Don't look at the poo

Sometimes, in life you must know when to look up and see life for the best. Here in Bari the sun is shining the birds are singing and for the first time in what seemed to have been a long cold rainy winter the air is warm, you can taste the sea and the salt on your lips, some would even say that is hot. I am sitting on my terrace with light sunscreen covering my overly pale skin, the smell of Waterbabies sun cream reminds me of my childhood, I am smiling to myself.  Life is just beautiful; these are the reasons that I am here, simple and easy.

Today is Nico’s birthday and St. Patrick’s Day, my grandfather’s favorite holiday, he would have liked Nico and wish they could have met. I spent all morning running around to different shops and markets to pick up his gifts, get food for Sunday breakfast and lunch and order a cake that cost an arm and a leg. I think I have gotten scammed, or in other words ripped off, not just for a cake that cost 40 Euros but also the ring I had engraved for him. It is one of the difficulties of being a foreigner in the South of Italy. At first I was like “What? “You are totally robbing my wallet”, I mean what else can I say? Hey, lady I know that you are taking the piss and I know you think I am a tourist on holiday but usually tourist don’t speak in your language, no? What can I say? When I picked up the Calvin Klein ring this morning I looked at the engraving and the “e” on “te” is slightly faulty and it looks like it has been doubled or the engraver hiccupped. I know that if I were Italian it would have been perfect or they would have offered me a discount, instead the girl just looked at me and shrugged “like what do you want me to do?” you American. Sometimes it is not worth a fight and you must accept what is. At first I was considerably disappointed and thinking I just spent all this money when things are not perfect and they are pulling me around asking for double the price. But, hey the sun is shining, I am a short walk from the sea and things aren’t that bad. When is life perfect? It is one of the natural challenges of living in a different county, if it were easy possibly I would never have wanted to have lived in so many places. In the South there are no rules, people play the way they want to play. When I left the jewelry shop the man told me to but the bag in my purse because I didn’t have a receipt, I left it in another purse and forgot I may have needed it in trying to run out the door at lightening speed. No rules just stuff it in your bag and look innocent. Well, that I can do, sir. So, I left the shop with no evidence of a perchance and my crocked “e” ring out of sight, in reality it is not that crooked and  the shop keepers are only taking a bit of my money.

So, I decided that life is exactly what it is; you must accept the things you have no power to change. Instead of thinking “ohh shoot I just spent a wad of cash”, I choose to think, won’t Nico be really happy.  Instead of thinking the people that work in the shop are thieves I am going to think they are just people trying to make ends meet. Everyone has the choice to interpret life as they choose, I choose simply to look at the brilliant sun, the accent buildings, the old ladies with huge shopping bags and gelato shops that have every pastel color known to nature, instead of looking down and noticing the large quantities of dog presents left behind from an owner that didn’t want to pick it up. It is best to look at the right instead of the wrong, the beautiful instead of the ugly, the easiness instead of the difficulties, the start of summer instead of cold winters end, a new beginning instead of an end and the people that I love instead of those that we have disagreed.

Does this mean I am fluent?

 Good relationships can be defined how many marks you have on your tongue from biting it at the right times. They are similar to finger prints no two are ever the same and can be delicate even at the best of times. When the “honeymoon” period fades and real life starts to peak through all of the sunsets you two have been blinding watching for the last six months, there comes a point where you may look at your partner and think “he may not be as perfect as I though”. And that is okay, who wants a perfect someone when you can have a perfect beautiful mess? Those are the words that I like to use when speaking about my own newish relationship, a pinch of misunderstanding a dash of miscommunication and a smidgen of patients, but which recipe is right for a lasting dish?

The thing with first fights is never expected, you are just relaxing in your honeymoon phase, listening to romantic music, sipping a drink with a little plastic umbrella and only seeing your new “love” until the handsome man that looks as if he has spent all of the 2000’s in the gym, you look up and see other options. Everything comes crashing back down to earth and you both wake up from a six month dream. I woke up thinking “what the hell was that?” you either solve problems well together or you don’t, listening and understanding and comprises are key ingredients. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, that we would have our first squabble but I wasn’t sure how it was going to go down…

It went a little something like this, him running late and me being annoyed. To his defense he is not usually late, but going from single and free to spending every night with my new boyfriend and practically living together many small things where adding up like that of a Wal-Mart recipe. Again asking yourself what the hell happened? He uses his key to open the door, smiles and says “Krys, what’s up love, where are you?” “Here” I shout from the kitchen, immediately he sees my expression and says “what is the matter?” I just let him have it, I reamed him out in his language, foreign to my ears and using some naughty words my high school students taught me, it flowed out of mouth at the speed of lighting and just about as much electricity for about five minutes. He looked at me with a confused expression and then burst out laughing, “Where on earth did you learn those words?”

I shrug with a sly grin and ask “does this mean I am fluent?”