Far away, close together

Brian and I
together
in front of
the Duomo
in Siena...



Time and space was enough to create loads of anxieties and worries, to give room for growth and a revival of our independent spirits, but not enough to redirect the pulling force of love between Brian and I.

We've had an amazing time traveling through Florence, Siena, Pisa, Prague and now Budapest together. Too many stories to tell and moments to describe for this space right now. But it's been everything we could have hoped for and more.

Today is the 7th and I'll be in my parents car driving home to my parents house in 3 days. It doesn't seem real. But I know there's another side of life waiting for me there. And I feel ready to embrace the realities to come. The joys of family, the rewards of hard work, the adventure of new beginnings, the calm of familiarity.

For a little dose of reality, check out Jen Lemen's blog, and her stories and reflection about her recent trip to Rwanda. jenlemen.com

With love,
Rachael

TRUST...a couchsurfer's motto

The most rewarding part about traveling to cities all across Europe? Doing it through the online organization of Couchsurfing (www.couchsurfing.com). CS functions as an global network in which people from all over the world create profiles citing their interests, couch availability, pictures, and for all the nervous mothers out there--security background checks!

This means that a person in Florence (me, let's say :) can search for someone with a free bed, couch, floor, or room, in Paris, Berlin, Buenos Aires or any place in the world on the CS website. Then follow up with an online request to a few people who seem interesting and are available for hosting, and wait for a response. If the person's able to host me, they send me a message with contact info and we plan on how and where we'll meet (usually at a train station or central part of the city). And wa-la! A home away from home in an unknown city!

Truly, my experiences traveling have been infinitely more interesting, authentic, and comfortable thanks to CS. Not only have I had free places to stay in cities across Europe, but I've had automatic friends--people who are proud of their home towns and want to take me to all of their favorite local places. And as you would expect, the types of people you find in a network like CS are generally very open, warmhearted, and excited to meet new people.

In an age somewhat deteriorated by fear and apathy towards our neighbors, or strangers that we have all too easily dismissed as x, y, or z...Surely, this type of program works to the advantage of the average person. Works to restore trust in the common stranger. Works to remind us that people all over the world long for cultural exchange and human connections. To me, this is thrilling.

Palermo, our first stop in Sicily, was where we met Ennio--couchsurfing emperor--with his royal empire estate to prove it.
"Parli Italiano o Inglese?" he asked me and Carolina.
"Italiano e bene," we responded probably all too confidently, as we were then plastered with a long line of explanations about our 5 star resort, solo in Italiano...
"Here's the bed, covers on the chest. Your big screen TV with over 500 DVDs of your choice (none of which you'll probably have time to watch, but it's nice to know they're there)."
We followed him into the next room, stretching to understand every word that we could.
"Here's a computer with internet, webcam, speakers, etc... Use it as you like. And don't worry, there's a high-speed connection. Another couch for relaxing. Refrigerator with drinks. Help yourself. Here's the bathroom, sink, etc. The water is hot for at least 2 showers in a row..."
Then he proceeded to tell us, at rapid racecar Italian speed, all of the best places for us to visit while he was at work, our eyes following his index finger along the worn map he provided for all of his guests. He handed us a tour book in English from a pile of 7 different languages to take along on our journey, and gave us a kiss on each cheek before he left us for a much needed "freshening up".

I could go on and on about Ennio and his love for hosting guests from all over the world. But let's just say this--he's hosted over 500 people in his 5 star guest flat, and each time I'm sure they feel like they're the first, the best, the most important guests he's ever had. How he has the time and energy for this when he works full time as an Environmental Engineer? One may never know...

The beautiful couchsurfing stories continue... and I have a really special one for you, coming up next...

Until then, tomorrow is a long-awaited day for me. I'm leaving Torino (northern Italy...host of the '06 winter olympics) and heading to the Pisa Airport where I'm picking up Brian. It's been over 4 months since I've seen his amazing face, felt his perfect touch... and let's just say I'm biting my nails with every second of anticipation. I cannot wait. I trust that everything will go just as it should :)

All my love...
Rachael

Alive in Sicily.

We left on a direct train from Florence to Switzerland at 6am yesterday. 8 hours of beautiful mountains and great conversations with a German architect, and before we know it Carolina and I are back in the city we've called home for so long now. Pete--a tangential friend of my mom's--and his beautiful Thai wife and triple citizenship 2 year old son, provided us with a place to drop our bags, adorable toddler entertainment, delicioso vino rosso, and amazing home-cooked Thai food. Bags and bellies packed at almost 11p.m. we left for the station to catch the train to Pisa Centrale and then the mini-train to Pisa Airport. No trains would be running early enough for us to catch one in the morning for our 6a.m. flight, so we took the only option available--airport slumber party.

Carolina and I arrive at Pisa Centrale only to discover that despite it's online listing, and paper printed listing, the shuttle train to the airport decided to cancle. I snickered to myself, "Toto, I don't think we're in Switzerland anymore."

We wait outside in the pouring rain for an hour. A bus finally pulls up. We catch a ride to the airport hoping for a few hours of sleep. 12 disgruntled travelers sit in twos and threes on the cold pavement in front of the locked airport doors. It's just after midnight and the airport is closed until 4a.m. The cold pavement is lined with bags, a sad attempt at a make-shift mattress for the night. It's 3a.m. and I haven't slept a blink. One hour to go. I layer on more clothing and grunt at my dirty toes. "Damn midevil cobbled stone. Horrible when it rains," I mutter.

4a.m. the airport opens and we sleep on chairs for a half hour. 4:30. Go through check-in, luggage, customes. Sleep on the other end for 20 minutes. Drowned in grimey rain and apathy, we're the last ones to board the plane at 6a.m. I sleep for two hours. Wake up in Trapani at 8a.m. Buy a ticket for the 8:40 bus to Palermo that never comes. Encora...so it goes it Italy. Sit in the sun for two hours. It's 10a.m. and we're finally greeted by a bus to Palermo. An hour later, we reach the saving grace of our "odessy" as Carolina referred to it. Our place of refuge? Ennio's 8th story spare room balcony apartment, dedicated especially to us. Couchsurfing bliss. More to come on that... for now, no sleep... but food and "magic cafe" to fuel our withering bodies.

Pace e Amore,
Racholina... as the Italians have been calling me

The Grass Really Is Greener...

Rumor has it that the Swiss and the Italians aren't the fondest of each other. True or not, I refuse to choose sides between two magically different worlds. If only you could see my view right now, maybe you'd understand.

But for starters, I'll give you a taste of the sounds. Like a childhood story set in the country, every morning the rooster crows its song--a loud and mighty COCK-a-doodle-DOOO!--and then again in the afternoon. Crickets and birds whistle their mating calls, and in the distance echoes a farmer directing his dog to herd in the cattle, moos and cow bells following in time. Not a single car engine interrupts this natural symphony, only the low humming of an old tractor grazing over the sun-yellow oil crops. And then there's the most beautiful part. The silence that rests in between the perfect chords, as still as a child passed out on the couch after a long day playing in the sweltering beaming sunlight.

This atmosphere is true music to my soul. A sound so organically refreshing that at first I had to focus intently on winding myself down to this volume of peace and nature before I could actually hear its calling. And my eyes--well they're quite overwhelmed, too. I talked to my mom on the phone the other day and when I told her of the beauty here, her words didn't even skip a beat. "In Switzerland I felt so close to God," she said. "And I don't normally say things like that."

The backyard of Janine's house is lush with perfectly blooming flowers--violets, tulips, and lilacs that smell so sweet I'd considered licking them... A small fish pond rests before a canopy of trees and bushes, and beyond that, a hill leading to potato crop fields, in parallel lines and not yet harvested. In front of the neighbor's wooden brown farm houses and between the crops lie a tan gravel path. And--I kid you not--a horse and carriage carrying a family of four, riding along and leaving a trail of dust.

This country is pure magic. And I haven't even mentioned the mountains yet! But really, can words do justice to the towering snow-capped rocks that overwhelm everyone in their presence with an unavoidable feeling of calm? Really and truly, the mountains are Divine.

To the Swiss people, the organic natural life is every-day life. But to the American girl who just spent 4 months over-eating, over-drinking, and walking miles through Firenze without a patch of green grass in sight... organic natural life is a much needed rehabilitation. A floating of sorts where moments feel weightless and free.


the neighborhood




In terms of practical updates, Carolina and I are staying with her friend Janine who went to high school with her for a year in the US as an exchange student. Her family of six consists of Mom, Dad, Janine (20), Michele (18), Julia (12), and Ila (the most adorable and lovable dog I've ever met). All but Julia speak English--in fact, they speak French, German, and some Italian, too. (Impressive Swiss people!) But that's necessary in a country that has 4 native languages. This family has welcomed us in the way a grandmother does the youngsters...always feeding us traditional and delicious meals, filling us in on all the local history and insiders secrets, and even showing us old slides of travels from their younger days. How lucky we are to be here with them.

We've spent our days visiting local castles and lakes, and two day trips. One to Bern, the capital, and another to Lucerne, a mountainous lake-side town. Both beautiful and exciting in their own special ways. One more day to go here before we head back down to the squelching land of Sicilia.

Wish us luck on this wild adventure. All my love,

Rachael

Where the moment takes us

You know that moment that happens as the night is winding down but nobody wants it to end? 15 empty wine bottle accompany a group of persistent friends on the tile floor, and the dining room table above is crowded with what's left of an amazing pot-luck dinner devoured earlier. Conversation wanders into subversive 4a.m. subjects like the metaphoric words for penis and vagina in various languages (fragolina, pescelina, pattetina) or how a woman orgasms better with socks on... And then before we know it it's 6a.m., pajamas are on, and we're tucking each other into spare beds, taking turns cuddling, squirmming, hugging and kissing each other. All of the cute and endearing knick-names of our childhoods are discovered and used like permenent reminders of how much we want the youthfulness, the simplicity, the pure fun of this night to last forever. So we just keep going until finally, the bodies that we've been stretching too thin for too long, finally give out and sweep us into the most perfect, blissful sleep. Tonight, we don't even need to dream.

"We Were Meant To Be Here Together...

...And that's just the way it should be."
-Devra, tonight, after a long day of highs and lows for all of us.


(Me and Dev in our Israeli pants just after spring break)

So I have T-minus 10 days in this amazing Florentine apartment/lifestyle, and despite my attempts to distract myself and just live it up for the time remaining, goodbyes have never been that simple for me. These things I cannot rid from every beat of my heavy heart: the fact that the most soulful, fun, and interesting women serendipitously became my roommates and have forever changed my being. Buckets full of memories spinning inside my head and the weight from them all about to spill over into joyful tears. The scary anticipation of crashing into boredom, loneliness, and stress after being on an extreme Italian high for 4 months. An overwhelming sense of gratitude and awe, and the uplifting reality that the world is way too expansive to ever run out of adventures. (Thank God!)

These times come around the bend every so often when it seems like the remainder of my life can only be reached by jumping off a cliff into a scary but incredible unknown. The reality is that I know how to cliff jump, because I've done it many times before, and due to my extensive experience, I've gotten a bit smarter and begun using a parachute instead of just hoping for some wild and magical force in the universe to catch me. Point is--no matter how experienced a cliff jumper is, one never takes the leap without stomaching a pit of nerves and knots. But the feeling of being in the air, of letting yourself fly instead of fearing the fall, and then the happy surprise of landing on your own two feet... that's the feeling that we jump for.

I took that leap coming here to Italy--leaving everything I felt comfortable with to experience a complete unknown, and here I am, not just standing on my own two feet, but dancing in fullness and freedom. I know that new horizons await, beautiful ones at that, but I can't pretend it's easy to shake the reality that I'd love to let this flight coast on...


So in an attempt to fill in the gaps between my experiences and my recordings of them, I'm going to try to write a blog a day for my time remaining in Florence, prompted by a picture or two.

All my love, and thanks for still checking in..
Rachael



(Carolina and Devra tonight at Cuiro/Scuro -light/dark- for apartivi)

Pictures Speak Louder Than Words PartII...IRELAND

Ireland was never on my list of "places to go" when coming abroad, but after lots of mayhem trying to secure spring break plans, Jodi told me that she was going to Ireland with our mutual friend Spencer (among others), and I was welcome to come along. This was another one of those times when I was led to exactly where I was meant to be. Ireland was beyond fun, exciting and beautiful in so many ways, but I'll just let the pictures speak for themselves...


First night in Ireland I actually spent with Anna and Melissa, two girls from my program, before Jodi and Spence came. Go figure, we met two crazy Italians from Venice and ended up on a voyage for Guiness together because it was Good Friday so all the bars were forbidden to sell alcohol. Needless to say, we found our Guinesses and danced til 4AM.


Every great city has a great river...Dublin.


Jodi sleeping on the bus on our way to Gallaway--a beautiful and funky town in central Ireland.


Jodi and Spencer riding bikes in the Killarny National Park.


After a long but breathtaking bike ride to the falls.


The view on the bike ride home!!


Back in Dublin we took a tour of the Guiness Wearhouse Factory where we learned all about the brewing process and other convincing reasons why Guiness is so amazing (good sales people, mostly)--then, to top it all off (literally) we got to pour our very own "perfect" pints and enjoy them at the TOP of this amazing factory with a panormaic view of Dublin. This fine lady in the pic was our beer mentor. We loved her.


Andddd a few Guinesses later we somehow ended up floating around in a giant glass of Guiness foam.... I'll leave this one up to you...


Cheers & Love!
Rach

The Saharawi Occupation and Who You Meet Along the Way

I was walking down a cobble-stoned road on my way to Michelangelo's Piazza at the top of a hill in Florence. A middle-aged guy, thin and fit looking, was the only other person sharing the winding street with my two friends and me. At one point, he stopped, pulled out a tour book and began looking for directions. "You need help finding something?" I called over to him from across the road. We met each other half way and he told me that he was following a walk that led him to the top of Michelangelo's Piazza. "Right this way, mister...we're heading in the same direction."

Glenn Hooker was this smiley man's name, Australian Business Development Manager an Aussie VoIP provider, father and soccer coach to his 5 and 7 year old sons, and husband to his entreprenurial wife.
"What are you doing here in Florence?" I asked.
"Well actually, I just finished running a marathon in the Sahara Dessert, and I was on a team with a bunch of Italians, so I decided to finish up my trip with a week touring Italy."
"Wait, what?! A marathon in the Sahara? Was there some sort of cause involved?"
"Actually, yes." And then like it was just part of his daily life he said, "The marathon was to raise money and awareness about the situation of the Saharawi people. I spent a week living with them in their refugee camps and learning about their struggle, and now my whole mission is to go home and educate people about their situation"
Obviously intrigued I said, "Well, here's the chance to start...let's hear it."

(Saharawi Refugee Camp. photo stolen from www.medea.be)

And that's when the whole story came out. For the next 45 minutes Glenn and I walked and talked, as he told me the story of his experience living with the Saharawi people in mud huts and tents in the Smara and Dajla camps of Algeria. He told me about the kindness, toughness, and brightly spirited personalities of the Saharawi people. About the unbearable heat that was apparently "ideal" compared to sandstorms of past marathons that wiped out the entire camp in a matter of hours. About the community garden that was a few hundred square meters; not large enough to feed the 30,000+ people living in Dajla, but good for the spirit of self-sufficiency. And then he told me the politics of the situation--what I hate hearing the most because I hear it all too often--the story of thousands of innocent people oppressed and violated due to greed, money, and a hollowness that easily forgets the value of human beings. The reason why this marathon was needed.

Glenn did his part to pass along his knowledge of this situation to me, and now it's my turn to pass that knowledge to you. Here is a quick summary of the background of the Saharawi refugee camps in Algeria--one of the only places in the world the UN acknowledges as non-self governing. (Thank you Glenn, for providing most of this information).

It's the late 19th Century and Europeans are colonizing all over Africa when Spain claims the land occupied by the Saharawi's, the indigenous people of the Western Sahara. Saharawi nationalists fought through the 1950's, 60's and 70's to reclaim their land, even forming their own representative group, the POLISARIO. In 1975, the POLISARIO were on the verge of independence, when Spain signed a clandestine treaty with Morocco and Mauritania to split the land into three instead of granting liberation. (The Saharawi people were one of Morocco's biggest allies in their struggle for independence from the French, by the way).

The result led to an unfortunate armed struggle and tens of thousands of Saharawis fled their homes in Western Sahara as Morocco dropped American napalm and phosphorous bombs on civilians. Facing aggression from countries both north and south, the fleeing Saharawis turned east, to Algeria. There, they were granted asylum and began to build refugee camps in an area of the desert considered uninhabitable. The task of creating a new life in exile fell to the women while the men remained at battle. Saharawi women developed committees and systems for health care, education, day care, social affairs, resource distribution and played an active role in the political process.

Today, most of the indigenous people of the Western Sahara continue to live in the refugee camps set up during a time of struggle. 80% are women or children, and despite living with conditions considered "inhospitable", these spirited people would rather endure and chose a life in exile, than live under the rule of a government whose reign has sought to erase their existence. (http://www.wsahara.net/camps.html)

A referendum to decide the fate of the country has been proposed and accepted by the UN, but has never come to pass. What can we do? Raising global awareness will play a significant role in forging a resolution and ending the suffering of the Saharawis who face gross human rights abuses in the occupied areas.

Sometimes as Americans we let our geographic isolation keep us from international awareness. But if Glenn Hooker living in Australia can make the choice to leave his comfort zone and explore the challenging realities of a foreign group of people, we can try to do the same. After writing me an impressive list of triatholons, iron man races, and marathons that he's previously participated in, Glenn wrote to me in our most recent e-mail, "Anyway, if I can particpate in a few of these challenges that have great causes behind them then it's happy days!" To me, this statement captures quite well Glenn's lighthearted but also serious committment to doing good in the world, and I feel truly inspired.

Please, share this story with others. And if you have any stories you think people ought to know about, send me an e-mail and take some space here as a guest blogger.

To learn more about the Saharawi situation, check out these websites:

http://www.wsahara.net/camps.html (history, geography, etc)
http://www.waronwant.org/Profiting20from20the20Occupation3AOther20Resources+10860.twl (politics, corruption, etc)
http://www.rjr.ru.ac.za/rjrpdf/rjr_no27/Sahawari_struggle.pdf (a first hand story of the struggle)
http://travel.webshots.com/album/558320295cWgAvC (pictures)

My heart is heavy and aching today with compassion, a tinge of sadness, and that unavoidable thing called HOPE after reading through tons of articles and looking over too many pictures. Thanks for spreading the word...

Peace,
Rachael

PS--Apologies for being so disconnected from this blog lately. I only have 3 weeks left in Florence and I'm soaking in as much as possible. I'll try to update about my spring break in Ireland, along with other amazing experiences soon. All my love!

What Italians Do Better...

No, I'm not talking about gelato or pasta... I'm talking about healthcare. (Although, I must admit, they take the prize on the former also)

This past week for me has been like a rollercoaster of sickness in more directions than imaginable. From a sinus infection, to a fever and chills, to a wisdom tooth swelling my bottom gums and paining me to smile--my reasons for misery have been plenty! Even more, I'm leaving for my spring break to Dublin tomorrow, for which I'm extremely excited yet nervous because traveling while sick is never the best idea.

As to be expected, I've been having moments of panic thinking about going to a doctor, then trying to figure out how I'd pay for the visit and any medications prescribed to me with my limited insurance and low budget. Then I remembered... I'M IN ITALY! Healthcare is not only extremely affordable... it's practically free! Better yet, oftentimes no doctor is needed in order to receive the exact antibiotic that you're looking for. Through the grapevine I heard that you can just walk into the pharmacy, tell them your symptoms, and be given exactly what you need to heal your woes. So I figured I'd give it a shot.

15 minutes and 30 euros later I was the happiest patient ever! With 2 antibiotics for my sinuses and an all-natural anti-bacterial spray for my gums, I am completely set for traveling. My attitude has sky rocketed, and I feel better already knowing that I don't have to worry about feeling miserable and sick during spring break. What a relief. No doctors, no insurance companies, no long lines and annoying processes. Just the medications I need at an affordable price and in a timely manner.

So I've been walking around ecstatic all day blabbing to my friends about the great news. A few of them--especially the Italian ones--just chuckle at me. Americans they think, So excited about something so normal to us. But for me, the American who pays 10-50 dollars for a prescription AFTER my insurance deductions, doctors visits, and long lines at the pharmacy, this is quite the steal!

Point is, America, we've got this healthcare thing all wrong. Politicians and pharmaceutical companies are so intertwined that even when we have presidential candidates promising us reform, we have no one promising us what is absolutely necessary: a step away from corporate greed and bureaucracy that profits off of human illnesses. We must begin to learn about the different systems and alternatives that would be most comprehensive and cover the most people with the best quality at the lowest cost. I personally, along with many progressive doctors and politicians, believe that the single-payer system is the way to go. (Read more about single-payer here at http://www.pnhp.org/). If you're interested in seeing more about the healthcare issue in the States, I would highly recommend Michael Moore's Sicko. It's one of his best documentaries yet, and focuses on the issue at hand more than a political bias.

Well I hope that you're all enjoying your spring break in good health and happiness. And if you're fighting the healthcare insurance companies over one thing or another, I advise you to book a flight to Italy, get what you need at a pharmacy, then stay at my place for a week and make a vacation out of it. I can guarantee it'll be the best trip to the pharmacy you'll ever make!

Ciao,
Rachael

Parigi! (Paris in Italian ;)

Ru and Jodi at a tapas resturant in HOTlanta. Summer of '06.

We'd been planning this trip since the time we figured out our semester's abroad in Europe would all overlap. Jodi, my long time soul-mate, is studying Music and English in London right now. And Ru, an incredible Croatian woman who we met at an international hostel in Atlanta, is working on her masters in French and English in Paris. So last weekend after much anticipation and e-mailing back and forth, we all met in the middle. My friend Anna who's studying with me here in Florence also joined in on the fun.

The trip was flavored with all kinds of ingredients: crepes of every assortment, red wines to the nine (ok, they were 2 euro bottles), cappuccinos on the corner, toss a few sexy Argentinean men in there, and some KFC to make you feel right at home.(Hey!--when it's pouring rain in every direction, there's no where under 20euros for lunch and you need a place of refuge...fast!...KFC's good for it!)

Exquisite tastes aside, Paris was nothing like what I was expecting. (This is what happens when you go places without reading or researching practically anything before hand...) It was much more quaint and quiet seeming on the outside. Yes, the city is HUGE, as we quickly learned after spending probably 1/5th of our time on the Metro...but when you're walking around outside, there's such a pleasant, clean, relaxed feel to things. Nothing like huge, dirty cities in the U.S. (NYC, Boston...). Maybe it's because so much of the traffic is happening underground on the Metro...they've got a really great system.

So we did most of the touristy things, which were really nice--Notre Dam was absolutely beautiful on the inside; the Impressionist Art Museum had a great exhibit with some of the first photographs ever taken; the Lurve...incredible architecture and tons to appreciate when you're not on the same floor as the Mona Lisa--when you are, it's just a sweaty hell; Mount Martre and the Moulin Rouge windmill; and of course, the Eiffel Tower.

Ah, the Eiffel Tower... so beautiful... and to make it even better, Jodi, Anna and I picked up 2 bottles of cheap red, brought along some empty water bottles, and when the time was right, overlooking the river and the tower, we popped those babies open and had one of the most romantic moments of our collective lives--sipping cheap red from water bottles, giddy that the Eiffel Tower was "having sex with the sky" (it did this pulsating, sparkling thing every half hour that would last for about 10 minutes and get really fast at the end before it stopped...sounds like sex to me), and to top it all off (no, not in that way, gutter-brains..) it was international WOMAN'S DAY!!!--A holiday widely celebrated across Europe with the giving of mimose flowers. So naturally, in English, we cheered happy woman's day to every woman that passed. The whole evening was flawless. Except when we missed the last Metro home, wandered around aimlessly for about an hour, then finally agreed to take a taxi which was surprisingly inexpensive. 1 point for the French!

Actually, despite all the bashing that the French always get, I think they do a lot of things right. They're the artists of the world who say they need vacation time so their minds can rest and their creativity can harbor. I say more power to them! Who says the rest of the world's got it right? Maybe they can be a little snotty, but maybe they just feel misunderstood (shout out to all the NFs of the world)...

And this is when you can tell that my thoughts are getting blurry, and my mind too lazy to write coherently. Apologies for neglecting this blog more than anticipated... I think shorter, more frequent posts might be good... I'll post some pics from Paris if Jo sends them to me. Unfortunately, my camera died part way through...

Ciao lovers,
Rach

Everything Must Change

(Written Saturday afternoon)
Yesterday was a day of hopeful letdowns. I went to bed the night before with a mission to do two things the next day: go to the Boboli Gardens and Michelangelo’s Piazza. It was strange moment though--one of those times when I knew no matter how set in stone my plan was, and how easy to accomplish it would be, something was bound to get in the way. Well, there's nothing like trusting my intuition 'cause that baby knows what's up! For more excuses than I care to explain or you probably care to hear, I didn't accomplish my plan. My entire day consisted of a series of wrong-time-wrong-place situations added to my already miserable drippy nose and broken cell phone, making it all too easy to just give up on the plan and spend most of the day reading depressing poetry in an English bookstore near the Duomo.

Allura, I've found that there's no worse feeling these days than when I feel like I've wasted a day here--a day in Florence, a day in Italy, a day in Europe that could have been more, more, more than what it was, was, was. And then my internal thoughts go something like this: WHY did I NOT follow through on my PLAN that was supposed to be so EASY? What's WRONG with me? I'm in ITALY--what am I doing wasting this day?

In all honesty, I just have to laugh at myself. Of course I didn't accomplish the easiest plan in the world that I had all day to do. Of course not! Because when I woke up yesterday morning (or better yet, when I went to bed the night before), I knew I didn't really want to go to the gardens or piazza anymore--I felt sniffly, sick and gloomy. But I didn't want to give up on the only thing that seemed worthy of my precious time here. I didn't want to let go of The Plan (meaningful experiences only possible in Florence) and leave things up to The Universe (probably meaningless things available world wide; ie, my laptop and snot-filled tissues).

But I'm convinced that sometimes we makes plans to do tangible things because we know that we have tons of soul work to do. We write: buy toilet paper and new sponges, and go to the museums and gardens, to avoid writing: be honest, be brave, and trust yourself (even your lonely or bad-mood self). We spend days accomplishing lots of things but nothing that we really needed. Nothing that was really what our heart was calling out for.

So yesterday was one of those days where I tried my ass off to accomplish what I didn't actually feel like doing--and I never accomplished it.

But today, on and on like a mantra, the phrase "everything must change" sang to me on constant repeat. I woke up and knew that today was going to be different. Without the slightest plan in mind (no, I was not going to try at the gardens and piazza again...not yet), I was ready to greet whatever the Universe had in store for me. I was ready to listen for what I actually wanted, what I actually believed was important for this day and this moment in this place. And suddenly, my cell phone rings and it's my roommate Anna asking if I'd go to brunch with her. Of course! Says the girl who hasn't seen signs of life in ages, seemingly.

Brunch was delicious and even better thanks to such honest conversation between Anna and I. So as we're walking home, there's a hair salon that I decide to peak my head into. I've been contemplating chopping off my hair for some time now, but I've never had the feeling that it was really what I wanted--just a fluky thought. So I peak my head in and ask them what they think of me going-afro style...to which all the people in the salon replied that they thought it would be absolutely beautiful and they could do it right here, right now, give me your jacket, do you want to be shampooed?, we'll give you a student discount, here's a picture, is this what you want?

John Lucca was his name and I am in love with the way he took an electric razor to my hair and perfectly buzzed it into place. The feeling I have from finally letting go of the idea that I need a certain hair style or image to be myself is so liberating. I don't need that length to feel the length of me. I can just let it go and let loose. What a feeling.

I've never felt so positively effected by a hair cut in my entire life. I feel like taking the scary step to buzz it all off gave me so much courage today--courage that I really needed. Courage to be strong enough to admit my clarity, to be kind and honest enough to gently break the Truth to someone who really needed me to say it, to be wise enough to let go of the missed imaginings, to be peaceful enough to embrace the beautiful present.

Sometimes we make lists of things we don't really need to do and we fill our days trying to get them done. But sometimes, those things can be magically meditative, and just doing them can be enough to clear our minds and lead our strides exactly where they ought to go.


What magical places has the Universe led you lately?

All my love,
Rach

"The universe will lead you to where you need to be"

The musician Ben Lee said this to Jodi when she met him at a concert a few summers ago, and the quote has always been one that we've carried with us throughout our serendipitous experiences. Even in moments of doubt or loneliness, I still believe that there is purpose and meaning in the steps that we take, the people we meet, and the situations we land ourselves in. And believing in our purpose, be it known or unknown, gives hope that in fact, we are heading in the right direction...this is the direction of my life (and yours) and there's simply no other direction or way that it could ever be traveled.

I got to talking with an Italian the other night who said to me that only after the passage of time, a few years or so, can people know if their decisions were "right" or "good" or not. While I know there's some truth to this, it's just never been my way of thinking. In Rome this weekend I was anxious to part from the endless guided tours and find a piazza with a fountain and a cafe where I could sketch or journal and sip red wine. So I hopped on the bus having almost no clue what I was doing (which almost always excites me, even in foriegn cities where I barely speak the language... HA!), and got off where I thought would be the closest stop to Piazza Navona (needless to say, I was wrong :). So, after trekking the city by foot for over an hour, I gave in and settled for a really cute cafe on a street corner where I was the only American in the room. This is what I wrote:

It's a difficult concept to swallow--imagining that you possibly could have made a better life-altering decision that in theory, could have led you to a better, happier, more perfect place. BUT, I know that if we continue to listen to our deepest voices of truth and passion, when we do not ignore or neglect our intuition, then there is no "right" or "wrong", only the way it has to be; only the reality of being human and trying our best; only the humility of accepting imperfections and embracing that scary possibility that some other way could have felt better. And yes, I am too small to know which way or how. But as I breathe in a small breath and take in this small moment of sitting alone with my wine and journal in an anonymous Roman cafe, I'm okay with being too small to know. This life is more than enough. And I know I am exactly where I need to be. Right here, right now.

Allura, I hope today you can find the space to accept the sometimes-daunting truth that your life is magical just the way it is, your steps are in the only direction possible, and they're leading you to exactly where you need to be. I know I'm in Italy, so of course, it should be easy (and in so many ways it IS easy), but there are challenges and struggles and decisions I've had to make, maturations I've had to grow into, a better person I've had to become--and all I can do is follow my gut and trust my instincts that this life in still on-going, and no decision is ever static. With that, I know that not only can I continue moving forward, but in fact, that is the only thing for me to do.


And I'll leave you with a little peak into some of the magical places the universe has led me of late:
1. BeBop open mic 2 hours too early for the open mic, but just on time for the owner's birthday party. Mi casa e tu casa in Italia, so they stuffed me like a Thanksgiving turkey and basted me with all the wine in the world. Non importanta io parlo Italiano un po, perche loro conoscono io voglio parlare Italiano! Allura, proviamo insieme. (Not important that I only speak a little Italian, because they know that I want to speak Italian!...So together we try.) Then I listened to some of the most incredible voices I've heard live in a long time, and found the balls to get up and sing 2 of my own tunes (1 that I wrote here!) and a Joni cover all acapella.
2. With Devra on the weekend of my birthday: the top of a great hill with a castle in Assisi just as the sun was setting behind the georgous Italian Alps. (Also located here, the nicest port-a-pottie I have ever seen or used!) All thanks to missing the school-organized trip that would have had us in and out of Assisi before lunch!
3. The blissful Borghesi Gardens a Roma after a hectic and exhausting 3 days of running around like a chicken with my head cut off. There were trees and grass and fountains beyond belief!--one thing I terribly long for in the cobblestoned Baroque city of Firenze.
4. And again! Bliss through olive & cyprus trees and ancient palaces in the Villa Adriana an hour outside of Rome. The best way ever to recompose and recoup after Rome...

5. But nothing could compare to the Tivoli Gardens, which has to be one of the most peaceful and beautiful man-made places I have ever been to.




All my love and trust to you on this sunny Tuesday in Florence. A presto, amori...

Pictures Speak Louder than Words

If I weren't overwhelmed with so many fun and incredible things to do, I'd probably be updating this blog a lot more often... Allura (SO), here I present you a small photo-slide show of my favorite moments in the past weeks:


Sara, Devra (roommate), and Kate playing dress-up/photo-shoot in Devra's silk dresses


cute booties (Melissa, Carolina, Sasha, and Anna) in the beautiful town of Viareggio


Me, Anna at a pizzeria in Venice before going out for Carnival festivities


A shadow of the Duomo over Florence after climbing it's 400 stairs


Tomorrow morning I leave for ROMA... hopefully by then my laundry (that includes all of my socks and underwear...) will be dry so I don't have to go comando to the previous empire of the world. Meh, but, "when in Rome..." ;)

Ciao ciao!
Rach

A Room with a View

Here I sit on my bed in Florence, morning sun shining through my open shutters, and Brunelleschi's world-famous Duomo towering before the light. That's right, she stares at me in the morning and watches me undress at night. What a life. I love it. I've been reading people's thoughts on Firenze and there are so many warnings to avoid la Piazza del Duomo, known for the thousands of tourists who pass through every day. But I have an advantage over the herds of Asians, Americans, Italian school kids, Immigrant street vendors, and Gypsy thefts--a literal advantage over the whole buzzing scene as I sit at my window with a smirk on my face. I can't help but chuckle at the dumbfoundedness and mayhem. I could take pictures for hours on end of tourist faces and pseudo-photographer body positions as they try desperately to capture the entire magnitude of il Duomo in one dinky shot. (Good luck!) Or the way the gypsies know exactly who to ask (or who not to ask=§) for a little extra spare change. And of course, how a man and a woman can't even talk without a 2€ rose thrown in their faces and a tricky situation as he tries to say no without offending the woman.

But nevertheless, despite these quarks and potential annoyances, it would kill me to tell someone, "Avoid this piazza if you visit Florence". If not for the architectural genius that draws so many to its doorsteps each day, one MUST visit this piazza--at least for witnessing these clusters of life, these exchanges of oppotunity, that make up the huge cultural element of Florence known as tourism.

I love my location right in the heart of this ancient city where hardly any walk home poses a serious threat. I'm no more than 3 minutes from all the best bars, clubs, and music venues in Florence, and the streets by the Duomo are some of the best lit in town. Is this really my front yard for the next 3 months? Yes. Yes it is. Somebody pinch me!

All my love and wishing you grand adventures wherever you might be these days...
Pace,
Rach

(and my view in the other direction)

L'potenza di un Sorriso (The power of a Smile)

It's just after 5p.m. and the best part of the day in Siena. The main drag is crowded with practically all the people of the city huddled in twos, or fives, or sixes, talking about everything under the sun (at least to me, the girl who speaks un poco Italiano). But as I stroll down the street, taking my time the way a good American study abroad student should, no language barrier could be thick enough to mask my beaming smile.

The old men are my favorite, and they know it as I flash my glossy whites at them. Sometimes I wonder if they think I'm strange for the wide-eyed smile on my face. Do they think I'm flirting, or god-forbid an American "prostitute" that so many Italians apparently watch on MTV? (That's their language choice, not mine.) I wonder if a smile like mine is familiar to them... if so many young and excited women from the U.S. visit their town and share with them an unspoken connection of appreciation, of eagerness, of perfection found in this rich cultural community. Either way, there's something so powerful, so universal about the distance a smile can travel...so I make sure to carry it with me wherever I go.

A presto, genti belle. What smile have you shared lately?

"If you smile at me, I will understand. Because that is something everybody, everywhere does in the same language."
-Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

ps-It's been hard finding an Internet connection strong enough to allow me to upload pictures. I'll add them as soon as I can!

Propaganda or Art?

Dumping the riches to the poor--the floor of the Duomo in Siena.

There are some things you don’t talk about with new Italian friends. The same goes for new friends of any region, but in Italy, mention the word politics and the amiable dinnertime clamor falls quiet with tension and suspense. Then someone mentions through a polite chuckle that it’s best we don’t talk politics, and moves on to conversation about the delicious food and wine.

This is a tough lesson for me to learn, a tough line for me to walk, considering my rebellious political side and my inclination to strike challenging questions. Nevertheless, this is Italy and there are already enough Americans running around wanting all the charm and history of this nation, but all the convenience and comfort of their own. So I’ll try not to push the wrong buttons or cross the bolded lines with my new Italian friends. Not until they learn that my questions have no scrutiny, only curiosity, and my challenges have no winners, only interesting outcomes. Trust takes time here--time and an ability to communicate clearly, which I'm working on everyday.

Ironically, although casual conversations about politics (and religion) are reserved for close and trusted friends only, messages from the state are blazoned on walls abound. Two words: Renaissance Art. This past weekend I traveled to the fantastic city of Venice for their famous celebration of Carnivale (which is room for a separate blog all together--soon, I promise). In this city of canals and bridges, tucked between construzoni colorati e romantici (colorful and romantic buildings), churches and galleries from the 1300's sit with Bellini's masterpieces covering their interiors. An amazing sight for any person to see--artists, devouts, atheists, and architects alike. This propaganda is ART, and in Italy, art is what connects the dear values of family, religion, and Italian pride. But ask one of the Italians looking at the museum walls what they think about the stories they've been told, and you'd hear only the echo of shoes scuffing the marble floors. I'm sensitive and respectful to this reserved means of expression--but like I said, a hard lesson for little-miss-rebel over here to embrace. Ah, but to grow and develop more global tolerance is part of why I'm studying abroad, isn't it?

The modern collection of Peggy Guggenheim was a great break from Madonna and Child. The more subjective art is easier for my to swallow in large quantities :o).

On a seperate note, I would love to get some e-mails from friends and family. I've had very limited Internet access and phone calls are really costly, but when I do find the time to check my mail, it's always such a pleasure to hear from loved ones. I'm making so many great connections to both Italians and Americans here, but there's nothing like hearing what's going on in the lives of the people who mean the most to me. (rachmddx@gmail.com)

What interesting discoveries are you making where you are today?

Io sono a Siena! (I am in Siena!) and some of the beauty that lies here

Overlooking the Piazza del Campo from the Duomo Tower

In Siena the children are born knowing how to roll their R's and there's no such thing as a "close talker". Old men lean in to speak to each other as they stroll the cobblestone streets without hurry or fret. On their journey through the town, the locals stop occasionally, examining the jackets and boots in shop windows on "salde". The roads and the sidewalks here are one, leaving just enough width for a car to pass with pedestrians on either side. But tourists beware!--cars appear out of nowhere on these winding street-alleys, and will leave you startled and short of breath when you almost get hit by one!

Despite the potential danger of lightening fast vihecles, there's something magical about what lies beyond the bend. Siena was made in the 14th century before the profession of architecture existed, so the city rose without planning. Building by building, nine wealthy men added to what has now become a dense labrynth of seven story buildings with shops, cafés, pizzerias, and resturantes along the street level. The "belly-pop" of the city is the Piazza de Campo, a huge open space, landmarked by a magnificent towering town hall and cafés and bars facing inward.

Siena is a mound of authenticity. No, literally a mound. My calves are sore from walking up and down the stone streets everywhere I go. But I have no complaints--at least I'm walking off the mounds of pasta and pizza I've been chowing down on. (I'll save food descriptions for a different post.)Peeking around in small art galleries and wandering my way to the university that's 15 minutes from my hotel, I feel invigorated and lifeless simultaneously. My Italian language class is from 9 to 12:30 every day, but with the 15 minute walk and time for breakfast at the hotel, I'm waking up at 7 every morning. And do you really think that in a new, exciting Italian city, I ever get to bed before 2a.m.? 5 hours of sleep isn't cutting it. Luckily, the Italians know how to relax and enjoy life with a 2-3 hour siesta everyday around lunch time--perfect for napping!

Exciting things lie in store, including cooking classes, wine tastings, museum tours, and trips to amazing little Italian towns. Last night some friends and I found a really eccentric social pub called Bella Vista that has live AfroCuban music every Wednesday night. The musician, Moses from Guine, was there and made us reservations to sit right up front. I'll be sure to post about these experiences when I have time. Right now I can only use Internet at the school without my laptop, so pictures will be added later.

Siena is absolutely beautiful and I'm having a wonderful time. Of course, I miss home and loved ones, but the more I stay busy and embrace where I am, the more amazed I am that I'm here taking part in the experience of a lifetime. Adjustment always takes time--but let's be real here--there couldn't be a better place to have to adjust to!

Cioa!
Rachael

Arrivederci! Vedali presto! (Bye! See you soon!)

I think Ziggy's going to miss me ;) And the truth is, I'm going to miss that little pecker, too! (Okay, not too much... the dog's absolutely crazy. But he sure is good lookin'.)

My flight for London leaves at 10:02PM tomorrow night, and of course, I have all of 10 shirts packed & a pile of journaling supplies stacked on my couch. It's been a long haul getting together everything for the coming months in Italy--from my student Visa, to course approvals, to miscellaneous crap that will probably come in handy more than I know. But the haul has led me here to a river of emotions flowing rapidly with excitement, nerves, curiosity, and that tingling feeling you get when you know you're about to do something that will change your life forever. My goal is to hit the ground running, soaking in every moment of new adventure, culture, and art. I know that I'll miss loved ones while I'm away, especially Brian. But that's to be expected, and I can't & won't let it stop me from taking advantage of every opportunity that calls. I mean, I'm going to be living in the art capital of the world, taking a painting class on the hills of Tuscany, and drinking the best wine & espresso known to humankind. Could my semester hold more amazing things? I can't help but feel giddy inside.

So off to London I go for a 3 day stop over with my program, AIFS, before my 3 week orientation in Siena. Jodi, my best friend, will be in London for her study abroad. We're hoping to meet up in a pub for a world-famous room-temperature beer. Cheers, right?

Send me your mailing address and I'll send you a letter or postcard.

Peace & love,
Rachael

PS-With the hopes of keeping this blog as authentic as possible, I'll be copying portions from my journal & providing context and pictures, posting when it feels right, not out of obligation. Short & sweet could be the theme of this blog...it'll be better for us both, I think :)