Airport Tears

My love/hate relationship with the airport continues....

Since meeting the Italian seven years ago, I find myself crying at airports often. Saying good bye to him at the end of a visit was extremely hard since we never knew exactly when, or if, we would see each other again. You would have thought that things would be easier when I moved to Italy, but airports still make me cry.

Often the Italian stays behind, due to work, when I go back home to visit. I cry when saying good bye to him, even though I am thrilled to be going back to the States. And when I leave America, I am a river of tears, as saying good bye to my family gets harder, not easier, with each visit. Good byes in America have become even more difficult now that I have a beautiful little niece that I have to leave behind. The last time I said good bye to Cara at the Indianapolis airport, I cried the entire length of my concourse and continued to cry as I sat in my chair waiting for the plane to board. The more I tried to stop, the harder I cried. At last a flight attendant asked me if I was okay. I thought she was going to slap me when I responded through my tears, "Yeah. Its just that I have to go Italy." It is all I was able to get out before more tears came. "Whats wrong with Italy?" she asked not understanding the situation.

I am happy to say that I am preparing myself for another tearful airport moment, but this time the tears will be ones of happiness. This Wednesday, in just two short days, the Italian and I will travel to Bologna to pick my parents up at the airport. It is their first trip to Italy together in three years and they will be spending the summer with us.

There are so many wonderful things going on in Italy during the summer like outdoor concerts, town festivals, evening flea markets, beach life, and movies "sotto le stelle", under the stars; things I have always told them about and have wanted to share with them since my first summer in Italy. This summer they will be here to experience it all with us.

It fills my heart with happiness to think that Mom and Dad will be here and just the thought of hugging them at the airport makes me cry.

The last time we were all together;
Road trip,
summer 2008,
somewhere in America
heading east

See you soon Mom and Dad.....

Happy Birthday Day Dad!

Sending birthday wishes across the miles! Just think Dad, in one week from today we will be arriving at the airport in Bologna! Can't wait to see you and to celebrate your many, many, many, many, many, many (uh, what was I saying? Oh yeah..) many, years on this planet! But really, where were you before you came to earth?

Work on your shark research and we will discuss our findings at the International Shark Research Conference 2008 held at the Island of Vague Foreign Accents.

(click on photo to enlarge)

Now go away or I shall taunt you a second time! And have a wonderful birthday!
Love,
Cyn
(anyone else reading this shall think we are strange. And they wouldn't be wrong)!

My Love Affair with Cats

A few weeks ago I spotted a poster advertising the musical "Cats" at a theater in Forli. I assumed it was a local group doing the Italian version of the show, but that didn't matter. Cats is one of my favorite musicals of all time and I wasn't about to miss it. The Italian and I jumped on our motorbike and drove to Faenza where we bought two tickets from a tiny, record shop. As we entered, I spotted a twenty-something year-old behind the counter, dressed in all black and adorned with tattoos and piercings. The Italian first asked for tickets to a rock concert he was planing to see with his friends. When his turn was finished, I was up to bat. I half expected the "young punk" to laugh in my face when I asked for two tickets to Cats. You know that old saying "never judge a book by its cover"? Well it is absolutely true. The next thing I knew I was discussing the musical in Italian with the guy!

"I wonder if it is in English," I said.

"I hope so," he said "musicals are always better in their original language."

At the end of our conversation I left the record shop with my tickets in hand and pleasantly surprised that the tattooed man just as happy about seeing Cats as I was.

Even better, I found out that Cats will be performed by a professional group and in its original language. The tour is only stopping in four Italian cities:Venice, Milan, Forli, and Caserta. I am really excited to be seeing Cats tonight. I only wish that my Mom could be here to see it with me. We have a bit of a history with this musical and it would be fun to share the evening with her.

Way back when I was a kid, my Mom took me to see Cats in Chicago when the Broadway troupe went on a national tour. For reasons that are now lost to time, my father and brother could not go with us. Somehow, we ended up with one extra ticket and Mom told me I could bring a friend along for an over night trip to the Windy City. Frantically I began calling my friends in hopes of finding someone who could go at the last minute. The first person I called was my best friend Jill. I was crushed when she told me she could go. Down the list of friends I went, trying desperately to find someone who could go with us. One by one, they all said no.

The older I get the more I am finding that I can not remember the past clearly. Events stand out in my mind, the details are gone. I can not remember if I ever found a friend to join us in Chicago. I don't even remember much about the trip itself. What I do remember is going to see the show for the very first time with my Mom and loving it. I have loved Cats ever since.

(the original London Cast of 1981)

In high school, the Broadway troupe was on tour again and this time they stopped in the small city where I lived (Fort Wayne, Indiana). That night I saw Cats with my parents and a group of family friends. It was just as magical as I had remembered it to be as a child.

Later in life, I was reunited with the show again. I was living in Indianapolis at the time, working on an ambulance. As a part time job, I worked first aid at Clowes Hall at Butler University. It was a great job because I was paid to be at the theater while there was a performance. Needless to say, there were never many medical emergencies during the shows and so most of the time I chatted with the staff or watch the performance for free. One season Cats came to Clowes Hall as a part of their Broadway series. Each performance I worked, I watched the show. One night I even called my Mom during the song "Memories". She wasn't home, but the answering machine picked up. I held my cell phone up and the machine recorded a part of the song for my Mom to hear when she got home. Several nights later, she sat with me in box seats in the balcony, where we were so close to the cats that we could almost touch their whiskers.


Also while living in Indy, we found out that Beef and Board was going to have their own performance of Cats. We coughed up the $45 per ticket and booked our seats. What was fun about this performance was that it took place at a dinner theater. Before the show, we enjoyed an all-you-can-eat-buffet complete with mashed potatoes and roast beef. After dinner, we sat our table and enjoy the show. The theater was small and intimate. It was just perfect.


And so you see, the musical "Cats" holds a very special place in my heart. I have literally grown up with the show and have seen it during all the stages of my life. How fitting that Cats has followed me to Italy. I will go tonight with a smile on my face and thoughts of my Mom in my heart. I hope that in ten years, I can add the memory of tonight to my list. The night I saw Cats in Italy with my beautiful husband when I was a thirty-something girl....

"Let the memories live again"

Happy Father's Day

My father is a psychology professor at a university in Indiana. Some of my earliest (and favorite) memories involve me hanging out with my Dad in his laboratory, while he tried to get a little work done.

From the very start of our lives my brother, Scott, and I were exposed to my Dad's passion for science and history. Back in the days before the History or Discover Channels, educational shows could only be seen on PBS (public broadcasting system). Many nights, we sat on the couch with our Dad, watching shows about evolution or the big bang theory. We learned about the stars, dinosaurs, ancient history, life, the universe, and everything.

It was at a young age when I first became interested in the sciences and for a while, shared my father's interest in dinosaurs. At some time during elementary school, I decided I would rather be a marine biologist than I paleontologist. My father was sweet enough to indulge me during in my Lochness Monster phase; encouraging me read any book I could find on the subject while knowing that Nessy was more legend than science. And I am sure he was disappointed when I gave up marine biology to become a Rocket at Radio City Hall in New York, though he never showed it.


During our middle school years, when we thought our parents didn't know a thing, my father proved to be far smarter than we gave him credit for. Instead of sending us to our rooms as a punishment when we were in trouble, we were forced to sit with him and watch PBS! It is something we laugh at to this day, but at the time it really ticked us off.

How fitting it is that both my brother and I now love watching the History and Discover channel. And when I am watching a particutalry interesting show, I just can't wait to get my Dad on the phone to tell him all about it.


Happy Father's Dad. Thank you for opening our eyes to world, when we tried dearly to keep them shut. I can not WAIT to see you in Italy! There are so many things in Rome that I have waited a long time to show you. I am sure that you and I will be able to bore the heck out of Mom! See you soon!

Love,
me

Buon Aniversario Amore Mio

The first time I met the Italian, in person, was in July of 2001. I didn't know it then, or maybe I wasn't ready to admit it, but I was in love with him before we ever met face to face.

I was nervous that hot summer day as I watched him for him at the gate. What if we didn't recognize each other? What if he wasn't the wonderful person he had appeared to be in our long distant chats and emails? But the moment I saw him, my doubts dispeared. I recognized him instantly. I still remember how I felt as I saw him exit the plane; my stomach a ball of nerves. The airport was busy with summer travelers and I stood at the back of the crowd, partly hidden by giant pillar. His eyes lit up when they met mine, a giant smile spread across his face and, as if in a cheesy, romance novel, time stood still.

The first gift the Italian ever gave me was a CD he had bought in Italy. It was "Amore nel Pomeriggio" (Love in the Afternoon) by Francesco de Gregori and, to this day, it is still my favorite CD. There are so many wonderful songs on this CD and when I listen to the music, I am reminded of our first summer together as if it had just happened last month. One song in particular became my favorite. When I listen to it today, I can still picture us slow dancing in our pajamas in my apartment in Indianapolis, the room filled with candle light, and tears running down my face at the thought of saying good bye.

After the Italian returned home, I listened to this CD over and over. The quiet music was soothing and the sound of De Gregori singing in Italian made my Italian seem as if he weren't so far away.

The words of the song where also important to me during those years apart. Francesco, who writes poetic lyrics, simply says this: no matter where life takes you, all you have to do is look for me and you will find me on the same side. He could be talking about several different things, but I always took it mean "I'm always with you".

I could have never have guessed back then that our love would endure the miles and time apart. I could never haven known that our love would bring me to Italy, where we would marry and promise to spend a life time together. And when I listen to this CD now, I remember those months a part, those sad good byes at the airports, the late night phone calls, the heart ache of not being with the one you love. This CD reminds me of how lucky I am to be here, to have found the Italian, and to have followed my dreams and my heart by moving to Italy.

June 11, 2005

It wasn't hard to pick a song to dance to on our wedding day. We chose the last song on the Amore nel Pomerggio CD. The one when in which De Gregori sings about love.... As I danced with my new husband in front of our friends and family, wearing a gorgeous white, wedding gown of lace and beads, I closed my eyes. For a moment we were back in my tiny apartment in Indianapolis, dancing to "our song", in pajamas.

Always and Forever

Rain and sun change
the face to people,
They make a mess of the heart,
It comes and goes
but never stops.

Always and forever
you remember
wherever you are,
If you look for me
you will find me on the same side.

I watch the people go, get lost, and return,
and get lost again.
And they reach out with empty hands.
With the same shoes
they walk on different streets,
or with different shoes
they walk on the same street.

Do not believe
if someone tells you I have changed.
Rain and sun
bark and bite,
but they leave.
They leave time as it is (nothing changes).

And true love can
hide itself,
disappear in a crowd,
but it can never be lost.

Always and forever,
On the same side
you will find me.
Always and forever,
On the same side
you will find me.




Sempre per Sempre

Pioggia e sole
cambiano
la faccia alle persone
Fanno il diavolo a quattro nel cuore e passano
e tornano
e non la smettono mai
Sempre e per sempre tu
ricordati
dovunque sei,
se mi cercherai
Sempre e per sempre
dalla stessa parte mi troverai
Ho visto gente andare, perdersi e tornare
e perdersi ancora
e tendere la mano a mani vuote
E con le stesse scarpe camminare
per diverse strade
o con diverse scarpe
su una strada sola
Tu non credere
se qualcuno ti dirà
che non sono più lo stesso ormai
Pioggia e sole abbaiano e mordono
ma lasciano,
lasciano il tempo che trovano
E il vero amore può
nascondersi,
confondersi
ma non può perdersi mai
Sempre e per sempre
dalla stessa parte mi troverai
Sempre e per sempre
dalla stessa parte mi troverai

Happy Anniversary amore mio.
Non c'e due senza tre!

The Start of the Season

At the first signs of warmer weather we headed straight for the garage where we found our motorcycle, slightly buried behind a lawn mower and Christmas boxes. We pulled it out of the garage and into our courtyard, and proceeded to dust off a winter's worth of dirt. The Italian put the key in, turned it, and gave the bike a few revs on the throttle. Just as we suspected, it choked and sputtered before shutting down entirely. Like every spring, our motorbike was going to need a little convincing to come out of hibernation.

After a dance with jumper cables and a stop at the gasoline station, we were on our way with the Italian driving and I sitting behind him, a sky blue helmet on my head and a Cheshire cat smile on my face. Within minutes we were zooming through the Italian countryside and I watched in sheer delight as we whizzed pass the vineyards and fruit orchards. I closed my eyes for a moment enjoying the wind on my face and the warm sun kissing my pale, winter cheeks.



We had only been driving for a few minutes when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. For a brief moment, I couldn't understand what the blur of color was that had flashed by me. I turned, without letting go of the Italian, just in time to see my blue scarf fly away. It had been caught by the wind and ripped right off of my neck.

I watched in surprise, a powder blue snake dancing in mid air. It was if my scarf was rejoicing in its new found freedom. Then suddenly the wind died and I watched as it fell lifelessly to the ground, landing smack dab in the middle of the street.

Normally, this stretch of country road is empty, but on this particular day, at the very moment of my scarf's escape, a parade had appeared. Behind us was another motorcylce, followed by no less than four cars; all waiting to have their chance at driving over my beautiful scarf.

I tapped the Italian on the shoulder who immediately thought I was just saying hi. He tapped my leg back and continued driving. I taped again, this time more frantically, as I yelled "My scarf! My scarf!" But my screams were in vain for the moment they left my lips, they were immediately swallowed by the drones of the motorbike.

Thanks to my frantic tapping, the Italian slowed down to the point that I could be heard over the engine of the bike. "My scar!", I repeated like a broken record. For moment he understood that I wanted to go home and get a scarf, but he soon understood that his graceful, American wife has lost her scarf to the wind.

"Why are you wearing a scarf on a motorbike ride?" he growled in accented English.

"Because I thought it might be chilly with the wind. And who cares any way? We have to go back to get my scarf. It is in the road!"

Being married to someone who speaks English as a second language, I am never quiet sure if my husband always understands what I am saying. This was one of those moments. The Italian looked at me - his amber eyes burning with disdain- turned the bike around, and went back up the street from which we just traveled. It was quiet clear; he understood.

By losing my scarf to the wind, I had made a brutta figura, bad figure, but even worse I could have caused an accident. The Italian would have been happy to leave my scarf in the road. To pretend it wasn't ours, that we hadn't been the careless bike riders, but that scarf had been a gift from our friends Mirco and Francesca. It was a beautiful blue scarf that made my blue eyes appear even more blue (or so I had been told). I wasn't about to leave it the road for dead.

It seemed to take forever to find the spot in road where my scarf had flown away. I had seen that the motorcyclist behind us had missed running over it, but I wasn't sure about the cars behind him. I imagined each car running over it again and again and I pictured my beautiful scarf in the middle of the road, tattered and full of dirt.

Then, as if by magic, I spotted my scarf. It was in the hands of a motorcyclist who had been driving towards us. It wasn't just any motorcyclist, it was the one who had been behind us when my scarf took flight. He had driven back to my scarf, picked it up, and was trying to catch up with us to deliver it. The Italian pulled over and I jumped off the back of the bike. The good Samaritan had spotted us and had pulled over as well.

I never saw the face of the good Samaritan as it was hidden behind the darken face shield of his helmet. I never heard his voice either. He simply handed me my scarf and waved as I profussly thanked him.

I carefully tied my spotless scarf around my neck, stuffed it down in to my jacket, and secured it safely by zipping my jacket shut. "This," I said to the Italian "would have NEVER happened in America".



We drove away into the sunny afternoon, my scarf safely tucked into my jacket.


________________________________________________________

Motorcycle Driveby, Third Eye Blind

Robert F. Kennedy

There are those that look at things the way they are, and ask why?
I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?
-RFK

November 11,1920 - June 6,1968

Spoiled American Cats

We have all heard about the "spoiled American" stereotype. I would like to believe that it isn't true, but this morning my fuzzy babies proved it to be so. You see, Opus and Roscoe are a bit picky about their food. Since our move to Italy, I have had to import cat treast from America, as our fickle felines refused to eat ANY cat treats that are made in Europe. Thank goodness for the generous cat treat donations that we have received over the years from loving relatives and loyal friends.

The Italian and I have also been spending a small fortune on special diet cat food, as recommended by our vet. Roscoe has done well on his diet while Opus, who now out weights his brother by 2.2 pounds, is still on the "fluffy" side. You would think that being on a diet would force the boys to be less choosy, but these spoiled American cats have high standards that MUST be met. They don't like their dry food to have set in their bowl too long. If they even suspect that the food might be going stale, they will refuse to eat it. Now I know what you non-cat-owning-readers are thinking; if you don't feed them anything else, they will give up and eat the old food. Not true. These little ball breakers (as they say in Italy) will meow, beg, howl, and carry on until fresh food is placed in their bowl. I have to admit, Opus and Roscoe ALWAYS beat me at the game of wills.

Aside from being the owners of two big, clean, beautiful, indoor, American cats, we are also the proud owners of two, little, dirty, beautiful, outdoor, Italian cats. Just this morning, we ran out of the canned cat food that we normally feed to our outdoor cats. Then I had a thought. I wondered if our Italian cats would eat the older, dry food that Opus and Roscoe had been refusing to eat. I placed a bowl out for each cat. The food was devoured as quickly as if I had just served caviar.

And so you see, the spoiled American stereotype is alive and well in our house!

Festa della Repubblica

Happy feast of the Republic! Today is another holiday in Italy, this one celebrating the birth of the Italian Constitution. On June 2 and 3 1946, following the end of World War Two and the fall of fascism, the people of Italy were called to the polls. They needed to answere a simple question; which kind of government would you like now, a monarchy or a republic? As an American, I was shocked to learn that the choice of a Republic won by only 54.3 % of the vote (unimaginable in my country). Below is a chart showing the votes broken down across the regions:

Regions that voted for a Monarchy

• Lazio (51.4%),
• Abruzzi and Molise (56.9%),
• Campania (76.5%),
• Puglia (67.3%),
• Basilicata (59.4%),
• Calabria (60.3%),
• Sicily (64.7%),
• Sardinia (60.9%).

Regions that voted for a Republic

• Piedmont (56.9%),
• Aosta Valley (63.5%),
• Liguria (69.0%),
• Lombardy (64.1%),
• Venezia Tridentina (present day Trentino-Alto Adige/Südtirol) (85.0%),
• Venezia Euganea (59.3%),
• Emilia and Romagna (77.0%),
• Tuscany (71.6%),
• Umbria (71.9%),
• Marche (70.1%).

I am proud to report that my region (Emilia Romagna) voted for the Republic by a whopping 77%. (statistic provided by Wikipedia)

So today we will celebrate the birth of our Republic much in that way that the 4Th of July is celebrated in the States (minus the BBQ's with coleslaw and baked-beans). All the stores are closed, families flock to the seaside, and there is even a little antique market in our square. Tonight there will be several concerts and a slight possibility of fireworks (somewhere).

Happy Fest of the Republic!