Full of love

A quick visit to America leaves me with feelings of contentment, pleasure, love and confusion. Three weeks fly by while I catch up with family and friends. I go out every night, enjoy small pleasures in Maryland, laugh, cry, sing, dance and fall in love.  I teach my family how to make homemade pizza as we gather in the kitchen kneading the fresh dough and laughing. My grandmother shares travel and love stories with us. She is Swiss and left her country at age 19 to marry my grandfather. She said she loved him at first sight and knew she was going to marry him, she told me that you will just “know”. I feel so surrounded with love. A woman has secrets deeper than the ocean, as she talks about her first love, the man grandpa never knew about. A slow smile brought to her face that resembles my own,  remembering the French nuns at her boarding school and how they would seek out and run through the garden, past the male guards that they batted eyelashes towards and to the boy’s quarters on the other side. I laughed and said “now I know where it comes from”.

  I cheers my girlfriends at multiple bars and restaurants. We talk and share stories around the table, our deepest secrets of the year spill from our wine soaked lips. Giggles and wine we never skipped a beat. I drink to much sambuca and shots with my childhood bestest, as I pretend to not speak English in a downtown bar. Meet a man from Bari, and speak broken Italian together. I dance all night with my other best friends on New Years Eve as I teach them the word for “cheers” in Italian. We sing, dance and full belly laugh at Miss T dancing like MC hammer.

  As I leave my girlfriends when I am finished dinner and parties I venture out into the Maryland cold to my car and into his warm bed.  He is from Russia, stern, strong and everything I never wanted.

I fall faster and harder the second time around. I spend most of my nights curled up next to him whispering and laughing. He meets me at midnight on New Years Eve and we spend the night on my best friend’s cold floor. In the morning my head aches in dizzying circles as he carries my bags and thanks my girlfriend. He kisses me and tells me to follow him, we stop at the nearest coffee shop and he comes out with coffee and a large bottle of water. I giggle as he kisses my forehead as my vodka and champagne sticky hair sticks to his face. He says “Krys I will see you later, okay promise me?” I pinky promise him and clumsily get into my car.

 The next night I walk in his house with my sleepover bag and grandma’s cookies. He takes my hand and whispers “I love you”. Wide eyed and surprised I utter “What?”

“I said I love you Krysta” he says again.

 “Damn it, damn it, I yell into the receiver of my to go phone!! I love a 21 year old Russian” my best friend on the other end laughs.  “More than the Roman?” she asks A Roman and/or a Russian huumm

 "What to do? What to do?"

Maybe we are not made to have one or two great loves. Perhaps we are made to have many great loves. I am not full blown marry me tomorrow in love, but I love him. I love two men at the same time for different reasons. I love easily, giving everything I have in that moment or that day we spend together. Anywhere in the world I think that you could have many great loves in a given country…maybe the fairy tale ending is exactly that. A story, a fable with no valiantly. So I will love as much as I can this year, if it is a man, a item, friends, colors, places or countries this year all I will do is love. Love everything that comes into my life, give it love and I will get love. Full blown, full heart love…for everything and anything. Especially me.

Police accompany

 I head towards my house which is a 25 minute walk when I am not wearing high heels My house is quite far from the city center where I work. I live in a beautiful flat with marble floors and a wrap around balcony, but my neighborhood is like the “bronxs” of Bari. Many of the foreigners live in the area and it is not the nicest part of town, but I like it here. My street is filled with rubbish, stray cats and tons of motorcycles. Men of all ages hang out fixing their motorcycles, talking, joking and drinking coffee. At first they would blow kisses at me, yell out “bambola” “bambolina” (which is a small doll, or Barbie) “bella” among other things in dialect and try to talk to me, I ignore them all. I am used to the attention I receive here, and do not pay much attention. Aftersome  time and the “boys” realizing that I live  and work here and word of mouth travels fast in Southern Italy, they start giving me respect and saying “buongiorno insegnante” (good morning teacher) They started protecting me, and talking to me always asking where I am going and what I am doing. I have fell in love with my "hood."
I walk out of school on a Monday night at 10:00 p.m. I teach an individual student who owns a boutique and the only time he can come to English lessons are late at night. It does not bother me and many of the other teachers finish late. Usually the teachers and some students go out to an amazingly delicious pasta restaurant after a day of classes; we talk, laugh, eat and drink wine. This night was different; I walked out alone because my student and I were talking for a half an hour after class. It was dark, it gets dark in the winter around 4 p.m. and every store and restaurant closes at 8:00 p.m. There are a few restaurants open late, but few and far between and they are in the “old city”. I notice a man behind me and did not think much of it, but I was aware and was paying attention. I had a gut feeling to walk faster and cross the street. The man turned right down another street and I felt relived. I stayed on the same street and two minutes later he was in front of me. He had gone around a building to cut me off. I almost ran across the street, he followed.  Then I cut across and was walking in the middle of the dimly lit street that is usually bustling with people during normal hours. My heart was beating in my chest, and my instincts kicked in full gear. I stopped near a group of people and pretended to be waiting for someone while I phoned another teacher. He stopped and was staring at me. I saw a young man and asked him if he spoke English. I grabbed his hand and explained what was happening, he held my hand and walked me home.

  The next Monday was my birthday, and the teachers, some of our students and the man I am dating went out to dinner. It was a beautiful celebration filled with pasta, pizza and lots of vino. We laughed and talked about our day and about “us” become a large Italian family who screams and talks at each other all at the same time. Dinner was filled with love and laughs. I have been sharing every moment with the other teachers and know that the reason I am in Bari is to be with all of them. I have never been so close to a group of people so fast. I am in love with all of them equally. I have a family I never expected to have; it has been the best surprise. By this time I had forgotten about my “follower” and was consumed with Cello’s visit, my friends, vino and my new man.

The following Monday the teachers decided to go home after work, and the miss independent woman I am declined the offer my “big brother” made to walk me home. My day was filled with love and gratitude and I thought of all the things I loved while singing “Santa baby and jingle bell rock” out loud as I skipped home. “Santa baby I have been an awful good girl Santa cutie”….I wave and a man that owns a shop and another that owns the coffee bar I go to every day. I was just about to belt “think of all the fellas I haven’t kissed” when a funny feeling tickled my tummy and stretched into my heart. This wasn’t just the ordinary feeling when I am thinking of the boys I haven’t kissed yet…but someone behind me, watching my every off beat dance move. I turned around and the drum in my chest intensified, as I came face to face with the man who was following me two weeks ago. In a quick lightning speed panic I raced into a pizza shop on my street. Yes, he followed me all the way to my house and we were face to face where I live. There was no one in the small pizza shop but I heard the sound of a woman in the kitchen pots and pans clinging together, the shop is a take out place with a solo table and a cashier stand. The man peeked his head into the shop and was staring at me. I took my chances and headed toward the kitchen in a panic of adrenaline and tears. The woman knew who I was and I explained what was happening in Italian. Who is following you? She asked as she poked her head around the corner, which man the one who is smoking? Yes, si si. She told me to stay with her and have a seat. She closed and locked the restaurant and made me a coffee. We sat chatting in Italian as she stroked my shaking hand; I instantly fell in love with her. She has the softness of a mother but fiery temper that would scare any stalking man. She told me to wait here for a bit and her husband would walk me home when he returned from delivering a pizza. When he arrived he took my arm and walked me back to my house, I thanked him and thanked him. I got to my house and he made sure I was safe inside before leaving. I turned the key to my dark house and everyone was sleeping. I went into my room and was thinking what had happened. I could not sleep that night and was afraid of the dark, I kept my blinds half opened and locked the door to my room. I could not help but wonder in the dim light of dawn if I had attracted this stalker into my life. He is on the same frequency as me, and I have been thinking about men that follow me and call out to me in the streets. It is tiring and it happens daily. It is not the first time I have been followed but the first where it is the same man. What can I do about this? How can I be safe and not attract attention. As I contemplate shaving my head, I make coffee with my flat mates and explain what happened the night before.

  I sat in the office at my school waiting to talk to my boss. They devised a plan where this Monday the police would follow me from a distance and hopefully scare this stalker man. I am trying to bring positive energy into my life, and not worry about what is going to happen today and tonight. I am thankful I am loved by all the people that surround me.

Un dolce festa, best birthday wishes

The difference between 24 and 25 is everything. At 24 years old I was engaged and living a life I never really wanted. I tried to trick or make myself believe I wanted the house, car, wedding dress and “roots”. I say roots, because they are grounded, they stay in one place. When really I wanted to be a turtle with my home on my back, free flowing where ever the wind wanted to blow me. As I shook myself free, I had no one or nothing to blame except myself. Do not misunderstand I am not blaming myself or beating myself up over a failed relationship. But, I am the person who let it happen. I never said no, stop this is not what I want. How can you make another person happy or be happy yourself if you never wanted something in the first place?

 I am only full of love and happiness at 25 years old. I live in Italy with my friends who have become my family. I have a wonderful job and I love my students. I am grateful everyday for what GOD has brought into my life. I stand in my kitchen I share with 3 other girls, talking to my boyfriend that is visiting for the weekend eating cake and making coffee. At 24 I did not have a piece of my own birthday cake, this year I had an entire party of “dolce” sweets and pastries. My best friends in Italy surrounded me with love, sweets, wine and music. It was the best birthday gift in the world, everyone helped in some way. The boys “my big brothers” brought me candles and a huge birthday cake and chocolate. The girls brought wine, homemade goodies, pastries and helped me clean everything. A good friend painted me a beautiful picture of the city we live in and another hid an India hymn book in my locker. I am exploding with love…it surrounds me and is inhaled with every breath I take.

Cello and I spent another amazing weekend together. He met all my friends, we danced, ate pizza, drank bottles of wine outside of an amazing restaurant, walked around the old city, drank more wine and an Italian liquor, made coffee and love, smoked cigarettes, got drunk in a jazz bar with my friends, talked to my mom at 4:00am, walked or stumbled home with a full tummy and giggles at 6 am chatting in Italian. The next morning I woke up to his voice whispering I love you, love…in Italian and then English. I smiled and said I love you too, but please get me an Advil J

I have everything I have ever asked for even a little more. Simple things, I am so grateful.

Guadagno only thing I have lost is a button

Guadagno

Gaining or guadagno in Italian by definition is a merit or craft that is achieved. “What is negative about that definition?” The answer is simply “absolutely nothing”. This positive verb “gain” can be used in multiple contexts such as to manage or achieve, to gain weight, to increase something, or my personal favorite to obtain through effort and hard work. 

            What I have gained from living in Italy for six months - is my life! The life, in which for a short period I lost myself; and now I am gaining all back in small dolce (a sweet or pastry) size pieces. My decision to go to Italy and live in Sicily with a typical family to learn the language of love, cook, and gain weight that had been lost in an engagement/ wedding gone wrong. It was time for me to stand on my own feet even if I did not recognize myself when I looked down.  However, I do not like to think that I ran away from a bad engagement but I ran towards something greater.  Some times in life things do not work out the way they are planned, if you follow your heart and the pasta primavera it could be better than what you dreamt.

I boarded another plane, this time not to Asia but to Sicily with a backpack and suitcase that weighted more than I did, stepping on a scale the morning before my plane took off it blinked back at me at 99 pounds. A born gymnast at the age of 4 and then a professional cheerleader it was ingrained in my mind that smaller is better. My career path was a nutritionist and health educator; but I was the size of a 14 year old girl not a 24 year old woman, the question on deck to myself was “How can I help anyone before I can help myself?”

Sitting on my terrace in Southern Italy as a slight breeze blows my hair and the smell of the sea and olive trees heighten my senses and thirst for life, it has been almost seven months since the plane ride from Washington D.C to Italy. I question myself now, “what have I gained?”  I have gained my appetite for the balance of life. We need food to survive, thrive; we need adventure to feel alive; friends to keep us in line and smiling when we fall. I have simply gained all of these things.

One aspect of gaining has been more difficult then the others, gaining weight. The word gives me a similar physical reaction to the sound of someone’s nails on a chalkboard. What I must come to terms with and realize is that it is okay, living and being happy and healthy in your own skin is one of the greatest gifts of life. My adolescent mentality that has taken over my life of “smaller is better” and I must never dare to indulge in the “forbidden” food group, oil, fat and chocolate seems quite juvenile to me now. I sit on the terrace and promise to never let anything take over my “being” again nor my hunger for life and adventure be suppressed.

So I gained, and told my story to friends on a warm November afternoon; now sitting on my terrace drinking wine and eating homemade pasta with spinach cream filling and freshly grated cheese that I prepared with my Italian friends in my new apartment facing the sea. As I share my story, one friend looks at me as we are enjoying the pleasures of life and says “I understand…but sometimes you just have to get over yourself and enjoy everything you are supposed to feel, we have five senses to touch, see, smell, hear and taste for a reason. So, have another plate of warm pasta, salad from your garden, olives and cheese and get over yourself”. We were in hysterics due to her passionate outburst and love for her friend despite her quiet and calm nature. I took my good friend’s advice, and started gaining.

            In every positive obtainable, tangible object or goal that I have gained in my life, gaining weight has been the most challenging. However, I live in Italy, as they say “when in Rome do as the Romans do.” I am spending time with my new friends drinking the best wine, talking and eating and eating. It is life style and culture here, and I think everyone has a bit to learn about how to live, fresh pizza at 11:00 at night for dinner is normal, Italians know how to live.

My phone rings as I am cleaning the kitchen from my lunch party; it is an emergency call from a good friend and in an exasperated tone she instructs me to come over straight away. I rush over to her flat in a panic and ask if she is alright. She is lying on the bed trying to wiggle into her pants and can not button them. I jump to her rescue and hunched over her with a hanger hooked into the zipper trying to pull the zipper closed we both tumble off the bed in laughter and giggles. The button flies off of her pants and hits the wall with a bang, trying to catch my breath we are both pulling her pants for dear life, gulping for air I breathless tell her to “change into some tights, they stretch, and I hope you are hungry because if we don’t hurry we will be late for the midnight dinner.”  We laugh and link arms singing down the cobble stone path; in tights.

 Life is a balancing act, everything in moderation and proportion will create a happy, thriving, beautiful life.

            As I look at pictures of me then and now, I am a healthy smiling woman; my skin and hair shines from the fresh oil and Mediterranean diet, my scale blinks a healthy 112 pounds for my petite frame, but most importantly I radiate and glow from the inside out because of the peace I feel in my own skin.  

 I have gained everything and lost nothing, except for a button.

Dolce Vita (Sweet life)

This wonderful charming city of Bari has illuminated my thoughts. Something about living on the Mediterranean has gotten into my blood, my every pore. It has changed me, changed my “appetite” for life. For living, and just being me. I do not see myself leaving any time soon, only for a short visit in December. I am thinking of staying and taking a course called DELTA which the school offers for free to become a highly certified teacher. Meaning I can go anywhere in the world and teach, but it is a two year program. So, what have I been doing in this Southern town? Everything….

The teachers are an amazing group of young people from all over mother tongue English speaking countries. We have been going out, traveling, eating fresh pizza and gelato and just hanging out. It has been an incredible, fun, journey. I can not help but start each day with a smile and feel thankful for the sea, people and culture that surrounds me.

The first weekend I arrived everyone went out to the “old city”. A charming historic part of the city recently developed into bars for the yuppies. We went from bar to     drinking, eating and talking. I didn’t get home until the birds were singing and the sun was rising over the sea. This has been the regular weekend since. The morning birds sing me to sleep while I dose into a wine drenched slumber, only to wake up and meet everyone for espresso and pizza. Then do it all over again. Italians know how to seek pleasure, so that is what I must do it identify with this vibrant culture. Ohhh my life is tough J

This weekend is a long holiday weekend….and I have been a slight crush on a man that works with me. He is tall, Italian and has been living here for living here for five years. It started with a classic long night out, filled with philosophy discussions, wine, cocktails and sitting out side on a warm October night. We talked, laughed and drank. He asked me to hang out the next day. So, I did…

            I took the lovely train from Bari to a town thirty minutes away, where he lives. The scenic route was filled with olive trees and the sea in the horizon. The scent of coffee lingered in the air. He was waiting for me when I stepped off the train. We jumped in his car and headed south. First, we stopped at a sea side town sitting on a hill. Had a great laugh when he lost his money in the gas machine at the gas station and then drove away while the pump was still in the gas tank. Had a paritiva at a local bar, which is a cocktail and an array of fresh local appetizers. Then we proceeded south listening to music, singing, talking and taking in the beautiful view. We stopped to walk on a deserted beach; the wind was warm and fresh. We picked out seashells and sea glass and he attempted to teach me how to skip stones. The water was rhythmic and soothing.

We hopped in the car and continued the “excursion” or adventure. He took me to a completely white city. It is protected under law that every bar, building and house is white. It was incredible and took my breath away. It is situated high on a hill and is filled with churches and alleys. We walked in back alleys and took pictures; local’s laundry hung out of windows and the scent of home made pasta filled the air.  We shared a dolce or sweet and had cappuccino. The town was filled with art shops and local food; we stopped for what Americans would call a calzone and beer.

  We spent a terrific day seeing a few other towns, drinking beer and standing on balconies over looking the sea. One town had natural caves and cliffs and we hung out with fisher men and locals staring at the sea over 100 meters below. We finished the day by meeting friends at a teachers Halloween house party. Surrounded by the people I have fallen in love with, dancing with the girls to American and Italian hip hop in the hallway and drinking more wine. It is a great start to who knows what.

 I am so in love with all of them all ready and it has only been two weeks, and I will be here for another eight or nine months. Then in the summer I will travel Europe and teach camps with the other teachers, then come back to Italy in the fall. I can not help but feel lucky and love my life here. It doesn’t mean it is not difficult to be away from the people I love, but Italy has seeped into my heart and soul…Perhaps I have met my true love…pizza margarita and the Mediterranean.

Thank you Italy

Where the heck are you Krys? Rome? Sicily? No and No… I have found myself in the Southern town of Bari. I have been here for a week and a half, and already have started to make it “home”.  I have a new home, new friends and a new job. Life is going just the way I didn’t plan it. It is even better. Everyday is my gift and I have so much to look forward to.

I moved into an apartment with two Italian girls and a chick from Albania, I am hoping to improve my Italian and learn from these three talented, intelligent ladies. But, it isn’t easy. Cultural differences, language barriers and ONE yes ONE scary bathroom make it loads of fun and lots to learn. These girls are very clean, when I say very clean I mean we have a cleaning schedule and must follow the “rules”. Shoot, I am not very good at following anything. They are the “good girls”, and I just may be the "bad seed" in the house. What’s new? I told them a story of me getting lost walking home from work every day; I stopped a fine man on the street for directions and ended up in his car because I was quite far from my house. The next day I was lost again, yes I got lost the entire first week, he picked me up on a motorcycle. I happened to be wearing a dress, so natural I hopped on the back and told him to go as fast as he could by the sea shore.  My house is located near the sea side and port.  We ended up drinking wine and talking for a while…p.s he speaks NO ENGLISH. Nothing at all, so we communicate in piegon.  I just love saying I am learning Italian. The girls that I am living with were laughing and horrified. I think they may have a little something to learn from me, if they take anything from me living with them for the next year I hope they shake out their long dark hair and let it lose, because they can be or do anything they want too.

   Everything works it self out and I was always suppose to be here, even though I cried on the plane and hated to leave my Roman man.

So, I am spending the next year in Bari. Teaching English to an amazing group of adults and children. I am keeping busy and working a lot, also taking an Italian course and spending my two hour lunch break in cafes with my new friends. Here is where I pick up my pen and continue being the author of my story. Instead of you are welcome Italy….Thank you for everything you have shared with me.

Here she goes again

So, I am packing up my things again and getting ready to hit the road! I have a boyfriend in Rome waiting for me with open arms, apartments to look at (minus the lover), and two interviews. I am ready to go! I want to teach and I miss the classroom. But, I am getting scared due to the fact I do not have a set job yet. I must make some choices fast, take the job in Southern Italy or stay in Rome and look for a job. I pray that one out of the two interviews come through. We will see what happens next, I leave in less than a week. Adventure calls my name! I am a runner, I know when my time is finished. When you are not happy, make a change. I ran along the beach of Sicily, I say my goodbyes to everything that has helped me heal. So, I go...