Aug 8.
It's taken me a bit longer than it should have to pick up this habit empty book. I've been in Italy for six days already (1/3 done). Currently we are in Rome. Siamo in Roma! This is the 2nd time here. So far it's been Rome, Positano, Rome. From here I forget where we are going next.
This is the first stay so far in which I have a separate room from my stepmom & stepsister. I am thankful. I know my ss is/always has been spoiled (probably owed to her upper middle class, single child upbringing), but I have not been in a position to experience it over the course of many days. It's a little startling.
My opinion, or at least my observation, is that she is uncomfortable in adulthood, or maybe she misses the luxuries of a child. She has referred to herself as "Little Cassidy," complained about her "poor little legs," chews w/open mouth & smacks her lips, talks loudly on the phone, and, as far as it is fair to say so without having had it focused on me, lives within a general sense of disregard, apathy & entitlement.
I like my stepsister, but I am too glad not to know her. I doubt I could be so obliging.
So far Italy is ... a foreign country. People look at my tight jeans with a sense of "...OK...." I feel very American. Knowing I have three weeks here kills my sense of adventure and triggers my sense of patience. I miss Chicago & my friends. I do not feel at home. I no longer care about ruins or cathedrals or beaches. I miss having my clothes on hangers, ingredients listed on packaging, my social life, the internet, frugality. I like traveling... I just wish I didn't feel so damned privileged doing it.
I keep nodding off while writing, so it is time for siesta. I love the Europeans.
If I had to describe what i've seen of Italia so far, the first thing on the list would be the aspect (perhaps degree would be a better word) of affection & romance Italians have. Anywhere that's not the big city is tagged with '(insert name) ti amo.' People stroll, dine, sit, relax w/their partners to the extent that I've noticed how individualized and independent we make ourselves in the US, by contrast. Coincidentally, two (three?) nights ago I had one of those DREAM LOVER dreams—the ones where you are in love w/the perfect person, and it feels like nothing you can put into words. The way they look, how they feel, how for once, finally, it clicked. It was a continuous dream that survived a night of light, infrequent sleep. It was the 1st of its kind since high school 'depression' years, and it's one of very few dreams in recent years that I could vividly recall the next day. I awoke feeling euphric, and sad. I've long since given up—and indeed sworn off—relationships and pining for them. This dream was a blow to my convictions. Right when you think you know your own imagination...
Tonight I ate Indian food for the first time since leaving Ann Arbor, arguably some of the best I've had, at that. Food for the soul.
Italian espresso beats American espresso, so far. I really need to get one of those stovetop Bialetti doodads that Erik has.
This is the first stay so far in which I have a separate room from my stepmom & stepsister. I am thankful. I know my ss is/always has been spoiled (probably owed to her upper middle class, single child upbringing), but I have not been in a position to experience it over the course of many days. It's a little startling.
My opinion, or at least my observation, is that she is uncomfortable in adulthood, or maybe she misses the luxuries of a child. She has referred to herself as "Little Cassidy," complained about her "poor little legs," chews w/open mouth & smacks her lips, talks loudly on the phone, and, as far as it is fair to say so without having had it focused on me, lives within a general sense of disregard, apathy & entitlement.
I like my stepsister, but I am too glad not to know her. I doubt I could be so obliging.
So far Italy is ... a foreign country. People look at my tight jeans with a sense of "...OK...." I feel very American. Knowing I have three weeks here kills my sense of adventure and triggers my sense of patience. I miss Chicago & my friends. I do not feel at home. I no longer care about ruins or cathedrals or beaches. I miss having my clothes on hangers, ingredients listed on packaging, my social life, the internet, frugality. I like traveling... I just wish I didn't feel so damned privileged doing it.
I keep nodding off while writing, so it is time for siesta. I love the Europeans.
If I had to describe what i've seen of Italia so far, the first thing on the list would be the aspect (perhaps degree would be a better word) of affection & romance Italians have. Anywhere that's not the big city is tagged with '(insert name) ti amo.' People stroll, dine, sit, relax w/their partners to the extent that I've noticed how individualized and independent we make ourselves in the US, by contrast. Coincidentally, two (three?) nights ago I had one of those DREAM LOVER dreams—the ones where you are in love w/the perfect person, and it feels like nothing you can put into words. The way they look, how they feel, how for once, finally, it clicked. It was a continuous dream that survived a night of light, infrequent sleep. It was the 1st of its kind since high school 'depression' years, and it's one of very few dreams in recent years that I could vividly recall the next day. I awoke feeling euphric, and sad. I've long since given up—and indeed sworn off—relationships and pining for them. This dream was a blow to my convictions. Right when you think you know your own imagination...
Tonight I ate Indian food for the first time since leaving Ann Arbor, arguably some of the best I've had, at that. Food for the soul.
Italian espresso beats American espresso, so far. I really need to get one of those stovetop Bialetti doodads that Erik has.
Labels: Italy
posted by Anthony at 6:42 PM
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