in the end, we'll pile up the bones of the ones we lost. we arrange them just so, sprinkle a flower or two, and push the raft out to sea. it isn't as painful as it could be -or maybe even should be- because these are the ones who chose to go. they turned their backs, became the wolves who had forever circled our camp, and left us all with no choice but to watch the implosion. of course as they float off nice words will still be said, and genuine tears shed, but it's only for the memory of what had been. lilting dreams of what could have been are already gone, and the memories once held so dear… they will begin to dissipate in the sunlight along with the early morning fog hugging the water. that's what brings the tears. the memories lost. but c'est la vie.

Two 22-year old girls hastily shoveled a few feet deep into the earth of a multi-leveled, terraced garden overlooking crashing seas and so much beauty it hurt. We buried a weeks' worth of 'organic' trash in the garden of our generously loaned Amalfi home. Banana peels and clumps of our hair mixed in with the soil, and as we dug, a rat skeleton unearthed. We were trying to help and a little confused with how the 'compost' system worked. In the end we were embarrassingly wrong, but now bits of us are mingled with those lemon trees, creeping up the tomato vines, and spread across the eggplant leaves. We remain everywhere we've been; echoing the internal imprint of our travels.

Personal Event Horizon

I ventured to TU today to discuss grad school with some of my professors. Since I haven't been to school since graduation in May, I didn't expect it to all feel quite so "normal", but it absolutely did. I legitimately wished I was going to class and had a paper to write. Anyway, instead of writing about the grad school talk like I should, I'll talk about the more interesting part of my day- finally spending hours with my girl, Jen.

Our friendship blossomed our sophomore year when we lived together in a ridiculous apartment that would become both a haven and a hell. We were destined to either rip each other to shreds or fall madly into love odd-couple style. Thankfully it was the latter. Opposites attract and I'm eternally grateful to have that lunatic on my team. Everyone should have a friend like Jen; supportive in fits of insanity, more than kicks my ass when necessary, challenges me, has an absolute heart of gold, and continually brings the best laughs to the table. When I was being Facebook stalked, berated, and painted as the great whore of Babylon by the furious ex-girlfriend of my Italian boyfriend, it was Jen who took it upon herself to send a friend-request and face the beast head on.

Jen is one of the top ten most approachable people in Philadelphia (much to her dismay, as you can imagine), is a bit of an unassuming evil genius, and after three and a half years of friendship, not much surprises me anymore. For one thing, I can always count on her to be undertaking an entertaining new self-assigned "learning task." At one point she made it her mission to become an expert on how to read every human emotion, another time how to make any person do any thing you wanted, how to never be lied to ("EVER"), there was the intensive study and of course diagnosing of, the full range of personalities and the baggage that is attached. If anyone else told me they were embarking on these missions, I would turn around and never look back. But somehow, with her, it honestly just works. Plus it's just really freaky and cool to hear about how it ends up working out in one way or another.

So after hours of catch-up chat today, we finally got to the newest mental expedition, which happens to be a study of the universe. She mentioned things I'm familiar with like blacks holes, and then went into the "event horizon", a new term for me. In the interest of taking it easy on my unscientific mind, she explained it as the area surrounding the black hole, the "point of no return", and something you can travel extensively within, maybe even feeling like you're near to an edge, but in the end "just can't get out of." I don't know if I even let her finish before starting wisecracks about the likeness to the state of my own life.

The conversation changed direction, and eventually went to some sort of playful dual mockery of past partners. While updating each other on which blast from the past had resurfaced, who had gone MIA, and who was still stickin' like glue, I said I thought the course of life would finally keep one favorite permanently out of circulation. Jen immediately burst out laughing, asked who I was kidding, and told me to realize that in ten years I would run into him and end up married. "Event horizon. If it's 10 years or tomorrow, doesn't matter. You're in there and you're not getting out. Somewhere along the line you crossed the point of no return." Shit. She was kinda onto something. Certain people stumble into the orbit of each others lives and despite all foreseeable differences and issues, remain.

Later after hearing of a few recent escapades, in her typical incredulous fashion Jen proclaimed to me and everyone in a five table radius: "What do YOU do to these men?!" Touche. There are no innocents in this game, particularly with my last entry still swimming in my brain. However it would be unfair to stick me in this category solo. Potentially with the influence of the noted earlier psychological endeavors, Jen has amassed her own substantial share of puppy-dog style boyfriends and admirers. This moment of clarity brought on a tidal wave of teasing of which of us had done more ensnaring, and the implications of this perilous state. After all, we are teetering on the edge of an oblivion of nothingness!

Kidding, of course, and everything we say is tongue-in-cheek, but it did provide us with mental fodder. Are we all just swimming around -and conversely, imprisoning others- amidst personal event horizons? I know of a few in particular that I've clocked far too many hours in, then thought myself a free bird, only to wake up one morning light years deep. I don't want this confused with toxic relationships and things like that, although that could certainly be under the same umbrella, but with an undeniable, recurring pull. Combining this cosmic pull with the crossing of a potentially unseen and later non negotiable barrier, and it does become a state that mirrors what any relationship, for better or worse, can become. Over the years I have mentally likened two of my relationships to two scenarios of human and nature colliding: that unsettling National Geographic style video clip of a giant moose who has been shot but just refuses to go all the way down, staggering and fighting against inevitability, and at the very least to that little cactus on the window sill in my parents' kitchen. That poor thing has had periods of decent care, left to shrivel, been flooded and engorged only to shrivel again, yet again bloated in a last ditch attempt to save it, only for the cycle to continue. Has this just been the event theory at work? That damn moose has gotten up and run off with only the slightest hitch in its step and the cactus, which spent all of spring looking more like a raisin, sprouted a hot pink flower at the start of summer. Mai dire mai, because we're all on the edge, anyway.

A Lesson in Playing Nice ....Via Lust

Things are never what they seem and I find myself continually surprised at the lasting footprints we are capable of leaving on another person’s trail of life. That could be one of the single greatest things that my travels have taught me so far; the amount of time physically knowing or spent with a person can be so brief, yet meaningful in its own right. Never say never and nothing is ever, ever cut and dry. For better or worse.

A mistake or maybe even sweetness of youth is that we often believe so strongly in the finality of our decisions, aspirations, and connections. Sometimes the thought of these things ending, or worse yet, that we may have been wrong in some way, can really knock our cocky little socks off. Shortly after my “yes-there-are-a-million-problems, but if this is not forever, I will certainly die” relationship finally came to its painfully, brutally, excruciatingly long end, I found myself in the company of another quite interesting character. I had been so caught up in my desire of one person, who to be fair I did share genuine mutual love with, and the notion of “forever”, that I had unknowingly closed myself off. While no great affection remains or ever even existed for the interesting character that followed, there is an unmistakable endearment tied to the memory.

He was a friend of a friend and nothing more than an exaggerated blip on my radar, but in retrospect, left an impression that deserves recognition. They were visiting for an event in the city where I was living at the time and probably not more than 30 hours were spent together in total. We had a wonderful night full of talk and laughter, and at the end of it, without invitation he quietly slipped between the sheets of my oversized and very uncomfortable Italian bed. This was the first of several cross-roads. Because nothing is ever truly simple, I had to think about the fact that he and my former love knew each other. We still care for each other deeply, and I know his honor is everything. They were even friends themselves. In fact, he had come up during several conversations that evening. What a nightmare.

While it isn’t something I’m proud of, I’m honest enough to admit that I was lonely. He was lovely in his own right and somehow was both the opposite and reminiscent of the man I was missing. Mentally I threw my hands up in the air and decided to let him stay. One of my most distinct memories about that short time together was that he insistently requested a bedtime story. He had been so overtly masculine and straightforward that it caught me a bit off guard.

The details have grown very fuzzy, but I told him one about a girl that was traveling the world; forever on the go, on an eternal quest, always running and exploring. I readily admit that while not pre-meditated, it was a self indulgent tale that enthralled my listener. Maybe it’s that Italian flair for the dramatic, but he couldn’t get enough. Cheesy as ever, he quickly told his own tale of a boy that was desperate to be apart of this girl’s tale; “even if only for a night.” How annoying it is to now realize that he succeeded. He is right here in black and white.
At that moment, I found myself at the brink. It was identical to that childhood moment of stopping for an instant before canon-balling into the swimming pool. “Is the water too cold? Should I ease in one toe at a time? Do I want this man on my mind for months?” I didn’t think “Do I want to be on his mind for months?” but I should have. Realizing what I do now, it would’ve only been fair. But I wasn’t thinking about the implications of again being the mysterious girl in the foreign land, and tapping into a weakness of the seemingly macho Italiano. So while it’s certainly not a bad position to be in, and equally advantageous, it does have a way of weighing on the conscience. I was fresh out of what turned into a difficult long-distance relationship with my former lover and couldn’t emotionally take a repeat. Frankly, at that moment I was exhausted but felt the pull. Goddamn it. So while I eventually drew the line before the point of no return -I do have a touch of class- enough had transpired to make it memorable.

As I recall, I had a torturous night’s sleep but relatively awkward-free morning. We spent the day together with friends and had a nice, affection-free time. Goodbyes were painless. There was a bit of limited interaction in the weeks to follow, some that implied he was effected more than I realized, but nothing major. I continued on my travels without a second thought.

So with all that being said, I was honestly surprised when he popped up online a few months later, chatting up a storm. After a bit of easy talk, he began speaking directly with confusion and hurt that was entirely unexpected, wanting to know why I hadn’t reached out. Eventually he stated simply “Just please, don’t disappear again.... Okay?” I agreed, felt a little guilty, and then briefly found myself wondering what could have been if a.) circumstances were different and b.) I hadn’t been so quick to dismiss it as a mutually meaningless fling. I hadn’t thought I was “disappearing” because truthfully, I never thought of myself as there at all. I certainly don’t have any heartbroken regrets about what happened, but it has made me assess the desire to mark everything into its own neat and tidy package and never look back. In the end for him, it wasn’t the cut and dry, “fun for just a night” rapport. Eventually he did simply slip off into the wrinkles of time and space and c’est la vie, I suppose. Although it would be callous not to admit that I still think of him fondly.

In the end, the experience served to painlessly reiterate a lesson that hadn’t really sunk in the first time around, and by chance I had forgotten in the hurricane that my former love affair had become. For me, that lesson has been to not be excessively proud and deny genuine emotions out of fear. It’s its own long story, but my famous prior love was almost over before it began for that very reason. I believe this is partly due to the fact that it’s unfairly drilled into the minds of young woman that our male counterparts are only after one thing, and once the chance to attain it vanishes in some way or another, so do they. I, probably a bit more of a feminist than your average gal, am now admitting that I just don’t think that’s the overarching truth.

So while savoring the traces others leave with us, we can’t underestimate the bits of ourselves we leave behind. There is an inherent responsibility we hold to protect or at best try not to harm those we come into contact with, and for me that is steadily accepted with age. I thought my first Italiano continually pouring his heart out after I’d gone was an extreme rarity, but here was another one bleeding his heart out with an ocean of distance. Everything is not what it first seems and there’s a time and place to give the benefit of a doubt. Although maybe they’re just both incurable romantics. Maybe I am, too.

Trulli Dreamin'

I have strong professional dreams. I can say unabashedly, in the true dreamer fashion, that I want to help make a difference in the world of ethnic conflict. But there’s something else that always swims in the back of my head, after all of my professional aspirations have come to fruition.

My other dream. My "when I'm an old lady" dream.

Finally, finally I will live in a trullo outside of Martina Franca, deep in the valley cut by that single twisty road. My donkeys and a little bay mare will graze contentedly in their field marked with stone fences and a few German Shepherds will be running around the yard. A breeze will ruffle through the circular little house and breathe life into the stones. My creaky old lady bones will happily rise to the occasion for a trot through the olive groves with the southern Italian beating down on my face and further bleaching my long, gray braid.

I will smoke all of the clove cigarettes I desire, as repayment to my younger self for abstaining. I hope they’ll still tingle on my tongue the same way. In the evening, frizzantino Pugliese will be in a glass on the porch table as I look out over a notebook at the animals. It'll be just fine if they're my only company. Writing to my heart’s fulfillment, I’ll feel content gazing at my mini kingdom, knowing that I’ve earned it.

Resurrecting the Blog

A lot has happened in the past seven months and writing remains my catharsis. I decided to start my Roma blog back up as a means of both processing and sharing what I’ve learned from these events:

My best friend was reduced to a box on my bedroom floor marked “MID-ATLANTIC VETERINARY CLINIC.” I’ve only opened it twice since it arrived six months ago, but inside there are five braids each of the most perfect mane and tail I’ve ever seen, her black leather halter that was a gift for our 8th anniversary, and the hunter green cotton lead rope that I desperately pulled on, tears streaming down my face, begging her not to die. Both the halter and lead have tags marked “ELLA” that I remember the staff of the clinic slipping on when she came off of the trailer. I miss her every single day.

I graduated college and decided to start the grad school hunt. (Ethnic) Conflict Resolution, here I come.

Three incredible months were spent playing, laughing, swimming, drinking, sun bathing, eating, writing, loving, fighting, and crying in Italy with Kelli. We spent time with irreplaceable old friends and made priceless new ones. Some nights were spent in the lap of luxury and others we were homeless. It was truly fantastic. Despite all of its absurdity and frustrations, my heart will forever sleep in Italian streets, staring up at that bella palla of a moon.

A few weeks after arriving home, refreshed and reasonably ready to start my life, I got sick. My hair fell out. Within weeks, 2/3 of my trademark wild mane was staring back at me from my shower drain. I saw the worried look on my mother’s face as I constantly repeated myself. I felt inexplicable and indescribable exhaustion. Worst of all, my mind was a mess of fog I couldn’t make heads or tails of. Total zombie. Literally countless doctors visits, rounds of blood tests, pokes, prods, and getting far too much time in at Doylestown Hospital later, it’s still a mystery. Abnormal test results (including a severe b12 deficiency) and no discernible reason as to “why”, but the quest continues. Although, there is finally some improvement. Case in point: I can string a sentence together again.

Roma, you are my favorite lover, and I am so grateful. You always do the best you can with my fragmented heart.

We are in Amsterdam- the last stop of the grand adventure! It has been a wild ride with a handful of bumps, but overall it's been a blast. For the first week Mon and I were really good about writing little journal entries about each day but that died off when everything got crazy.

Here's a few of my favorite pictures from the last few months through the first leg of the journey:

Oh darling Temple University Rome <3

Casablanca!

My birthday, with the best grandparents in the world.

Karams take on Africa!!!

Barcelona. My seester is my besttt friend in the whooole world <3

Serendipity. Fate. Destino. Magic. Sheer dumb luck. Whatever you want to call it- I'm just glad it happened.... and kick-started the craziest months of my life.

My girl... the great pretender of Rome. Oh darling, what you have seen! Forever one of my favorite spots in the world.

Ohhh my golddd, miss him already. The original rude boy :)

I have taken literally hundreds of pictures of Monica over the last four months, and this just may be my favorite.

Three raaaaaagin' fiumi! :)

Naples!

Our beautiful little Minori <3

The three stooges. One picture has maybe never captured the inner-workings of three absolute crazies so perfectly.

Ok.... I thought this entry was going to be possible, and it just isn't. I'm not ready to pick favorites yet. I could keep going for hours and I need to go out and party Amsterdam style. This was supposed to be a relaxing little thing while chilling out, and it has morphed into an iphoto overhaul. I have five THOUSAND pictures from these past four months. I can't narrow them down yet and you don't want to see them all. Expect many more of these!

2:15 am on the last night in the apartment i love so much more than i could ever put into words. it feels really strange to have all the cabinets empty, surfaces cleared off (visible), and everything packed away. we will be living out of carry-on bags for the next week. me! a week of clothing and necessities in my little lesportsac that i usually stuff to the brim just for a weekend at kelli's. tomorrow morning lexi heads back to the states, mon and i take a porta portese pit-stop (i need those 10e sandals...who was i kidding resisting them last week?) and then are off naples, followed by the amalfi coast and salerno before heading back to roma to get our luggage and kick off the second leg of our eurotrip.

but a few things about this whole living in roma business....
-studying abroad has been without a doubt one of the best decisions of my life. i wouldn't trade this experience for anything. that's super cheeseball, and i know it. but it's just true.
-strangely enough, i am overwhelmed with the urge to tell my dear old dad just how impressed i am with his english. he moved to america and taught himself how to speak, read, and write a completely foreign language, alphabet and all. after living here for 3.5 months and struggling with a language that honestly isn't THAT different from my own, and most importantly shares an alphabet, i really commend him. considering i've spent the past 21 years teasing him on an almost daily basis (albeit very lovingly), i feel pretty guilty. pa, you're the best.

that's really all i can say right now. i demanded reflections from the girls while we camped out on the balcony with wine and the ever-famous 'lady mix' for hours earlier, but i don't know just how much i can provide yet. i'm just not ready to let go. medaglie d'oro apartment 75.... we've had a damn good run.

ohhh if these walls could talk ;)

Don't think twice- it's alright.

We maaade it!! All four finals are done! I am so, so relieved. After all the anxiety, panic, and restless nights.... it's done. Even better, I feel pretty confident about them and did very well on my papers. Now it's time to play and enjoy the last few days in this magical city! But first, Mon and I have some serious planning to do. We have our overnight trains to Munich and Amsterdam booked, but that's it. I hope some sweet Italians take pity on us when we're sleeping with our luggage in an alley...or I guess we could just join the legion of people living outside of Termini.

I love it here, and wish I was coming back for the fall, but I do need some time at home. My dream scenario would involve a sweet little American vacation and a triumphant return to Roma. I miss my family, my pals, not having anxiety over store/restaurant interactions (yeah, four months, and still), EllaBella, CharChar, MY HOUSE!- my bed, the family room couch, the comf chair in the living room, the way the paint feels in the dining room, persian rugs under my feet instead of our sort of gross bedroom carpet here, the little woodland creature wonderland that is the backyard. Driving! I can't wait to get into the car and drive to the barn. Ahhh, three weeks! But until then, I'm going to enjoy Roma, southern Iiiitaly, Florence, Venice, Munich, and Amsterdam. It's adventure time!

Very good at shopping, not so great at studying

As of Wednesday night all of my papers are handed in. Finished! Finitooo! All four were grueling but I think being able to pull from personal experiences, even just jokingly to myself, for all of them helped push it along. I mean, for Myth I wrote about an Egyptian goddess... Cleopatra was my best Halloween costume ever, I'm half of Rome's royal couple, and have been treated like gold here with my word as law (don't worry, Jen, it'll end soon). BOOM! For Art History I wrote about the Pantheon..... where did a certain gang of sailors waltz into my life on probably the most serendipitous, insane night of my (then) 20 years? Ohhh! For Anthropology I did a 26 page study and dissection of PDA in Rome.... boy and I have smooched our way all around this city. My Sociology research paper was on feminism in Italy, according to region- I was obsessed with my 'Women in Religion' class last semester and have had first hand relationship experience with a traditional Southern I-talian. Now I just have to channel that energy and work ethic into my finals tomorrow-Wednesday!

On Thursday night Lexi, Mon, and I went out with the boys in San Lorenzo to a really cute little pub (not to be confused with our original 'local-a pub-a') that was entirely decorated in soccer scarves from teams all over Europe. We played into the weee hours and then were driven home by our wonderful gentlemen. What service!
Friday was absolutely gorgeous. We grabbed our books and hit Villa Borghese for some sun and studying. Saturday is a blur of trying to force myself to keep trekking through Art History, booking train tickets, and of course grocery store runs.
This morning the three of us woke up early (8:30!!) and ventured out to the gigantic Porta Portese flea market. As usual, one of us acquired a stalker on the bus. I was the oh-so-lucky one this time and enjoyed 15 minutes of leg-bumping, unrequited flirting in Arabic, intense staring, suggestive looks, and being followed off the bus. Ooooh, love connection!! However, the endless stalls of the market quickly pushed all thoughts of creepers from my mind. My super exciting purchase was a beautiful new brown, studded watch. I drooled over this watch when we were away in Riccione last month and again when I saw it in a boutique in Rome. Imagine my delight when I spotted it for a fraction of the price at Porta Portese today! After some haggling, I got it for 10euros! Being as I am very much my father's daughter, what with having a painful, Jay-Z-like watch addiction, this totally made my day!
Of course, Monica and I also got cute little leather Roma bracelets because we're lame. I got a bright blue one with a black design, too. We also got something for Jennifer (not a rock) and a jersey for my Pa. Mon also got really adorable sandals for 10e- she is ready for our Southern Italian adventure! The rest of our day was spent enjoying Roma... including falafel and kebabs from Campo, mmm.

Speaking of our adventure- plans have changed! While we were originally planning on spending 2.5 weeks traveling Venice, Poland, Germany, and Amsterdam starting on the 25th.... our love for Italy has made it impossible to leave so soon. So, new plan:
We still leave Rome on Sunday, but will keep our bags at school. We'll head down to Naples (and hopefully not get our purses stolen, as the Anti-Napoli Giampiero, Tony, and Alessio have now all told us will happen) for two days, with a day trip to Pompei. From there we are off to the incredible island of Capri! After Capri we're going to the world-renowned Amalfi Coast for even more fun in the sun and beaching like the little darlings that we are. We may hit up Sorrento, too. Then we're off to Salerno, where our pal Andrea is from! He's coming home for the weekend and ready to play tourguide, wahoooo! On Sundayy night from Salerno we will come back to our dear Roma for a few final days... :( After saying what I'm sure will be some very difficult goodbyes, we're hopping a train and heading north for 5ish days in Florence and Venice. We're taking an overnight train from Venice-Munich, spending a day in my beautiful motherland, and then taking another overnight into Amsterdam, where we'll enjoy 3 final days of Euro freedom! I hope I don't lose Mon in a drug den. The chances are really, really high (pun not intended at first, but now fabulously cheesy!!).

Thanks for being a little study break, blog! Time to get back to Anthro- I can't disappoint my man, Greggorio. Another special thanks to Rino Gaetano (rip) for singing me through finals and this blog update.

My super cute new watch, for my Mommy to see:


Miss Monica and her sandals!:

Rome.... a lifetime is not enough.

Two weeks from right now, this life will be stuffed into a suitcase. Coasters and receipts that have to double as mementos will be slipped into every available space and I know nothing will be organized, despite the fact that I will be living out of said suitcase for 2.5 weeks. I'm ridiculously sentimental and don't see anything heading towards a garbage can.

Who would want this to end? I spent today doing some of my favorite things- picnicking, tanning, and writing with my pals in Villa Borghese (with a lovely pony being grazed nearby!), cooking dinner for a visiting friend, and drinking a Caprisoka while giving a moonlit tour of Rome. It's 2am and I'm stretched out on 'megabed' alongside Mon (we're straight, we just like to cuddle. OKAY?), our massive window is open with the curtains drawn back, letting in the chill and sounds of our quiet corner of the city. I have so much work to do, but it's okay, because my time here hasn't come to a close yet. There are still fourteen more days to soak it up before it's gone.

But I guess that's what things do.... they end. It's our challenge to keep moving on and growing, even when it seems impossible. This has probably been the best time of my life and I'm sure there's great things to come for me, but not so certain this can ever be topped. That's the trouble with delirious happiness- there's nowhere to go but down. I can't ever deliberately try to top this experience. That would just be impossible and most likely disappointing. Nothing could compare to the exhilaration, constant hysterics, the intense passion, and the unadulterated freedom. I'm just very happy to have had excellent people to share it with.... even though I don't think I'll ever see some of them again after leaving here. That really does break my heart.

What will we be for those 2.5 weeks? A couple of nomads traipsing around Europe with too much baggage. I'm Rome-sick and still here. Late on Saturday nights/early Sunday mornings, the streets get meticulously scrubbed down. The smell permeates the air and makes everything feel new. It makes holding the hand I've learned so well feel like the first time, screaming to lagging counterparts down the road over the great whirrrr of the brushes becomes hysterical, lips stretch over teeth in coy smiles, piercings glisten under the streetlamps, the smell of cigarettes is drowned out. We jump over the puddles and hold each other over the slick spots. Stop to kiss because I like the way your eyes just shined when I looked at you. Glimmers in time that I want to hold onto forever, dig my nails into and carefully file away in the deep recesses of my mind. But it just can't be. Non permesso. We don't always get what we want, and that's a brutal pill to swallow. Time will erode it all, and someday I'll be in a rocking chair and wonder "What was his name...?"

I don't care about how badly I want these papers to be finished and handed in, and these finals all done. April 25th.... please take your sweet, sweet time getting here. My greatest love, my friend Roma, and I haven't quite finished yet. She wants to show me Villa Borghese in July, Via del Corso at Christmas, and go for wandering strolls down more of her winding streets. You see, we still have a lot left to teach each other. I've finally found the ponies. She finally stopped raining.

Roma....Non basta una vita <3 ........."Problem" ;)

we clung to each other like children, both scared of the life that lay in wait outside the door, eager to stay in the temporary world created by sweet whispers, raucous laughter, and gentle brushes of skin that turn to the boldest of touches.
it’s safe to share fears when your confidante speaks in another tongue. you can take a deep breath, push the cards away from your chest, stretch out our elbows, roll your shoulders. the air wont burn the throat and tightly wound muscles gain much-needed relief. the most magnificent of secrets becomes a game of whisper-down-the-lane for two. my greatest fears are repeated back to me in garbled english, the beautiful mouth they slip out of having only a small insight to the meaning. his confusion brings me a sense of catharsis, with an unfortunate trace of guilt.

"Sometimes in your life, you need lust. You need the adrenaline rush of knowing that this is not forever and that you're not committed to anything."

I've found that I am my happiest while....
-surrounded by my family, looking out across the ocean with the mediterranean sun beating on our shoulders and snow capped mountains on the horizon, eating fabulous food
-sipping on Madeira wine with my sister
-screaming the (correct, although the tv screen says otherwise) words to old Spice Girls songs with my girlfriends on karaoke night at an Italian club while my favorite boy smiles and cheers us on
-stretched out in the sunshine with my best friend on a Tuesday afternoon in Piazza del Popolo
-dancing and singing along like a lunatic to Gaga in my fave Italian disco, which my Lady-Gaga-hating boy slyly requested for me
-kissing said boy all through out the eternal city

Completely different, but I've never felt like I hated school so much in my life. I loved school last semester. It was so challenging. I was always writing, working, reading, thinking, learning... but it was palatable. I tackled 41 essays and came out with nothing under a 94%. I'm not used to struggling, I don't like it (although, being reasonable- who does?), and I feel totally intimidated and inadequate. I also really, really miss my pony.

a karam's a karam through and through.

being a karam with a 50% infusion of german blood is really quite the experience. you see, there are certain situations/ridiculous behaviors, ranging from atrocious to fantastic, that karams seem capable of getting themselves into far too often. a few recent examples...

my whole family- parents, sister, and grandparents- deciding to take a cruise around europe with me on my spring break. yayy, wonderfully karam!

the fact that i'm somehow playing with a dashing italian sailor who sends me crazy messages and comes to my apartment to cook me lunch, bring me wine, and clean my entire kitchen? ooh, pretty "karam"!

roughly 3 hours before departure for the airport yesterday, my father (who is by far the MOST clothing obsessed out of our incredibly fashion-driven, slightly materialistic clan) still had yet to pack. or even take out his suitcase....KARAM!

oh wait, or maybe the fact that my sister was denied boarding onto the airplane to come see me yesterday because her passport is beaten up? PRETTY GODDAMN KARAM.

or the fact that she's sitting in philadelphia right now, as it's blizzarding, waiting on an emergency passport renewal? yep...karam.

hmm, that at 3am via skype, from rome i was telling her where to get passport photos taken in philadelphia? and i'm now sitting across the ocean in an utter panic and feeling totally helpless? k-a-r-a-m.

ohhh or maybe the teeny tiny issue that my parents and grandparents have not contacted me or my sister to let us know that they've arrived? or where we should be meeting them tomorrow now that the entire plan has changed? KA-FREAKING-RAM. through and through.

i love my family like nothing else- but it would not hurt us to be a little bit more organized. so this time tomorrow, if all goes according to the latest plan (a constantly changing, never certain, borderline joke for karams) i will be boarding a cruise ship in barcelona with my family. my entire family! in europe! with me! my parents, sister, and incredible grandparents. plus i will have my beautiful polish bride by my side. monica ogonowski-karam.... it is has a beautiful ring to it. LITERALLY MY WHOLE FAMILY! IN EUROPE! :) i will get to celebrate my 21st birthday in MOROCCO with those crazies! someone may fall overboard. luckily, in typical karam style.... we will probably be the culprits and not victims. woops.

in the words of the ever wonderful feist, "it's cool, it's cool to love your family" <3 the past week has been one of the most academically trying and exhausting of my entire life. i am tired, most likely developing an ulcer, and will not be at ease until i am stretched out in the sun alongside my sissy.

on a different note- this will be like the first birthday in 5 years not with kel :( :( :( :( :(

"We'll get nowhere if we've forgotten where we've been"

I spent a good portion of my first few weeks in Rome genuinely disliking this city for something that it just can't help. I resented Rome for being Rome. My immediate reaction is to now regret that week or so I spent wallowing internally. Incessant thoughts about how I should have gone to Germany, the disorder, how rude the people were, the terrible exchange rate, and the seemingly impenetrable language barrier took over my brain. This is not to say that I spent every moment being miserable, and many people at home probably had no idea, but I let loose on those closest to me. I'm not sure what would have happened without those little bandaids of encouragement and love-slaps into reality. My mother deals with my constant neuroses, my sister always knows what to say, my father breaks my heart with his sadness but makes me feel so loved, my wonderful cousin vents and squeals daily with me through all the ups and downs, Jen -despite her feelings- rises up to share her infinite wisdom, Kelli pushes me along, Lexi is prepared to offer comic relief, and even Ken has been a voice of reason and reassurance as I cried to him, ranted, and berated this fine country. But most of all, Monica has been there to share my worries, fears, and above all else- joys. We spend solid portions of every day laughing to the point of physical discomfort, whisper in the dark like little girls, know when it's time to push or just stay quiet, and when to just let me play that song for the tenth time. That type of synchronicity is rare and cherished.

I'm happy to be where I am right now. The rough spots seem a thing of the past, and it's comical now that I thought I had gotten to a "good place" when I accepted that Rome was something new and I'd be home soon enough. I never want this to end. Never again will I have this freedom, this opportunity, and this ability to embrace a certain amount of recklessness without much guilt. There are moments when I feel absolutely gripped with terror that this will end- I will leave Rome, go back home, and say goodnight to the discos. I love walking down the street and hearing a different kind of house music from each passing car, or being serenaded by a man on his Vespa. Or better yet- being serenaded by a handsome sailor with traditional Southern love songs. Art, formal or informal, is literally everywhere. This city is insane and I am drunk off of its magnificence.

The blatantly staring, and often brooding, eyes on the street and metro have stopped bothering me and become almost endearing. Something being "so painfully Italian" now makes me smile instead of roll my eyes. I love the boys in their ridiculous coats, the old women pulling their shopping bags, and our sweet market ladies. I've now spent hours having conversations with a boy that only speaks about as much English as I do Italian (aka not much) and at a certain point, and with an incredible amount of laughter, it all stops mattering. Replacing this word here, that gesture, this reenactment, this French phrase- and the message somehow gets across. We're all pretty damn similar when you get right down to it.

At first, I had huge problems with the lack of efficiency, at least in my definition, through out the city. However, I've come to realize that "we'll get to it when we get to it" attitude is just another thing that makes Italy, Italy. My obsession with order and punctuality in others has been forced into submission- and that's honestly a relief. Everything here is just slower and that's exactly what I didn't know I needed. I'm always in a rush, plotting my next move, eager to bend everything to my useless specifications, and quick to make a judgment. I've found myself having to drastically reduce my stride to "slow down" to the speed of a lean Italian boy with legs far longer than my own. He walked at ease, listening to my every word, nodding thoughtfully, and stopping frequently to explain things. It was infuriating at first- until I realized that my rush was senseless. What changes if we get to the bar five minutes later? Life was meant to be enjoyed and I need to stop treating every day like a check list. My very German desire for order and extreme efficiency has been forced to take a backseat, and for now, that's just fine.

dear rome,
even though you go to sleep way too early, while i have cut sleeping out entirely, i just wanted to let you know that you're really just what the doctor ordered. you and your esteemed naval force. grazie.
love,
elise
ps i would also like to thank southern italy. you really know how to grow 'em.

so i've been berated for not updating. here it is!

i've realized that the most difficult thing for me to adjust to isn't not speaking the language or even anything inherently italian- it's having free time. i have classes monday and wednesday from 4-9 and tuesday 9-6. that leaves four totally free days and the bulk of monday and wednesday open. i don't know what to do with myself!

i'm used to juggling a full course load, riding, a job, and a social life. i spent most of last year doing my work, then going out as my roommates were going to bed, and being the first one up and out the door the next morning. i prefer my internal system to be similar to that of a humming bird, and right now i feel like a sluggish turkey. being totally obsessed with scheduling, i feel lost with all these open days. i've been doing an okay amount of exploring, but there's definitely time for more and i have to kick it up a notch. i want to soak up every bit of roma.

thursday it felt like my time in rome really began. i love my friends, but i do my best thinking and exploring on my own. i hit the streets solo to familiarize myself with part of the city and indulge in some much-needed retail therapy. although i ended up practicing self restraint, i did convince a shopgirl that i was going to purchase a stunning 300euro (on sale from 600e) sweater that i wore for about 10 minutes all around the store. of course, i had her absolutely believing (i could see it in her innocent eyes) that i'd be back before closing. i just needed to do it. for my own sanity. don't judge me.
thursday evening was a wild night in true roman fashion. we three ladies hit the town. hard. not wishing to indulge too many (unsavory?) details at the moment, i will simply say that every rumor about roman men in bars is true. they mean business. probably the tamest thing that happened was getting my heiney pinched about 5 minutes into my first drink.

saturday monica and i hit up the san giovanni market. surprised that within two weeks we'd already be at the rices of rome? of course we loved it. i got sweet pumas for cheap and we dug through piles of discarded prom dresses and well-loved cashmere. the excellent, kelli-granhan's-dreamland-store, coin, was also savored. i had a moment of absolute euphoria on the top of floor, surrounded by immaculate fashion and standing in front of a picture window watching traffic buzz through rome. i actually live here.
we ventured around san giovanni, a potential contender for favorite spot in rome, for awhile and then there was a real roman miracle. i saw a sign for a restaurant called "pizza&kebab" and thought... "could it be..? should i dare to dream...?" yes, faithful blogger, i dared to dream- and YES, the menu read the most beautiful words to my starved-already-pasta'd-out-eyes- "falafel al panino". not only did they have some of the best falafel i've ever had (and that's REALLY saying something), but they also had delish arancinis for a euro. A EURO! monica reveled in the closeness of the spicy kebab to her darling, sorely missed buffalo chicken wraps. we even ordered more food to take home for dinndinn. to top it all off, the chatty man-boy behind the counter was quite adorable with an extra flirtatious smile. there's no question we will return!

sunday was wonderful. my mom had gotten me this really great book of 24 "roman walks" for christmas and the girls and i decide to the "pyramid and aventine walk". the most fabulous mix of both exhilaration and peace set in as we strolled the orange gardens, one of the oldest churches in rome, and hiked the narrow streets of the aventine hill.

tonight on the walk home from school mon and i were talking about food (as usual), and i remembered that on the cruise i'll be able to have a veggie burger. YES! i'm legitimately excited about this. italy is meat-obsessed. walking through the fabulous mercato ingresso today, an excited little italian man pushed me toward a HUNK of animal and kept asking "taste? taste?!" on the quest for monica to get salami (which she accidentally got 8euros of, hahah), i think i saw just about every part of animal.

i would like to say that the biggest adjustment has been the fact that monica and i basically have a double bed.... but that would be a lie. it has been a seamless transition.

we live like kings.

a question from mon.

"elise... can you write about tonight in your blog?"-monica, on the trek home from the club.
"absolutely."

tomorrow.