Welcome to my boudoir

I spent several hours yesterday walking around (trying to find the gelato place with 99 choices) when it occurred to me 'I left all my possessions back at the hostel and at some point someone new is going to call it home'. As I walked up the stairs to the room I was slightly afraid of who I would open the door to and what they'd be doing. At first I opened the door only a little to give them time to take notice of me coming in (incase they were indisposed) but I heard nothing and saw nothing but a bag laying where the old roommates stuff had been. It took her a minute to notice that I had come in the room but when she did she didn't seem startled or remotely awkward about being only in a thong on the bed. It was dark in the room and from where I was standing she looked like an older woman and as I went further into the room I couldn't help but notice a new aroma, a smell that reminded me of black liquorice filling my nose.

As per I felt like I needed to sound smart and as soon as the pressure kicks in for me to do so I start stumbling over my words. She clicked the light on and I apologized for waking her but told her as a peace and welcome offering I had just bought a bottle of 4e wine for us to consume. We began talking and already I've learnt so much from her. She is a very unique individual who is so wise beyond her 22 years. She is soft yet courageous and is an artist who came here to take an art class. Funny because looking at her makes me want to paint her myself. She has this renaissance quality to her despite her funky haircut. As we talked we realized how much we had in common. Not that this is a huge thing but we're both Pisces which is helpful because we (and I'm not all that into astrology but all the pisces i've met before have possessed these traits) understand each others vibes and very sensitive to the feelings around us which to most people can be perceived as us being weird. She told me about all of these incredible things that she does (all very artistic) and she has this one phrase "follow your bliss" which is coincidental because that is essentially (in different words) my motto in life. We decided to go and find our bliss in gelato but again could not find the place so settled on going to the beach instead. While we were standing at the top of the boardwalk looking down onto the beach a older french man approached us. He began saying things like "how are you this evening? and do you speak french" all very normal things but then he began asking us to come and talk with his friend as he pointed over to a thin older man sitting on the bench nearby. I told him that we were not interested and said goodbye but he got more insistent and so I nicely but confidently told him that we were together had no interest in talking with him or his friend. He looked blankly at me as if he didn't understand what I meant by saying we were together. Without hesitation (my roommate) 'Rose' leaned over and kissed me. It was only a soft and quick touching of our lips but it was enough to inspire this man to grab not only is own swollen member but reach out and cup my breast. I got very heated and thrashed his hand away from me and told him to get away from us. We quickly turned and headed down to the beach. Thankfully the men didn't follow, which allowed us to continue our conversation. We sat and drank wine and talked for awhile and planned out our day. We held hands as we walked home that night.

Alice in Wonderland

I got lost…big surprise. On my way back from the restaurant I figured if I took a short turn instead of walking the exact way I came I could still find my way. I was wrong. I got all turned around and had no clue where to go next. Since asking people things has done nothing but good things this trip I figured I’d go ahead and ask. He was very kind and told me the way out of the mess I’d gotten myself into…seems I was walking into a “not so friendly” neighborhood. I finally arrived back at the hostel and encountered my roommate. He’d been backpacking for the last 2 months and mentioned to me as he coughed up a lung and blew his nose, that he had been sick the week before. We began talking about what we were doing in Nice and exchanged basic pleasantries. I decided I wanted to have a coke and a smoke (my favorite combo) and invited him to tag along. We talked for quite a while and he mentioned that I reminded him of someone he just couldn't recall who it was. We decided to go to the beach and just sit and chat. While we were there he began chuckling out of no where. When I asked what was funny he told me that he felt like we were on a strange French blind date were the partners have no choice but to go home together. I laughed and said “yeaa it could be considered that but more accurately a blind French slumber party”. To which he responded “So you know the door man? Well when I was checking in he asked if I’d met my roommate yet and when I said no he laughed. I gave a perplexed look and asked what you were like. He told me, well she’s a girl…and she’s Canadian… and she very attractive”. I was flattered but tired and told him how cute the story was but it was time for me to hit the hay. He agreed and we walked back, me feeling somewhat awkward. I got ready for bed while he was in the bathroom and vice versa. Regardless of me turning all the lights off and turning my head away from him (we have two single beds) he kept talking to me. At first it was normal questions then they became more sexual and about whether I had a boyfriend or not. I said no I had no boyfriend but I was also on a sabbatical from sex, for a period of one year I was completely celibate. He inquired further so I just told him I was abstaining from all sexual activity until I felt it was right for me because I value my body in that way and didn't think it necessary to engage in sexual activity just for the 'fuck' of it (to each their own). He then blurted out “that’s a shame!” I didn’t know what to say so I turned around and shut my eyes. The next thing he says is that he has double jointed fingers…and proceeds to extend his hand to my bed so that I can feel how they flex. I told him that was very weird and then a soft goodnight.* I mean really…first of all he’s sick, second of all he’s completely random and I have no attraction to him, 3^rd as if double jointed fingers would make any difference * About 5 minutes passed of pure silence when all of a sudden he says “so you’re honestly telling me you don’t feel like we should be doing something right now?” I respond “the only thing we should be doing is sleeping, g’night”. Needless to say the next morning he got his things together and said he was going to find a single room for tonight (probably for the best I said). He wished me good luck with my new roomy and then just before he left he said “oh and I remember who you remind me of now, Alice…from the new Alice and Wonderland.”

Nice is nice :)

Feeling like a dink. I’m on this train for 5 hours from Milan to Ventimiglia (then transfer to the French railway) but I’m completely unaware of what train I’m supposed to get on (the ticket doesn’t say, it’s not just me) but I don’t care. I’ve let go of that fear I had before of being on my own and having to have a plan. I tried to find a hostel online the other night for my arrival in Nice but no luck so I figured I’d just wing it : ) I actually saved quite a bit of money by staying in Milan with Kitty. Not to mention Sausage bought dinner for Kitty and I the first night and the food I’ve had the last night and today have cost no more than 10euro so I may splurge on a sweet room for my last 3 days. Back to my dinkyness… picture, if you will… a small (but somewhat larger than when I left)) blond girl peering out of the window aboard the train as it parallels the sea. Have you ever felt like you were in a music video or film when you move around listening to your ipod? Well as I sit here listening and looking, certain songs come on that make me feel like I’m in a movie..you’d laugh if you could see the seriousness on my face as I feel the vibe and take in the scenery.

Got to Nice safe and sound. The first hostel I tried was booked all but for a singleut room that ran for 75e a night. I said I’d splurge but fack that! It was funny because when I walked in a man greeted me in French but I responded in Italian. I think he was happy about it because it turns out he’s actually Italian and offered the room to me for 60e . However, that was still too steep for my likings so I asked if they knew of another hostel close by as I was pouring sweat from every orifice and clearly in need of some rest. The man behind the desk made a call. It seemed their sister hostel down the street on Rue Paradise had a room…a two person dorm for 25e a night, SOLD! I hastily made my way over and greeted the man at the desk. I had to fill out a form in order to get the room and on it was my nationality. “Canadian?!”he said. “ah yea?” I responded. He was ecstatic! Apparently he had applied to the French embassy to allow him to move to Montreal. That worked in my favor because he had a look over the books and slyly mentioned that it was possible for me to stay all three nights (I had been told originally there was only one night available here by the other hostel). I decided to take all three nights and spend some of that left over money on dinner because I hadn’t had any the night before. I’ve never been so happy to have greens on my plate. The best salad I ever ate cost me 16e so it better have been the best salad (although I doubt it had anything to do with the salad itself and all to do with the fact that I was starving and hadn’t had legit veggies in several weeks). I normally don’t like tuna, or tomatoes..or radish but together with some egg and celery this was where I found heaven. Not to mention the server was the hottest thing I’d ever seen…no joke! The restaurant I decided on was quite a ways out from my hostel but it was on the beach and the sun was setting and I just had to do it! I know what you’re thinking 1.did I talk to the server? à yes, but only to order my food and ask where I could rent a kayak (that’s tomorrows big outing, if I can find the place). 2. How expensive was the place Salad 16e, the 4e, pina colada 12e. But I figured I’d saved myself more than that with this hostel.

Random thought: I hope my roommates not hot…I also hope he’s not smelly and gross either. A hot roommate would make me all self conscious to go to the bathroom my usual 50 times a night and a gross roommate would just be the pits.

I don't think we're in Italy anymore Totto...

Milan is an interesting place as it mixes the old world architecture with new world hustle, bustle and congestion! I like Milan for this and yet I find myself feeling like I’ve left Italy and gone back to Toronto. My Italy is mountains and hills, some areas by the sea, some not. But for the most part, my Italy is slow paced where everything you view looks as if it was taken from a renaissance painting and for the most part people are practicing Christians. This is not exactly Milan. A beautiful brunette “Kitty”, the cousin of Mimma picked me up from the train station. I am very grateful to have met Mimma as she is truly one of a kind and she certainly hooked me up. When we arrived at her apartment I was in awe. It was so beautiful, not what I had expected from my previous stays in Italy. She told me that her home was mine and because she would be leaving for work the next morning very early she’d give me the keys and show me around to the outdoor pool, tennis and basketball court in case I got bored…HA!

Kitty told me that we were invited to a celebration and as I was probably starving there would be food. I wasn’t entirely sure what the celebration was for but I’m sure never to forget it now. When we got the house we were given some water and asked if we’d like anything else to drink, wine, beer, appaertif.. I was already dehydrated and it was hot as Hades in Milan so I opted for water. Once all the guests had arrived we were ushered into a small narrow room with just enough seating for everyone (approx. 10) behind a chair that faced a small wooden desk decorated with Japanese style writings. These tiny books that looked like scriptures were handed to each guest. The owner of the house sat in the chair that faced the desk, with her back turned to face her guests. As soon as she took her seat the chanting began. A woman pointed to a part of the scripture that contained the words being said. I looked around and almost everyone was chanting (except for Kitty and her other friend Sausage). I decided to join in so as not to appear rude and of course for the experience. There were some tears, some words (in Italian Japanese) being spoken, more tears, signing of a scroll all the while chanting that mantra and then it was complete. It was a Buddhist ceremony to welcome her into the religion. It was interesting. Once finished we went back into the main room and ate. I got to talking with this man who was 43 about what I knew of Buddhism. I told him I knew of it as a spiritual religion that was centered around the self as a spiritual vessel, not toward any specific deity. He told me later that I must have done something terrible because it seemed my karma was bad because I’d yet to have a good experience with men (the conversation was obviously much longer and started from Kitty admitting she’d never had a boyfriend) and that that was not normal. Something to ponder I guess.

In Milan the nightlife rages on until the wee hours by the canal, even on Sundays. I was told the canal is a man made structure and as it is filled with polluted water (very Toronto) it is best to go at night, so I did. As it was my first night there I was extremely tired and didn’t feel much like raging so we ate at an incredibly delicious pizzeria on the canal strip. I try to eat veggies wherever I can so when I saw a Mexican pizza with beans, mozzarella cheese, hot sausage, peppers and tomatoes I had to have it. It was incredibly delicious and something my mouth has never tasted before.

The next morning I decided to take a dip in the pool. As I surfaced I noticed everyone’s eyes on me. Next thing I knew I was tossed a swimming cap and told that long hair is a problem. After swimming I made some lunch and had a shower. While deciding what to wear I thought ‘I’d look pretty cute in that red dress for pictures in the Duomo’. What a good idea that turned out to be! I took the metro on a solo mission to the Dumo (it was pretty refreshing to be alone and go about things at my own pace…turtle mode). 10 stops from Gorla (my new home) and I arrived at the Duomo (Italy’s 2^nd largest church, 3^rd largest in the world). Upon leaving the station I was struck by the grandeur of this structure. It looks like an ice castle with all of the pointed silo’s resembling icicles. As I was stopped to star at this gorgeous monstrosity I was apprehended by a vendor. “Italian bracelet for free for free, for YOU” despite my attempts to say no thanks he began tying it on. I figured at this point I’d indulge him so when he asked where I was from I said Canada. When it was tied he changed his tune and began asking me for money. I ripped my arm from him and shouted as I began walking hastily away “you said it was free”.

To get inside you must pass guards that tell you whether or not you’re appropriately dressed. Funny, you’d think I’d have learnt something about appropriate dress codes from all the times I was sent home from junior -high for being inappropriately dressed. The guard pointed to a sign that showed a picture with a woman bearing her shoulders, it had an X through it. Guess that meant my attempts at looking cute with my little red dressed were in vain. I departed and took a walk around the square looking for something to cover up with.

Finally I got inside to take some photo’s and then went up what felt like the CN tower stair to get to the top to take a birds eye view of Milan. Next on my agenda was to go to see Da Vinci’s ‘Last Supper” painting. My map completely fooled me into thinking it was within walking distance. 2 blisters and wobbly legs later I had to stop for a drink and ask for directions. Turns out I was nowhere close. I purchased a metro ticket and hopped back on the subway. By the time I got to the church where the painting is held it was closedà 3 hours later. I went back to the apartment defeated. I decided that I might stay another day and try to take in more of the sites but when I checked the schedule for this church it said that one needed a ticket in order to get in to see the painting and tickets were sold out until August. So I set my alarm for 8am to catch the train at 11am. However, much like it would happen in Toronto, I woke at 7am to the sounds of a police/fire siren and crazy man yelling out into the morning light. Bon voyage Milan!

Bing Bing Bing

In Canada, on the ttc, I’ve not only been attacked by a homeless man (twice) but I'm late for nearly everything I need to arrive early for. However there is always enough time to get on and off the train (despite a few elbows to the jugular). And just in case you’re preoccupied there are the sweet sounding chimes “Bing Bing Bing” that let you know the doors are closing.

I’m writing this blog entry on the train to Milan after one of the funniest things to happen yet. My poppa drove me out to catch the 7am train and even set me up with a place to stay (with his 26 yr. old female cousin). The morning went by very quickly with some sad goodbyes to momma and the pooch. The kids were still in bed as I left the house but I had said my goodbyes the night before so I’m glad they got a chance to sleep in as they have some pretty late nights in that house. I was pleasantly surprised to hit our first stop before the train station…the pastry palace! With cream filled coronary in hand I approached the platform await my train. Poppa decided to wait with me so we could recap some of the things that had occurred over the last two weeks. When my train finally pulled in poppa graciously helped me get my bags onto the train. As he placed my bag down and turned to face the door, without warning we watched as the train left the station taking poppa with it. Luckily the next station wasn’t too far form where he lived but he’d need to take a bus to get back to his car. Poor poppa.

The Last Supper

The name of this post is exceptionally fitting as the next day I left for Milan where the painting of the ‘Last Supper’ is on display. For a final hurrah the teachers and their host families were all invited to a bbq at “stampede’s” family ranch. We had a splendid time eating different meats and I finally got some vegetables…in the form of pickled peppers “how many pickled peppers did peter piper pick?” apparently a lot because it seems the only vegetables offered in the parts of Italy I’ve been to, are pickled! Once we arrived “England” popped a bottle of champi that had been given to us by the cleaning staff at the school. I think it might have gone to some of the other teachers heads because they decided to hop into the pool with their clothes on. Some of them had a change of clothes but others did not (such as myself) so I decided to sit this one out. There is a saying in Italy (or at least among some groups) that when a young person doesn’t do typical young things or just as an insult “you’re old inside”. As for me I’m self proclaiming to be old inside because I am just as happy sitting and watching people full of energy act crazy. I hate to say it but I think I over did it as a youngster. My energy levels are so low I don’t know how they do it. Haha now I really sound old. What I do find fun is singing along to random songs with a group of people. Throw a little dancing in there and I’m set. So from the time our mouths were free of food they were filled with song. It was lovely to see Luca and Mimma singing and enjoying themselves too.

Horsepower

The first time I came to Italy (approx. 2/3 years ago) one of my biggest regrets was that I didn’t find the site where there was horseback riding. As trivial as that may sound, I have had a love for horses since I could pull up my own pants. This time around I got right to the point with my family asking if there were any places I could ride near the area. Sadly they knew nothing of it. However, the first day of work, in the quick 5 minutes we had before piling the kids into the gym the tutors got to say what they got up to with their families over the first two days. I was over the moon when “stampede” told me that she’d gone riding because her family owned a farm. Naturally, I jumped right in and asked her if she’d be so kind as to put in a good word for me with her parents in hopes they’d let me ride too. It took over a week before I was able to convince her that this was something that I just had to do. It worked! On the last Thursday of work her parents came to pick us up to take us to the farm. I was smiling ear to ear the whole way! It was incredible to see these horses because they were well cared for and a mother had just had a calf not too long before and it wouldn’t leave her side. It was beautiful to see that (animal) maternal bond between mother and child. (I skyped with my mom that night). On a different note, I felt like I was reading a harlequin novel as I watched the father (who is a very attractive older man, kind eyes yet firm and in control) had to tame a horse that had gone wild. I am a very lucky girl. Riding was amazing. I’m certainly rusty but my horse was gentle and reinstilled my passion for riding.