All alone 31, July 2008

 

She left me.

Yesterday, at 3:00.

She kissed me on the cheek, and said thanks for everything.  Maybe she’d see me around sometime.

HA!

The 17 year-old French girl who was visiting for 3 weeks got on her airplane at 3 yesterday.  She went home.

During the visit, I was constantly reminded of why I choose to forgo my high school teaching degree and to, instead, pursue an elementary degree.

Teenagers are weird!

Don’t get me wrong.  I am sure that she was elated to get to see her friends again.  Can you imagine, being 17 and having to hang out with a 30 year old, constantly, for 3 weeks?  I go to bed at 10:00!

I think that is the time she was used to going out.

Now, we are both back in our own elements.

I will fill the rest of my summer with babysitting,  getting ready for the school year and Fabio.

She will fill the rest of hers with sun, sand, water, and many hours out at nighttime.

I guess we really show our age.

Italy once more 31, July 2008

I recently remembered that I forgot to write about one important story from Italy.

I was out for dinner with some older adults. I asked the aunt how her daughter, Paola, was doing. She looked at sadly me and said,
“She’s very tired. She has to take the train for 2 hours to get to work, and then again 2 hours to get home”.
Angelo (another table participant) then said
“Yah. She’s very tired. She can’t sleep during the day, and she doesn’t sleep at night”.
At this, everyone at the table broke into riotous laughter.

What did I miss??

It must have been a language thing, I told myself.
I smiled, to not seem too out of place, and then they explained to me,
“She was recently married! How could she sleep at night??!”

Oh yes. Now I see.

The even funnier part is that, this being said, the aunt looked at Angelo and said,
“Do you sleep at night?”
This lead Angelo and his wife Anna Rita to look at each other and laugh. Angelo, of course, was mumbling something about sleeping too much…

Summer Camp 31, July 2008

My Italy/France vacation is over. However, for an 8 year-old and an 11 year-old, their adventures are just beginning.

Today, I took 2 of my students to overnight summer camp.

They are from the inner city of Milwaukee.

The camp is seemingly full of middle/upper class children. My students do not fit this description.
In fact, when I went to their house this morning, there weas garbage everywhere and chicken bones on the floor. The chicken bones were left over from a previous dinner, I guess.

So, when we drive into the camp, all of the 20 year old counselors are screaming “Welcome to camp!!”. My 2 girls are looking at them, wide-eyed and a little scared. We found out their cabin numbers, and started the (short) trek to their temporary new homes. En route, there are 10 girls dressed in 80s clothes, also shouting “welcome to camp!!”. I was very happy to see all of this enthousiam flowing from the campers. I think this helped my 2 girls to feel more at ease.

We set up their beds, put their toiletries in their cubbies, took a picture, and headed out. Neither one of them cried, or clung to me, or seemed to upset to see me go.

I hope that lasts.

I hope this is an adventure they will remember.

Italian Beach 31, July 2008

For those of you who have seen me (all of you, in this case!), you know I am not skinny. I am not fat, not skinny, but in between.

Yesterday, we went to the beach. In Italy. It was a beach that was close to and used by small towners, I guess, which may explain the next statement.

I was the 3rd thinnest woman on the beach. Of hundreds. In Italy!

What is happnning? When we think of western European countries and the women who live there, we often think, or maybe I think, of pencil thin women without any curves.

There were curves here, and they were not coming from the waves.

It was weird…I felt like the shapes of the people could easily be those which are found on an American beach.
With one difference. Each lady, no matter how round, was wearing a bikini.

For those living in the States, let’s celebrate our relative thinness, and eat pasta for dinner tonight.

Dog food 31, July 2008

Ciao.

Here I am in Italy, where the dogs eat better than we do at home.

Today, the dog was fed pruciutto. Not just proscuitto, mind you. He ate proscuitto in bread. In between 2 slices. Meaning…this dog had a proscuitto sandwich for dinner.

What???

I would have been jealous of the dog, had we not been eating buffalo mozzeralla. And…homemade tiramisu for dessert.

Guess what. the limoncello was homemade as well.

Might as well order me a second seat for the flight home.

Nice, en moto. 31, July 2008

While in the south of France over the last couple of weeks, I have been travelling via different forms of transportation.
There is a new tramway in Nice, which is convienent. The one time I took it we were ‘controlled’, meaning the officials came on to make sure we all had a ticket. Wow! I thought. Look at the French! But a girl I was with told me that was the first time that had ever happened to her, and she takes the tram every day.
Because I have extra time, I like to walk. It’s not like I’m eating a pain au chocolat every morning for breakfast, or anything like that.
Sometimes we drive in a car as well, although that seems to be the least common form of trasportation. In fact, they have sold thier car and are doing the exchange tomorrow, so my job for today is to clean their car. No joke. I will be driving it to the cleaning station. Watch out!!
The most exciting form of transportation I have used here is riding sencond passenger on a scoot. The lady I am staying with takes me all over the place behind her on this 2 wheeled wonder. We went to the beach at nighttime. We went to another beach, further away, and I could see the coast of the south of France fly right by me. We even went to an outdoor performance of A Midsummer’s Night Dream on the scooter.
Hold on now. This scooter is not exactly what we in the States think of as a scooter. It’s big, powerful, it can even go on the freeways. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea; that I am making something small into something big. This is a big scooter.
So, when not being chased by weird men, I have been riding on a scooter behind my enthusiastic tour guide.
And, in France, it’s a law…one has to wear a helmet.
What a civilized place.

Safe 31, July 2008

I am home. Safe. Home, at least, in Nice. That’s Neece, not Nice, in France. I am on the 4th floor of the apartment where I am staying. The door, shut tightly and securely behind me. Home, away from those who followed me around the city today.
I have to admit. Today was the first day I came to appreciate the t-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes that American tourists are nutorius for wearing.
Had I been wearing these things, instead of a dress and sandals, maybe I wouldn’t have been followed.
It went like this.
I left the rummage sale I was working/sitting at in search of the sea. It’s hot in Nice in the summertime. In fact, this is often how the conversations start:
“It’s hot outside today”.
“Yep. It’s hot.”
“I’m being cooked out here”.
Coming from a place where it is freezing cold for 9 months of the year, I personally don’t mind getting cooked outside. In fact, I kind of like it.
None the less, I was still warm at the rummage sale. And because it wasn’t my stuff being sold, I had the option of going to swim in the sea.
The sea was not far from where we were, my friends told me. Straight down the hill, then ask someone for the shortcut to go swimming.
OK.
I went down the hill. I found the sea right away, but I found the port, not the swimming part. So I kept walking…and walking. I didn’t ask anyone for directions. But I should have.
I am walking down a street, Le Carnot, I think, when a man in army colored pants whispers bonjour to me. I look straight ahead and keep walking. 2 blocks later, somehow, the same army bottoms come at me from ahead. He whispers the exact same thing. HOW DID HE GET THERE??? I turn around, scared, and he is staring at me.

Lovely.

So I keep walking, much more quickly now. Where are my ugly American tennis shoes when I need them the most??!
Thankfully, Nice is a city for tourists. I found a street full of tourist shops, as well as the requisite tourists. I tried to sneak a few looks behind me, as I mélanged my way into the crowd. He was gone, thankfully. Draggeur #1 was gone.
#1?? You may ask??
Yep, that’s right.

I made it safely to the beach. But, of course, as the day was hot, there was no place to be had on the beach made of stones. So I walked around a bit, still cautiously looking for army pants, and decided to walk home instead.
I went into a book festival, looked around, and found the big street that leads me to all of the places I need to go.

I see a man talking to a girl of about my same age. He is telling her he will call her later, etc. I keep walking. As I am crossing the street, I turn around, and the same man is walking, alone, quickly. He catches up to me and says
“It’s hot out today, isn’t it?”
I speed up. There are still lots of people, lots of tourists around. I turn around, he is still there, behind me.
What the &*+*à??
As I am now an expert at this, I weave myself in and out of the crowds that are walking around this street. Finally, I turn around, and mystery man #2 is gone as well.

Tomorrow, my friends have to work. I will be on my own. I want to go to the beach.

I think I’ll trade in my dress and my sandals in order to look more American.

Sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt for me tomorrow.