Exciting Stuff Part 1

Admittedly the last month has been a collection of highs and lows, but I’ve had some really great trips and visits – I’ve been out and about a fair amount during February. Lends credence to the idea that you need the negatives to truly appreciate the positive; that’s not to say that my everyday life here is all negative, but I’ve certainly been a fair bit homesick recently. Happens to everyone, it must do.

Should probably do this chronologically, but not sure what order the smaller events happened but I’ll give it a try!

Firstly, at some point during February (Febbraio) I attended a group as a volunteer to help out with a really cheerful bunch of people with different disabilities. Some family friends of my Italian family volunteer too, and once my Italian hosts heard about my volunteering with HCPT they, extremely kindly, thought to introduce me to this group! So, I went along to this group one Saturday, terrified because I cannot speak Italian for the life of me. I’d been practicing my introductory lines all day, mi chiamo Connie, ho diciotto anni, vengo dal’inghilterra, inizio a l’universita a settembre, studio francia e filosofia. Sod all of that frankly, “mi chiamo Connie, come ti chiami?” was all I needed, if that. I was marginally abandoned by Paolo at the group once he’d introduced me to an English speaker – so from there I was on my own!
The atmosphere of the whole group was so different from what I’ve experienced before with HCPT, our group is so loving and familial but very regulated, whereas this was so relaxed and laid back – they were all friends there! It was quite refreshing! I understand the need to have all the regulations that we have at home, in regards to safeguarding, but at the same time it can be a hindrance to creating same level bonds with the children and vulnerable adults in our care. I was instantly inducted into the activities that we had there, a lovely young man with Down syndrome was encouraged to bring me in to dance for the first few activities – bouncing around, Italian heads shoulders knees and toes, waltzing – it was so free all the time. The people there were all ages, all disabilities, and everyone was included!
We played a game of sitting down football, lines on the floor, facing opposite directions (like table football) and then trying to throw a ball towards the goal you’re facing. Another game we played was not one I was expecting… We lined up in two lines and there was a spoon attached to a ball of yarn; what came next really threw me and I just spent the whole time giggling, we had to thread the spoon up one sleeve, across our chest and down the other sleeve and then to the next person, weaving us together as one line – the team that was fastest won! We lost, 3 times. There were some snacks and drinks, and a long while of just chatting and it was just really pleasant. I chatted to a few of the vulnerable adults, well… chatted would be the wrong word seeing as I was effectively non-verbal due to the language barrier, but a lot of these people were used to non-verbal conversation so that was actually a really interesting experience! I found that 2 or 3 of the key volunteers spoke really good English, one had an adorable toddler who came along half way through! Funnily enough I actually bumped into him the next day in church with aforementioned adorable child who was actually thrust into my arms at one point… he kept on just going brummm brummmm… because he wanted to go to the car… his dad gave him a toy car which he promptly deposited in a strangers handbag. I was honestly laughing so much that I cried and had to discretely hide at the side of the church. Anyway… the group was exciting and interesting, the volunteers were welcoming and really friendly! I have missed the more recent meetings due to my travels, but I’m hoping to go to another one soon!

Next trip on the calendar was Roma – and even more importantly, a visit from my parents! My mum flew in to Bologna on Wednesday morning and I caught a train up to meet here- I was there an hour or so early, and my mum arrived on time – positive start, right? But that was where the difficulties started… We had issues with the hire car due to not having my dad with us, they wouldn’t allow us to hire without a credit card, we ended up on the phone to rent a car for over an hour trying to sort out the situation, in which they said that there were a few places that would accept debit cards but they had no cars available. Trying my luck, whilst my mother frustratedly tried to resolve the situation any which way, I did an online search on the rent a car website, and discovered that there would be cars available in 2 and a half hours… Now I’m not claiming all the credit for getting us a hire car, but, honestly, thank god I spotted that! We were looking at getting trains to Rome and it was all just a massive **** up. Thanks to the helpful customer service at rent a car, and the wonderful web, however we did have a car to collect in 2.5 hours – leaving us a bit of time to explore Bologna!
We took the bus in to town and gradually walked our way into the historic centre, we didn’t really do much – but it was enjoyable enough just getting to see the beautiful architecture of Bologna, once again for me and for the first time for mum, including a beautiful venetian style wall to a fortress of some kind, designed to hold a garrison or something, I don’t really know, history and architecture are more my mother’s forte than mine! That was all fine and dandy and, fortunately, we left plenty of time to get back! Unfortunately, neither mother nor I were aware of the stupid custom of buying bus tickets before boarding the bus. The first bus wasn’t a problem, we bought a ticket on the bus that took us to our next stop, then we waited for our second bus and were promptly told that we couldn’t get on because we didn’t have tickets. Now, had we not asked the driver about tickets then I am approximately 100% certain that we would have got on that bus because, as I’ve since discovered, tickets seem to be advisory and aren’t checked on any form of public transport! As it happened we had to get off the bus and try and find a Tabachi, a newsagents, which I did – and was informed that they don’t sell bus tickets at that one… In despair mum and I considered just boarding the next bus without a ticket, because we had to be back at the airport to collect our car! Fortunately a nice young man, a trainee hairdresser in fact, helped us to find a ticket- in my broken Italian and his slightly less broken English we established the problem and legged it down the street to the nearest Tabachi, then legged it back, narrowly missing the next bus – which also happened to be his bus, that he missed for our sake… Was a bit of a faff even after that, we alighted the bus at our stop, had to figure out where to go for the 10 minute walk to the airport, I extremely nearly died on a roundabout, we got lost in a carpark and couldn’t find the airport entrance, then we collected the car and were on our way.
I would like to say there were no hiccups from hereon-out, but that’s sadly not the case! For the most part it wasn’t a problem – we drove all the way to Orvieto with no issues at all. We stopped at Orvieto for dinner, and, more importantly, to see the Cathedral: the Cathedral in Orvieto is one of the most prominent examples of gothic architecture in Italy, second only to a Cathedral in Milan. Truly, it was a sight to behold! Up on the top of a little hill, in what was really a very small town, and it was stunning! Unfortunately, seeing as it was about half 9, the church was locked but frankly, even just getting to see it from the outside was worth the hassle it took getting us back onto the motorway. That was hell though. Signage in Italy is direly lacking – and what there is is extremely non descriptive! On our way back to the motorway we passed, what we thought was, a petrol station – it was in fact the tolls which would take us onto the motorway, but we didn’t know that at the time. We ended up driving for half an hour away from the junction, I thought it would probably take us back on several junctions later, but it reached a point when we were so stressed out, so unsure and so desperate to get back that we just did a U-turn, added on approximately half an hour to our journey and went back to that ‘petrol-station.’ To be clear, map-reading is not my strong point, and left from right is not my mothers.
Once back on the motorway it was easy cruising to Rome, passing the quite upsetting sight of several prostitutes at the side of the road as we entered the city – not exactly what I expected as my first sight of one of the most religious cities in the world! I won’t go into the palaver we had finding our apartment, but both our phones were dead, the road was too small to show up on maps and we even ended up asking a bus driver for help… we were in Rome central for two hours trying to find our flat. It was extremely early hours by the time we got in and even then we struggled to find which apartment was ours due to lack of instruction! Ah well, at least the trip could only get better from there (fortunately not sarcastic.)

Our first morning in Rome was a fairly early one but we persevered! We went out for breakfast and a coffee before heading to the Vatican, less than 10 minutes’ walk from our apartment, for our pre-booked visit to the Vatican Museum – I’m just gonna say it, HYPE! Honestly, the one requisite I had for this entire trip was the Sistine Chapel and it was SO worth it! We were one of the first into the museum and instead of following a tour we headed directly for the chapel, and so when we arrived there were only a handful of other people in there! The artwork was simply breath-taking! Michelangelo’s Damnation was awe-inspiring, the sheer detail and depth in the mural was immense- religious symbolism aside, technically it was a masterpiece! Interestingly, or at least I found it interesting, the pope following the creation of the Damnation was offended by the amount of nudity and commissioned another painter to do a cover-up. He painted swathes of dark cloth, weaving its way across groins and arses, and it’s really obvious if you look. There is such delicacy in the work of Michelangelo that even the painted material, which is skilfully painted – especially considering how difficult it is to actually paint fabric, looked heavy handed. And that was just Damnation, the ceiling panels were quite something to behold too – telling several biblical stories, one even portrayed God with the audacity to show his naked bum. Michelangelo was not a well-liked man by many in the high priesthood I imagine… I could go on for hours about the different paintings on the walls and the parallels drawn between the lives of Moses and Jesus on the opposite walls, but this was only the first morning so to say more would take up far too much space!

The Vatican Museum itself held some really stunning relics, and the beauty of such things is astounding, but the whole time I was there I couldn’t help but feel frustrated. It’s commonly known that the Catholic Church is one of the richest organisations in the world – it’s a topic of contention for many! Seeing the precious stones and metals all on display just made me want to melt it all down and put it to a more practical, more humanitarian use! It’s why I like Pope Francis, he refuses the papal jewellery, he refuses the papal suite at the Vatican. He is very much human, and understands that the wealth of the church is obscene. Of course melting down all the relics would do very little, in fact at this point the value of the metals themselves is almost insignificant compared with the value of the relics, but it frustrates me to think that people have invested so much time and money into honouring our esteemed church, but the greatest honour that can be done in the name of the church is to help others. Surely, surely, the money, the time, the skills, would have been better spent elsewhere! Rant over.

The rest of the trip will surely take up fewer words… During the afternoon we visited several places, I’m now having to struggle to remember the names… I was about to completely pass over the visit to St. Peter’s… what an error! That’s, to me, a really important part! I climbed to the Cupola! 551 steps up because I elected to walk instead of taking the lift up 320 steps. Actually I elected to run… That was a mistake. I beat the lift up, but then realised I was basically only half way and low-key died on the second half! The steps were narrow and the ceilings low, stairs and I aren’t friends at the best of times so I really had to be careful… I wasn’t the worst though, one lady actually passed out about 10 steps from the top! Once I was at the top it was truly amazing – the view across Rome was spectacular! I also really enjoyed that I could see our apartment from the dome of St. Peters!  Inside the basilica itself was also stunning – again I could go on for hours, but I won’t. I did particularly enjoy a stained glass window at the back of the church showing the dove. Would have been stunning inside the church at daybreak, unfortunately I don’t think that was an option!

We walked from the Vatican past Castel San Angelo, a beautiful fortress with a statue of an Angel on the roof. That side of the river reminded me of London’s Southbank, they had quite a few street performers, including a harpist and a bubble blower. This man was creating massive bubbles using a long string attached to two poles, he was surrounded by a crowd of children all playing with the bubbles and it was really a joy to watch! I captured a nice moment on my camera and, at the urging of my darling mother, went and showed it to him; at which point he invited me TO HAVE A GO- YES!!!!!!!! I love bubbles so much it’s actually ridiculous.  Anyway, after that we walked via Piazza Navona to the Pantheon.  The pantheon was really quite impressive, the structural strength of the carved concrete ceiling is amazing –the knowledge and techniques needed to form that ceiling is phenomenal! The history of it is quite something too, I’m not the most clued in, but I believe it used to be a temple to Minerva before it was converted into a church, and the style is now what a large quantity of Italian churches are based on. (I think.)

We collected my dad from the airport in Rome late that night, and tried to get some sleep before our fairly early morning – once again! The next day was pretty busy once again, the three of us enjoying the wonders of public transport into town, looking at some ruins, the Emmanuel Vittorio monument and wandering down past the Roman Forum – to the colosseum! Pre-booking tickets to these things is honestly a life saver; we wouldn’t have been able to get nearly as much done if we’d had to queue for everything! The colosseum was quite a spectacle, but I, and my dad, wished we could have climbed right up to the top! From there we walked to the Spanish Steps, lost my mother, bought a selfie stick, got harassed to buy a rose, ate a sausage and chips pizza – a pizza with chips and wurst on top…, – visited the second oldest coffee shop in Italy – Caffe Greco, visited the Trevi Fountain, threw in a coin (hopefully ensuring I return to Rome in the future) and wandered down to Piazza del Popolo and had a quality Italian ice cream – when in Italy! Had a fairly busy day with both the parents, visited some of the key tourist areas! On our walk back to the bus stop we passed an outdoor ‘art gallery’ which was one man who’d created mini, semi-abstract attractions at eh side of the road and it was a true work of art, and so witty!

That evening Dad and I ventured out to Trastavere to see what all the fuss was about, my logic was that we should get a train from san pietro station, right outside our apartment, to Trastavere station- so we could get there sooner. Logically that should have worked, illogically, however, Trastevere station is located about a half hour walk away from Trastevere. Sillily, so is San Pietro station. A whole extra train ride for no reason. After the fairly pleasant walk into Trastevere, through the fairly rough area, we came to the historic area which was quite beautiful, and, quite clearly a student area! The average age was about 25 and it was just so lively! I felt right at home, well not really – but I bet I felt more at home than dad did! We found a nice craft market selling beautiful carved ornaments and hand crafted jewellery before settling down for dinner – so ridiculously over filled by the food we definitely shouldn’t have had room for the several drinks at the busy local bar, nor the crepes that we tipsily elected to have before our late night stroll back to the Vatican City. St. Peter’s Basilica at night was stunning – would recommend!

I honestly feel like I have so much more that I could say about Rome, but I also didn’t expect it to be this long, so, I shan’t. We did also stop at Assisi, which I would also recommend to and Christians who are interested in that sort of thing – the church where St. Francis heard the voice of God is a place to visit!

After our travels, mum and dad came back home with me to Cesena, had a tour of the town with my Italian family and joined us for a big family dinner – it was really lovely! Honestly, even if we hadn’t gone to Rome it still would have been amazing just to see them! I’ve been away from home slightly longer before, but this is a very different experience and it was nice to have that time with my parents.

I had 2 other events to talk about, but I guess that can hold off until I post another blog!

Ciao!

I’m, basically, rubbish…

I’ve now been here for two months. I keep going to write posts, going to talk about things that I want to say, but I can never seem to find the words or the motivation. I do love to write, but at times writing about all this feels a bit forced. Fortunately I’m going to do a separate post shortly which will, hopefully be a bit more interesting… At the very least I’ll have more to say!

Anyway… here is the 800 words that I managed to bash out last time I tried to write a blog post… about a month ago…

“After a month here, I guess it’s safe to say that it’s more normal. It still feels weird to think that I’m not at home, and I won’t be for quite a while still. It still feels weird knowing that I can’t just go and see my friends, or go to the pub and bump into 5 different people that I know from 5 different places. That said, my routine is now firmly set in my head, and so that, at least, is normal. My day to day life is normal, it’s normal within the domestic world that I live, even if it isn’t normal in the holistic view of my life.
I started writing this update several times, but I’ve never quite managed to follow through – perhaps thinking that it’s too boring, or that I have nothing new to say – both would probably be correct. It seems like there is very little to do, when, as I’ve said, each day is basically the same!
“So, it has been about a week since last time, and I guess that a fair amount has happened in that time, although, having written that, I cannot think of much that’s particularly exciting or noteworthy! That said, every day brings its own little adventure, a new game, a new technique or just a new feeling.
UPDATE: it’s been about 2 weeks since last time, but I got side-tracked with doing basically nothing.
I went shopping last Sunday. Not my finest moment. I needed to leave the house, to get some fresh air, to not be in the place where I eat, sleep and work. So I did the 3 minute walk to the supermarket. Following the sugar craving which came with my new family’s desire to eat salad at least once a day, I may or may not have gone a bit wild with the snack food. I have since learnt that I’d actually rather have no snack food because then I’ll not have the temptation to eat it! Haha, we live and learn. Probably better learnt sooner rather than later! Even so, Kinder Bueno are so moreish and so much cheaper than in England. I shall be strong (er.) Anyhow, my drinks shelf is now stocked – with Ice tea granules and tea bags – yay me :)”

2 weeks later and I had my first cup of tea from my drinks shelf yesterday… I still haven’t opened the ice tea! On the plus side I haven’t continued to buy rubbish food from the supermarket, just chewing gum – of which my mother still disapproves, from 1200 miles away…
I have made a friend in the supermarket, by accident, because of my inability to speak Italian. Honestly, I’ve embarrassed myself so many times going through checkouts that I’ve settles for the self-checkout now. Unsurprisingly I’ve had issues there too.
I’ve done a little bit of exploring recently, not much but a bit! I visited a seaside town called Cervia, which is about a 20 minute drive. A beautiful historic centre, unfortunately the entire sea front is privately owned by tourist enterprises, so when we walked to the coast on the grey Saturday afternoon, all we could see was buildings. That’s actually a slight lie – I caught a glimpse of some sand in between some unsightly metal poles; what a delight.
Anyway, I visited with a friend of the family, she’s 23 and studying towards a Masters in foreign languages, one of those languages was not English, but thanks to the quality of mainland Europe’s language education she can speak excellent English anyway!
We had a nice hot chocolate in a café in the main square, although they don’t actually call them cafés, they’re ‘bars’, which, to you and me, is a place to go, socialise, and get drunk. While socialising may be one of the key aspects of a bar, it’s more to do with serving breakfasts and apperitives- something we don’t really do in England. Going out for breakfast is, nowadays, more of an acceptable activity, although I wouldn’t say it’s the ‘done’ thing. Upon doing a survey of my friends, the majority didn’t actually know what an aperitif was, although one guessed it was some sort of drama thing, and another got it spot on – due to a sneaky look on google. Here it is common to go for an aperitif, in fact I’ve been invited on several thanks to the wonderful world of tinder – I hate tinder.
Due to the fact that I know no-one here it was suggested to me to use tinder for it’s original, non-creepy, purpose – of meeting new and like-minded people! I should say that I made it abundantly clear on my profile that that was all I wanted, but it didn’t stop some of the more persistent members of tinder!”

Pretty sure I had more to say about the horrors of tinder, as well as other things, but I lost that train of thought when I got constantly distracted by Skyping home…

Not Normal, Not Even Close

I can safely say that it is not yet normal, however after only two days ‘on the job’, that’s hardly a surprise. I haven’t left the house in 2 days, fortunately not getting cabin fever yet; probably because I basically have my own independent apartment on the top floor of the house (minus a kitchen.) Fortunately, tomorrow I have the afternoon off so I should be able to take some time to cycle into town and explore on my own!

I haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to be doing this for 6 months straight. I could hardly keep my hair colour the same for 6 months straight, how am I supposed to do the same thing every day for that long? Here’s hoping that life with small children will be always full of surprises…

It’s a funny thing, when you go away and start afresh, because you could be a completely different person- if you wanted to. I don’t, or at least I don’t think I do right now. Even so, when you’re working hard to make a good first impression you do, to an extent, remake yourself into a model version of yourself; fun fact, model me isn’t a fussy eater! I, personally, do not think I’m a fussy eater. My mother would probably disagree. That said, I dislike fish, spinach, wine – specifically red, dark salad leaves, basically any leaves that aren’t iceberg lettuce, sparkling water, soya, mushrooms, any seafood actually and, well, the list goes on… From my memory since I’ve arrived (in order of consumption) I’ve said I don’t mind; sparkling water, rocket (lol, I hated rocket until Saturday, with a passion, like a lot a lot), red wine, white wine, mixed salad, olive oil, soya, oh and earl grey tea (which I have discovered that I actually do like now, I suppose that’s something to be said for fresh starts.) Anyway, the point is, I’m so busy trying to make the next 6 months easier for me and for mia famiglia that I’m getting over my dodgy eating habits. Admittedly, I’ll probably not be okay with the ‘salad as a meal’ thing for a while though – I have never been that sort of person!

I’ve found myself realising, these last two days, that this isn’t only a settling in, readjustment period, for me. I do not remember being a young child; in fact I’m not sure I remember much at all pre my teenage years (poor memory, not a traumatic childhood,) but I’m certain that if a stranger was brought into my home, forced into my daily routine, then I would need to readjust. It is, still, a readjustment period for me though. I’m sitting writing this on a desk covered with photographs of my friends, listening to someone else’s playlist, thinking about the potential ramifications of 6 months away. I’ve been thinking about celebrating my birthday on my own, which I’m sure I won’t actually be doing, and missing all of my friends birthdays, events and important things. On the other hand, I’ve realised there’s no point wondering on 5 months’ time, when it’s more important to consider the right now.

Right now is adjusting to the adjustment period of a little boy. Yesterday I finished the day mildly frustrated because I couldn’t figure out how I was going to fit into the life of this family of four if the main reason I was there, Fil, wouldn’t let me do what I was there to do – be the big sister. This is where the whole adjustment period thing came from, I’ve realised that it’s a case of testing boundaries, seeing where I’ll say no, if he can get away with more than he’s used to, if I can become family, or just a strict ‘nother person in the house. Honestly, I’m a pushover.  The funny thing is, over the two day period I’ve worked, I’ve seen the spectrum of easy-going and boundary pushing, had so much cute fun playing, and low key wanted to threaten a child. That’s normal right? In all the different times that I’ve worked with children I’ve never not experienced that, and I’m sure that my parents felt the same way about my siblings and I. I’m eternally hopeful that over the next few weeks that this routine will work out to a consistent relationship, because that is what I really want from this; to form a strong familial relationship with these children and the whole family really, or else this whole experience would be worth nought.

Routine is something that I’m routinely grateful for. Routine helped me to be a functioning, productive and healthy human being for the last two months, getting up at stupid o’clock to work, planning my own evenings seeing friends, and now it’s helping me know exactly where I stand in this family, to know exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. Each morning after breakfast I do an hour or more of phonics. I honestly thought that I’d left jolly phonics, blending, etc. behind when I left my job tutoring at explore learning but it’s kind of interesting seeing how the techniques I used there are both so very useful and useless here. Stickers, for example, are an excellent motivator. Telling Mama is absolutely not.  Arts and crafts occupy more of the morning, some painting and some colouring. This morning I had great fun letting out my inner child to play with paper aeroplanes – racing them across the room and taking it in turns to decorate the wings. After a simple pasta lunch (I’m in Italy, can you tell?) we play for the afternoon. I find myself astonished by the mind of children. Hide and seek has already become a fast favourite. Why, when I was given 5 seconds to hide, and he saw the direction I ran, did Fil proceed to search in the opposite direction? Or perhaps someone could explain why, when I shouted boo behind him then hid behind a wall, he turned around, then turned back and searched, once again, in the opposite direction. I don’t know… I don’t care really; the more important thing is that we both had great fun – even if it was cold and snowing. Snowing. SNOWING. I really desperately want snow, proper, snowmanable, snow. It’s certainly cold enough.

Playing games with children has driven home some self-truths. I’m not okay with letting children cheat at games. No Fil, you have to actually roll the binoculars to be able to steal my elephant. No Fil, you cannot just skip tiles just to land on the explorers. No Fil, you can’t take two animals at a time. I’m not about that. I probably should get over it but… I’m too competitive. I blame it on the 5 siblings thing. Another depressing thing is that I don’t actually know how to let children win. I think I might have broken Eli’s heart when I beat her at first Chinese checkers then Chess. Although I think I redeemed myself in dominoes when I kept on taking dominoes from the middle, without him noticing, when I ran out so as to stop myself from beating Fil every game… This is a learning experience for all of us I guess; Eli can learn how to be a tactician and I can learn how to go easy on someone less than half my age J

Oh, I still haven’t unpacked; I’m living out of a suitcase. At least I now have pictures of my friends surrounding me. And watching me sleep… (I have a few on my bedside table.) As soon as I upload this I’m going to hang up my wall calendar, stack up my books on the dressing table and take out my clothes and shoes. Straight away. Definitely. It’s not like I’m going to be hopping on a plane home any time soon, I really have no reason to delay unpacking…

Thinking of Leaving, Leaving and Arriving

The prospect of leaving again has been daunting. I’m now on day 2 of my next big adventure away from home and it’s struggling to feel like a reality. I’ve come to Italy for 6 months to be an au pair with a, so far, lovely family of Mum, Dad and 2 children. When I first started preparing for this adventure, months ago now, I had no idea where I would be going, who I would be with and I was so excited. I had planned to go to France, actually, which would have been logical considering my plan is to study French and Philosophy in Bristol come September. I started planning this even before I’d gone to Zanzibar. At that point, going to Zanzibar was the biggest and most terrifying thing that I could possibly do. To past-me, nothing I would do after that could possibly be as scary. Current-me disagrees.

These last few weeks of anticipation have been… not so fun, insofar as I’ve been putting off thinking about going away because I couldn’t cope with the augmenting fear about leaving everything behind, again. I know, logically, that I’ve done this before- left home, left family, left friends- but I don’t remember last time being so hard. Perhaps it was because I knew I would be with a group of people my own age (or thereabouts,) maybe because I would have to have friendships through necessity, or perhaps it was because I knew I needed that distance from home to allow myself to reset, like factory resetting a phone and starting fresh. Honestly, for all I know, this trip will be the same for me, and that could be a great thing! Except, this time round I no longer feel like I need that. My last two months of being at home have been some of the best ones of my life, especially with the contrast of the previous year, despite getting up at 5.15 to go to work, and functioning on 5 or less hours sleep a night, despite having to be more independent than ever, despite the fact that a lot of my friends were gone, were at university, despite all of that, it’s been great, like really great. And that’s what I’ve been struggling to leave behind. My last two days at home were the ones when I really let myself think about leaving, and started saying goodbye. That was hard. I burst into tears on an evening out as I was about to leave, yay. In fact, it was so hard that I failed to properly say some of the most important goodbyes. To those people, who probably know who they are, I’ll really really miss you, skype me, message me, call me, visit me.

Enough with the depressing stuff about leaving! Nothing so far has given me any reason to doubt my decision to come, and I’m positively hopeful that nothing will. My new family have been truly wonderful, Mama and Babbo have been so welcoming, and the 2 children are absolutely charming! There’s a young boy called Fil and a girl called Eli, and Fil babbles along in English like any other young child would, when I’m around, and Eli may as well be English, that’s how good her English is! She read 50 pages of Pippi Longstocking this morning and has a bookshelf full of Roald Dahl. I was greeted really enthusiastically at the airport by all bar Eli, they knew who I was through a few photos of me, as well as the fact that I had the biggest suitcase out of everyone on my flight, embarrassing but understandable, it’s not like I could have lived for 6 months on hand-luggage! We did a very brief tour of Bologna, where the airport was, stopping at many many churches, my mother would be immensely jealous, I’m sure, and a café where I had the nicest hot chocolate that I have ever had. Starbucks and Costa have been spoiled for me. Never again will I be able to have a hot chocolate that isn’t actually made of chocolate! Mama and I dragged Fil around town by the hand, except for when he ran off to chase pigeons (every 5 minutes), and he would skate down the marble or stone floored porticos.

 

There’s something remarkably charming about young children, it might be their innocence and joy at the simple things, or perhaps it is the complete lack of understanding of what a secret is! By the time we’d reached Bologna town centre I already knew that there was a Kinder stocking waiting for me back in Cesena, from La Befana and that we were having pizza for dinner as a treat! La Befana is an Italian tradition that happens to coincide with La Epifania, the Epiphany. Whilst not really celebrated in England, many other countries do actual celebrate the arrival of the 3 kings. Anyhow, somehow those two traditions have merged, and from what I’ve gathered, La Befana is a witch that flies over the houses and has broken shoes with no soles, although no one sees her feet (that titbit was from Fil, not sure if it’s important) and she is loved by all children as she delivers a stocking of presents to all children! Really good children get sweets and presents and all things nice, and bad children get coal, I think children in between get fruit and nuts, or that’s just what these kids got because it was so soon after Christmas! Does this sound familiar? Now, is Befana the same as our jolly Saint Nick, Santa? No, because he comes too! These lucky little ones get two stockings; one on Christmas morning and one 12 days later! When we walked around Bologna, we could see street stalls filled with little ornaments of the Befana, and lots of decorations! It’s a really sweet tradition, I can’t actually think of anything that is celebrated so strongly in England that wouldn’t be celebrated elsewhere… Apparently Carnavale is also a really big thing too, England, unlike the rest of the world (once again) doesn’t really celebrate Shrove Tuesday, or, as most people know it, Pancake Day. You’d be expected to eat some pancakes somewhere along the way, but I was shown some costumes and things here where shops are already preparing for the celebrations!

We did have pizza for dinner last night, and it was great, no one can say that Italians don’t know how to do pizza, no one ever would though, let’s be honest here. That being said, I happened to mention at dinner that I can make pizza and, in fact, regularly do with my dad and they were really very impressed! They were especially impressed because they’d never made pizza before and imagined that it must be fairly difficult. I told this to my dad last night via skype and received a kind of ‘you must be joking’ look in return. I know, that’s how I felt too. It was just perplexing, not because I was living in the stereotype that all Italians make and eat Italian food, I’m certain that a large proportion of people in England can’t make fish and chips, but Babbo makes his own bread, it’s not a great leap from bread to a pizza base!

Anyway, on the traditional food front, we went out for breakfast today before exploring my new hometown, Cesena, and I had a lovely chocolate and hazelnut pastry at a family favourite café just off the main market square! We also had lunch with the grandparents, who live in an independent apartment on the 2nd floor of my new home, I’m in the loft floor and the family are on the ground. We had a gorgeous home-made lasagne, yes Italy, with red wine, in Italy?! I know, shocking, and salad, bread, lemon chicken and crisps, followed by panetonne, ?!, and dessert wine… You get the gist; I was treated to a lovely traditional meal, including two of the locally made wines, one of which is possibly in the top 5 most famous Italian wines… Shame I can’t remember the name. I’m sure I’ll know all the wines well enough in 6 months’ time!

Cesena itself is beautiful, there are a few more stunning churches, one of which I attended this morning with the family. It’s a lot easier to translate Italian, considering I know no Italian, when you know what the Italian is supposed to say – this was discovered whilst reading the mass sheet and easily translating simple responsorial prayers which are the same in English… Other bits are more difficult, but that’s largely because I don’t have the entire mass-book committed to memory! Anyway, Cesena is a very beautiful town, filled with old cobbled roman roads, and the occasional more modern marble tiled streets. It’s also home to the oldest public library in Europe, La Biblioteca Malatestiana. I haven’t had a chance to visit it yet, but Mama is going to take me on my first afternoon off (Wednesday.)

Anyhow, I still haven’t unpacked, bar a dreamcatcher hanging above my bed, and my laptop on my desk, I’ve not done very much, really, so I’ve not very much to share. There are some photos, but they’re on Mama’s camera, so I haven’t had a chance to upload them yet, and I haven’t really taken any of my own. I look forward to the time when I can write a blog post about the new normal, how waking up here every morning feels like waking up at home.