (also soon to be 25), but since she is technically a February baby I will save her birthday wishes for another post.



Tanti augri to you all. I love you so much and wish each of you all the happiness the world has to offer.
Love,
Cyn

Sant'Arcangelo di Romagna

Photo by Karen

New Friends in an Old Town

Yesterday the Italian and I headed for the cute town of Sant'Arcangelo di Romagna. The plan was to arrive early and take a walk around the town before meeting with our friends Karen and Vincenzo. Instead the Italian and I raced down highway A-1, as if we were members of team Ferrari, in an attempt to arrive "fashionably" late versus late and rude.

I spotted the town from a distance, on a hill standing out against the flat landscape like an ice burg jetting out of the water. We quickly found a place to park and immediately found the square where we were meeting our friends, I never have this type of good luck when I am running late.

Karen (an American) and Vincenzo (an Italian) took us on a impromptu tour of the old city center. We climbed up the hill at a slight incline, my lungs reminding me the whole way that I need to exercise more.

We reached the top and had a bird's eye view of the town below. I could only imagine what it might have looked like had the day been clear. Instead, the sun rested behind clouds while fog covered the land below. My husband posed for a picture pointing at the Adratic Sea which was hidden behind a curtain of fog.



Sant'Arcangelo di Romagna is a delightful town with old world charm. My only regret was the cold, damp, foggy weather. We will definitely have to return to explore it more thoroughly on a warm spring day.




After a walk around the town we settled in at a local restaurant where suckled baby pig was the special of the day (sorry Jackie). The cook proudly brought the pig to our table; Karen and I snapped photos like tourist on vacation.

I was a little mortified at actually seeing the corpse of the baby pig. I know where my meat comes from, but I don't really like to think about it. This however did not detour me in any way from ordering and enjoying the pig for lunch.

The Italian and I were invited back to our friend's house for desert. After a short car ride, we arrived at their beautiful home. We parked the car and I took a moment to take in the view. Their house is nestled half way up a hill with a view of golden fields rising and falling around us. THIS is the picture of Italy that people carry in their minds; fields, hills and farm houses.

Dessert was served in front of a warm crackling fire. Karen served the best cookies I have ever eaten (no joke), chocolate chips, pecans and cranberries! She was also kind enough to share a loaf of ginger bread that had come all the way from the U.S.A.! It had been years since my last sample of gingerbread; I had forgotten how wonderful it is.



The hours passed by quickly and the time came to say good bye. I would have been happy to stay in front of the fire place, enjoying the beautiful view of the hills from Karen and Vincenzo's window, but they declined my offer to stay there as their nanny.

With a bag of goodies (cookies, English magazines and liquors) and full bellies, we said good night and promised to do it again soon.

***The first and last pictures of this blog entry were taken by Karen***

Bologna

My friend Veronica and I traveled to Bologna yesterday. Veronica is a woman my age (and don't ask what that age is) who moved to this little Italian town for (what else) love. She is from Peru and met her husband when he was there on vacation. Veronica and I share similar experiences, in that she came to Italy just five months before I did. We are both foreigners in a small town trying to adjust to a life much different then the ones we had before. It is amazing how fast Veronica and I became friends considering that she speaks Spanish, I speak English and neither of us speak Italian well. Somehow we manage to understand each other.



Since Veronica and I do not have Italian driving licenses, our husbands had to drive us to and from the train station in the nearby town of Lugo. Veronica's husband drove us to la stazione through the fog covered road and my husband agreed to picked us up at the end of the day. I felt like a child in a car pool!

Veronica and I chatted the train ride away, barley noticing the snow covered countryside that was flying past our window. Has it really snowed EVERYWHERE in Italy BUT in our town?

We arrived in Bologna where the morning fog gave way to blinding sunlight. We would have nice weather after all. We grabbed a quick cappuccino, took a peek at our city map and made a beeline to the market.

After spending several hours at the outdoor market, we decided to take a break and have lunch. I told Veronica about the wonderful Greek restaurant that the Italian and I found on our last visit to Bologna. Veronica had never eaten Greek food and was excited to give it a try.

After a long walk through the city center, we found the restaurant. It was almost 2 pm, by the time we arrived and the place was full. Lucky for us, there was one tiny table left near the door. We sucked in our guts, squeezed through the crowd, and wedged ourselves into the corner table by the chilly window.

Veronica really liked the food. We happily munched on gyros and french fries. I had to giggle though when Veronica asked the waiter for hot sauce. There was no bottle of hot sauce to be found, but the waiter returned with a jar of hot chilly powder. She sprinkled it onto to her gyros and seemed happy with the improvement. I put a little of the powder on my finger and gave it a try. It was so freaking hot! I chugged my glass of water in an attempt to put out the fire while my eyes teared up. Veronica continued showering her gyros with the hot powder as if it were as mild as sugar.

We shopped some more after lunch. As the sun went down the air became frigid. Only after the market began to pack up, did Veronica show the first sign of slowing down. Seven hours of shopping came to end, it was time to go home.

On the train ride back, Veronica and I continued chatting in our mix of English, Spanish and bad Italian. I felt a little sorry for the poor guy sitting next to us who was trying to read his paper while we slaughtered his beautiful language

We arrived at the train station just before seven. The Italian met us there and joined us for a quick coffee before taking us home.

Veronica and I arrived back in our tittle town, completely exhausted and totally broke! We can't wait to do it again!

The Red (white and blue) Tape

What comes around, goes around. This is a familiar saying, too bad it is sometimes true. I felt all too arrogant, all too cocky as I walked passed the long line of Italians waiting patiently for their appointments at the US Consulate's office in Florence last month. As an American citizen I am entitled entrance to the US Consulate's office without an appointment. And so that cool December morning, the Italian and I trudged through the snow, marched past the line of Italians and entered the office. Within fifteen minutes we were back out the door being watched by the same poor people who had been waiting when we went in. I think I even wrote on my blog that I had urge to moon everyone as we walked by (only because they were all staring at us). Shame on me.

The Italian sent away for his passport renewal several months ago. When my passport arrived in the mail this past weekend, two short weeks after I had applied for it, it reminded my husband that he should check on his passport. We stopped by the office of the agency, who handles this sort of thing, to find the passport was ready. I wondered how long it had been sitting there without so much as a phone call to alert us that it was ready. The agent explained to my husband that his passport would be valid for another five years (even though the photo on the passport is already five years old). However, he would need to go to the Consulate's office in Florence to apply for a visa if he wanted to travel to the US. Apparently America now requires ALL passports must have the capability to be electronically scanned. This, so far, has only been set up in Rome. We would be happy to travel to Rome to get a digital passport, but passports in Italy can only be issued to residents in that district. Since we are under the district of Ravenna we must get our passport from the office of Ravenna, the old kind!

So now we have to take ANOTHER trip to Florence just to visit the Consulate. Since we are going for the Italian, not for myself, we are forced to take an appointment and will have to pay $95 for the required visa to enter the US. The agent warned us to call the for an appointment ASAP as there is already a five month wait. This also means that I will find my American self waiting in line with all of the Italians. I sure do hope someone moons us while we are waiting. It would be funny and could help to pass the time!

"Not the Mama!"

On February 2nd my Mom will land in Bologna! She will be visiting us for a month (it is only fair since I always stay a month when I visit my parents). I am getting excited as I plan our trips. I have always wanted to go to Venice during Carnival. After living in Venice for six years while attending the University, the Italian has sworn off the Carnival for life. I know he would cave in and take me, but now that my Mom is coming in February the Italian has been spared.

Mom and I will travel to Venice in search of fun and adventures while my sweet husband stays home and enjoys the peace and quiet. We have already booked our room at a cute little hotel near San Marco Square called Hotel Kette. We will be there together to experience Fat Thursday, the biggest day of the carnival. Don't ask me what happened to Fat Tuesday. I am guessing that it was a change made to benefit tourism (Fat Thursday = four day weekend).

My poor father will be left behind in America due to work. I am not sure who is more disappointed, me or the Italian. My husband has joked about staying with my Dad in America while my Mom and I terrorize Italy. Nice try honey, but you are STUCK!

So as you can see, I have installed a Mommy count down with the help of the Italian. We hated to post the red lines at the top, but it was the only way we could get the Mommy meter to appear. Without the red lines only half of the meter was displayed.

Get packing Mom. We will see you in Italy very soon!
Buon Viaggo!


Mom and me in Ravenna, May 2005

IL Dentista

Yesterday I survived my first teeth cleaning in Italy, barely. It was a bit on the painful side. I have been to the dentist in Italy before, complements of a broken tooth. The root-canal I had done was less painful then this teeth cleaning. The problem is that I have dainty (small) teeth. The dental hygienist constantly poked my gums with the scraper on accident. Later she I told me that I needed to floss more often to avoid bleeding gums! Yes, my gums bleed easily but that sharp metal object that kept running across them didn't help either. I am sure that this girl must have been using some sort of ancient Roman torture method on me.

I have another broken tooth (of course). I can't wait for my next visit to il dentista on Monday. At least I will seeing the dentist who is more gentle. I hope my gums have stopped bleeding by then!

Bertinoro

The name of this town translates into "drink in gold" referring the delicious area wine. The town is as famous for its hospitality as it is for its wine. It is said that the town's noble families constantly squabbled over who would have the honor of hosting guests. The solution was a large marble column that was erected in the middle of the town's square. Metal rings were placed on the column, each representing one of the noble families. When a stranger came to town, he would tether his horse to one of the metal rings and unknowingly chose the house where he would spend his stay. We found the column, but skipped out on tethering our horse since we weren't staying the night (plus we were minus a horse).

Our friends Mirco and Francesca invited us to join them on a ride to the town of Bertinoro for a big lunch and a little exploring. We left at 11 am on Sunday morning with the sun shining down as if approving of our travels. It was a great day for a Sunday drive.

The trip took us through the countryside, a few cities and countless small towns. We drove south through Faenza, Imola and Cesena before arriving at the foot hills of the Apennines.

We parked the car where we met Gloria and Antonio, friends of our friends, in the parking lot. We exchanged greetings and introductions and then headed to Osteria della Serafina for lunch.

Lunch was fantastic. It was a small family hole in the wall. The son acted as the waiter while his mother slaved away in the kitchen cooking up some of the best pasta that I have ever eaten. It all began with a soft cream like cheese, called squaquerone, hot piadina (flat bread typical of Romagna) fresh off of the grill, and some sort of vegetables soaked in olive oil. WONDERFUL!

Then came the pasta.....and more pasta....and more pasta. First we were served a giant plate of tortelloni in a butter and sage sauce, this was followed by strozzepretti (an overgrown kind of spaghetti type pasta) in a red pepper and cream sauce. I immediately fell in love with this dish and have tried (unsuccessfully) to recreate it. At this point I was stuffed, but then came the tagliatelle with homemade ragù. It was easily the best ragù I had ever eaten! It almost hurt to stuff it into my belly, but it was so good that I couldn't resist.

This was all washed down with red wine, white wine and a million bottles of water. Then came dessert..an entire tray of the house's best sweets! I had to at least eat one, I didn't want to seem rude (hehehehe). We finished off the meal with hot cup of espresso while chatting the afternoon away around the table.

After lunch we decided to walk through the city. Gloria and Antonio had to return to work, each own stores in Cesena. We said our good byes and began our long walk UP to the town center.



Bertinoro is a medieval town perched on a little hill high above the flat lands of Romagna. We reached a terrace in the middle of town and found ourselves with an incredible view. We could see the countryside as far as our eyes would allow. Below the hills stretched the flat countryside which came to rest at the edge of the Adriatic Sea.



We spent some time exploring the town. It was small and quaint with little surprises hidden in nooks and crannies. We climbed up to the town castle only to find it closed.


The walk down to our car was a bit easier then the climb, although we had to step carefully as it was a steep road. The boys confidently walked ahead of us as Francesca and I took our time. I did not want to slip and roll down the hill. After such a big lunch it would have been disastrous.

On our drive home we stopped in the city of Cesena. We took a quick walk around downtown and popped into Gloria's bookshop/cafè for cup of hot chocolate. Yum!

The sun had tucked itself into bed by the time we arrived home. It had been a fun day of beautiful towns, good food and great friends.

Nooks...

...and crannies.

Weekend Update

Friday the Italian and I quietly celebrated the anniversary of our civil ceremony. With Christmas just behind us and BOTH of our birthdays around the corner, we agreed to skip the gifts.

We celebrated by returning to the scene of the crime. We had lunch at the same restaurant where we had our celebration feast with friends just one year ago. This time it was a quiet, romantic meal for two. The owner greeted us at the door and wished us a happy anniversary.


After cheese, bread, pasta, veggies, meat, wine, dessert and coffee we waddled out of the restaurant and headed for the main square to walk off our meal. Vendors were out selling the same ugly withes that we had bought on our wedding day.

On Saturday we drove to Bologna in search of the famous way after Christmas sales. You see in Italy there are no sales BEFORE Christmas. In fact, there aren't even any sales just after Christmas. The Epiphany on January 6th marks the official end of the holiday season. Only then will you find any thing and everything discounted. One thing I have noticed about this country is the lack of good sales. It is NOTHING like the Sunday paper sales you find each week in the US. God bless America!

We spent the day wandering beneath the beautiful porticoes of Bologna. The air was slightly chilly but the sun was out in full force. We hit all of the usual stops including the music shop, the comic shop, Coin department store and the book shop.



Lunch was wonderful! We found a little Greek restaurant tucked away from the busy city streets. Some friends of ours had recommended it and we were not disappointed. I smiled from ear to ear as I munched away at my Gyros and french fries.

We went to a grocery store called Esselunga. I had heard rumors of American type products being sold inside and was anxious to see what they had. I wasn't disappointed! I found American bacon (just like you said Sara), HEINZ ketchup and pancake mix (I have already eaten the mix you sent, Em and Scott). What really made me light up was finding 100% REAL Canadian Maple Syrup (winner of the Golden Taste Award, thank you very much). To the Americans reading this, you might be wondering why this is such a big deal. To you Expatriates reading this, you totally understand how finding a little something from back home can help ease homesickness.

Our last stop was the Outlet Shops near Bologna. We were so tired, but couldn't resist the urge to take a quick peek. It was worth the stop, I nabbed a couple of winter sweaters for %50 off! We went home with sleepy eyes and aching feet. We literally shopped till we dropped.

Sunday was spent with our friends Mirco and Francesca in a beautiful village in the hills, but I will save that story for another post

La Befana 2005

January 6th marked the one year anniversary of our civil ceremony. Against our wishes, the Italian and I decided to have a civil ceremony for the sole purpose of keeping me in the country legally (we only waned a church wedding in June).

We planned to have a small, quiet ceremony since we were having a large church wedding in June. The closer the day got, the bigger the celebration got. In the end we had twenty friends join us at the court house followed by a four course meal at the Antica Trattoria del Teatro Enoteca.

My (Fairy) God Mother, Gloria, came to Italy during the Christmas holidays and was there to be my witness and also the representative of my family (everyone else would be coming in June for the church wedding).


It was a beautiful sunny January morning. The "wedding" was scheduled for 11 am which happened to be the same time that my parents were married. I carried red and white carnations in honor of my parents who carried the same flowers on their wedding day.

Our friends met us in front of the town hall where were walked upstairs to Mayor's office. As we climbed the stairs I heard wedding music echoing through the halls. It was a wonderful surprise for a bride who didn't expect to have music on her wedding day.

We stood in front of the Mayor's desk who greeted us with well wishes. Our witnesses stood by our sides while our friends piled in around us.

The Mayor rattled of words I did not understand, I had only been in the country for two months and spoke little Italian. To this day I still don't know what I agreed to (kidding)!

I waited for the signal to say "I do". When the Mayor stopped talking and looked at me I forced a timid "Si" from my lips. The Italian did the same. Next up was our signatures.

In less then (what seemed like) five minutes our friends began to clap and cheer. I looked at the Italian and said "What's going on?". He replied, "We're married"! I couldn't believe how fast the ceremony was.

The Italian and I had bought platinum wedding bands to exchange at our June wedding, but in December we decided that we also wanted a yellow gold set, the traditional Italian wedding band, to exchange at our civil ceremony. With our friends still clapping, we exchanged our gold rings without so much as a word.

The Mayor presented me with a beautiful bouquet of white flowers on behalf of our town and welcomed me as the newest member of the community. It touched my heart.


Our civil ceremony ended with the Mayor toasting us with champagne, another happy surprise. Our friends clapped and cheered some more as we all drank champagne.

One of my husband's friends thought to grab a box of rice. She passed out handfuls to all of our guest. As we exited the building, we were met with a shower of rice. Little by little, the girl who didn't want to be a bride until June, was starting to feel like a bride.

We walked to the town square for pictures. The people in the square shouted "Auguri! Auguri!" while our friends snapped away with their cameras.



The afternoon was spent eating, drinking and chatting with friends. The owners of the restaurant surprised us with a chocolate Bavarian cream cake. On the top was written "Vive gli sposi" long live the couple. We cut the cake together, like a newly married couple, and posed for pictures. This was starting to feel like a real wedding after all. The only missing was my family and friends.



We walked back to our car after lunch feeling completely stuffed and extremely happy. We passed a small street market selling candy, witches and stockings for the Befana. We bought an ugly witch that will be on display our home every year on the Befana, which just happens to be our wedding anniversary.

*Thank you Pola for the picture of the carnation.*

Befana was here!

La Befana came last night. Roscoe waited patiently until he fell asleep under his stocking. We we woke up in the morning to find our stockings were filled (oddly enough) with American candies. The cats enjoyed Whisker Lickins cat treats while the Italian and I munched on peanut butter cups, Life Savers and Andie's chocolates (complements of Scott, Em, Mom and Dad).

Happy Befana to you all!

La Befana

The Christmas celebration in Italy doesn't come to an end until after tomorrow. January 6th is the Epiphany, the day the Magi arrived in Bethlehem with gifts for the twelve day old Jesus.

On Christmas Eve, our stockings were hung by the radiator with care, but Santa failed to fill them. It turns out that in Italy stockings are not filled until Befana, the good witch, comes the night before the Epiphany.

Eager to learn about this tradition, I searched the internet looking for articles related to La Befana. I found out that there are as many Befana legends as there are recipes for lasagna. I have decided to share with you my favorite of the legends.

Legend of La Befana
One night, while on thier journey, the Magi stopped in a small village in search of shelter for the night. They were told that Befana was the best house keeper in the village and so they approached her for food and place to sleep. Over dinner they told Befana of their journey to find the Christ child and invited her to join them. She declined stating that she had far too much house work to do.

The next day she bid the Magi farewell, but later had a change of heart. She ran out of the house with her broom stick in hand. They say she ran so fast that she took to flight, using her broom stick to steer. She searched for them into the night, but was never able to find them. To this day the Befena, whose name means "giver of gifts" searches for the Christ Child. And every year, she leaves toys and sweets to good little children on the night before January 6th.

Like Santa, the Befana will leave a lump of coal or a potato to the bad children. Instead of leaving out cookies though, Befana calls for a plate of broccoli, spicy sausage and a small glass of wine (I am not making this up).

For all of you Americans back home, get your Christmas stockings out and dust them off. Who knows, maybe La Befana will pay you a visit tonight!

Ferrara

Ferrara, once under rule of the powerful Este family, is one of youngest cities in the Emilia Romagna region. It is full of big city sights with a small town charm and has quickly become one of our favorite cities in Italy. Ferrara is known around the world for it's well preserved 15th century walls that stretches 9km around the city.

In the city center is the towering Castello Estense (begun in 1385) complete with a moat and draw bridge which can both be seen today. The castle has served as a palace and fortress, though today it houses a museum, tourist office and municipal offices. The outside of the castle is relatively unchanged and appears to be frozen in medieval time, minus the traffic rushing by in the busy street at her feet.

Lucrezia Borgia, daughter of Pope Alexander IV and sister of the war hungry Cesare, found her place in the world here in Ferrara. After two failed marriages and countless love affairs, including rumors of incest with her father and brother, Lucrezia married Alfonso d'Este, Prince of Ferrara. She moved to Ferrara far from poisonous grasp of her father and brother. It was here where Lucrezia was able to put her past behind her and became a respectable and much loved Duchess of Ferrara.

The Italian and I took a quick trip to Ferrara late this afternoon. The sun had long since set when we approached the center of the city. As I stood in front of the Castello Estense, I could could almost see Lucrezia looking out onto the city from the windows of the castle. A bright cheshire cat moon smile down upon us and reflected a soft light into the diry moat below.

The main purpose of our trip today was to see the Corot exhibition being held inside the Palazzo dei Dimanti. The palace's name translates into "the Diamond Palace" and is called so because of the 8,500 pointed, diamond shaped stones that surface the building.




After spending an hour at the exhibition, we stepped out onto the cobble stone streets and headed towards the main square. We hadn't taken more then a few steps outside when I recognized a woman walking towards me. It was Lucia and her husband Perlugi, our friends from Bologna. They had spent the day in Ferrara, including going to the same exhibition we had just been at, and were on their way back to their car. It was quite an unexpected sidewalk reunion.


The rest of the evening was spent with our friend Argo and his humans, Enrico and Antonella, who are all three residents of Ferrara. We chatted while walking through the ancient city streets as Argo greeted his four legged friends, who were also out for the evening passagata.

One thing I love about Italy is that furry four legged friends are always welcome in bars and cafes. The five of us popped into the "Wiesner Pub" for a quick pannino before heading back home.

We drove home on a curvy country rode that wove us through the small towns as the cheshire cat smiled from above.

My New Cat

The Collection

Opus wants to be in the collection

A Day of Laughing

Today the Italian and I met Jackie and Lori in the beautiful town of Faenza. It was an unusual day in that it was warm and the sun was shining. The perfect weather to wander around outside.

Jackie arrived first at the train station, getting there just a few minutes ahead of us. We were joined by Lori within ten minutes. Before exploring Faenza, we decided to go the quaint town of Brisighella nestled in the hills just outside of the city.

After a quick car ride, we arrived in Brisighella where we made a bee line to the tourist shop. The woman working behind the counter was more then helpful and we left the shop with a small library of information brochures.

In the early days of Brisighella, most of the clay baked in the kilns of Faenza was quarried from this little town. Large nooks can still be seen today in the side of the hills, left over from the quarries. Some of the shops on the main street are built into the side of the hill, called grottos meaning "caves". The walls inside of the stores are actually the rock from of the side of the hill.

We decided to take a little hike up to the town's bell tower which had originally been built as a guard tower in 1290 AD. (the clock was added in the 18Th century). We took a ton a pictures on the way up while stopping to pause and enjoy sweeping views of the country side (and to catch our breath). I enjoyed the steps which were made with large stone resting on their sides. The Italian reported that there are three hundred steps to the top, but I am still waiting on Jackie for the final word.





We reached the top only to discover the tower, which houses a museum dedicated to time, was closed. Jackie and I took pictures while Lori practiced her rock climbing. In the distance the town castle watched us from another hill. I waited for someone to suggest hiking up to see it, but one hike was enough for the group.

We dinned at La Rocca (the Rock), apparently the only the restaurant open in the town on this particular day. We all had a good laugh when my husband said he wanted to take a picture of "the chickens" at the table. He meant that he wanted a picture of the chicks, meaning us girls.





After lunch we started back to the car. It was time to move on to Faenza. As Jackie and Lori stopped to peek inside a store window, the Italian and I made a move for a set of stairs. Loris spotted us and the three of us darted up the steps like a bunch of kids, giggling the whole way. Poor Jackie turned around only find herself alone. She started up the steps as we hid behind a wall at the top. It didn't take her long to find us and later she got even by hiding from us!

Back in Faenza we hit the ceramic shops. I bought a beautiful ceramic cat from a local artist, to add to my little collection. The Italian and I had been given two as a wedding gift, which I love dearly. I picked up a third using some of the Christmas money sent by my parents (thank you Mom and Dad).

After a long walk around the city and an ice cream break, the Italian and I decided it was time to go home. We said good bye to our friends and begged them to come back soon, with the Italian requesting that Jackie bring her husband next time. He was far out numbered by women AND by Americans all day.



Thank you Jackie and Lori for inviting us along. We had a ton fun, you both make me laugh so hard. Hope to you see you again soon!

The Morning After

Roscoe and Cyndi sleeping off their one glass of wine.

Happy New Year

The Italian and I spent a relaxing evening together. We headed to the Faro, our favorite pizza place, for dinner. As we were eating, a table of teenage girls sat down next to us. They were all ex-pupils of my husband. They wished him a happy new year and asked about our plans. They must have overheard me talking, as I stood up to leave they all looked at me and proudly said "Happy New Year" in thick Italian accents. It was so sweet. I replied "Grazie e buon anno"!


The Italian and I decided to catch the 8:30pm viewing of Narnia. Of course we went to the "big city" of Lugo, no theaters in our town. I was pleased to see that it was an old fashion movie theater. There was only one gigantic screen in front of rows and rows old chairs, no stadium seating here. In an accidental honor of my country (or perhaps England or France) the ceiling was painted white, the walls were covered in a hideous bright blue with blood red chairs. It was ugly, but there still was something about the large old theater that I loved. Maybe it was just the memories it brought back of the old theaters I went to as a child.

The movie was good, but there a lot more duologue then I had expected. I followed the story line, but missed many details. I hope to catch in English in the near future. It ended around 10:45pm and the Italian and I decided to head to Lugo's main square to check out the action.

There had been a slight misty rain earlier in the evening. The rain was gone now and with the drooping temperatures came a thin sheet of ice covering the sidewalks. Work crews were busy throwing salt down in the piazza in an attempt to melt the ice as a small crowd of people shuffled carefully as they walked.

The Italian and I took a walk through the Pavaglione, a square outdoor shopping "mall". All of the stores were closed now, but people walked the sidewalks anyway and window shopped to kill time. In the center of the Pavaglione was an old carousel, it was covered and closed for the evening. For some reason, this was the hot spot for kids, young and old, to throw black cat fire works. Loud claps of thunder rang through my ears as the fire works exploded then echoed through the Pavaglione. I seemed to be the only person bothered by this and couldn't stop myself from jumping out of my boots with every explosion. At one point my husband yelled "Watch out!", as a yellow flash of fire whizzed pass my head. Someone had thrown a fire cracker into the walking crowd. That was the straw that broke this camel's back, we left the Pavaglione.

We noticed a near by building was open and ducked inside to warm up a bit. To our surprise, we found that mulled spiced HOT wine was being served for free. We each grabbed a cup and toasted the new year fifteen minutes early.


After wards we headed back to the main square where a reggae band was playing on a stage under Lugo's fascist, phallic looking war monument. Apparently the monument is in honor to Francesco Baracca, a WWI hero. Why the city picked this ugly design, I will never know.

At ten minutes before midnight the music was paused. Someone began reading an excerpt from the Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri on the loud speaker. I found this to be a little strange. With thirty seconds to go, the poetry stopped and was replaced with a count down. Unable to count backwards in Italian, I shouted out into the roaring crowd in English.


At midnight, I kissed my husband as a fire works display erupted from the old town castle. The fireworks were set to orchestra music and seemed to go on forever. They were definitely worthy enough for any fourth of July celebration.

Almost twenty minutes later the fireworks ended and we hit the road. As we skated away from the town piazza, the reggae band began to play. Thankfully it wasn't another reggae song, but rather an old Italian song that everyone seemed to know. I listened to crowd sing, including my husband, while trying not to fall on the ice. The wind gently blew across my face sending chills down my back. It was cold, but it certainly wasn't as cold as the time we rang New Year's Eve in on Navy Pier in Chicago. Now THAT was cold!


Happy New Year! Buon Anno!