Roma: Ti Amo

i wrote this last june.  something on this beautiful morning inspired me to re-read it.  i thought i’d share it with you because it reminds me of all my dear friends.  thinking of you guys and the mark we made on the eternal city.

**

too fast for words

we flit in the undiscovered vastness which sunders every spoken syllable

and that’s how we live-poetry over practicality

it protects us from fetters

soft hums are all we all hear

blurs of emerald and ruby and quartz

a safe full of precious stones spilling out in fast motion

in crooked lines we create endless strings of jewels

adorning the air as we go

murmuring wings

our pulses, breakneck, faster than sound itself

but as our shining eyes catch each other between blinks

our heartbeats accord, immediately slowing down

moving torpidly, like the growth of that ancient tree

with those twisted roots, succulent with purloined secrets of all who’ve ever passed by it

how brilliant it is to travel as we do!

at some point we should probably thank someone

for fashioning these wings that carry us through the ages

we bore the first fire to the Ohlones

we were warriors and watchers over sanded ziggurats

from the tops of totems to filigreed brooches of ladies in petticoats

our virescence was smeared across Kahlo’s palette

our hastily flapping pinions render prescient flipbooks

filled not with warnings, but vehement hope

we’ve noticed that time stands as still as blood through pumping veins

and in this we delight

so we craft a harlequin dance of jade and amaranth

a coltish waltz in our own whirling wind

it’s a playful movement that unites us with Nature

who trusts us with Her only truth

(this certainty learned too late by too many)

offering it in Her mellifluous whisper:

keep your wings beating

hesitate not in your race with hands of hurtling clocks

and you can find eternal seconds

in the blazing eyes of each other

in the hurried heave of your humble chests

your sides will gently brush

and harmony will emerge in sinless song

wings rippling in synchronous meter

together

you’ll fly higher than time

I read that on a bus bench in Amsterdam. So beautifully true.

On the plane from Rome. It just occurred to me that my blog posts have been really few and far between. Maybe I shouldve kept up with it better, but honestly the time was spent doing other things. I hope you guys have enjoyed the highlights.

This entry is obviously going to be reflective and maybe not worth the read to anyone who wasn’t on this adventure with me. Be warned.

I’m sitting next to an Italian guy. After a conversation in smudged Engtalian, I realized how much better I can communicate with people than before this trip. I slip into Italian when I’m inebriated. And maybe my congiuntivo isn’t perfect and my irregular verbs take an absurd amount of thought, but it doesn’t matter.

I got acqua frizzante and a panino caprese before I boarded the plane. I sat next to two people from Alabama and heard a familiar southern twang that’s been buried under Italian and Jersey and New York accents for the past 4 months. I choked up. I didn’t like it…I couldn’t take the thought of leaving the place that’s felt the most like home to me since I was 10 years old. Or leaving the people that have changed my life profoundly. You know when you get something you didn’t know you needed? Like water when you didn’t think you were that thirsty and you end up chugging two glasses? That’s what this has been. I knew I was itching to do this—Hell, I saved for 6 years. But there’s no way I ever knew how imperative it was that I go.

This was four months-106 days, every morning of which I woke up feeling unbelievably fortunate. There were shitty days and tension and rain and cold and loneliness and nervousness, of course, but overall the days crossed over me and left me lighter and lighter. (But no worries…all the pasta kept me from getting too light…)

For once I felt in control of my own life, of my being, of a true self that was only revealed to me in between hysterical laughter and moments of complete, candid truth with the people I love the most. And it’s funny to realize now that in enjoying that control I felt over my path, I also learned how to relinquish it.

As we were all saying our goodbyes I heard more than once that “this isn’t real life.” I couldn’t disagree more. This IS real life. This is truth. This is a mix of people who were lucky enough to encounter each other going through what LIVING should be. I can understand the detachment from what’s normal. I can see the departure from the usual responsibilities. But I didn’t feel like I was off the hook. The challenges—everything from a language barrier to frantic train station hustle to getting stranded for days thanks to a volcanic eruption—are abnormal, without a doubt. But real life is dealing and smiling through it. And to tell you the truth (and I apologize for going all Matrix on you) real life isn’t made of conventions-a job, a husband and kids, a college education. It’s made of people and places and reactions.

I want to hug everyone tighter the next time I see them. I want to let myself be moved by things again. About a year ago I was feeling so underwhelmed with my life. I was disappointed at what should have been better and expecting too much of things that couldn’t really cut it. I begged myself to get excited about life again. And up until January I hadn’t made much progress with that. I guess it took moving to another country. It was everything to me.

I don’t care if US Air charges me €55 for it…I’m packing everything I learned, everything my brain can possibly stand to remember, and taking it home with me to keep forever.

Rome, this isn’t the last you’ve heard of me. I love you.

Friends, I adore everything about you and everything about who you’ve helped me realize I am. Thanks. I’ll see you all soon. I promise! <3

America, you better watch out for this regazza…now to go massacre some BBQ.

So, here I am, trying to write my last paper of the semester.  But all I can do is think about this city, about the past 4 months of my life.  Ruby and Andie are cleaning out their rooms and sweeping the floors and packing their stuff and occasionally yelling at Sarah (the ghost who lives here and likes to slam the doors).  I just got back from a really random afternoon at Campo di Fiori and running into 3 friends at Aristocampo and hanging out with them for awhile.  Now I’m back and trying to concentrate on something that represents yet another way my trip is winding down.  I don’t like this feeling.   I’m getting nostalgic already.  I leave in seven days.

Dad visited for a couple of days before we left for 5Terre.  I’m so glad he got to see me here.  He told me I seem more in my element here than ever.  I think he’s right…but I think we all knew this.  Though his visit was short, it meant so much to me that he came.  I needed the quality time more than he knows. 

I can update you quickly on Cinque Terre:

-The hike was gorgeous and much harder than we’d anticipated.
-I went with Kat and Jen, and Marcy, Paige, and Taylor met up with us there.  Then Johnny, his roommate Dave, Kevin, and Mark met us too.  It was a huge group and we weren’t always together but they were amazing to spend time with. 
-The Blue Marlin…a bar in Vernazza (town 4, where we stayed) provided a lot of entertainment.
-I had the best seafood of life.  Also, Cinque Terre is the birthplace of pesto and is famous for its white wine.  You do the math.  :)
-The rain put a damper on hike day 1, but six soaking wet girls were troopers all through towns 1-4. 
-The tunnel between 2 and 1 was covered in amazing graffiti. 
-Spent our Saturday at the beach playing.  It was HEAVEN.  One of my favorite days, hands down. 
-All in all, a beautiful final trip to take.  The views were phenomenal.
 
*

I remember sitting with Jen, Johnny, and Dave out on their balcony at midnight.  I remember looking out at the sea and seeing lights past the cliffside that was almost too dark to make out.  I remember breathing in quietly while they all talked to each other  and getting that feeling like I was actively forming a memory.  I can’t explain it well, but it was this sense I get sometimes that I’m mentally pressing things into my life forever.  It’s happened more over the last few months than ever in my life.  These people and this place aren’t leaving me even though time is forcing me to leave them. 

*

The week that followed Cinque flew by, of course.  Studying for finals, turning in my last assignments, trying to spend every waking moment outside.  To celebrate my last day of class, I went out with a bunch of Cornell kids (they are my favs..) to Campo.  There I heard a remix of a Lion King song and freaked out…just had to add that little fact in there.

Jen’s friends were in town this weekend.  On Friday…Greg, Jen, Marcy, Paige, Taylor, Kevin, Johnny, Caleb, Andie, Ruby, and I all went to Borghese and spent the day there playing frisbee and soccer.   It was hands down an amazing day.  Then we had a party..thingy..at our apartment and it saw more people than I’m sure it ever had before.  There were around 18 people crammed in here….perfection.  The rest of my weekend was fairly low-key because I had 2 finals yesterday.  I’m not even going into it.  Ugh.

And now you have me sitting here.  Thinking and getting sad and remembering and being happy and trying to focus on everything I don’t want to ever consider, like packing and leaving, and it’s just not working. 

Said it before and I’ll say it again.  Over and over.  This city has my heart.  I’m so close to people here that it almost hurts physically to think about saying goodbye to them.  You’ll probably hear more about this later…simply because I don’t wanna think about it right now.  Wahh.

I love you Roma.

(EDIT: I started writing this on Sunday evening and have had too crazy a week to finish it until now.)

Ahhhh…as I write this I’m on the plane back to Roma from Amsterdam with my friend Kevin (and for 2 days, our new friend Dana!). And I have to say: what a freakin trip! (sidenote: There is a young Italian couple next to me with the sweetest one year old squirming everywhere. He keeps sending kiss noises in my direction and just sits there waiting for one back. I still hold that Italian kids are the cutest.)

 So, Amsterdam. Wow. I’ll start by saying the city was easily one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. I’m not sure what I necessarily expected, but I was so pleasantly surprised—amazed, even—that a city so carefree could be this impressive. Myriads of boats teeter on the sides of one canal after another. The sunlight unfurls down the center along the middle, like a glittering red carpet. Follow it, and it’ll lead your eyes down a pathway of houses, puzzle pieces, really, on either side. It manages to be picturesque and calm in a way I’ve never seen a city do before. I was awed by the genuine charm of it: bricks, bridges, the bikes.

Those bikes made the city for me…on day one it took me nearly getting sideswiped to realize we were walking on a designated bike lane and not a sidewalk. Cars are secondary. Having been to Athens, Rome, and London most recently, the change was unreal. There was quiet. The delicate but universal ring of a bell replaced honking. Faintly ticking gears replaced the roars of acceleration. And the only thing emitted from the bikes? A welcome air of friendly salutation. As a girl who’ll incessantly tell you she prefers big city life, I was pretty enchanted.

Go there. It should be required by law…like a lot of things.

Day One:

Our first morning, we woke up ready for anything. I guess you could say that attitude rubs off on you the minute you get to Amsterdam Centraal. We decided on breakfast (my first real bacon since I got to Europe) and then headed towards Vondelpark to see museums. Rijksmuseum was full of the classics….the Dutch classics. I doubled my knowledge of Netherland history. But then, the Van Gogh museum blew my mind. And not for the reason you’d think. He’s always been a special interest of mine, easily analyzed, yes, but probably the most talented example of sublimation I’ve ever seen. I saw tons of famous paintings of his and the other avant-gardes who inspired him. I loved it. After lunch we explored the park and more of the city. Dinner was Chinese and a side of creepy thanks to the awkward Canadian who sat way too close to me and tried just a little hard to find out our itinerary. Back off, eh?

After dinner we strolled around  a special little district where the girls were so friendly! Waving at us from their windows and such. A little underdressed, though, I’d say.

That night was a hilarious fail. Naptime was upon us around 9pm, and we woke up around 2. Cool.

At Vondelpark…wow.

Day 2:
After some 14 hours in bed, I had to get up and let the other two sleep. Eventually they woke up and we opted for the best pancake house in the city, self-proclaimed. I ended up with giant apple and bacon flapjack and it was nothing short of phenomenal. And they had skim milk!!! Dreams came true.

(PANCAKE.)

We covered huge ground for the rest of the day. Graffiti is scarce…only present when it feels natural. Coffee shops are as frequent as bicycles. Grand, elegant churches and Gothic towers are wedged randomly between one brick structure and another. We opted to walk around the city all day to see everything we could.  We saw a famous street market with everything from antiques to creepy baby dolls.  And I mean *creepy.* After awhile we headed back to the hostel for a nap, but I wrote a play instead. Go figure. :)  For dinner, we had Mexican. Yes. You heard me…my first in 4 months. It was delicious!

Unreal graffiti.  

Hello market!

The canals were awesome…even though Dutch doesn’t even sound real.

Day 3:
Woke up early and headed out to breakfast. I ate the equivalent of a classy lunchable for adults. They love ham and cheese there!

We then headed to the Anne Frank Huis. I was moved. Floored. Maybe the impact was greater because she was such a talented writer for someone her age. In any case, I walked up the same stairs, behind the same bookcase, sat in the same kitchen, as she did. As that whole family did. There were no furnishings in most of the rooms, but it wasn’t eerie or anything. I felt an overwhelming sense of connection when I walked into her small room and touched pictures she had pasted up herself. But what got me was the window in the very top of the attic. The ladder itself was blocked off, but I was able to look up into the entrance and see that window, with sun streaming into an otherwise depressingly dark space and read a quote on the wall about her longingness to go outside and feel the air. And I silently wept there for a minute. I’m not sure if it was the overpowering sense of loss and grief I felt for this family, for all others like them, for all the oppressed in this world; or if it was my own heart reminding me how blessed I am that I get to be on the other side of that window. Perhaps it was a combination of the two. Anyway, Anne remains in my heart as one of the strongest spirits I’ve ever heard of. So glad I got to experience that.

The rest of day 3 was a blur: bagels and soup, a museum dedicated to marijuana, souvenier hunting, and a lot of walking!! Kev and I packed up our stuff and waved goodbye to Amsterdam that evening. After hours of travel we finally arrived back at the apartment at 1am.  (This was after both Kevin’s and my bags got searched at the airport because they were looking for ninja stars.  No joke.)  Phew….

Kev and me next to the big, famous IAmsterdam sign!

And this just sums up the trip better than any blog post ever could.

****

My trip was incredible…I’m so so so glad I saw that breathtaking city. Now the Guster song repeats in my head:

“Are you getting somewhere
Or did you get lost in Amsterdam?”

Not sure where I’m going, but getting lost there for a weekend made things a little bit clearer. <3

Love, Hil