Fire and rats, oh my!

Coming from a fairly peaceful arrival and acclimation period, this past week was a bit of a shock. We had been invited with another family to the Hardy's for dinner on Thursday. John and Cynthia Hardy are the founders of the school and I think have been inviting in spits and spurts, new families to the school for a kind of welcome dinner. We had offered to bring over some desserts - brownie cakes and a crostata made with the last of the organic jam that we get from Biosolidale that we had been using as gifts. Both the oven and the stovetop are gas with the gas canister located in a compartment right next to the oven. I don't particularly like this set-up, but it's something we're used to from Italy. Viola was in the kitchen "helping" me and was sitting on the counter next to oven. I was washing the dishes when I heard a hissing sound as if of escaping gas. I opened the oven door and when I went to close it, I felt an invisible push on my chest and then the gas canister went up in flames. It's all a blur after that, but before I knew it I was yelling for Steve and standing outside with Viola who was crying. As I looked through the window I saw ceiling high flames coming from the oven. I thought for sure there was going to be an explosion and the house going up in flames - it was terrifying. Steve got our neighbors who are also the caretakers of the house and then came over with pretty much the entire village. Finally the flame died down, the gas canister was unplugged and taken outside. Thankfully, with the exception of the cupboard and tiles begin blackened there was very little damage. Our housekeeper and caretaker started cleaning straight away and set everything right.

Later that evening we took our partially cooked cakes over to the Hardy's and finished cooking them there and thankfully they turned out alright! The Hardy's have an amazing home, unfortunately, I didn't get to visit the whole house, but it is spectacular. We had a very nice evening there and then got home by 9:30. A very early evening - not like our Italian evenings out at friends when we wouldn't have even started eating until around 9pm.

The following day we didn't use the stove until that evening and Steve made a delicious dinner. Then on Saturday morning he was making breakfast when suddenly there was a fire behind the switches for the burners! We couldn't believe it! Thankfully, we were able to put that fire out relatively quickly, but it was obvious to us that it was time for a new stove/oven.

In our new home we co-exist with all kinds of creatures - ants of assorted sizes, geckos both tiny and large, other types of lizards, and unfortunately, rats. At first we hadn't realized the rats were rats until we started noticing bite marks in our soap, a small pillow that Nona had made for Paloma that was filled with chickpeas and other edible items was chewed straight through and a container full of red pepper flakes had been moved and eaten. I also found urine in one of our kitchen drawers. This was no lizard!

We've been having problems with these rats ever since we arrived and they were starting to get bolder and bolder. We finally asked our pembantu (housekeeper) to set up a trap, but this was no stupid rodent - it somehow managed to take the food and evade the trap! Finally, she set the trap even stronger and one night we came home to find an injured rat in our bathroom. Our pembantu's husband who is also the caretaker of our garden and pool, came over caught the rat with his bare hands and then went outside and killed the rat. I didn't look, but apparently he slammed the rat down on the ground. Ick. I don't like rats, but it seemed a very cruel end.

Well, where's there's one there's more and sure enough - we most certainly have more than one rat around. We again found bite marks in our soap and other evidence that another rat was in the vicinity. This time we decided on poison since it was no longer going for the trap. Some of the poison has been eaten and now we've put more poison down. It really creeps me out having to kill something this way, but I also don't want rats in our house. I'm afraid it is us or them and we can't capture them, cage them and start feeding them lasagna. I hate the idea of being their exterminator, but knowing that they have been getting into every part of our house - makes my skin crawl and the idea of whatever germs, bacteria and disease they could be carrying with them - only makes me mourn their lives for about 5 seconds.

After a long day yesterday attempting to find a replacement for our stove/oven, we finally found it at Bali Electronics in Denpasar. It was a long day in the car for the girls and lots of different shopping centers. Viola who was such a happy baby and toddler has been in her terrible threes now and takes to whining and moaning over every little thing. Giulia and Paloma or now at these great ages where they take a lot in stride, but Viola is absolutely unmanageable and is throwing the peaceful family dynamic way off. I'm not sure how to handle things with her because she absolutely does not listen to any kind of reason or logic and getting angry at her makes things even worse.

Hopefully, our problem with the stove/oven is resolved with this new one and the rats eat the poison and give us a break for a while. Now that's the start of a new month, Steve and I are hoping to have more of a schedule of the things we want to be accomplishing here. We've been on vacation mode for the past 3 weeks and now it's time to get started with language lessons, working out and thinking more about The Beehive. Even though we work every day, we need to start thinking about the future of The Beehive and what we plan to do for the long term. Rome is ever-present on our minds - it still doesn't seem like we are supposed to be here for a year.

Early days

22 August
The girls just finished their first week of school. Green School, at least aesthetically, is everything we had thought it would be. It is a gorgeous school campus and if the academics and the green and creative ethos prove to be just as strong - this will truly be an amazing experience for all of us. It's still too early to tell, but the girls are saying it's been easy for them academically and the lack of books in the pre-K group (where Viola is) I find disturbing. Paloma and Giulia especially who had really good and strong friendships at St. George's are feeling the lack of good friendships here and so I'm hoping that there will be some girls in her class who will become her friends. Paloma is a bit tougher cookie - she's such an introvert - it has always been more difficult for her to make friends, but I'm hoping the best for her too. I know she desperately wants a friend to call her own and not someone she shares with Giulia.

I have to admit it's been disconcerting to note that most of the children don't seem very friendly and are stand-offish, something we are definitely not used to. The children at their former school were some of the nicest and friendliest kids I ever met and they interacted very well and comfortably with adults - something I've acutely noted here that is lacking. Our girls have a more European ease and composure mixing with both children and adults as opposed to many of the expat children here we've noticed who seem to have an unease and disinterest in mixing or meeting new people.

So far we have met some very nice parents and teachers - everyone is enthusiastic and happy to be here - those are all good signs. Many are just like us - parents who heard about the school, wanted to get out of their current grind and shake things up a bit. There are also quite a few families who live here permanently and returned after the first year which from what I understand was a very shaky one. However, there seems to be a lot of positive "energy" (a word I hear a lot here!) and everyone seems to want to move forward and are looking at the new year in a new and hopeful light.

Even though we don't live in a compound, we are definitely living an expat life here - much, much more so than our lives in Rome ever were. This is the big difference and shock for me here. In Rome, even though we are not Italian, will never be Italian and don't pretend to be Italian - after 10 years, 2 businesses and 3 daughters - we feel like a very Italianized family. I hope that makes sense. It's funny, but Giulia who was always very resistant to speaking Italian back home is now speaking Italian with us when she hears us speaking Italian. This is something that in Rome would have been absolutely unheard of. And now when asked the girls say they are from Rome - again something that there they never did.

The expat life here especially for those of us with families seems to involve having domestic staff including a driver and a big car to take everyone comfortably around. We now have a 7 seat Diahatsu Xenia - a big change from our Toyota Yaris. In Ubud especially, things are more catered to Western families. There's fresh milk in the grocery store, Cirio canned tomatoes, Barilla pasta and even Pepperidge Farm cookies and Goldfish (if you're so inclined). There's even parmigiano and pecorino, but while we got the parmigiano for our girls' pasta - it wasn't very good.

For the most part we've been trying to go more native in the food department. We've been cooking with coconut oil and eating a lot of stir fry - rice, noodles, veggies and nuts - the girls aren't into it, but Steve and I have been very happy with the food here. Also being in this particular area we have access to quite a bit organic produce and other products. We've had virtually no dairy (okay - except for my cafe latte in the afternoon and sometimes in the morning which I can't seem to get away from), no bread (not a bread culture here) and no pasta. I feel decidedly less bloated here - wish that contributed to weight loss, but no such luck - at least not yet!

Not in a million years did I think I would be someone who would have a driver, but unfortunately, the fact that the school is about 30-45 minutes away and with two different exit times (12:30 for Viola and 3:15 for Giulia and Paloma) makes it necessary otherwise our lives would completely revolve around the school run. The roads are also a bit of a nightmare to navigate - the roadsides are full of people, dogs, chickens, roosters and the roads are full of scooters, cars, trucks - all with suicidal driving habits. We were told the Balinese don't fear death so that's why they drive so recklessly and thoughtlessly. BIG difference in our cultures there! Our driver is a young guy named Dewa who is very nice and also does some small errands for us like taking our laundry in - there's an eco laundry service here that washes with soap nuts. For a large pile of laundry we pay about €10 and it comes back smelling clean, but not overly perfumed and ironed. The ironing alone was always a huge time eater for our cleaner in Rome so now it's nice that our housekeeper here can just concentrate on the cleaning which tropical life here makes an absolutely daily necessity.

We co-exist with ants, geckos, assorted lizards, unfortunately what is probably a rat and goodness knows what else comes out in the night. We have loads and loads of ants of all sizes, speeds and personalities - even in our spotless kitchen there are ants so there's no such thing as leaving food on the counters or dishes in the sink anymore. Gecko poo is everywhere and has to be swept up daily and cleaned off if dried. Yes, there are mosquitoes and we get bit - there's natural repellant, but sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. I haven't felt the need to use the really strong stuff - at night we all sleep under mosquito nets and it's quite cozy and there's a ceiling fan. Right now it's winter though - so the weather has been relatively dry and the mornings and evenings are cool. There are even nights when I have been cold! I know this is not usual though and with summer and the rainy season coming up - I know the really hot and muggy times are ahead of us and I'm not looking forward to that.

We live in a small village called Bangkiang Sidem about 6 kilometers outside of the main town of Ubud. Everyone here except expats live in family compounds. Wildish, half starved, sickly looking dogs are everywhere and bark - A LOT. Roosters crow at all hours - unfortunately sometimes starting at 2:30/3:00 in the morning. There are small brown cows that moo not too far away and we can hear very unhappy pigs being carried off to market. At the same time, we can also hear gamelan music in the distance and sometimes up close at the neighborhood temple that is located a stone's throw from us. Every neighborhood has its temple and gamelan orchestra.

In this very rustic looking setting is a restaurant and guesthouse owned and operated by a French/Balinese couple who have three young kids. Their place is absolutely beautiful, very simple and elegant and they offer French/Balinese cuisine, artwork (he's a chef and an artist) and a guestroom for rent. It's quite the anomaly here in our little countrified setting, but so typical in this particular area of Bali. I don't know if other areas of Bali are quite like this. However, here in the Ubud area where there is such a large concentration of expats - expats who seem to be very entrepreneurial and creative - there are some lovely shops and restaurants here.

So far even with all the day to day we still have to do, it still feels like we are on holiday and I wonder if we'll ever feel like we actually live here. The umbilical cord linking us still to Rome makes us believe that we will never have that feeling of actually belonging to this place. The divide also between "us and them" - Balinese and anyone Western - is also very prevalent. I can't imagine how Megan must feel having this experience in East Timor. Bali which is a much different place still has this huge economic and cultural divide and it does make me feel uncomfortable when in the course of a few days (or even one day) I can easily spend the entire month's salary of one of our Balinese staff. However, unlike Rome where I never felt "different" in the sense that Italians and Americans are still Western - it's been a huge culture shock being the minority here. When the Balinese see us, we are so obviously not Asian much less Balinese. I'm afraid the economic and cultural divide is going to take a lot of getting used to.

Hello from Bali!

Hello from Bali! This is the view from our window - a much different life lies ahead of us for the next 365 days. The next year of Senso Unico will be devoted to our year here in Bali - more specifically in a little village on the outskirts of Ubud called Bangkiang Sidem. We have very limited internet access right now so this blog may have several days under one entry. We're working on it though so bear with me!

10 August

Our first night we had a delicious dinner (I ate some of the best vegetable curry ever) and then settled in for the night in our new home. There are all kinds of insects and other night creatures that create quite the symphony and every once in a while the peculiar sound of one of the several geckos in our house chimes in. Earlier there was someone playing gamelan music in the distance.

The trip was grueling only in the sense of its length, otherwise, Singapore Airlines is my new favorite airline. After the appalling treatment of the staff at Delta and virtually everyone I ran into at JFK during my recent trip to NYC - it was like being transported into a parallel universe where people are actually treated humanely and compassionately by the airlines rather than like animals.

The flight attendants on Singapore were so composed, so efficient and professional - they seemed to actually care and performed their job flawlessly. Singapore Airport is probably the quietest, cleanest and most beautiful airport I have ever seen. We hung out at one of several koi ponds they have and fed the fish. Koi are such amazing and if possible to say - animated - fish! The girls got a kick out of how they took food from the hand of the attendant. We visited a butterfly pavilion and their fern and orchid garden. There were loads of shops, but most were high end - Burberry, Chloe, Hermes, etc. that made it only possible to window shop. We sat in comfortable chairs where the children were actually able to sleep for a time.

After being awake for more than 24 hours, I was shattered by the time we reached Denpasar in Bali. Two cars waited for us when we could have realistically had one, but Jared - a transplanted New Yorker who helped us find the house as well as organizing many other things, decided to be safe than sorry. We had been allotted 20 kg per person and had been granted an extra 10kg in total, and even though on average our bags weighed probably 23-24kg each - we ended up having the same experience as Megan and Nazza in that at Rome - we had no problems - they just sent them through.

Going from Singapore airport where we had a 7 hour layover to the airport in Denpasar was like night and day. Singapore airport - cool, modern, clean and quiet - Denpasar airport - stuffy, dated, crowded and noisy. Thankfully, there was absolutely no queues for the foreigners with visas so we were able to get through quickly enough after a small stop in the immigration offices and a stop by customs. We found our drivers and had to split up for the long drive to Ubud.

There are no autostrade/highways in Bali and traffic there made Rome seem like Mayberry, but after the slow crawl around the main city of Denpasar - the rest of the drive was fairly quick. Our driver didn't really speak any English so it was a quiet drive which was fine with me as I slept most of the way.

We arrived to our house and it was nothing like the photographs Steve had taken - it was actually better. The view into the jungle valley is gorgeous - you can see houses and rice paddies in the distance. We have neighbors and can hear them, their gamelan music, their roosters extremely early in the morning - so it's a wonderful combination of rural life, but without isolation.

Tomorrow we have a lot of errands to run, but it also Giulia's birthday. We'll see how well we can work out that conflict of interest!

11 August
In the rental of the home was included the services of a couple who live next door. Made, the wife, is supposed to be the housekeeper and her husband Wayan Karma, takes care of the grounds and had expressed an interest in being our driver. Made broke her arm about 2 weeks ago and did not find a replacement for herself so our home while ready in the sense that there were clean sheets on the bed - is in a less than a clean state. The kitchen is particularly dirty with ants taking up most of the space and not wanting to battle it out with them quite yet - we've just kind of left it as is. We managed to clean some things up to give Giulia the traditional Martinez-Brenner birthday breakfast in bed, but we ended up going into town later that morning for a second breakfast.

Ubud is crowded right now with many tourists and I can't imagine what it will be like when they film "Eat, Pray, Love" here later this year. Because of the amount of traffic, much to my disappointment, it made it very hard to take a look at the many interesting and gorgeous shops there are as we drove by. We ate lunch in one of what seems the many delicious, organic cafes and the living here is definitely easy on our wallets. Afterwards, we attempted walking around, but the sidewalks and the amount of traffic don't make that a very pleasant experience either. Drivers here are worse than Italian drivers in a few senses - while Italian drivers can drive like maniacs, for the most part - they are good drivers. Drivers here drive like maniacs and they are also just terrible drivers. People here make just basically stupid maneuvers and you have to be constantly vigilant especially at night. The mortality and accident rate due to cars and scooters is much higher here.

We made it to Ubud market and Giulia got herself a sarong and a new pair of Balinese style pants. Later on at the supermarket, we bought her a wooden, decorated pointed Asian style hat. Giulia doesn't want much, but what she does want - is definitely particular to Giulia!

The husband of our cleaner had taken us into Ubud and then drove us over to Jared's office. He had organized a year long car rental for us that turned out to be about €150/month. That's less than just our insurance in Rome! So thankfully - we are mobile straight away. Our car for the year is a 7 seater Daihatsu Xenia so we are all comfortable in a car now, but somehow the girls still manage to squabble.

I had been in e-mail contact with one of the new parents at the school who turns out to be one of our neighbors and so we met her and her family today. They will be carpooling with us to the school in the mornings, but we've decided to hire a driver. The fact that Viola gets out at 12:30 (the older girls don't get out until 3:15) combined with the fact that the school is about a 30-45 minutes drive away makes it so that we would end up spending most of our day doing the school run if we didn't have someone to help out.


17 August

This week has just flown by! We've had very little internet access and in fact when I am finally able to post this, it will be under the same date. We have no internet access at home until we buy our USB modems otherwise. We had been offered to have constructed an internet tower, but the quote turned out to be about $900US with a 30 meter tall tower right smack in our yard. We declined. So this has left us going over to our new neighbors - LeAnn and Carlos who have two daughters going to Green School one who is Giulia's age and while they have been very generous - we feel uncomfortable going there especially after the last time we were there when Steve and I were stressed out with the amount of work we had, banking woes and Viola who was having a crisis and crying every two minutes.

Since then we've avoided going over there to use the internet and choose to make the long, winding drive into town (we are about 4-5 kilometers outside of town) to frequent one of the many cafes that offer wireless internet access. Last night, for example, I went alone - ordered a pot of ginger tea and peacefully sat and caught up with Beehive e-mails so it really isn't too terrible.

This past week a lot has happened, but we've essentially been busy trying to put our house together, exploring the town a bit (our favorite places so far - the library and a few cafes), visits to the school including a welcome party by one of the parents - talk about major house envy!). Today is the first day Steve and I are finally experiencing a bit of stomach discomfort. They have a great remedy here though called Bali Belly Buster that is essential collodial silver. Paloma is the only one of the girls who had one bout of diarrhea and then seems to have been okay - I'm hoping they remain unscathed, but we'll see. Today is a national holiday - Indonesia's own Festa della Reppublica, but here in Bali which seems very removed from the rest of Indonesia - we saw only a small celebration in a football playing field next to the library that lasted about a couple of hours and that was it. Otherwise, everything remained open and it was business as usual.

The girls start school tomorrow! I think Steve and I are more excited about it then they are.

I'm back!

I can't believe it has been 4 months since I have posted anything on this blog and my last post was so incredibly personal, and to be honest, sad - that I think in a way it took a lot of the wind out of my sails. However, here I am again - hoping to be a bit more prolific - at least as much as I can be, but I will try.

Loads has happened over the past 4 months. On 9 May, we had a huge party to celebrate the 10th anniversary of The Beehive and it was a joy to have friends from far and wide come and celebrate with us. It should have been stressful, but it absolutely was not. We had a wonderful time. I had been hoping to post the story of The Beehive's creation around that time thinking it would have been an appropriate thing to do since we get asked so often about our story. I hope one day to post it here for posterity and even then, I know I will not do it justice. It has been a very long, bumpy and beautiful road.

I finally got my Italian drivers license! It only took me 3 years to do it, and to be honest, if I had applied myself and not been such a procrastinator, I could have gotten it a long time ago. Like everything else here, persistence is the key as well as having plenty of patience.

Our youngest, Viola, turned 3 years old on 12 March. She is currently going through her terrible 3's. Everyone talks about the terrible 2's, but all of our daughters have experienced this tumultuous period in their 3's. We now know that she needs to be very well-rested, very well-fed - oh and get anything she wants from her sisters - in order to not throw a tantrum or whine, but since it's never 100% any of those things, we put up with a lot from her right now.

Giulia and Paloma are wrapping up another school year at St. George's. These last 6 years have been a fantastic experience for them and they are excited about their new year at the Green School. They had a going away/early birthday party this past weekend at the Villa Borghese and it was great to see them have so much fun with their friends whom I know they will miss very much.

When we first moved to Rome, for some reason I was fixated by the name of the one way traffic signs here which are called "senso unico" in Italian. There was something so appropriate at that time about these signs that really struck a chord- appropriate in the sense that we were heading in one direction with our new lives in Italy, there was no turning back. I still feel that way, looking and moving forward and that said, it is all official now and we leave for Bali on 9 August. I feel that this year away in Bali will give us that breath of fresh air we've been craving as well as some time away from the chaos of Rome to regroup, evaluate our business and how/if we can make it grow. Owning a business here has proven to be very frustrating and we need to think about whether or not we can live with that frustration or move onto other projects.

At first I had considered archiving this blog since we will no longer be here - I'll have to find out how they say "senso unico" in Indonesian, but I think it's still appropriate to call it that as we move onto this new adventure.

My Father

I know I describe my blog as being about life in Rome. I guess one should read that with the emphasis placed more on "my life" though and not really the "in Rome" part because Rome while a wonderful, chaotic, maddening, infuriating and dear city to me - it is only essentially a backdrop to a regular old life being played out as so many other lives are being played out of every hour, every minute, every second of every day.

I have read other expat blogs about Rome, about Italy in general - they range from the boring to the sublime and sometimes I wish I could write daily blog entries about what I ate (photos included) or what amazing places we visited, but for the most part - I forgot those things soon after they happen unless they have made a real impact on me or something particular happened that I want to remember in the future. For the most part, this blog is just my ramblings, my musings - sometimes my ranting and venting, and unfortunately, I'm not nearly as prolific as I would like to be.

Which takes me to this morning - when I woke up thinking about my father. My father died 24 years ago. I was 18 years old when it happened so he's actually been dead longer than I knew him alive. I barely think about him, his face is hard to conjure up and I don't really remember his voice anymore as he had his regular voice and then his post-larynx removal voice. However, that doesn't lessen the emotional impact I feel whenever I think about him as I was this morning.

I have my happy memories - the ones when I was very little and he would play with me - a game called Monsters and a game he would play with his fingers becoming a little creature called Piau who would tickle or pinch me - depending what kind of mood he was in. I loved Piau and I think that was my father's favorite game as it required little effort on his part.

I have my bad memories - that usually involve the guilt I still feel to this day of the way I treated him as he was dying. These were the memories that I was having this morning. My father was diagnosed with cancer of the larynx when I was a senior in high school. That whole time was a blur as the last thing I wanted to do was go visit my father in the hospital. Being in the military he was required to go to the military hospital in Denver called Fitzsimmons. A hellish place if you can imagine what a low budget, no frills military hospital can be like. He ended up having half his larynx removed in a horrendous medieval style surgery and had to have a lot of physical therapy after that to restore his speech which was never quite the same. My mother was driving the 2 hours there and 2 hours back every day while still working a physically demanding factory job that had her getting home around 1 or 2 in the morning. When I think about how exhausted my poor mother must have been as well as worried, scared and stressed and when I think about my attitude during that time - my 17 year old self-absorbed, self-centered, completely selfish attitude - I am completely and utterly ashamed at myself and always will be.

The selfishness continued as a freshman in college. I was going to a private liberal arts college that was much too expensive for us to afford, yet since I was accepted, my father insisted I attend no matter how much he or my mother had to work. However, my thoughts weren't on my studies and they certainly weren't on my father's health. I had never had a boyfriend before and I was obsessed - with boys and wanting to be kissed. I finally met someone on my 18th birthday, and of course, that's all I was interested in - certainly not my father's decaying health - he at this point had been diagnosed with lung cancer. My mother was dragging herself to work, my brothers and sisters made themselves scarce, and I was alone with my father in the evenings except for the many times when I was off with friends or more often than not, the new boyfriend. My father kept having to have his lung drained and I recall the few times I had to clean the wound and put in more gauze - it wasn't pretty, but there was no one else around to do it.

Perhaps it was too much for me to deal with - I guess I could blame it on my youth, my naivete and inexperience. Yet 42 year old Linda looking back at 18 year old Linda has nothing but contempt and disgust for her. I can't forgive my youth. I can't forgive the stupid mistakes I made nor the fact that while my father was dying, all I could think about was some stupid guy. I couldn't think or feel for anything beyond my own selfish needs and desires. When I think of the times I could have probably just sat with my father and hung out with him, talked to him, gave him a bit of company in those final weeks and days. Well, when I start to go down that path - my heart breaks - the tightness and heaviness in my throat and chest make the tears come out in gushes and there's a deep, deep pain there that I just can't shake and sometimes doubt that I ever will.

My father died early in the morning, 10 December 1984. I had woken up early - restless and stressed because I had procrastinated as usual on an essay paper due that day. I received a knock on my bedroom door and my mother stood there looking stunned and defeated saying my father had died. Their room was directly next door to mine and I remember seeing him slumped there in his chair, head thrown back, mouth open sitting there in his boxer shorts. I started to shake him asking him to wake up. The tears began. Finally, my mother and I carried him onto the bed. We covered him up with blankets and I combed his hair - he really didn't like what little hair he had on his head to be mussed. I may have given him a kiss, I don't remember now. He was 57 years old.

My father lived a short life. I wish I could say it was a life filled with privilege, happiness, comfort and joy. It wasn't. I wish I could say he did all the things he dreamed about doing. He didn't. Yet my father - at least by the time I was born - did lead a simple life, a quiet life. He was a decent and honest person. He didn't yell, didn't hit, he wasn't loud or rude. He cared deeply about his children and he loved my mother. I will always regret that he never met Steve nor hold or play with his granddaughters because he would have adored them. Even though that image of him gets fuzzier and fuzzier with time - I try to hold him as best as I can in my heart so that our children one day can perhaps know him through me.

Downs and ups

Oh my what a day I had yesterday. I was ready to take my Italian driver's license - theory test. I had studied a bit - not much, but was willing to give it yet another shot - round three. I have already taken the test once in English and once in Italian. It is now possible to take the test in various other languages including English and considering I have been driving since I was 16 years old, it's difficult to pick up that book and read through a bunch of rules I already know in a practical sense especially since the translation isn't that wonderful.

Now efficiency is certainly not Italy's middle name at least not in the capital city, but I would really be hard pressed to come up with a more inefficient system than the one that currently exists in getting a driver's license. To make a long story short, I ended up waiting 5 hours to take a test - FIVE HOURS - that in the end I was unable to take because someone input "Italiano" instead of "Inglese" under my name and so the test on the computer came up in Italian. Now I am fairly fluent in Italian, but I don't know driving terminology that well in Italian and my one miserable attempt at it before made me realize that I really needed to take the test in English. Also, if you fail the test, you have to wait an entire month before you can take it again. With my driver's permit about to expire at the end of March, I don't have many more tries left before I have to go through the whole expensive process - yet again - of getting my permit.

When I mentioned the error to one of the moderators there, no one knew what to do. Call headquarters!! Phone calls were made, stairs were navigated - second floor, first floor - this office, that office. I saw one, two, three, four+ different people and all of them didn't know what to do. No one could simply change the language on the test - it was out of their hands. So I was marked as "absent" in order to be able to take the test again in less than a month and I am still waiting for a phone call to find out when that will be.

Poor Steve and Paloma had waited patiently for me the entire time and 6 year old Paloma was once again treated to the vagaries of life in Italy - a life which can be so good and so incredibly bad at the same time. (The other time was at the bank the day before, but that's a different story).

After that debacle, I felt sick - hungry, dehydrated with a massive headache. I had to lie down as I felt nauseous and couldn't keep my eyes open, the light felt too bright. I fell asleep for a good 2 hours and the rest of the day was a bit of a blur.

Today the sky was blue and the sun was shining so my spirits were lifted a bit. I took care of some errands. After a day like yesterday, my mind is now turned even more pleasantly towards Bali. Steve and I decided on a house and have set the wheels in motion. It's all very exciting and very nerve-wracking at the same time. There is loads to do - sublet our home or rent it out as a vacation rental, store our personal effects, get our visas, vaccinations, travel insurance, airline tickets and certainly not last nor least - get The Beehive squared away and in ship shape so that things will hopefully run smoothly while we are gone.

We haven't made any big changes in our lives in 10 years and so the idea of going off on this adventure has me a bit overwhelmed. I wonder if I will miss Rome - I will certainly miss our friends and I do hope we'll have visitors. The girls will miss the food and even though I'm sure I'll get a hankerin' for a pizza margherita now and then, when I saw this picture of one of the many yummy meals Steve ate while he was in Ubud recently - fresh, local and organic - I think, well, perhaps I'll survive without Italian food after all.

A bit of light

After my last post, I decided I needed to be a bit more positive about my outlook here. Especially since we are leaving in 7 months and I may very well be crying for my cappuccino within 24 hours of landing in Bali. The new year started fittingly enough with a rainy day - washing away all the grime from 2008 and today I can see the blue skies and sun peaking out from behind the palazzi. I can't help but feel optimistic not only for the day, but for the year ahead.

Change is constant, we all know this, but it's difficult to remember sometimes as a mother of three where routine is the name of the game. There are days when I feel I could go mad from the redundancy, but for the most part I find myself falling into this repetition in a mindless way and not really giving it a second thought. So this year we're going to shake things up a bit - move across the world to a third world country so our children can attend a school and learn what life is like for most of the world population. I think it is important for them to see that not every child has a computer or a cell phone or a scooter. Even though part of me wonders how I could possibly make this move and expose my children to these risks (of course all the infectious diseases come to mind) another part of me knows that if we all survive in tact that the experience will have been an excellent one for them. Change and risk can be good.

So now I'm trying to face 2009 with a different outlook. I'm not making any new year's resolutions. I'm not making any promises. I will do my best to do the things I need to do and not beat myself up over the things I cannot get done. I am getting rid of all old and over ambitious projects. I'm going to say "no" a lot this year which is difficult when I find myself saying "yes" a lot, and more often, volunteering my "yes" without it even being asked of me. I want to put things in order, clean things up, enjoy our last 7 months here and get ready to leave Rome with a glimmer of what I love about it here locked tightly away so that it will be waiting for us when we get back.

Stupidity in the Eternal City

As a resident of Rome, the daily grind can become almost unbearable when dealing with the sheer stupidity, inefficiency and downright lack of civility that exists here and that is choking the life out of everyone here. That along with the smog, the graffiti, the 50 million cars and 100 million scooters, have taken over any sense of quaintness this town may have ever had.

Oh, the stories I could tell, but here is an example of what it's like in Rome on the most simple and mundane level: taking a walk or as in my case, walking my children to school. This is a daily event that should be fairly straightforward, right? Well, in Rome it becomes just another glaring example of what is wrong here, and in particular, why raising a family here is a nightmare.

Some examples of what I have to face each day: the top photograph is the crosswalk in front of my house. It's not that the Smart car is parked in a crosswalk (which is the norm here anyway), but it's that the crosswalk was painted that way - there's actually a parking spot where the car is parked. So pedestrians once they cross the street "safely" still must stay in the street in order to find a spot where they can eventually squeeze onto the sidewalk.

This photograph is another example of a wonderful idea, not fully carried through. My neighborhood is currently undergoing all these improvements to the sidewalks - for example, building in guides for people with disabilities such as these grooves which are to assist blind people. However, look at what this moron has decided to do? I couldn't even get my very small stroller through that mess, but had to go - again - into traffic in order to cross the street. There's no point in spending hundreds of thousands of euro from city coffers and taxpayers money if they put in these improvements only to have the same blase' attitude about parking regulations.

Getting Giulia to school is already one of those things that is often filled with stress - trying to get her out of bed, fed, dressed, teeth brushed, hair brushed, homework together, lunch packed, ballet kit, sports kit, etc., etc. Thankfully, homeschooling Paloma this year - the stress has been minimized. But Giulia is a slow poke and will find a book to read or any other diversion to avoid doing what she needs to do to get ready. Yet she also hates to be late to school! For such a smart girl she just doesn't get the fact that her dawdling is what causes her to be late.

On the way to school it's an urban obstacle course - cars parked badly, dog poop (especially when it's rainy) and scooters driving down the sidewalk because of the heavy traffic. To make matters worse, we have to cross one major intersection on our way to the school which is always blocked in the morning and evening. People drive like maniacs at this intersection and so what does the city decide to do with its recent works? This photograph tries to show how they blocked off the pedestrian crossing so you are literally forced to go into traffic. Another example of the cluelessness of this city's civil servants.

Catching up

Goodness, I can't believe it has been almost 2 months since I posted anything. I've thought about it, but then I must admit - I've gotten a bit sidetracked with Facebook! So lately any free, non-Beehive computer moment I have is spent looking at new books I want, reading the news, doing some research or checking to see what my friends have been up to - a lurker, if not an active participant, in many of their lives. I have mixed feelings about Facebook, but for the most part, it has been positive.

So some highlights from the past 2 months - in no particular order:

1. I bought a new pair of shoes. I highly recommend them.
2. I turned 42.
3. My mother turned 75.
4. Had a "soul reading" - kind of a bust that one, but what did I expect?
5. Went to a Girl Scout harvest festival with the girls. A nice day, but the girls aren't running to join anytime soon and I must admit, I am happy about that.
6. Spent my birthday weekend at this agriturismo - the same people who make the body lotion, face cream and essential oils I use. I am an even bigger fan now.
7. Visitors came a-visiting - Jeremy & Cyndy from Cornwall and Sarah, Julian and girls from Chamonix.
8. Went on a very interesting tour of Rome's Great Synagogue (Tempio Maggiore), museum and the Jewish ghetto.
9. Celebrated Thanksgiving in Virginia and my sister-in-law's important promotion at the Pentagon.
10. Worked for our soap people at a Christmas bazaar at the British ambassador's residence.

The last two were very recent - we just got back from the US on Wednesday evening. It's always strange for us to go back - more on that later.

Girl, you'll be a woman soon

Giulia's breasts have started to develop. Giulia is growing breasts. Both sentences sound so awkward to me. My little girl who just barely turned 8 years old is already starting down the path to womanhood - I can't even write that without cringing. It began in late July when during a bath time she yelled out to me to come and feel something. She said she had a bump and that it was under her right nipple. I felt it and immediately thought "tumor" - not breast tissue!, but then the realistic side of me took over and thought - could it be???? NO!! Part of me was in denial - how could this be happening, she's just turning 8 years old in August - she still asks me to wipe her bottom sometimes for goodness sake!

So we had analysis done - her body age is actually 9-10 years old, her estrogen levels are elevated - yes, she's on her way, and apparently in two years or less she'll be having her menstrual cycle. I'm still in denial, hoping that it will stop for a time and start up again later - later when she's ready, when I'M ready. It's just too early. Early, said the pediatrician, but not premature - so we have to let nature take it's course.

But is it really nature that has started her down this path so early? I can't help thinking of all the non-organic milk, meat and cheese she ate in the first four years of life before we went completely organic - of all the bottled water we drank here for years before switching to filtered water - of Rome in general - certainly not the cleanest city in the world. I can beat myself up, but nothing is stopping her body from moving on.

In a bizarre way it is a relief. It's a relief because for the past year or so, Giulia was behaving in ways Steve and I could not understand. Fits of temper, drama, histrionics. There were times when I thought to myself, "If I didn't know any better, I would say she was PMSing." Now it all makes sense and unbelievably, I can understand her better now. I can sympathize, I have more patience.

Giulia started losing her teeth when she was 6 years old and the tooth fairy came each time and left a little something for her. The tooth fairy even wrote a note to her one time when Giulia asked her for her name. Giulia lost her latest tooth recently and last night she came up to me and asked, "Mommy, does the tooth fairy exist?" I know I probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights - in my head I was thinking "No, not now, don't let it start this way, ask me something else!" But when she asked me again and added - "Tell me the truth." I had no choice. She took it quite well actually, but that fleeting, but visible glimpse of sheer and utter disappointment on her face will always haunt me. How many other myths will shatter one by one for my baby? I want to keep the magic alive for her, but I can't lie to her either, and so the journey down that path to adulthood begins in more ways than one.

Viva gli sposi!

Yesterday our friends, Ilaria and Edu got married. Our previous Italian wedding experience was pretty sedate - no one got drunk, no one danced, and it just wasn't very festive.

Ilaria and Edu's wedding was completely different. It took place in Calcata, the town where they live, so already a bit off the beaten track in more ways than one. Calcata is a town renown in Rome for its artists community and hippie-ish culture and many Romans head out there for day trips on the weekend. There was definitely an eclectic mix of people in the crowd.

Ilaria who is my age is very atypical of other Italian women I know. She's lived in different countries, had two children out of wedlock, has now married Edu, 13 years younger and the father of her youngest child. She is an artist specializing in recycling glass and makes a mean mosaic - she does amazing work. Her and Edu opened a small artist/fair trade/organic crepe shop in Trevignano Romano. She's vegetarian also and our mothering styles are very similar. Besides my friend Stefania, she is one of the few Italian friends I have who shares a lot of the same philosophies and opinions. Believe it or not, I have not found it that easy to become friends - I mean REALLY friends - with Italian women as a foreigner. I have many superficial relationships here, but nothing like the kind of relationships I have with American girlfriends.

Well, back to the wedding. The ceremony was also in a town hall recited by the mayor, and although it was dry and boring (decidedly unromantic to have civil codes read out loud at a wedding), it was peppered by some of the eccentrics in the crowd who kept bursting out with sentiments. Afterwards, in piazza, a funky version of "Here comes the bride" and other songs were played by a group of street musicians and Ilaria and Edu and the family posed for pictures. The bride looked radiant in a gold strapless gown, orange shawl, white veil and ruby red shoes.

Finally, we all made our way about 2 kilometers out of town to another called Faleria for the reception which took place at a huge casale out in the countryside. And then the food began! Two English women who had known Ilaria when she lived in Nicaragua had flown out from London for the festivities and thought the antipasti portion of the reception was dinner! Oh no - at an Italian wedding the food and wine just keeps coming and coming and coming.

Throughout the night someone would spontaneously yell out "Viva gli sposi!" which means, "Hurray for the newlyweds!" and everyone would whoop and whistle and clap. This was inevitably followed by chants of "Bacio! Bacio! Bacio!" ("Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!") Lots of children, impromptu jam sessions by the various musicians there and lots of wine made for a very fun evening. If all Italian weddings were like it, I'd try to get to invited to another one as soon as possible!

Girl Talk

Tonight Steve is working at reception - filling in for newly pregnant Alina who is not feeling well. The girls and I sat down to some great ravioli courtesy of our local pasta all'uovo shop, La Sfoglia, and while I drank an excellent vendemmia (Ca' del Bosco) the girls proceeded to tell all about the boys they like and the boys who have kissed them (Paloma) and the boys they have kissed (Giulia). These incidents happened when Giulia was 5 and Paloma was 4 and were innocent playground kisses on the cheek. Perhaps they were even on a dare, but still I can't help thinking how much it must have meant to them especially when two and three years later they retell these stories with a blush and a giggle as if they just happened. I have to look beyond my jaded present and remember when I was a child and there were no ulterior motives - when gestures were innocent and precious and a kiss on the cheek was worth more than gold. In this age of sexual harassment and abuse, it's easy to forget that a kiss really can be just a kiss.

The Big 10

Today is our 10th wedding anniversary. We're eating at our favorite restaurant, Trattoria Monti, and coming home at a decent hour. We haven't bought each other any presents and the day will proceed as it always does. Our true celebration will be two days of childlessness in Umbria when we head here for two blissful days and nights and celebrate our couplehood. There will still be the calls made and received by an anxious Giulia who at 8 years old is already full of "my worries" and Viola who is still nursing will be taking it the hardest - our babysitter and my mother-in-law who will be visiting during that time will have their hands full. Yet for that brief weekend we'll just luxuriate in each other and the peace, contentment and solitude that comes when it's just the two of us. Oh that, and A LOT of sex.

Dreams

My family is Puertorican and I grew up with a funky mix of Catholicism and mysticism. I had to go to catechism and mass on Saturdays or Sundays, but ghosts, spirits both good and evil and ways to deal with them were also thrown into the mix. Dreams were a big part of my daily life - each morning my mother and I would tell each other our dreams from the night before. I think those were the few times when I had my mother's undivided attention - she wanted to pick up on any little sign both literally and symbolically that my dream had to say about what was going in my world or what could possibly happen in my world. With her coffee cup close at hand, she would pour over her well-worn books on dream interpretation. Snakes and cats of any kind were bad - white horses and beautiful flowers were good. My mother had many dreams that came true and if I hadn't heard them first from her before it happened, I probably wouldn't have believed it. Growing up in Puerto Rico and Panama - I can't really explain it, but the tropics were just the perfect place for the dream state, for spirits and a parallel yet hidden and mysterious world.

Now in my older more cynical age, I don't take much stock in dreams anymore and I actually strive as part of the Kundalini side of my yoga practice - not to dream. Dreaming keeps my brain in an active and awake state and doesn't allow for the benefits of deep, dreamless sleep which after what feels like 8 years of continuous breastfeeding and cosleeping - I really need! I find that when I don't remember my dreams, I feel much more relaxed the next day. That said I do still dream and I have recurrent dreams - one in particular is of elevators. Usually going up - thank goodness, because this is good, but more often than not - weird elevators. Elevators that go sideways and around curves. Huge, massive elevators and elevators that shake.

Giulia and Paloma really like retelling their dreams and this always make me think of my mother. Since she is so far away and knowing how alone she is and how much she loves the girls, I wish now more than ever that we could have that precious time once again at the breakfast table.

Back to school

Today was the first day of school at St. George's Nomentana. It felt a bit strange to be walking with only one daughter to school. As the names were called out for each class, I felt a bit left out that Paloma's name was not one of them, but at the same time hearing the names of the other children in her class - I felt relief that she is having a different way of learning this year. Paloma has been with the same children for the last 4 years and her class is full of children who are - shall we say in a nice way - "difficult". Not just one, but many of them are kids that take up a lot of the teacher's time and attention while quieter children like Paloma get left to fend for themselves. After just one day of homeschooling I already notice how relaxed she is, how curious and energized she seems. Steve taught her today and she didn't want to stop. On our way to pick up Giulia, she couldn't wait to see her sister and at the same time was asking question after question about things that interested her. This is new for me to see with Paloma and exciting. Last year, we more often than not had to deal with her crying on the way to school and depressed on the way home saying what a horrible day she had. I know all days won't be like today, but I have a good feeling already about homeschooling Paloma.

Guilty mother blues

We all have them - why do I feel like I have them more than most? This complete disconnect I feel sometimes with my own children? Everyone else seems to be a better mother, a more involved mother, a more caring, loving, sympathetic, understanding, compassionate mother. Other mothers don't yell. Other mothers don't want to put 10 kilometers of road between them and their offspring - do they? If you feel like I do, than don't go to this blog - it will only make you more depressed.

Goodbyes

Tomorrow some good friends leave Rome for good, returning home to Brooklyn after a year here spent researching, living and enjoying life alla Romana. Jennifer and I met on the Expats in Italy website - an excellent source for those looking to move to Italy. They don't beat around the bush on that site and frequent posters tell you like it is - the good and the bad. Jennifer wrote a post about neighborhoods and then about schools which I responded to and somehow we just clicked electronically. In the end her and her husband, David and their two children ended up living about a 10 minute walk away from us and their oldest child, Lee, went to the same school as Giulia and Paloma. We became fast and very good friends.

In our business we say lots of hellos and lots of goodbyes - so many people in and out of our lives that we lose track of the time. Someone might have stayed with us several years ago and to us it seems that we just saw them - their familiar face just one of so many familiar faces. Our lives are filled with many other more transient lives - in the international community many people are just here for a few years and then they are gone. Some are in Rome simply to experience Italy for a brief time - a sojourn from their "real" lives back home.

We've lived here almost 10 years, birthed 3 children, established two businesses - we're here for the long haul. Yet even that long haul has to give in every once in a while to our restless souls - next year will be our own, albeit temporary, goodbye to Rome. After the year, we'll be back though - already thinking of starting an agriturismo, but more on that later. We try to stay present, but there's always that one foot cautiously dipping and feeling the waters of the future.

Countdown

2 weeks and 2 days: Giulia starts school again and we begin homeschooling Paloma. We didn't reregister P at St. George's Nomentana and instead are trying this grand experiment.

1 year: we move to Bali for one year so that the girls can go to this school, Steve can surf and I can sweat.

I'll keep you posted.

Golden Time Part 2

Can you believe it - Steve took the girls to the beach again today!! Two days in a row of Golden Time - what a man! So what have I been doing with my day? Well, more of the same - trying to put things in order, iron, make dinner. I'm about to have a cold cappuccino - my summertime afternoon ritual. Oh yes, it's exciting times here in the Eternal City.

Golden Time

At Giulia and Paloma's school, there is a time each day devoted to "golden time" - a time when the children can do whatever they like - play games, sit and read, draw, etc. Much to Giulia's chagrin, Steve and I have claimed this word for ourselves as a time when one of us is without the children and is doing something solely for ourselves.

Today Steve took the girls with him to the beach with our friend David and his children. I've been getting our own B&B at home ready for an arrival, ironing and doing all those things that are so incredibly monotonous and mundane, but that take on a whole new meaning of peace when doing them without having to give into the demands of three young children.

On my favorite podcast, I recently heard this remarkable poem that is perfect for today even if I'm not laying in a field somewhere. It's called "The Summer Day" by Mary Oliver.

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Happy Birthday Giulia!

My beautiful girl turns 8 years old today. It seems just the other day I was in the midst of a horrid 41 hours worth of labor to get her out into the world. The experience was brutal and I ended up having post-partum complications too. Yet in the end I had HER. Giulia loves to hear her birth story, but most of all I think she just likes knowing how happy we are that she is here - that she is wanted and loved - no matter what. Happy birthday superstar girl!

Insomnia Blues Part V

Oh, it's been a while. The heat is a bit too much, our ceiling fan is doing little to alleviate it tonight. I can either catch up on my movie trailers which is the closest I get to watching (or even wanting to watch) a movie anymore or I can write, so here I am.

This summer hasn't been all I had hoped. I'm at my wit's end after a month of daily fighting, whining and crying from Giulia, Paloma, Viola or all three at the same time and sometimes all before 9:00 in the morning! It's been tough. To make matters worse, we are all cooped up inside - my many attempts to get them out in the garden thwarted by mosquitoes or the heat. Steve leaves for The Beehive early in the morning - he's been covering in the cafe and at reception for staff who are taking holiday and I've been stuck at home with the girls. Public transit is a nightmare in this weather and I still don't have a license and besides, Rome has few options for children most of the year and even less in the summer unless you want to leave them in a summer day camp (tried it once and they hated it) or go to a pool and I just can't pay €25 every day (that's entrance fee times 4). The beach would be a fun diversion, but without a license.... I'm annoyed at myself for letting that one slide and there's no way to even think about going through the process again for an Italian license until September. Many shops in our neighborhood are closed until 1 September and I think even the bus drivers are on holiday - I waited 20 minutes the other day for an express.

Besides the heat, the prospect of homeschooling Paloma this school year is proving to be very daunting and keeping me awake this particular night. I keep going back and forth between thinking we should go a classical curriculum to no curriculum at all (unschooling). Just when I think I've got it all sorted out, I read something different or Steve comes up with a new perspective. We found a tutor who will be coming once a week to teach her piano, maths, voice - whatever floats her boat I guess for that meeting. Steve and I will split the rest of the week.

In the background lies our upcoming adventure to Bali which we have already started planning. We're going to go for a year -August 2009 to August 2010 - so the girls can attend this school and Steve can surf to his hearts content. I'll try to go to bed now and hopefully thoughts of tropical heat and maths worksheets don't keep me awake.

28 July Leonard Cohen in concert

Amazing! Thank you, Leonard.

Losing my marbles

It's been a long summer and we still have another 5 1/2 weeks to go before Giulia starts back at St. George's and we start homeschooling Paloma. This season in the hospitality biz has been weird thanks to the weak dollar. Many of our colleagues in the budget sector are closing shop and/or selling. A lot of people are worried - us included - about this coming winter. We're due to celebrate the 10th anniversary of The Beehive in May 2009 and we're just hoping we get a chance to see it. Because of the uncertainty, Steve does not want to spend any money unnecessarily. This is the man who will completely take apart a blender, toaster, computer, washing machine, air-conditioning unit - whatever, just so he doesn't have to replace it. And more often than not, he fixes it.

So because of this fear of a long, hard winter, we've put holiday plans on hold and have been hunkering down in Rome which is a difficult place to be with three bored little kids. At the beginning of July, we did spend one week in our beloved Puglia (Valle d'Itria area) that was much too short and now we've been here. We've spent an afternoon seaside in Tarquinia - the beach scene here is little to be desired, but it was so nice to have fresh air and be near the sea. Steve takes the girls to the Villa Borghese when he can and the girls have tried (and hated) a day at a centro estivo (summer day camp) at the zoo. For the most part they have been bickering and fighting and feeling bored and I've been slowly losing my mind at the sound of three children who aren't getting along.

I've lately had such an urge to do things with them that I used to do as a kid. Unfortunately, Rome isn't set up for softball or badminton so I decided to try another direction. I loved playing marbles as a kid - jacks too and hopscotch, two square and all those summertime games that you could literally wile away hours and hours doing. We've been playing a lot of card games together - and Steve and I even have a summertime ritual now of gin and tonic with a lovely wedge of lime in the evening and crazy eights before bed.

I thought it would be fun to teach the girls how to play marbles (biglie in Italian), but as I started to make my way from one toy store to the next to the next, I realized how much I was living in a time warp. Today's kids don't want to play marbles - or perhaps not that they don't want to, but as shopkeepers told me, if it doesn't run on a battery or can be downloaded from the internet or played on a Game Boy - there's just no demand, so they don't carry them. I kept running into dead ends, but I was on a mission and I refused to think that I was going to have order them on-line. Finally, someone suggested that I try a cartolibreria - the stores here in Italy that sell paper products, office, school and arts & crafts supplies and wrapping paper. After going to a few of them and being looked at with pity, I discovered one on via Nemorense that sold wooden versions of different board games and lo & behold - marbles!

I'm looking forward to showing the girls how to play, but considering how long it took me to find these I don't think we'll be playing for keeps.

Happy Birthday Paloma!

Today Paloma turned 6 years old. It doesn't seem that long ago that my little doodle was born. My pregnancy with Paloma was such a blur, but I do remember it as the time when Steve and Giulia bonded. I weaned Giulia during those first few months of my pregnancy as it was too fatiguing for me to continue and she was ready anyway. Steve used to take her out a lot to get her mind off of breastfeeding as well as giving me time to myself - to sleep and take it easy. During this period, I would often catch my reflection or a glimpse in a mirror and then suddenly remember I was pregnant. The first pregnancy is the most self-indulgent - after that, you just don't have the time.

I could have easily had a home birth with Paloma (and Viola as well), but I was still shell-shocked from my attempt with Giulia so I never considered it again. When I discovered I was pregnant with #2, I called my midwife, Valeria, to tell her the news and instead of telling me congratulations, she was actually quite negative about it and said she couldn't believe it since I had been so adamant against repeating the birth experience. Well what woman in the throes of labor doesn't say she will never ever do it again??? Because of her attitude - my hormones raging and feeling rebuffed, I decided to choose someone else to help me.

An acquaintance highly recommended Evelina Alpi, an Italian gynecologist, who had a practice in San Giovanni which was conveniently located near Celio our former neighborhood. I would take the bus down once a month, wait in the waiting room for at least one hour (she was always late), be told that I was gaining too much weight (very typical thing to say here in Italy to pregnant women), but told more or less that everything was fine. After several months I found out that she smoked. Being an ex-smoker, I find smoking by anyone in the health profession to be an intolerable hypocrisy, but at that point, we were too far along for me to consider finding someone else.

On the morning of 13 July 2002, it had been an entire night of slowly losing my water. With all three pregnancies my water has broken in a drip, drip, drip, drip manner that lasts overnight. I went to see my midwife, Oriana, who worked for Dr. Alpi. It turns out I was already 3cm dilated and didn't even know it. She told me to go home, have a light lunch and come back around 2pm, but that if I started to have contractions at anytime in between to come as quickly as possible to the clinic. I went home, had spaghetti alla carbonara (so much for light), relaxed a bit and then headed to the clinic.

We met Dr. Alpi and Oriana in the delivery room. Dr. Alpi checked me and I was already 5cm without feeling so much as a twinge. She suggested putting me on oxytocin to get the ball rolling - in retrospect, I'm sure so she could have the night off. They put the IV in and then both my doctor and midwife decided to go downstairs (we were on the 4th floor) for a coffee and cigarette in the bar. They even asked Steve he wanted to come. As Steve and I sat there, chatting and making jokes, I had a slight contraction and felt that I had to urinate so I asked if he could help me with the IV to the bathroom. After a minute or two, I stood up and as I stood up, I felt a contraction like I have never had before - it literally felt as if I had been thrown through the ceiling. I sat back down and yelled to Steve that the baby was coming, but I was in such pain and such shock I couldn't move. Unknown to me, he was looking around in the hallway and there might as well have been tumbleweeds rolling past - no one was around. Finally, he found a nurse and told her to call Dr. Alpi down at the bar.

Steve and another nurse managed to get me to the bed and Steve tried to put me in one of the many more natural birthing positions like I had used for Giulia, but I literally could not move. The baby's head was crowning and they had to throw me on the bed and I sat there like a bug that's rolled over on it's back - my entire body was stiff, in a state of shock. In less than 15 minutes, Paloma arrived and unknown to me at the time was born blue as she had the cord wrapped a couple of times around her neck. Also unknown at the time was that the IV drip had not been locked so when I moved to the bathroom, the oxytocin came out in a full rush - so essentially I was overdosed on it.

My first full glimpse of Paloma's face made such an impression on me - her little brows knitted together in a look that said - "Why am I here? What's going on?" - a look that has lasted to this day. She's my quiet girl - those still waters run deep - and these past 6 years have unfortunately gone by so quickly and I guiltily cannot remember a lot that passed when she was a baby. Looking back, I think I suffered a bit from post-partum depression although I didn't know it at the time. It was a confusing period for me and I wasted a lot of time on worthless projects.

But not anymore. Steve and I are homeschooling Paloma this coming school year. We have many reasons we want to do it, but one of them is in hopes of really getting to know her better. Paloma is so free, so sweet and so alive - I am excited about exploring her world together.

Dancing girl

Since Giulia was 3 years old she's been taking ballet classes at her school. She loves the music, the movement, the costumes! This school year culminated with her taking part in her first recital. Here she is after the event - all rosy cheeks and smiles.

Abnormal behavior alla Romana

I've got a few pet peeves - well, actually probably more than a few because as Steve reminds me again and again - I am what is known as a "control freak". Okay, so I like things my way - I admit it. However, with children, it's much harder to be in control so when you've got a family comprised of strong personalities in addition to the need/desire of my daughters to assert their independence - well, we butt heads a lot.

Children are one thing, but adult behavior is another. Maybe it's the heat, but I've been increasingly annoyed at several behaviors (misbehaviors) that I'm sure are not particular to Rome, but the likes of which I've never really experienced anywhere else I have visited. Here's a few that come to mind.

1. I am invisible. My daughters and I go into our favorite neighborhood gelateria. There's a bit of a queue so we sit on the benches directly in front of the counter to wait our turn. In typical Italian fashion - since no one knows how to form a line here - I instead take note of the people who are ahead of me which are only a handful. Woman in red dress walks in after us, looks at us and waits her turn. I can already foresee what is going to happen. When it is almost our turn, I pony up to the counter and sure enough, as soon as the clerk has finished handing over the change to the person before us, red dress woman pipes up her order and the clerk starts to serve her. I chime in that we were before her and they both act SO SURPRISED. This is the one that always kills me. I tell them that - oh, it's okay, I'm used to their kind of behavior. They, of course, try to act so civil so cultured - please, it was a simple mistake. I tell them - no problem, I like sitting around gelaterias with my children and not ordering. What gets me is the way Romans always act so affronted, so insulted - that it was an "honest" mistake. That they are the ones above all this and I'm just being an uptight foreigner. Please.

2. Doctors talking on the phone during a visit. I will NEVER EVER get used to this behavior no matter if I live in Italy the rest of my life. I have been in physical therapy appointments and left on the table as the therapist answers the phone. I have been interrupted countless times in the middle of explaining whatever health problem I have or my daughters have and then having to repeat myself as the doctor has lost track of what I was saying. I have been incredibly pregnant and nervous about some mystery ailment and had the doctor pick up to talk to a friend about dinner plans that night. Needless to say, I only visit the doctor if absolutely necessary and practice natural health care on myself and my children.

3. Getting run down on the zebra crossing. Not only do you have to wait and then practically throw yourself into traffic to cross the street here ON A PEDESTRIAN CROSSING, but people don't even slow down to let you finish crossing - they just keep coming. So heaven forbid if your child stops in the middle of the street or wants to back track for whatever reason. You learn quickly to hold onto your child's hand tight and drag them across because they will certainly get hit if anything unusual happens in a crossing. Depending on my mood, I cross ever so s l o w l y, just to make those assholes actually stop. I've noticed that people in Mercedes and Alfa Romeos are the worst. The statistic is that about 7 people PER DAY get mowed down while crossing the street here - so unnecessary. Several years ago, I saw a young Australian couple get hit on the crossing in front of our former apartment building. Thankfully, they were not seriously hurt, but what a welcome to Rome.

For Viola from Daddy

You often say, "Me happy!"
You say it with complete certainty and clarity.
You're so genuine. It was easy for you to figure it out.
You say it when the rest of us clearly aren't.
You might as well be saying, "I don't know why you four fuss all the time. I think everything's fine."

Where did you learn these words?
The four of us surely never said them.
If you were copying us you'd say:
"Me melodramatic"
"Me ultra fussy"
"Me perpetually unsatisfied"
"Me moody"

Sometimes you ask me too.
"Happy, Daddy?"
and I say, "Yes".
Though I don't say it with your conviction.

It's early in the morning.
It's my job to wake up your sisters, make breakfast, pack lunches, get them to school.
But this morning I don't. I let you all sleep as the school bell rings.
Today I decide I'd rather watch you and think about this,
and wonder if you will ever rub off on us.

Getaways

This past Friday, the film crew from an Australian travel show called "Getaways" filmed The Beehive for an upcoming series on "Budget Italy". If I'm not too embarrassed by our interview or if they decide to edit it away, I'll be posting the segment here in the future.

Changes

In 9 years, 9 changes I've noticed in Rome:

1. If you can believe it - there is more graffiti, more trash on the streets.
2. Everything is more expensive. For example, nine years ago Steve found a 3 bedroom apartment with terrace on via della Croce near Piazza di Spagna for 3,000,000 Lire/month (about €1,500). Unfortunately, we didn't take it.
3. General malaise - Romans have never been the most thoughtful or considerate of Italians, but in their more negative state of mind it's gotten worse.
4. Something positive - more organic markets, yoga classes, environmental fairs - extremely difficult to find 9 years ago.
5. Peeking into a pet shop window the other day - I noticed the availability of cat scratching posts. This may not seem like a big deal, but when we first moved here, it used to be a special order item that took several weeks to arrive. Now Ingmar uses tree bark in the garden at The Beehive.
6. Restaurants are adopting a slicker look, but the food is heading more and more below par. Still best to head to your local frumpy and tired looking osteria or trattoria for yummier and cheaper food.
7. The increase in affordable children's clothing and shoe stores. I used to have go to the ends of the earth to find decent shoes for Giulia when she was a toddler and I relied on my trips to the US for clothing.
8. Many more foreigners, but still less integration. It's so refreshing to head to Paris or London and feel, experience and see the multiculturalism. Here in Rome, there is still the mindset by many Romans that if you're from the Philippines than you are a housekeeper, if you are Eastern European, you work as an elderly caregiver and if you are African you sell tube socks or handbags. And let's not even start talking about the gypsies.
9. People are finally using the internet. There's an excellent blog for all happenings in Rome. The city public transit website is the only thing about the system that really works. When I first joined Freecycle Rome - I think I was only one of a handful of members. Now there are 1000+ members and I receive several e-mails a day. The list goes on and on. However, in true Italian fashion - it has now gotten harder to purchase anything over the internet on an Italian website. You must now receive a PIN from your bank for every purchase you make - and of course, it's not easy. My recent purchase for Leonard Cohen tickets had me ready to throw my laptop out the window.

How will the next 9 years be? If you had asked me back in early 1999 what my life would be like now - I would never have believed it. Perhaps I need to call that phone psychic in LA back - the one who told me I was making the right decision to move here.

Tripadvisor

As a small business owner in the hospitality field, internet forums like Tripadvisor cause me a lot of stress. The Beehive has 100 reviews and counting on it - pretty remarkable for a small Mom & Pop like ourselves. Thankfully, a huge percentage of these reviews are very positive. There are some reviews that are eloquently, thoughtfully and intelligently written, some that are average, and still others that are just plain stupid. There are also, of course, the reviews written by a former guest with a grudge and are just outright lies. I think most people can figure these out , but it annoys me when someone writes and ask if it's true. While annoying, I guess in a way it's great that they have this doubt and feel that they can actually write us. Anyone I've ever written is always inevitably relieved and on our side. Steve tells me I should stop reading these reviews, but I can't help it - it's quite addictive almost like celebrity gossip - a guilty pleasure.

Observation

I've met some mothers lately who seem to have forgotten what it was like when their children were younger. They are older or my age with older children, but usually an only child. I can see the uneasiness in their eye when I suggest that I bring my children along too. The e-mail I've written saying I'd like to bring along one of my daughters sits languishing in their in-box without a reply. They don't want to talk about any parenting issues because to them - it seems - that a certain way of parenting is over. Now it's just the occasional maintenance checks and now it's all about themselves not their child. They almost seem to have reverted back to their child-less days, looking at me and my breastfeeding and my fatigue not so much with empathy as with disdain. If it's someone I don't know very well, I'm often surprised to hear that they even have children. I'm curious to know if I'll become this way too.

Happy Mother's Day!

Today is not only Mother's Day, but a double day for us to celebrate - it's also the 9th anniversary of The Beehive. I'm eternally grateful for both of these transitions in my life - the one to motherhood and the one to self-employment.

The day started off with breakfast in bed - Steve's standard "Linda's special day" treatment that he reserves for my birthday and Mother's day and which I absolutely love. I never thought I would be the breakfast in bed type, but I really enjoy it and since it happens so rarely - it truly is a treat to be relished. Since we spend so little time in the bedroom, having breakfast brought to me there feels incredibly luxurious.

The big anniversary at The Beehive will take place for our 10th next year. Not sure what we'll do yet, but it'll be a fun party. Some good friends who are going back to Brooklyn in the summer have said they would come back for the festivities. It would be great to have family and friends here for that, but I know that's wishful thinking.

As it is my family forgets I'm a mother much less that Steve and I created a business too. No "Happy Mother's Day" ever comes from the direction of my brother or sisters. I think in their mind's eye I will always be "little stinky" as my brother calls me - the baby sister. I think for these last 9 years living in Italy I'm stuck in a time warp for them. We have such brief and sporadic contact as it is. Even though we like each other well enough - we've never been particularly close so they know nothing that goes on in my life other than the occasional reports and vice versa.

Mother's Day - besides thinking of my own mother and Steve's - inevitably gets me thinking about friends of mine who are also mothers especially my friends whom I haven't had a chance or much of a chance to see as mothers in action. To all my mommy friends out there far away - please know that I think of you all often - I truly do.

May Day

When I'm feeling down, there's nothing to lift my spirits like a beautiful spring day and the added bonus of an unexpected surprise in my in-box- a wonderful collage of photographs of my daughters done by a very talented friend. These photographs were taken this past December in Colorado Springs by my friend Tamera, a wedding photographer.

Holistic Moms

So for a while I've been wanting to meet and get together with other like-minded women here in Rome - women who were interested in environmental issues, natural parenting, social justice and spirituality. Women with whom I could talk about these things and who wouldn't look at me like I was a kook. A group of women who could at least understand and not think anything was wrong with the fact that I nursed Paloma until she was 3 years old and that Viola is at 2 years and counting. A group of women who wouldn't think the fact that my daughters don't drink Coke or Fanta and that we have no television reception is not bordering on child abuse. A group of women whom mentioning yoga, meditation, Buddhism and the fact that I want my children to learn more about the Jewish half of their cultural heritage would not immediately cause unease or eye-rolling. With this in mind, I decided to create a group called Holistic Moms.

On Monday, seven women I know came to our house to discuss their reasons for wanting to be part of a group like this. We each have our own degrees of "greenness", but my main goal is not make anyone feel excluded. I don't want to be militant - just educational, informative, social and pro-active. Community seems to be even more important to me now especially not being in the U.S. where perhaps it is very easy to create. There's a group, a magazine or some kind of commercial endeavor for any kind of interest you can imagine. It's not the same here.

Yet like-minded or not - I often feel like an outsider. For the most part at 41 years old, I don't care much what others think. I sometimes fantasize what it would be like to run into all those old boyfriends/lovers/unreciprocated loves now and how self-assured and confident I would imagine myself to be! However, with my own gender, the ol' self-esteem can take a real beating and I'm transported back to the 17 year old Linda who thanks to affirmative action and decent grades got a place in the freshman class of 1984 at Colorado College - a private and expensive liberal arts college in Colorado Springs. How young and naive I was! How ambitious and ready to tackle the future I felt!

Yet it wasn't meant to be. My father died. My mother lost control. My sisters and brother turned into grey in the background and I just wanted to dance every night, talk with friends and kiss boys. We all deal with grief in our own way and I felt the need to get away. In addition, my first class at Colorado College - "Western Political Tradition" had me quaking in my boots with intimidation. Plato? Aristotle? St. Augustine? Descartes? I was thinking, "Who the hell are these guys??" My 4 years at Widefield High School - a low to middle income high school - had me ill-prepared to go rounds with my prep school counterparts. To put it bluntly, I felt stupid.

So last night was a meeting of the book club I've belonged to for the past few years comprised of other mothers from my daughters' school, and those 17 year old Linda feelings came back. All I could think of on the way home was, "I had nothing of value or interest to say." "I am gauche and dowdy, unpolished, out of shape and frumpy." I went home and did what I don't do very often these days, I cried. It's those moments of crying to yourself in the early hours of the morning when even though the house is full with the breathing and the night noises of four other people - a mother can really feel completely alone.

RomaNatura

It's funny how after 9 years of living here and actively searching for things to do with our children for the past 8, that we are only recently finding interesting and fun things for them to do. It comes in drips and drabs, but the things we have found lately have been fun for them. Everything from the free arts & crafts workshops at the Casina di Raffaello in the Villa Borghese park to the recent "city nature" outings we have discovered through RomaNatura.

RomaNatura is an organization responsible for the care, maintenance and promotion of historic natural protected areas within Rome. Most of these places have villas, archaeological sites, nature walks and an area for educational projects with children and/or adults.

Yesterday we signed the girls up for a workshop at the Valle dei Casali - an area just south of Monteverde. There is an educational organic farm, an organic (but not vegetarian) restaurant and a lovely greenish area with lots of trees and open space for children to run around before or after the workshop. Viola was immediately attracted to the flowers - she loves all things green and was immediately in her element.

The topic of this workshop was "Disegnare un Albero" (Design/Draw a Tree). The children sketched a tree and then with wire used their sketches to create a small "tree" using all kinds of recycled objects to make the leaves, branches, trunk, etc. Here are Giulia and Paloma working diligently on their project -they take these things very seriously!

Bagels!!

Steve has been on a bread-making kick - baguettes, whole wheat seed bread, and now this morning - la pièce de résistance - bagels! We woke to their delicious, freshly made smell this morning. They look like bagels, but the most important - they taste like them too!

That's only one of many things about living in Italy that has helped us become more self-sufficient. Sometimes you just can't find what you are looking for and you need to make your own or simply do without and realize that after a while - it's not something you really miss anymore. In regards to food, our tastes just slowly evolved. In the U.S., you can have whatever kind of food you want, whenever you want it. We've learned to appreciate and prefer local and seasonal. Although we still get a craving for certain ethnic foods - Indian for example - we can also make our own at home and only when we want the particularly saucy, spicy kind do we go out looking for it. We have our own blend of Mexican/Puertorican food nights - Steve makes great flat bread that is infinitely better and without all the chemicals and preservatives you find in the package of El Paso tortillas they sell here at the local specialty food shop Castroni. I make my family's Puertorican style beans and our local organic shop has avocados for the guacamole, and freshly grown cilantro we can find from the Bangladeshi shop keepers at Piazza Vittorio.

For the most part though we prefer Italian or Mediterranean food - things we can find and make with ingredients that are available now and that are fresh and flavorful. It's fun to drive out in the country and pick things up from the local farmers.

We are also supporters of the Slow Food movement. Their fantastic resource - "Osterie d'Italia" is a book that has never let us down. Not every meal has been mind-blowing, but we have never eaten badly. It also always takes us into small towns or borgos we would never find without the incentive of a possibly fabulous meal.

Yesterday we ended up in the nondescript town of Poggio Moiano - about an hour north of Rome - to try a restaurant that was in the guide. Traffic was horrific - all the Romans in an exodus for the three day weekend. We finally got there, and unfortunately, the town itself wasn't very interesting and incredibly quiet because of the holiday. The meal was good, but not spectacular - catering mostly to meat eaters. There was also a huge party because of a child's first communion so after being forgotten by the wait staff - our children got bored and we left without trying dessert. It was fine though - we were happy to leave and walk around the town a bit.


There's always a play ground to be found and our children are young enough that their expectations are low and they can have fun with nearly anything including this incline they found near some shops. Going up and speeding down was something they could have done for hours if we had let them.

Country life?

Oops - I missed a day yesterday. So much for my pledge. We went out for Indian food last night and a friend showed us the apartment she is housesitting which is 200+ sqm of lovely spaciousness. We got back late, and well, I just wasn't in the mood to write.

Yesterday we went to a see a house in the countryside north of Rome - an area called Sabina. The house belongs to a friend of a friend. He wants to rent it out and we thought we should look at it since Steve and I have been jonesing for a house in the country for the last few years. This sounded like a good opportunity. I knew it wouldn't be what I wanted though, and sure enough it wasn't.

Newer construction, ugly fencing, junk everywhere, landscaping -what's that? Even with all the furniture gone - the inside had a horrible layout, the outside was a mess and not very inviting. Basically, it would need A LOT of work. I'm sure he wouldn't go under €1,000/month. So we get rid of our apartment in Rome and move out to the countryside nowhere near a small town and then what? The girls go to school in Montelibretti and we become part-time farmers? Or we commute to get the girls to their school in Rome in the morning? We live a 10 minute walk away now and can barely get the girls to school on time as it is. If it were just to get to work that would be one thing - one of the many positives of The Beehive being just 2 blocks from Termini train station. It's just the girls' school that poses a problem.

I'm also a bit nervous about living in the countryside here. No matter what part of Italy we have been to - with the exception of the Alto Adige - everyone we know of has been broken into. And it's not just the television that they take, but literally everything including the kitchen sink. We've known people come back to their homes to find window fixtures gone. And then there's the horror stories - the break-ins that happen when someone is still home. With three children and times when I may be on my own with them - well, I wouldn't feel very comfortable or secure at night. What's the point or pleasure in that?

Taking away the possibility of break-ins, essentially, I want the following in a countryside location:

1. a house that can be changed enough for us to make it more sustainable - would love to construct a straw bale house, but think that would be a living nightmare here.
2. a small olive grove and enough land to have a vegetable garden
3. a view - green rolling hills preferred
4. congenial neighbors - but in the distance
5. easy access to a train station that is well-connected
6. roads with little traffic
7. close vicinity to farms (preferably organic) where we could get eggs, cheese and fruit or veg that we don't grow
8. biking vicinity to a small town that had an interesting lively community - preferably liberal, artistic and intellectual - with excellent schools (I know, I know - this ones a stretch, but this is my wish list!)

There's got to be a place SOMEWHERE in Italy that has what I'm looking for, but the longer I live here the more I'm convinced it simply doesn't exist. Perhaps it doesn't exist anywhere except in my dreams.

Linda and Steve's B&B

Talk about taking our work home with us. Our babysitter moved out at the end of March and we decided to convert our guest room into our own B&B which is now listed on our agency website. It works perfectly as a guest room because the area is removed from our own apartment - down below us and separate - and guests have their privacy as well as their own independent access through our garden. There's none of the possible discomfort associated with a home stay.

The girls love having guests and meeting new people - it's great to see it all through their eyes. The buzzer rings announcing our guests arrival and they start screaming in excitement. It can be a bit overwhelming though - I have to insist that they say hello and then go back upstairs while I show our guests around and explain things. Giulia and Paloma insist on waking early so they can help serve breakfast. They feel so important bringing down a tray.

So far we've had two different sets of guests - both Australian couples - one Asian and very young and the other older with grown children. We had invited the older couple up for dinner last night not knowing that it was their anniversary - 41 years! We all got to hear about their adventures trekking through the Himalayas for 330 kilometers with their then-young children. Steve got to hear about all the great surfing he's missing out on and we learned about the geography of Australia and sheep farming practices which don't sound entirely humane.

Since I don't get to spend as much time at The Beehive anymore, it's wonderful to have these multicultural experiences and these small glimpses of the world in our own downstairs.

The Beehive Cafe reincarnated

We are so excited!!! Steve and I have decided to turn The Beehive Cafe into a karma cafe. It's based on the concept of a "community kitchen" - no set menu, no set prices - patrons pay what they think the food is worth and they can also decide on portion size so hopefully eliminate waste. We'll have suggested prices by portion size for people who might feel a bit uncomfortable about the idea of not having fixed prices. The main thing being that we wouldn't turn anyone away for lack of funds and food waste would be diminished as well.

Being in Italy, we're going to have to make it a cultural association and non-Beehive guests will have to pay a small amount to become a member - €1 or €2, but membership is good for the year. In this way, we overcome the limitations we've had of not being able to actively publicize ourselves to the community and we get to do something we think is a really cool idea essentially expanding our philosophy of The Beehive into our cafe - offering quality, healthy and delicious food to all and not limited by how much someone can or cannot afford. Some of our staff and I'm sure others will think we are wacky, but hell - why not??

Back to business

Well the wonderful weather couldn't last forever and the weekends are only 2 days long - today it was back to business. Steve and I decided to have our first official business meeting together and are going to try to make it a weekly event.

The idea of The Beehive was born 10 years ago and The Beehive itself (its first incarnation) opened on 11 May 1999. Steve and I work really well together - we bring different strengths and ideas to the table. Having our own business, besides our children, has proven to be one of the hardest things we have done, but has also been extremely gratifying and no matter what - we know now we would never want to go back to working for someone else. We've had great ideas over the years (our cafe) and not so great ideas (our concierge services), we've had ideas that have and continue to succeed in leaps and bounds (our agency cross-pollinate) and others that have not (our yoga space and art exhibits). Regardless, we keep plugging away and coming up with new ideas, changes, improvements, etc. It's always a work in progress.

The Beehive is a living space - people in and out - different personalities and energies constantly in movement working their way in and out of doors. We love what we do, but it can be stressful and very often we have to contend with expectations from guests that are unrealistic or people who don't want to be out of their comfort zone and really shouldn't be traveling in the first place or should be staying at the Sheraton or Best Western instead. Thankfully, these kinds of guests are few and far between, but it's aggravating when people just don't "get" us which we try to make pretty clear in order to avoid disappointment.

Any new ideas, improvements or changes have always come about pretty randomly - during a shower, a walk, while lying in bed. We've never really sat together and thought of ways to run the business. However, we are realizing that in the last few years - The Beehive has been a bit neglected by us. While Steve is there virtually every day his mind is elsewhere - bogged down by all the tedium and frustration of the many administrative responsibilities he has which are many. Add three children and a father who is very actively involved including making our dinner every night - well, he doesn't have a whole lot of time to devote specifically to The Beehive. Ditto for me. I work from home as I am still nursing our youngest child, Viola, and I make my random cameo appearances at The Beehive, but since having Paloma in 2002 - The Beehive has just been one of many responsibilities. We are both just pulled in many different directions.

So now we've decided to try to organize ourselves and lives a bit better - hence, the weekly meetings. I'm excited about this new phase of our business relationship. To try to improve and promote our agency, get caught up on the maintenance at The Beehive and manage the cafe so that it runs more efficiently. Am I wishful thinking or is this another idea that will crash and burn?

Another wonderful day

If this keeps up no one is going to believe that I could actually ever be unhappy here in Rome. Yet today was another gorgeous spring day and we spent it outside in our garden with our friend Stefania and her two sons, Thomas and Sebastian. Stefania is a friend I have recently reconnected with and it was great to be able to spend just a carefree day enjoying the sunshine, chatting and letting the children bounce on the trampoline. I don't know what it is about kids and trampolines, but they bounced for pretty much 5 hours straight and it still wasn't enough.

The Pied Piper of Rome

Today was a beautiful perfect spring day and so we decided to take a picnic to the Villa Torlonia near our house. We wanted to take full advantage of this weather before the tiger mosquitoes woke up from their too short hibernation and we're forced once again to take one of the following measures: either constantly drenching ourselves in geranium and citronella oils (which are effective for about 5 seconds), wear long sleeves and long pants and closed shoes (and if you know what Rome is like in July and August that's a big - "yeah, right"), stay inside or - what we have done for the past several years - leave Rome.

The park was jam packed with children and one thing that struck me was, "Where are their parents?" There were children playing everywhere, but no adults to be found. They were all enjoying their post-lunch coffees and desserts at the restaurant located in the park - a good plan in nice weather like today because restless children can just run and play while you enjoy your meal. That wouldn't work too well with our children who always want an adult around - namely Steve.

My husband is a magnet for children. For whatever reason, they just gravitate towards him - perhaps finding a mutually immature and juvenile kindred spirit who also loves to play and can relish a good poop joke with the best of them. The things he comes up with to do are often not very complicated and can take no effort on the part of the adult. Today was no different. The girls asked Daddy for a race. Rather than Daddy getting all hot and sweaty taking part in a race with his high-spirited children again and again and again - Steve said he would time them using the timer on his phone to see how fast they could go, and then after the first go to see if they could beat their previous times. Oh -he is fiendishly clever that husband of mine! The girls went for it and after seeing our children do this several times - immediately up popped a few other children asking if they could take part in the race. Our three children, then suddenly turned into 5 children and as he walked around the park looking for other places to do a race, five children turned into 6 and then 7 and after just a few minutes there were about 10 kids surrounding him.

The races didn't last very long - the parents started straggling out of the restaurant area and calling for their children. They thanked Steve and probably thought of him as that "crazy American" as they walked away whispering amongst themselves. But the kids loved it and I think it was that structure and just the fact that an adult, a parent was actually involved was an enjoyable and important experience for them.

We often see here in Rome how parents go the park or other public places and hide behind a newspaper or chat with their friends and let their children run wild, creating utter chaos and disruption with misbehavior that is not corrected. When our children were younger, we dreaded going to the park and at some point just stopped going because we were tired of always having to do battle with children- battles that could have been prevented if their parents had taken more of an active interest in what they were doing.

I think a lot of it often has to do with boredom because children do appreciate sometimes structured play and some inspiration of what to do. It's not that you have to physically do it with them or for them, but provide a bit of help and guidance in their journey. In play or in life in general - I think a little involvement goes a long way in building bonds between yourself and your children.

A day out with Paloma and Paddington

Paloma was given the responsibility of caring for her classroom's Paddington Bear over this spring holiday. Today I had to go to Trastevere and asked Paloma to come with me and Paddington came along for the ride. Trastevere might as well be in another city - it took us about an hour and half to get there from our neighborhood including two bus changes. Paloma, who suffers from motion sickness, was a trooper and thankfully we made it to our destination without incident. It's amazing how with the right lighting, angle and a close-up shot, Piazza Independenza can be transformed from skid row hang out to a halcyon field of flowers.

I made the journey to Trastevere to take advantage of my friend Sinne's recent sale on samples from her yoga clothing collection - the fabulous Ki-Shirts - which are some of the coziest clothes in my wardrobe - all made with organic cotton. Afterwards Paloma, Paddington and I headed to the Ghetto for some pizza and a stop at my favorite erboristeria. I really like the Ghetto neighborhood - it's one of the few areas in Rome where I have always felt a very strong sense of the community there.

Paloma, as usual when Giulia is out of the picture, was an absolute joy to be with. Another good day!

Dirty laundry

So I've got a secret. A few friends know about this and now I'm just going to put it out there. I've been "seeing" a therapist. Now "seeing" is in parenthesis because our visits are all done by Skype video chat. She's a Jungian therapist I met on the fabulous mother/baby yoga retreat I went to last July. I've been talking with her on and off for the past couple of months. I like her. She's got a great sensitivity and perception, but I guess the thing I don't like is that she doesn't really give me any solutions. Not having seen many therapists in my day, I don't know if this is standard procedure. I know I'm angry at my children a lot, I feel like shit about it. I'm a procrastinator, and can't seem to shake myself of it. I feel perpetually dissatisfied - okay, I know all this already. So what the hell do I do about it?!?!

Yet she doesn't offer any solutions. She makes observations sometimes pointing out that "you might feel A because of B", you know that kind of thing. It is great to talk to someone who has no emotional connection to me and is detached and a professional, but still pleasant. There's definitely something worthwhile in that. But do I want to continue this process indefinitely? Does she? I don't think either one of us does, but I don't see any closure to it. I hadn't talked to her in a couple of weeks and I could probably have very easily just never contacted her again. Yet my need to resolve these personal issues in my life is so strong that I'm willing to grasp at these straws even if these particular straws cost €50 a piece.

A good day

This afternoon Giulia, Paloma and I had gelato, got some spring clothes shopping in, they got their yearly summer Birkenstock purchase, and bought some toys with their own money as well as giving coins to every beggar and street musician we ran into (Paloma has started working at the cafe now too so has her own little stash of cash.) I LOVE days like this. Days when I don't feel rushed or irritated or angry with my children. Why can't they all be like this?

Italian bureaucracy blues

Today I had to go to the post office. Any foreigner living in Italy dreads this experience. Poste Italiane is one of the larger, if not largest, bureaucracies that Italians as well as foreigners have to deal with on too regular a basis and that's because they do it all: bill payment, parking violations, pensions, foreigners permits to stay and if that weren't enough - deliver and send mail which they do with incredible inefficiency.

There used to be two ways to send a letter - regular mail and what they called "Posta Prioritaria" (Priority Mail). It was just a few cents more, but at least sending it priority mail, you were ensured that at least 80% of the time your letter would make it to its destination. With regular mail - it was more of a 50/50 chance. I sent a letter once to London that took 17 days to get there - Poste Italiane's idea of priority mail, but at least it made it.

Don't go to the post office here if you are feeling suicidal, depressed or homicidal because all of these and many other compulsions and thoughts will begin to flitter through your mind as you wait. And wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. If you're lucky, you might get out in 15 minutes, but an average wait is 45 minutes to an hour.

After nearly an hour of trying to get my multiple transactions taken care of - a couple of bills, two packages and our tax returns back to the US - I started to feel really annoyed. I had just taken 2 minutes to fill out a form that was necessary to mail one of my packages and now I was waiting nearly 20 minutes for the particular clerk who had helped me initially because the one and only other clerk could not help me - for reasons that weren't entirely clear. I sat there feeling more and more irritated as he was oh so slowly going through a huge pile of registered mail that needed to be stamped with all the ubiquitous Italian stamps when my eyes were drawn to the clerks hands and all of the stamping. His right hand had fingernails that were longish, but were all very carefully manicured and his left hand was just as manicured, but the fingernails were very short. "Oh, he plays guitar," I thought. I started to wonder whether he played in a band or if it was a secret passion - what kind of guitar he played, what type of music, etc., etc. Was I really that interested? Well, not exactly, but it made my negative mindset slowly dissolve into a more positive one. Sure, life at Poste Italiane must be an incredible bore and I couldn't imagine working for a company that was mired in a swamp of bureaucracy and absurdity, but he's a human being too.

Finally all the letters were stamped, the amount paid and it was my turn. I asked him if he played guitar, but I phrased it like a statement and not a question. His eyes which had previously been so shuttered and listless suddenly brightened a bit and he began to tell me it was like a drug for him - that he played only for himself and that he was going to be in New York for a wedding in June and had plans to buy a Gibson guitar - a dream. The smile I gave him when we were done with my transaction and the "buona giornata" was a genuine one. I really did hope he had a nice day.

For me this was a great lesson for the next time I find myself feeling cut off from other people and falling into a "me vs them" mentality. It's so easy to forget that we're all in this together.

The pen is mightier

Today I took Giulia and Paloma to lunch at our neighborhood trattoria, da Emilio. The place is usually jam-packed with office workers and we inevitably see the same customers. It's a casual place, nothing fancy with just good ol' casareccio (homestyle) cooking. As we were sitting there swapping stories, I noticed Paloma had a bandaid on her chest near her neck. I asked her what happened and she pointed to Giulia. Giulia immediately gave me the look of dread - "You're going to make me go home when you hear what I did." It turns out she got angry at her sister, lost her temper and threw a pen at her. The pen struck Paloma in the neck, drawing blood. These are the times in parenthood when I want to pull down the blinds and close shop.

The Bad Blogger

That's me - the bad blogger. My last post was nearly a month ago and believe me - it's not that nothing has been going on in my life. Yet it's not that it's been that exciting either. It's amazing how much the everyday minutiae can take over and before you know it - a day, a week a year has gone by and you have no idea what you've been doing all that time. Some important things that have gotten postponed over the years because of this minutiae: baby books (my children will be in university by the time I get around to those), my new years resolutions (there's always next year!), and cleaning the inside of the car - I equate that with the way in my 20's I would drive around with my dirty laundry in the car long enough for the clothes to just miraculously "clean" themselves! Same thing with the carpeting in the car - loaded with enough cracker crumbs to form a new package of crackers - it suddenly seems cleaner when we haven't driven the car in a long time.

I'm going to make a pledge that starting today I will write something, anything here everyday for the duration of Giulia and Paloma's school spring holidays which officially commence tomorrow.

Until then!

Cornwall, Italy?

Mother Nature has been toying with us here in Rome giving us days of early spring splendor interspersed with winter winds and rain just as we start to put the heavier clothes back into their boxes for next year. Yesterday we were determined to make it a beach day and even though the weather didn't look promising - we had already told the girls our plan and they were too excited for us to back out.

Once we got there, the only people determined enough to be out there was one other lone family and loads of kite surfers. For a wave surfer like Steve this seemed the height of folly - "How the hell can they stand it?" The wind was very strong and all he could imagine was the pain of the icy water being exacerbated by the cold wind - Cornwall revisited. Although in Cornwall - granted, our March is their July. Viola - red-nosed and virtually frozen by the wind - did not appreciate our outing although she didn't complain. Steve made the best of his cashmere scarf looking like a terrorist mummy and "scaring" the girls.


Giulia and Paloma had fun all the same and even took their socks off! Thankfully, there were no Italian grandmothers around to chastise us.

Happy Birthday Viola!

At 6:09 this morning, Viola turned 2 years old. She was oblivious, of course, still in that blissful state of ignorance that goes away much too quickly. We could see she got the idea that something special was in the air as she was wished "Happy Birthday" and given hundreds of kisses by her sisters.

She got presents - books, a wooden toy and assorted cat paraphernalia (she loves cats) including this fantastic cardboard cat that Giulia and Paloma made for her.


Seeing her sweet and joyful face today, I had to reflect on how she came into this world and while those 9 months she spent hanging out with me weren't entirely the most peaceful - her birth and subsequent babyhood and now toddlerhood have been nothing but delightful.

The morning of her birth - at around 2:30am, I heard a cry come from the girls' room. Paloma was woken up by a combination of bad dream and illness. Nothing but some gentle words and lots of cuddling could put her right so I spent about an hour with her until she fell back to sleep. At that point, I stumbled back to our bed, rolled over to my side, pulled the covers up and immediately began to feel labor pains. These were no Braxton-Hicks, I knew that this was it. I went out to the living room, walked and labored on my own for about 45 minutes and then at that point, I thought - "I better get Steve out of bed." Steve who sleeps through cries, wails and bumps in the night - was completely oblivious to all that had been happening.

It had taken my mother 8 years to finally come and visit us here in Rome and for whatever reason, she decided that the time to do it would be during the birth of our third child. She never considered it for the first child, nor for the second, so I have no idea what compelled her to finally take action, but it didn't matter to me - my mommy was here! Steve went to wake her as her job was to watch Giulia and Paloma who were still asleep and let them know what happened while he took me to the clinic. It was one of those once in a lifetime moments - my mother standing in the hallway in her robe, sleep and concern in her eyes as she watched me giving in to contraction after painful contraction. I never thought I would share that experience with my mother and it's something I'll never forget.

Steve drove me to the clinic - the same state clinic where I had given birth to Paloma located off the Appian Way - so not really very close to our home, but the closest place where we could have my midwife, Valeria attend the birth. It was 4:30am and the streets of Rome were blissfully free of cars and traffic, but I can honestly say I am so glad that I will never again have to experience contractions while driving over cobblestone - not pleasant!

Once at the clinic, the contractions were coming stronger and closer together. Valeria, my midwife, silently showed up and began preparing the room. Steve sat on a chair and left me to my moaning. He knew the drill. At some point, the extreme nausea came on indicating my own body's reaction to transition and the pushing started. Steve at that point knew he could come close to me without being hit and began stroking my head. I bent over the bed and after just a few pushes - there she came, and Valeria caught her and handed her to me.

What an incredibly victorious feeling! There's nothing like it - this feeling that you have just accomplished this monumental task and you didn't die and you feel fine and the baby is gorgeous and your husband is crying. And there she is, this pasty white, bloody bundle of loveliness - already prepared for snuggling at my breast - the first of many, many such moments.

The sun had just risen and it was that time of the day when you truly feel that all is well in the world, that nothing could possibly be wrong and you wish everyone around you love and peace and joy. The day was one of those magnificent Roman spring mornings - clear, blue skies, birds chirping, green trees outside my window and I got to hold and nurse my one and only Viola. Her birth will reside in my memory as one of the most magical experiences in my life and her birthday will be a yearly remembrance of the closest I ever came, and probably will ever come, to the divine. Thank you, Viola.

For Steve

Wishing you all your own anam cara.

From John O'Donohue's book "Anam Cara"

"In the Celtic tradition there is a beautiful understanding of love and friendship. One of the fascinating ideas here is the idea of "soul love" - the old Gaelic term for this is "anam cara". "Anam" is the Gaelic word for "soul" and "cara" is the word for "friend". In the early Celtic church a person who acted as a teacher, companion or spiritual guide was called an "anam cara". It originally referred to someone to whom you confessed, revealing the hidden intimacies of your life. With the anam cara you could share your innermost self, your mind, and your heart. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. In everyone's life there is great need for an anam cara, a soul friend. In this love, you are understood as you are without mask or pretension. Where you are understood, you are at home."

Half term holiday

The girls have been off school this week and instead of dreading it as I have in the past, I actually looked forward to it - the possibility of home educating them in the future has made it so that we look at these school breaks now as - "so this is what it could be like" moments.

This week I tried to do things differently. Instead of attempting to get any work done, I decided to just do what little I could in the morning and then spend the rest of the day with the girls. Monday, Steve and I played hooky and took Giulia (Paloma and Viola weren't interested) up to Viterbo for VitArte - a large, up and coming modern and contemporary art exhibition that is attempting to rival the colossal Arte Fiera in Bologna. It was the last day of the exhibit and being a Monday was completely empty of people so we got to take our time without fighting crowds. The highlighted artist of the exhibit was Alessandro Kokocinski - an amazing artist whom we actually have ties with in a roundabout way. One of The Beehive's shared apartmentss, Millefiori, was destined to be his studio, but then he decided to move to Tuscania, a small town north of Rome, instead. It's still his apartment, which he rented at a very low rate to his friend Paolo who is our good friend. We've never met Kokocinski, but it was exciting to see his work in person.

This week we also spent time at The Beehive hanging out with guests and eating yummy food in our cafe and Giulia and Paloma have been working on different projects together. Whether it's been constructing a cardboard and papier mâché dollhouse with their father, figuring out how to wrap a turban, Sikh-style or creating invitations for their "Annie" screening at our house this next week - they've been letting their own creativity take over and enjoying themselves. Yesterday, we headed over to Art Studio Cafe in Prati where having the studio to themselves and the full attention of the teacher, they made these beautiful flowers.

For littler kids the options are much slimmer here. This week I attempted a toddler activity group with Viola - the leader being described as a Montessori educator. I guess what I wasn't expecting and what we got was an "animatore" - those dreadful hosts of many Italian children's birthday parties. He just ended up creeping me out and boring Viola who after a while of hiding her face just wanted to breastfeed, so we left. On the way home, I attempted a walking meditation. HA! I think even Thich Nhat Hanh would have trouble doing one in Rome especially while pushing a stroller. On a side note - he is doing one in Naples (oh boy!) - I would give anything to be there for that, but we'll be in Paris.

I Heart You

I'll let you in on a corny secret: Steve and I really dig Valentine's Day. We like to take this day and be special and romantic. This has gotten increasingly more difficult with each subsequent child so those moments of romance are few and far between, but Steve has still got it! Past Valentine's Day surprises have been trips to Venice, Paris, Bagno Vignoni in Tuscany, a hand engraved leather bound journal with melt-my-heart sentiments and my personal favorite - a Telepass. This year Steve decided to starve our family for the next several months and made an unbelievable purchase - a painting by Spanish artist, Maria Angeles Vila Tortosa. Here is an example of one of her paintings:
My painting is a bit different - two pieces instead of one, but the use of color and design is similar. We had thought to purchase it a few months ago, and Fabio, the owner of il Sole said we could pay in installments. Before we left for Colorado in December, Steve told me the painting had been sold. Sneaky, sneaky.

My new friend Nona had the following meme on a recent post and I decided that it was an appropriate one for this day of San Valentino. This one's for you, Steve as I know your memory isn't quite what it used to be!

1. Where / how did you meet?

I was living with a loser boyfriend, Scott. Scott and I used to have an industrial noise performance art group called Trenchfoot. Some examples of performances: a feminist rant shouted through a megaphone, wearing a wedding dress and veil while smashing glass bottles in a metal garbage can, having eggs broken on my head to name but a few. Scott worked at an independent music shop in Colorado Springs and Steve and his best friend Chris were interested in our project. One day when they were at the shop talking to Scott, I walked in for a visit. Steve said he was transfixed - that with my Louise Brooks style blue/black bob haircut, '60's black leather button-up jacket with an A-line cut, tights and chunky boots - I looked like a very cute bell.

I had seen Steve before at a local dance club. He had been playing pool and I thought he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I was always faithful to loser boyfriend, but looking at Steve that night made me seriously contemplate, however briefly, life without that boyfriend.

2. How long have you known each other?

We've known each other for about 17 years.

3. How long after you met did you start dating?

Scott and I broke up and then Steve and best friend Chris preferred hanging out with me. Steve was my shoulder to cry on and during that time we had many long conversations on the phone - he's always been a great listener and offers amazing and pertinent advice. (I always thought he should have been a psychologist.) He did have ulterior motives though as he essentially made the moves on me shortly after the break up - Georges Bataille's "Story of the Eye" having a lot to do with those moves made. He was 16 years old and I was 23, but believe me, he was no innocent babe.

4. How long did you date before you were engaged?

Steve and I have a long and tumultuous history. We were together for about 2 years before I started cheating on him. I don't know what it was exactly - I had huge self-esteem issues back then and was generally a very depressed person. I started to feel contempt for Steve and wanted to reject him. I needed to feed my ego by demanding undying love from any guy that I found attractive and had sex with. It was a definite downward spiral. Anyway, after one too many affairs - Steve started having his own and our relationship blew up like a volcano. We ended it, but always managed to stay in touch.

While we were apart, Steve fell in love with a Norwegian girl he had met on his initial travels through Europe. He moved to Washington DC with best friend Chris and then Steve's plan was to stay there long enough to earn enough money before heading to Paris and then Rome where he had agreed to meet Norwegian girl. Shortly after his arrival in Rome, their relationship immediately imploded and they broke up. Steve had no money and no real ambition so decided to hang out in Rome working odd jobs, learning Italian and writing a novel about his experience.

I had been living in Denver and dating the most adorable Irish guy ever. I loved him, but he clearly couldn't return the sentiment so I looked for that emotion elsewhere. Life in Denver was going nowhere. I ended up moving to LA to follow a guy named Eric who was an industrial music distributor living out of a warehouse in Whittier (East LA). Our relationship lasted only a few days before we realized we were completely unsuitable for each other. He was cool about it though and allowed me to continue living with him rent free while I got my feet on the ground and found a job and an apartment. After a few temporary job stints I found a permanent position at the Writers Guild of America.

The job at the WGA allowed me a form of stability I hadn't had in a very long time and it was a very responsible position. I was able to get back on my feet financially and get my head sorted out. In the meantime, Steve and I had continued to stay in touch and there was always this ambiguousness as to whether or not there could ever be a future between us. Steve wanted to come out to LA to see me, but had decided once and for all to end our relationship - friendship and all. I didn't know this at the time - I thought he wanted to come out and give it another try! Strangely enough, I was actually resistant to him coming out to stay with me. This surprised a lot of girlfriends who knew how many, many nights I had spent bemoaning the fact that I had destroyed my one chance of happiness with my true soul mate (lots of tears, cigarettes, vodka & cranberry juice and meaningless sex accompanied these pity sessions). Yet I was finally in a good head space and was very fearful that I would go back into that darkness again.

Anyway, to wrap it up - he came to LA - we put all of our cards out on the table and after a complete detoxification and cleansing of our relationship we fell in love again.

5. How long was your engagement?

About a year.

6. How long have you been married?

9 years - 10th year coming up!

7. What is your anniversary?

5 September

8. How many people came to your wedding reception?

About 30.

9. What kind of cake did you serve?

Tiramisu

10. Where was your wedding?

We had to pay for the wedding and reception ourselves. We didn't have much money so a lot of it was DIY. We wanted a secular wedding so one of our good friends, Cynthia, who is a writer, became deputized by the State of California as an officiant and she wrote the ceremony. We wanted it to be outdoors so we chose a spot in the Pacific Palisades with an empty field upon cliffs with gorgeous views of the Pacific Ocean. We were not allowed to set anything up so a friend sang acappella and after the ceremony our guests threw rose petals at us. Afterwards, there was a long arduous drive back into Hollywood to one of our favorite restaurants called Farfalla for the reception.

11. What did you serve for the meal?

It was an Italian restaurant so a mix of various Italian dishes. I still have the menu we created somewhere in a box.

12. How many people were in your bridal party?

Just my oldest sister, Gladys, who was my matron of honor and our best friend Chris was Steve's best man.

13. Are you still friends with them all?

Well, yes. However, I am not friends with quite a few of the guests including a now former friend of the family. The only person from my family who came to the wedding was my sister, Gladys. Anyway, that's a whole other story!

14. Did your spouse cry during the ceremony?

We both did.

15. Most special moment of your wedding day?

Exchanging our own vows. Kissing Steve after the "I do". Hearing Steve's father apologize for not being able to pay for the wedding. I felt bad that he felt bad. Kind of a weird special moment, but I knew it took a lot for him to say that.

16. Any funny moments?

Chris drunkenly recounting how Steve had always intended "to get me" and that in the end he did.

17. Any big disasters?

Uggh - lots of disasters unfortunately, but are now thankfully colored in pastels after all this time. My brother-in-law was a huge pain. My friend who sang at our wedding was stoned from the moment she landed at LAX - one particular highlight included almost burning our apartment building down. She was annoying beyond words and her complete lack of consideration and monstrous amount of egotism during that time essentially ended our friendship. Because of all the stress from my brother-in-law and friend, I ended up getting a cramped and bloated stomach and was essentially in agony for the entire reception and couldn't enjoy the delicious food.

18. Where did you go on your honeymoon?

We went to Rome and Samos in the Greek islands.

19. How long were you gone?

About 2 weeks.

20. If you were to do your wedding over, what would you change?

We would have certainly done it in Rome on the Campidoglio like we had originally wanted. I wouldn't have procrastinated on getting my wedding dress and would have gone with my first choice instead - a cute Ann Taylor A-line (one of my favorite cuts). And I would have plucked my f**king eyebrows!

21. What side of the bed do you sleep on?

If you're in the bed - on the left.

22. What size is your bed?

California King which we need to trade in for a European king so I can get new fitted sheets for it finally!

23. Greatest strength as a couple?

Our ability to communicate. It's not easy for couples to be in business together and we really do work well together. We've been on the same page a lot when it comes to our children and when we haven't been we've been able to talk about it. We've been through some serious ups and downs, but have always managed to work it out. We are each others biggest fans.

24. Greatest challenge as a couple?

Money issues

25. Who literally pays the bills?

I used to in Los Angeles and now Steve does. Neither one of us really likes this arrangement, but our accounting here is such a mess that he is the only one who understands the system he's created.

26. What is your song?

I used to have lots of songs that reminded me of Steve when we were broken up - lots of Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen, Chris Isaak, etc. However, we didn't ever have a particular song together. We did have a couple of movies that were ours - Woody Allen's "Manhattan" and the movie "Singles".

27. What did you dance your first dance to?

We didn't.

28. Describe your wedding dress.

It was a BCBG dress that I bought sight unseen. I had to take it to a seamstress as it was completely transparent and showed EVERYTHING! She sewed in a slip, but didn't attach it at the bottom so with the two silky materials the top part kept sliding up every time I walked. It was essentially a disaster dress.

29. What kind of flowers did you have at your wedding?

Calla lilies

30. Are your wedding bands engraved?

No. Mine is a duplicate of a 1940's platinum band I saw at an antique ring store on Melrose. Steve managed to get a photograph taken of it and my brother's friend who is a jeweler made an exact replica of it using white gold and charged us only for the materials and a bit for labor. I got my $1,500 ring for about $300. Steve's is just a simple white gold band.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Vegetarianism, Roman style

We went to one of the lectures given each Thursday evening by the Associazione Vegetariana. I really was hopeful. I went there with 100% optimism. Steve didn't even want to go. He wasn't feeling well and had just taken an Actifed so was very drowsy. Yet when he saw how disappointed I was that he wouldn't go, he decided to brush his teeth, wake himself up a bit and head over there with me. It was over at Re di Roma which from our neighborhood - well, those 6 kilometers might as well be 60.

We were about 15 minutes late, but the speaker hadn't started his lecture yet. Valdo was described as a philosopher, (I think they use this term very liberally here) economist, naturopath and nutrition expert. About 30-40 people were packed in a narrow basement room seated in the ubiquitous white plastic outdoor chairs. We were immediately noticed as newcomers and asked to fill in a form with our e-mail address which had to have an entire page devoted to exaggerated Italian privacy laws.

Valdo didn't seem very organized. He started his "lecture" and I really do use this term loosely - with a rant about how he gets angry being asked if he is a vegetarian. Valdo and the president of the organization, Franco, went on and on about how everyone else are corpse eaters (not just meat eaters). This set the tone for the rest of the hour that Steve and I stuck around for, and believe me, it was not nearly over by the time we left. Rather than the academic and intellectual discourse I had hoped to be an audience to and then perhaps take part in - it felt more like a cult meeting. Emotional, random - people interrupted to ask completely irrelevant questions rather than waiting for a Q&A session after the talk. Steve compared it to a condominium meeting - those dreadful meetings that take place in Italy amongst apartment owners within a building that are always attended by a loon, a grouch, and at least one elderly woman who only has about 10sqm of storage space as well as the one (at the very least) person who asks a bunch of questions that have nothing to do with the subject at hand turning what should be a 1-2 hour meeting into a 5 hour meeting.

I really thought I could go and listen to an interesting topic with a group of like-minded individuals and perhaps meet some Italians that I have something in common with. Instead, I left with my usual feeling of disappointment. However, instead of giving up, I have vowed to give it another shot - thinking that perhaps we came on an off night. The next lecture that looks of any interest to me is in March so I've got a month to recover.

Resolutions revisited

It's been almost a month since the calendars and agendas were replaced and the date/time stamps were switched, yet I still have put only the slightest dent in my resolutions. I'm beginning to think resolutions are, a least in my case, a set up for failure. Resolution = a firm decision to do or not do something. I think in my mind I've chosen NOT to do something.

So here is my list and the excuses I've come up with - perhaps in getting it all out there in public, I can shame myself into action! And for those of you who know how private I am - this is a big deal.

1. Resolution: Get involved in more "Italian" things.
Action: None taken
Excuse: My slightly agoraphobic tendencies lately have made it difficult for me to leave the house.
Remedy: Have plans to go Thursday to a meeting of the Associazione Vegetariana Animalista - an Italian vegetarian society that has a regular Thursday evening lecture series that look very interesting.

2. Resolution: Get in shape
Action: None taken other than renewing my membership almost a month ago, and having a glass of prosecco with a friend at the wine bar attached to the gym. Yes, in Italy wine bars at the gym - not juice bars.
Excuse: See number 1 above - oh and I started my period, but can't use that excuse for the long term.
Remedy: As soon as my period is over, have signed up to take Kundalini yoga class at a studio recommended by a friend and will really push myself to get my butt out the door and walk the 10 minutes up the street to my gym for all that cardio I need to get rid of this gut. Okay, besides the fact that the belly makes it look like I'm 7 months pregnant, it is also extremely unhealthy. I've read recently that having excess belly fat - men and women both - raises the risk of heart disease.

3. Resolution: Work on my issues with anger
Action: So this one I actually have taken some action on. I've been meeting by Skype video chat with an English speaking Dutch therapist who lives in London. I met her through the amazing mommy/baby yoga retreat I went to back in July called Mamaheaven So far it's been really helpful to talk to someone wholly unconnected to me in anyway, but who is smart, interesting and offers some great perspectives. I've also been reading "When Things Fall Apart" by Pema Chodron (Buddhist nun extraordinaire) and have ordered Harriet Lerner's "The Dance of Anger" - recommended by other mothers I know who have also had the same issues.

4. Resolution: Spend more time with my children
Action: Weekends have been solely about them.
Excuse: Weekdays are tricky. My head is involved more with work and it's more difficult to switch off. They have activities and play dates and so "mommy time" isn't always first on their list.
Remedy: Have been trying to establish more of a routine after school on the days they don't have activities and evening family time in bed with all of us reading and talking can be relaxing and enjoyable if Giulia, Paloma or Viola don't have the crazies.

5. Resolution: Get my Italian drivers license
Action: Have ordered, but have yet to receive, English/Italian drivers license manual. I had one and have no idea what happened to it. Test is on 20 February and hope to not fail a third time!

6. Resolution: Catch up on the pile of books next to my bed
Action: The saying " so many books, so little time" could never be truer, but am making some headway.
Remedy: Have been trying to sneak some pages in at times other than at bedtime.
Excuse: Exhaustion!

7. Resolution: Catch up in general
Action: Finished first draft of Beehive and cross-pollinate press kit material, finished second rounds of responses to my La Leche League leader application, have checked some other Beehive-related items off my list. The list is long though.

8. Resolution: Finish my LLL application process
Action: see above - still have much to do, but at least the written aspect seems to be done

9. Resolution: Start a Masters program
Action: Just vaguely looking into this now as I don't have the time or money to get involved right now, but have been considering a Masters in Education in Humane Education. With an English lit background the options are limited in other fields I'm interested in as I would have to completely reinvent myself. This seems to combine many of my interests with an academic/education aspect that appeals to me.

Well, that sums it up. Some of it good, but I still have a long way to go. If anyone has any words of encouragement - believe me, I could really use them!

Happy New Year, Hello Insomnia

I thought I would start this new year off right - jet lag and insomnia. I'm over the jet lag, but tonight after just two hours my brain had decided I'd had enough sleep.

Last year I wrote down my new year's resolutions on a piece of paper torn from the paper place mat of an excellent restaurant we were eating at in Todi. A pretty, but boring little hill town that I like simply to eat at this one particular restaurant, take a stroll in the piazza, in the playground and then leave. I saved this list and had it stuck to the wall of our bedroom for most of last year and then disgusted with myself for not accomplishing any of the things I had set out to do - I took it down and realize now that I can just change the date and it could work for this year as well.

Something new that I can add to the list for this year though is my desire to establish some sense of community here. After 9 years, we've made many friends, but the sad truth is that many of our good friends are transient. Only here for a short time and then on to another part of the world or returning home which doesn't happen to be here. Where are our Italian friends? We do have them, and when we get together we have a great time, but I've never felt particularly close in that "I can open up" kind of way with any of our Italian friends and as far as like-minded Italian women - well, forget about it. I need to search harder.

So my list for 2008 is as follows:

1. Get involved with more "Italian" things - take classes, go to events, pick up the phone and call those friends, etc.
2. Get in shape - sadly, this one has been on the list for many, many years. Will 2008 be my year?
3. Work on my issues with anger, impatience and procrastination which have been negatively affecting my relationship with my children, our work, etc.
4. Spend more time with my children - get my nose out of the computer when they are home.
5. Get my Italian drivers license
6. Catch up on the pile of books next to my bed.
7. Catch up in general.
8. Finish my LLL leader application process.
9. Start a Masters program.

Too ambitious? Well, I always like to shoot big. And I've only got 354 days to go!

Home for the Holidays

My mother likes to take Academy Blvd from the very north end of Colorado Springs to the very south end of Colorado Springs because she says it is "more direct" - dealing with bumper to bumper traffic and endless red traffic lights rather than taking the interstate which could quickly and easily get us home. A 20 minute trip becomes 40 minutes and she knows I prefer the speed and efficiency of the interstate, and to appease me rubs my hand and gives me a lame anecdote about how often she hits green traffic lights as she turns onto Academy Blvd anyway. With each red light we hit, I sigh a deep and irritated sigh.

That's what being home for the holidays is all about - being somewhere that I dislike - in this case, Colorado Springs - with people that I don't understand. I like my family. It's just that for the most part we might as well be complete strangers. They are people whom I have a high degree of familiarity with, and that I wish I could know better, but because of distance, history, politics, whatever - I just don't know very well and probably never will.

My mother lives in a part of town that is an asphalt jungle in the most negative way. Box stores, strip malls, cookie cutter houses and mile and mile of road. No sidewalks in sight. No pedestrians. No cute independent store fronts. I often wish my mother lived in a different neighborhood. The part of town west of Union Blvd - another major street - would be ideal. Downtown Colorado Springs, Old Colorado City and Manitou Springs are the last bastions of liberalism in a town that has been taken over by large corporations and Christian organizations.

Yet to live on the "west side" would be something my mother would never consider doing and so when we return to Colorado Springs, it's back into the car, back into the malls and feeling depressed that my family and I live in two very different worlds, and that they have no interest whatsoever in knowing anything about mine.

My Third Culture Kids

My girls don't know what M&Ms are. They think it's mind-boggling that there are parts of the world where someone can deliver an entire meal to your home. Celebrities to them are Gene Kelly, Leslie Caron, Julie Andrews (we watch a lot of musicals). They have never eaten in a McDonalds (and if I have my way - never will!) When they hear someone speaking another language they wonder if it's French or Swedish or Romanian - it's not a surprise to them to hear other languages. They only like Italian cheese. They know what red wine tastes like (Paloma and Viola like it, Giulia does not). They have no idea what is on television tonight. My girls say things like "rubbish" and "jumper" and make fun of the way we say "mad" or "Tommy" with our flat a's and o's. When they don't get their way they exclaim "Boring!"

My girls have US passports, were born in Rome and have never lived in the US. They go to a British international school and speak with English accents. I was born in Germany, grew up in Panama and Colorado, but am Puertorican on both parents' side for many generations. Steve was born in Connecticut, grew up there and in Colorado and comes from a Russian Jewish background. So far, so confusing!

We often wonder what kind of effect this will have on them in the future. Will they feel like "citizens of the world" or aimless and confused - never really knowing what place to call home? I was a "third culture kid" myself and never felt any negative repercussions, but when I see how deeply grounded Italians are to their home, families and friends- I feel a bit envious of this type of stability - this strong sense of identity.

Many of us Americans are wanderers - living transient lives that take us from one place to another - either through a job, family or even just on a whim or a dream. We have this sense of freedom this sense of endless possibilities that doesn't translate or even exist really in other cultures. Benefit or detriment? Positive or negative? I guess I'll find out in about 15-20 years.

Insomnia Blues Part IV

Random thoughts, random thoughts. The brain working overload and as I wake up for my nightly stumble to the bathroom, I crawl back into bed and then find that my eyes aren't cooperating and instead remain wide open. After tossing around for 30 minutes, I decide to give up and open my computer instead.

Giulia has it tonight too and we keep each other silent company - she sitting next to me reading as I write. I think she is a bit worried because Steve leaves this morning for a week in Paris. It's our longest separation in quite some time and definitely our longest since we've had three children. He's going for our agency, signing up new properties for the launching of properties in Paris (and Barcelona) to our website in February. She's worried that he won't wake her to say goodbye since he is leaving so early.

Had a great day with my friend Rebecca who came down from Assisi. We went to the Gauguin exhibit (finally!), had lunch at a trendoid cafe called Gina and made a mad dash by taxi for the train which she almost missed. I really like Rebecca and I think how nice it would be if we lived closer, but not possible. And I'm envious of Rebecca and her Umbrian idyll and the fact that she has so many close Italian girlfriends, and even though I feel well-assimilated here I will never be as assimilated as she is.

Besides revisiting the day, what are the things we think about in those deep and dark moments of the morning? It's never the same. This time, I was thinking about Steve and hoping that all goes well and he returns safe and sound. Anytime he is out of our time zone I dread that he will suffer some horrible accident and I'll be left alone with three young children and a business that has a million components to it that are in his hands. Don't laugh - it has happened to many, many others. We are such fragile creatures on this earth, and yet we have constructed so many things around us that can squash us like bugs. And yes, I do think about these things. Steve has always jokingly said I have a list called "The 1001 Things I Worry About". Even after all these years, he is surprised when he learns about a new worry that he hasn't heard before.

Random thoughts, random thoughts - what else? I really need to improve my Italian. I can give birth, buy my groceries, talk shop, bitch someone out, chit chat on the bus and do a million little things, but have gotten lazy in my vocabulary and my grammar. Sometimes I wonder whether or not we are in the right place and that for all the assimilation I will never feel any sense of true belonging. Don't get me wrong, I'm not ready to leave - I like Italy for many, many reasons, and I never felt like I belonged in the US either, but it was different. For one, I have found no Italian kindred spirits - no matter how fluent I am. This sends me down a path of musings about other things that I think about in regards to our future here with children, but I'll explain another time.

And of course, to top off the random thoughts there is always the mental laundry list of all the things I have to do this week. Exhausting and boring.

Okay, enough for now - I think I feel sleepy again.

Thanksgiving Italian style

For the past 3 years we have been invited to our friend Maria Teresa's house for Thanksgiving. I like Thanksgiving. Gluttony and football aside, it's probably the one American holiday that hasn't yet given way completely to consumerism - at least that's the way I remember it.

Maria Teresa's home is an immaculate example of Italian loveliness: jaw-dropping bold red Murano chandelier, vintage original Italian movie posters, Designers Guild curtains, custom wood floors, kitchen that has two ovens so she is able to bake two turkeys at once, one wall composed entirely of a temperature controlled floor to ceiling wine cabinet filled with Dionysian delights, huge dining room table that can seat - well, put it this way - I don't even think I have enough friends to fill up every chair at that table! The list goes on and on. On top of everything, she throws a mean party although I have to admit it is always a bit disconcerting to see my gynecologist there who happens to be a neighbor of hers, and who socially seems to be embarrassingly deficient. I think I may be looking for a new gynecologist this coming year.

Steve and I were the only Americans there - we don't count William as his ancestry is such a mixed bag and he only went to university in the US. I brought the pumpkin pie and Steve is the official turkey carver. The place was packed, but as soon as Steve started carving there was a moment of awed silence, as if people felt they were seeing something truly American. We got asked again and again what the holiday meant and our "Happy Thanksgiving"s were greeted by "Do people really say that?".

What I'm afraid was lost on most people - who were a large percentage parents - is that Thanksgiving is a family holiday, this includes children. Yet this party was no children allowed - the lateness of the hour and the fact that if everyone brought their children - we would have been significantly outnumbered and chaos would have reigned supreme.

I truly enjoy Maria Teresa's Thanksgiving parties. Yet the lack of children and the prevalence of Italian designer wear, made me feel as if something were not quite right about the gathering. I think in upcoming years we may have to have our own Thanksgiving dinner at The Beehive - warts, children and all.

The Chooch

Steve and I often get asked what it is like running a business in Italy as opposed to running a business in the US. Since we never owned a business in the US I never feel qualified to answer that question although I am 99.9% sure that it is much, much easier! The same goes for children - our daughters were born here and they have only spent holidays in the US so I have no idea what it is like to raise children in the US, but let me say that life in Rome with children is no cake walk.

One thing I have noticed before and saw today while Giulia was doing yoga at our favorite bookshop was the prevalence of what I call the chooch or ciucio as they call it in Italian and what in the US is called a pacifier and in England a dummy. Ciucio is derived from ciucciare which means to suckle. The Anglo equivalent - in its definition - to pacify or "dumb down" the child by sticking a fake nipple in his/her mouth rather than the real thing.

I am certainly used to a comforting "habit". All of my children have nursed long term - it was still of some nutritional value, but not an absolute necessity. Giulia was 19 months old when she weaned from the breast. Paloma went for it - she was just shy of her 3 year birthday when she gave it up. Viola, at 20 months, is still going strong. In fact, she appears to nurse more now than when she was an infant. Yet who can blame them really? Soft, warm, nurturing - human contact and love. Who wants to give that up?

Here in Italy, I see many, many older children with pacifiers. Children that are 4+ years old. Since I don't know what the equivalent is in the US, I wonder - do children there or in the UK suck on pacifiers at such a late age too? I'll have to take note when we are back in Colorado this winter.

Toys are not us

Children equal toys whether it be a doll, stick, blocks, ball or the latest electronic contraption - kids just love to play. And play and play and play! All the parenting books tell you that this is how children learn and many alternative pedagogies believe strongly in this concept. For many of these pedagogies, the more "natural" the play the better - meaning that pieces of string, paper towel rolls, sand, water, etc. are regarded as superior to video games or any toys that require a battery.

When Giulia was born one of the many things we received from well-meaning people was a lot of stuffed animals. Our children now have a mountain of stuffed animals that they NEVER play with. There's a few they are keen on, but it absolutely was never necessary for them to have as many as they do. Whenever I try to get rid of some the girls end up wanting to keep more than they ever truly use. One of these days, "Fluffy", may have to mysteriously disappear.

Barbie is a huge cause of contention for myself and for many of my friends with daughters. To Barbie or not to Barbie? Giulia received her first Barbie from her Italian "nonna" - a family we know whom we became very good friends with, and nonna gave Giulia one of her daughter's old Barbies. Giulia was only 2 years old - much younger than I had anticipated ever having to deal with the Barbie issue. And of course, she was hooked from the get go. Afterwards she received many, many other Barbies from family and friends. The highpoint of Barbiemania was when Giulia was 4 years old and she used to drag Steve into playing as well. Steve played a bit more sadistically than Giulia's young mind could grasp exposing poor Ken to all kinds of ridicule. The picture above was an outfit created with assorted ponytail holders.

Without any intervention on my part (although I must admit, without any encouragement to play with Barbie on my part either), over the last few years all the Barbies starting collecting dust and nowadays are rarely brought out for play. Instead, Giulia's favorite toy is cardboard. The passion started at 2 years old as you can see from this photograph. Now at 7 years old, it's not just a boat or a house, but outer space she has set her sights on - the sign says "Raimbow (sp) Rocket" the name she called this rocket she constructed with some help from Steve.

I think it sometimes seems easier for a lot of parents, perhaps more exciting to buy the latest craze toys. Yet when I see what a kick she gets from something that cost nothing, but brought hours of creativity, fun and innovation into her world, it makes me never want to enter a toy store again! Anyone interested in some slightly used Barbies?

Dealing with my monsters

Yesterday we headed out to the Parco dei Mostri (Monster Park) in Bomarzo. The last time we were there, Giulia was a toddler. Now that she (and Paloma) are older and with Viola being the only toddler who actually prefers toddling about rather than being in the stroller (Giulia was a stroller girl - a bit lazy in that regard), we actually got a chance to enjoy the park. It was nearly sunset as I managed to get us lost on the way there, so it was a bit of a hurried visit, but tell that to children. There's no sense of urgency with them. At one point the others took off to check out one of the many stone "monsters" and Viola and I stayed behind. I watched as she was completely involved in picking up small nuts from the ground and putting them in her coat pocket. One, two, three - soooooo slowly and precisely. Tell her that the park is closing in about 20 minutes? Useless. So I gave in to the moment and just waited, and amazingly - I relaxed.

My birthday was on Friday and Steve and I had initially wanted to go up and spend the weekend near Assisi and visit my friend Rebecca, get a "change of air", but everything was booked so Steve and I decided to spend the day together here instead. We attempted to go to an exhibit - right now there is both a Gauguin and Rothko exhibit, but everything was packed - the city full of even more tourists - lots of Italian tourists because of the holiday weekend. We walked around the Ghetto, went to my favorite erboristeria and then to our favorite restaurant, Trattoria Monti. We happened to run into, Jenifer, The Beehive's official massage therapist, and she along with a friend joined us for lunch.

It was my 41st birthday. One of my sisters, Magda, never admits her age which is a shame because she is 49 (sorry, M) and looks fabulous. I like to rejoice in my age not hide from it. I think it's great that I can look back and think, yup - I've still got those 10 fingers and those 10 toes that my mother so earnestly and apprehensively looked for when I was born that Wednesday evening all those years ago. I've still got that dark hair, I still have those two eyes that looked up at her in blurry adoration. I'm still here. I'm alive and things are good. So yeah, I'm 41 and next year (hopefully) I'll be 42.

Anyway, the evening was an exercise in patience as Giulia decided to throw yet another fit because she didn't like what she had to wear. I don't understand this behavior. Was I ever like this? I remember my big tantrums coming from when my mother insisted I stop playing whatever fun game I had going on at the moment to go attend catechism - the curse for many young children who could care less about bible study, but who come from Catholic families. Boring! I used to throw the biggest fits about that. But never did I pitch a fit about clothes at 7 years old. I know I have thrown my own adult style tantrums in the privacy of my own room about the many assorted clothes that wouldn't fit, were out of fashion, last pair of decent tights. The few times I want to be a bit dressy I always seem to wait until the last moment to realize I don't have something I need pressed, coordinated and ready to go. Giulia marches to the beat of her own drum though. I try to stay cool, but on my birthday I had no patience. Damnit, I just wanted to think about myself for once in a very long while! But we as parents are not allowed to do that - no matter what. So against your better judgment you allow your children to come with you to your birthday dinner because hell - in future they won't be begging and insisting that they go with you anywhere. I'll take this attention now even if in doses we do need our adult nights out. We have plenty of those, we're certainly not wanting.

So one of my many monsters as a parent is "impatience". There's also ANGER. That's the big one. As I sit there with "Adventures of Gentle Discipline" in my hand and the mantra "empathy and respect" beating a drum in my head - I still manage to yell at my kids. Anger - I have lots to deal with in that regard and no idea how to do it. More on my monsters later.

A Tale of Two Cities

Rome most of the time is one big mess, at times endearing and at times infuriating. Yet there are moments when it can truly seem like two very completely different places as if I am living in a parallel universe.

Rome being the capital city is constantly under pressure by governmental forces to be a modern city. Take the annoying epigram that Mayor Veltroni gave to Rome and which adorns many a tourist map - replacing "Rome: The Eternal City" with "Rome: The Happening City" Anyone who has ever visited Rome and certainly any longtime residents knows what a fallacy this is no matter how many film festivals and jazz concerts get thrown at us.

A big city with all the problems of a large urban center yet a provincial mindset and a medieval bureaucracy have been known to drive many a foreigner mad with frustration while Italians and Romans in particular merely shrug their shoulders in complacency. This duality is rooted in nearly everything in Rome.

And yet it's those very contrasts that continue to make Rome an interesting city to me. Take for instance, the small independent children's bookshop I discovered about a month ago. Il Brucalibro might as well have had heavenly rays shining down on it - that's how much it compelled me and drew my attention that I nearly got into an accident on our scooter from stopping so suddenly. I made my way in and was delighted to find an amazing collection of books, two very lovely and amiable women who own it who are more than helpful and a small, but interesting list of activities and workshops for children. Now Giulia, Paloma and I are permanent fixtures there every Saturday as Giulia does yoga and this weekend they'll be doing a recycling arts project with a woman from the WWF. They have only been open a year and business is slow and tough. Everyone wants Disney and Winx and not the one of a kind, beautifully written and illustrated books for children they offer instead. So in any other city, this little shop would be one of many community resources and in a neighborhood like Piazza Crati where there are so many children - they should have already doubled in size and had even more events going on. Instead they struggle and who knows if they'll survive. So the big city comes to Rome, but Rome doesn't want it.

We have a good friend who is a specialist surgeon at a university hospital here and people come from all over Italy to be operated by him. Recently he showed us his latest gift from a grateful patient - a Bang & Olufsen stereo system. Now that's not a box of chocolates or bouquet of flowers! Steve and I asked if this was common practice here and apparently it is - especially a tradition of southern Italy. However, southern Italy being a poorer region - the Bang & Olufsens are replaced by live hens, a recently slaughtered lamb in its bloody entirety and enough sausage, salami, cheese and crappy homemade wine to last several lifetimes.

So in a city where cute, innovative, interesting shops struggle and the lamb is slaughtered for good health and a "grazie, Dottore" - you can see why Rome is like no other.

Isn't she lovely?

Here's my early birthday present from Steve which arrived yesterday. When we decided it was time to stop sharing a computer and each have our own, we never really decided who was going to keep our old Powerbook and who was going to get the new MacBook, but in the end he decided it would make a great birthday gift. What a man!! Don't feel too sorry for him though - he's the one getting the new IPhone when it makes its way over here.

Look Mommy, no teeth!

Giulia lost her two top front teeth one right after the other this past week. The first was while she was eating an apple after dinner and turned out to be a bit of a bloody mess. Paloma, in a mixture of fear and sympathy, started to cry too. With Giulia on my lap and Paloma by my side, I worked on stopping the bleeding and calming them both down. They had just been about to watch a short film after dinner so Paloma worked on setting up a comfort zone for Giulia - fluffing up pillows for her head and legs and getting a blanket. Sisterly love was exploding all over the place. Afterwards, Giulia kept thanking Paloma, and the two were at peace the rest of the night.

The tooth fairy (or topolino here in Italy - a tooth mouse) came during the night, but left the tooth behind. Along with her tooth, Giulia had written a note: "Dear Tooth Fairy, Can you please leave my tooth because I would like to keep it as a memory. Love, Giulia MB". The tooth fairy obliged and also left a €2 coin. First thing the next morning Giulia came to our bed and showed us her tooth and her coin. While I was at the computer checking some e-mails she handed me the coin. I asked, "What is this for?" She said, "It's for you, for being so nice to me last night and taking care of me." I wanted to cry. I told her, "You don't have to give me money, just give me lots of hugs and kisses." And she did.

Long live the King!

I adopted our cat, Ingmar, his brother and his mother 16 years ago in early October 1991. I has been looking for ONE cat and had offered to help at a "no-kill" cat shelter in Denver where we were living at the time. This is a type of shelter that does not euthanize the cats so they can essentially live there forever if they are not adopted.

One day about a month after my visit, I received a phone call from the woman who ran the shelter informing me that they had just found a mother cat and her two kittens who were barely a couple of weeks old. At the shelter there were several very sick cats and she did not want the very young kittens to be there until the danger had passed of them contracting the illness which would have been lethal to their undeveloped immune systems. She asked if I could foster them for a few weeks. Well, I hadn't been expecting to have three cats in my house, much less, three feral cats, but having a very large bathroom at the time where I could put them in while I was away at work during the day, and with Steve's encouragement I decided to take them all in.

The mother, I named her Jarboe, was a very petite tortoiseshell cat with the sweetest disposition in the world. She immediately melted my cynical heart. Her two little fluff balls were a grey extremely affectionate kitten with white paws (and at the time) blue eyes whom I named Ingmar. The little black kitten, I named Gysin, was a bit more resistant to affection and was always a bit spooked by everyone.

I was only supposed to watch over them for 3 weeks, but 3 weeks turned into the rest of their lives. Sadly, both Jarboe and Gysin are no longer with us. Jarboe dying unexpectedly of a congenital heart defect and Gysin of a heart infection.

Ingmar is the last of the most beautiful, gentle, sweet and affectionate trio of cats I had the immense great fortune to love and have in my life. Ingmar is now 16 years old and I'm very happy that for these past years he has spent them as The Beehive's official mascot. This has been an ideal place for him - an environment where he gets much attention, affection from both staff and guests and after many, many years of cooped up apartment living, he finally has an outdoor garden to soak up the sun and experience a tiny bit of nature these last years of his life. Long live the King!

An International Evening

Last night was an international evening which is held at the beginning of each school year at our daughters' school. It's for the parents only and gives us all a chance to meet each other on a more social setting without the children to distract us. The first couple of years it was a sit down event, but as the school has grown - it is now a stand-up buffet type of event.

Each family has to bring a food item that represents their country. I brought pumpkin pie. None of the Indian families came to the event this year. Their delicious food contributions were always the first to go. Although our school is quite diverse, unfortunately, none of the non-Western families came. In the past, we've had interesting food choices from Asia and Africa, but these families seldom integrate or mingle outside of their group. So many of the other families are interested in these parts of the world, yet there is an invisible wall between us. They are not unfriendly or hostile in anyway, but there is a definite reserve that doesn't really make it that inviting to want to even try to break down the barrier.

One time last school year Giulia received a birthday invitation from the daughter of one of the Indian families. I was very surprised by the invitation since this girl wasn't a friend, but Giulia is always up for a play date or birthday party so she accepted. Once we called to confirm Giulia's attendance the father kept calling Steve many, many times wanting to reconfirm that Giulia was indeed coming and at precisely what time. On the afternoon of the party, Steve dropped her off and was a bit overwhelmed by the parents' intensity. He had been running late and the father kept calling wondering what was holding Steve up. When he arrived, the father was very insistent that he have a drink of whisky which in the end Steve ended up accepting - only being able to drink a couple of polite sips. Being in Italy we're very accustomed to being offered a coffee, but hard liquor at 4 in the afternoon?

Oddly enough it turned out not to be much of a party - Giulia was the only person there. When I went to go pick her up that evening it was to find her a bit shell-shocked - happy, because that is her general nature, but ready to leave. It turns out they kept insisting she have soda, cake and potato chips which she kept refusing. Finally, she gave in and had a small piece of cake (Giulia is not a cake person). She told us she was absolutely not allowed to leave her schoolmates bedroom and play in other parts of the house. The parents actually got quite upset at her about it so in the bedroom she stayed. Giulia hasn't been back although the mother lights up her every time she sees her and keeps insisting that she should come over for a play date. Giulia for once hasn't been up for the offer.

Back at the international evening, it was essentially most of the same families that go to all these events including ourselves. Yet it's still always nice to chit chat with couples that we know about other things besides our children. It's amazing how difficult it can be to get away from that topic. I can't imagine how deadly dull it must be for people without kids, and to think I used to be one of those people! It seems a million years ago, almost like a different person. But last night hardly a word was mentioned of our beloved offspring. Instead we were talking about politics and books, and even some quirky and esoteric topics like finding dental visits erotic (Steve) and the twin paradox (Steve again). After the party, we ended up at a friends apartment for more wine and more conversation. We made it home around midnight with an empty pie dish and too many yawns for what many people would be the start and not the end of the evening.

Can't we get along?

Giulia's best friend is Margherita Sica. Ever since the two of them were little Red Dragons, they have been inseparable. Giulia was 3 years old and Margherita 4 years old when Margherita laid eyes on Giulia and decided, "you will be my best friend". Thank goodness, we get along very well with her parents and have all become good friends.

On Friday night, the Sicas invited us to their family home in Gaeta which is right on the beach. I had wanted to continue with a yoga workshop I had started on Friday with Amy Ippoliti, but the call of the sun and surf with Steve and the girls was too strong as opposed to staying in Rome and stressing during the workshop with self-imposed guilt of leaving him home alone with all three girls. So off we went.

The beaches in Gaeta are quite nice - soft, clean, non-sticky sand and clear, clean water - and the weather was amazing! Warm enough for bathing suits and nude seabathing for Viola, but not the blazing heat of July and August. At night we had our hoodies on, but still able to dine outside and devour the tastiest mozzarella di buffala I have ever had the good fortune to eat. It was a quick visit, we left on Sunday around 3pm to avoid the Sunday evening traffic crunch which was made even easier with the Telepass stuck to our windshield - Steve's Valentine's day present - which gets us through the toll gates with ease. However, it wasn't the sun, the sand or the sea or that made an impression with me this weekend, but instead all I could think about was the constant bickering that took place between me and my children.

I don't know when it started, but I have been butting heads with them for years now and especially with Giulia. Is it astrological - the head strong Lion not wanting to give into the dictates of the authoritarian Scorpion? Is it hereditary - what worked for my mother should work for me? Is it developmental - Giulia and Paloma just testing the boundaries, striving for independence? They both stay true to their personalities when behaving in a way that makes it impossible to talk to them - Giulia with her flare for outbursts of dramatics and hysterics and Paloma clamming up, with a faceful of emotion, eyes full of tears and hiding under a table. And through this all I can think about is - the worst is yet to come - what about when they are in teenagers?

All I know is this isn't the kind of long term relationship I want with my daughters. I don't want to be the "crazy mom" and I don't want them to be crazy kids. Yoga, buddhism, meditation - these are all interests that have transpired in me for a desire, a need to be a more stable person for my children, and hopefully, some of it will rub off.

The 2 scoop lunch

Perhaps it's because I live in a neighborhood that has three gelaterie, but since when did gelato qualify as lunch? As I walk around my neighborhood during lunch hours, every other person has a cone or a cup of the sweet yummy stuff in their hands. I've even seen people partaking of a late breakfast/early lunch around 11. And as I catch a glimpse of my reflection and of my protruding belly that has never fully gone back to its former not so flat, but still not so fat pre-three children condition, I can't help but think of the injustice of it all.

Gelateria dei Gracchi is the best of the bunch in my neighborhood. No preservatives, seasonal fruit, no artifical flavorings. Not a huge selection, but they don't need it. The owner used to build mandolins (not sure if he still does). This gelato doesn't leave that sticky mouth feeling afterwards like many others do - it's incredibly light, even knowing that it's chock-full of cream and sugar like any other gelato.

At dei Gracchi there is a new employee. Paloma and I were in there yesterday having a little after school treat since Giulia had gone on a play date with her best friend, Margherita. As I sat there talking to Paloma, the woman behind the counter mentioned to me that she used to know English, but has since forgotten it after moving to Italy. I asked her where she was from and she and her husband are from India. She works at the gelateria now and he is a truck driver. She mentioned that her daughter is learning English. I asked her if she went to a school nearby, but no, her daughter is in India with her grandmother. Her daughter has been with her grandmother now for 7 years and they only see each other 3 months out of the year - 2 months in Italy and 1 month in India. Looking at Paloma and thinking of Giulia and Viola, I expressed my sympathy. Unfortunately, this isn't the first nor I'm sure the last time I've had to hear the story of many immigrants to Italy who have to leave their children behind.

The condition of my belly seemed pretty insignificant after that.

I Heart Umbria

My first visit to any town in Umbria was Assisi in 1998 as part of our honeymoon. It was essentially an uneventful day trip as it was a sweltering September day, overcrowded with tourists and Steve and I found ourselves escaping to the cool and quiet of the Parco Regina Margherita and foregoing the sightseeing.

Shortly after Giulia was born in 2000 we started making bi-weekly trips to Orvieto. We had discovered it on another day trip and enjoyed ourselves so much and the close proximity to Rome, that we started going quite a lot. We had also discovered an excellent restaurant called Duca d'Orvieto on via della Pace. We became friendly with the family and since then we have tried others, but they remain our favorite. In the winter time, we enjoyed the relative solitude of the town - the crisp cool air with a hint of mist, the homemade mulled wine at Duca d'Orvieto and the smell of wood burning as we strolled around town.

With the birth of Paloma in 2002, our trips to Orvieto and our contemplation of perhaps even moving there were put aside. Fast forward to early 2004. I was having major Rome burn-out, which has subsided some, but the sentiment remains the same. I want peace. I want the countryside. I want clean air. I want my children to know the names of trees and not the numbers of buses. I want my kids to pick up flowers and not worry about being stabbed by a syringe while doing it. I want my kids to be able to look up and see birds and sky and not worry about having to keep their heads down dodging dog shit.

I attempted to find a place in Italy that could offer these things to me and thankfully, I encountered Rebecca of Brigolante Farm Holidays. We became fast and furious e-mails buddies and in February 2004 I accepted her invitation to come up for a visit. Rebecca is originally from Chicago, married to Stefano and they have two strapping young boys. She runs the agriturismo side of the family farm just outside of Assisi.

The Parco Monte Subasio - the area where Rebecca and her family live in - is absolutely gorgeous. Green, hilly and breathtaking - you automatically feel your blood pressure lower and your mind at peace while taking in this halcyon scene. Several subsequent trips later I was ready to move to Umbria, but unfortunately for us, completely unrealistic.

Fast forward to the present and my countryside yearnings have not subsided, but I've had to stuff them down and look at things in that awfully dull pragmatic light that having three children and two businesses forces you to do. Yes, we are dreamers, that's what brought us here, but we also move in a very calculated way and I think that has helped a lot in helping to realize many of our dreams. In the meantime, we take our countryside escapes whenever we can.

We went up to Assisi this past Friday evening for our yearly pilgrimage to Rebecca's oldest son's birthday. Rebecca's agriturismo is full this time of year so we stayed at a place called Antico Borgo that just opened up about a month ago and was close by. The place is very nice - redone with quality in that old fashioned stone farmhouse way and we had a very good night's sleep. The next morning we were full of good will thinking to talk to the owners about our stay, perhaps even offering to translate their website into English if we could work out some kind of exchange. All that went down hill the moment we sat down for breakfast.

It never ceases to amaze us how Italians who pride themselves on fresh, local ingredients and making everything by hand, could ever possibly serve anything from a package. Many an Italian we've encountered who makes and/or grows their own - well, you name it - olive oil, wine, pasta, vegetables, even grinding their own meat because they don't trust the butcher. And yet on more than one occasion, we've had the same awful breakfast - cakes, cornetti, cookies torn out of plastic wraps, syrupy sugary fruit juice and with the ping of the microwave - Nescafe cappuccinos - a travesty to the senses. You can't tell me that these people don't have the ubiquitous Italian macchinetta sitting around in their kitchen and they couldn't make us a REAL coffee???

Well, we left without burning the place down. (After all, we don't hold a grudge.) I still have my countryside dreams and I still love Umbria. Our newfound admiration of Puglia hasn't waned, but Umbria still calms me and feeds that part of me that yearns for greener pastures. If only Steve didn't have his Umbrian allergies. They seem to come out in full force the second we drive over the Lazio/Umbria border. There must be somewhere in Italy that doesn't wreak havoc with Steve's immune system. Perhaps we'll find that place one day.

Weddings

On Saturday, we put on our nicest summer clothes and attended the wedding ceremony of our friends Caroline and Piero. The civic ceremony took place in Castello Orsini in the small hill town of Sant Angelo Romano just north of Rome. It was our first Italian wedding. Although Caroline is English, Piero is Italian and there was a mix of different cultures - the majority of the friends and family were Italian. We have missed two other opportunities to witness friends getting married - Mimmo and Simona and Elena and Mauro - because they got married in the summer - a time of year when we are usually away.

Everyone tried to squeeze into the small receiving room where the ceremony was taking place, but I didn't bother - it felt too much like a crowded Roman subway or bus and I opted myself out as well as Giulia and Paloma who were extremely disappointed to miss it, but who only had an eye view of others people's bottoms. Instead we waited in the courtyard with other guests who also didn't want to play sardine and waited. Finally Caroline and Piero came out and here is my one and only photograph of the happy couple before my battery ran out.

Afterwards we had the typical Italian wedding meal - food, food and more food. Antipasti, two primi, two secondi, contorni and lots of wine and then the wedding cake. We paced ourselves though. Years ago so much food would have overwhelmed us, but now we take it in our stride and know to pass on most things. It was a long and hot day for a 7 year old, 5 year old and 17 month old, but we had a great time. The bride and groom were pictures of serenity and calm and the girls enjoyed seeing Miss Caroline (now Mrs. Caroline) in her fairy tale wedding dress. It was truly a pleasure to be a part of it.

Steve and I celebrate our 9th wedding anniversary today, but in many respects it's a day like any other to us. We have never really gone all out to celebrate and many anniversaries have passed by uneventfully. Our relationship pre-dates our wedding day and so when people ask how long we have been married - those years don't mean as much as the fact that we have actually known each other and in turns been together and not been together for a grand total of 17 years now.

We had planned to go to our favorite restaurant tonight - Trattoria Monti - but it's closed because of "technical problems". And last night I got a total of 3 hours sleep thanks to a dreadful combination of insomnia and Viola crying herself awake every hour. I managed to squeeze in a short nap, but the evening is still uncertain.

Perhaps this sounds unromantic, but we save the romance for other occasions - birthdays and Valentine's Day are big days for us. Past gifts have been surprise trips to Paris, Venice, Morocco and for my 40th last year Steve threw me an amazing party and in conjunction with our best friend, Chris wrote (Steve) and illustrated (Chris) a book in the style of Dr. Seuss called "So You're Turning 40". It is now one of my most treasured possessions.

So today on the day of our wedding anniversary - I reflect - all the things that Steve means to me and our relationship together. All that we have been through and will continue to go through together. He's given me 3 beautiful children and everytime I look at them I send a thank you to the man who made it all possible. It is bliss 99.9% of the time. He is an indelible part of me - my hands, my eyes, my mind, my heart.

Giulia the Waitress

In the early 90's there was a song by Material Issue called "Kim the Waitress". I am sure without a doubt that Giulia in her own way will one day inspire many an unemployed musician, but for now she's just my "baby" - a precocious 7 year old who loves to work as a waitress in The Beehive's cafe.

It all started about a month ago before we left for Puglia. One night while Viola and I were away on our yoga retreat, Steve, Giulia and Paloma slept at The Beehive because Steve had to work the next morning in the cafe. Giulia asked if she could help and there began her introduction to the working world. Afterwards she asked if she could work some more and as it happened Steve had to work mornings all that week because we were short-staffed. In the meantime, I had returned to Rome only to find my oldest child waking up at 6 in the morning and leaving for work with her father!

Now it's not play by any means - Steve made it clear that he needed a true helper, she would really need to work and work she did. She took people's orders, brought them their food and drink, bussed tables, added up the totals on their bill and took their money. Here's a copy of one of her first order slips: "caffe latte 2, 1 om (omelette), 2 eggs scrambled, fresh oj, granola/fruit, cows milk". She has proven to be a real help to her father. Her first week she made €81 in wages and tips, and she learned from a guest what "getting stiffed" means.

Having our daughters attend a private school where many of their friends and schoolmates get money "just because", Steve and I are really proud of her work ethic which she seems to be truly grasping at such an early age. More than that, her generosity knows no bounds. With her first wages she took us all out for gelato, wanted to buy her sister, Paloma, a necklace (too expensive for a 5 year old and we discouraged her from doing it), and bought me a present. At lunch one day, she very excitedly passed over to me a neatly wrapped package. Inside, was a scented lavender candle and the look on her face said it all to me - "Remember that candle we saw in the erboristeria that you liked? Here it is for you and I bought it with my very own money!" I thought my face was going to crack - it just couldn't contain how big of a smile I had for her. Paloma was quite distraught that she didn't have a present for me and she vowed that as soon as she made money she would buy me something. Don't worry, Paloma - you can buy me all the gifts you want when you are older!

Giulia worked brunch today with Steve and wants more shifts, but it will be difficult now that she starts school on Wednesday. Yesterday she was acting up a bit and I found myself saying, "Okay Giulia keeping doing that and you're not going to go to work tomorrow" which instantly stopped her bad behavior. Who would have known!

Holiday Greetings, Part 2

We are now back in Rome after spending the last three weeks in the region of Puglia near Martina Franca. We visited the area for the first time in April when we did a home exchange with Pino and Angela, the proprietors of the place we stayed at, and liked it so much that we decided to go back this summer. Pino lovingly restored the property which includes trulli that they rent out to tourists and so that's where we spent a snug, but cool and comfortable holiday. The photo above is one of the many types of abandoned trulli found in the area.

Trulli are ancient structures that have been around for about 2000 years and their role has changed over the centuries. Now they are used primarily for habitation many as vacation rentals. Others have been turned into second homes, restaurants or artist studios. Anything you want to know about trulli, ask Pino. We had many interesting conversations with him about trulli, Puglia, life in general. Pino, Angela and their children are a lovely family who really helped make our holiday an exceptional one and besides - Pino makes THE best pizza! After learning all of Angela's secrets in regards to pizza dough and Pino's in regards to the wood burning oven, Steve is ready to open up his own pizzeria!

It was a completely different holiday from our English one. Not much sightseeing as the property has a salt water pool, a large yard and the girls were happy. To be honest, after all the running around we did in Cornwall we were quite content to stay put. This is essentially all we did for the past 3 weeks.

We did go out on occasion. Giulia turned 7 years old on 11 August and so a trip to the Zoosafari in nearby Fasano was her wish. It’s a combination nature reserve (I am using this term very loosely here), zoo and amusement park. I thought it would be cheesy and to a certain extent it was, but it’s actually fairly well done and although not on the newish side, everything was well-maintained. The most positive aspect was its small size making it very navigable with small children so we didn’t have to hike miles to see everything and the lines weren’t long. We all had a great time.

Puglia seemed to be the holiday destination for several families we know. First we met up with Mariateresa on her family farm near Poggiorsini about 2 hours from Martina Franca. Her family raises buffalo (Italian buffala, very different from American buffalo) for milk that they sell to cheese makers (mozzarella di buffala). They also grow and sell orzo (barley). Mariateresa is one of several mothers we have become friends with through the school. She’s got a great, self-deprecating sense of humor. I like her a lot. If there is such a thing as a cosmopolitan farm girl, she is it. We run in different circles so we have never really spent loads of time together, but it was really nice to to visit her where her roots are located. We met her sisters, mother, nieces and nephews. The farm was a child friendly wonderland. And the food! Being hosted by Italians for any mealtime is always one of my favorite things.

Next was a visit with Rhian, Stephen and their 2 daughters Amelia (one of Giulia's good friends) and Eleanor for dinner in Martina Franca. Viviana, Stefano and their children Lorenzo and Valentina have been living in London for the past couple of years and they were staying in nearby Ostuni so they also met up with us one evening for gelato in town. And we made a trip to Matera to visit Caroline, her husband and daughter. It was great spending time during our holiday visiting with old friends and getting to know new friends even better.

Now that the holidays are officially over, there's lots to do - all the boring, but necessary things we have to deal with when going back to "reality". The girls start school next week and Steve and I both have a long "to do" list to start ticking away at. Our friend Adam is here visiting right now from Sweden and we need to catch up with Roman friends we haven't seen in a while. With 2 entries in 2 months, I hope to be a bit more faithful to this blog now that we are back in the land of high speed internet.

Holiday Greetings!

We’ve been in England 2 weeks. It’s been wet, but glorious - this picture was taken on one of the rare days when it rained and then became clear and sunny. I don’t understand why anyone would move from here to Italy. Well, I do understand – the weather and food in Italy are fabulous. I can't say for other parts of England, but Cornwall is breathtaking in a way that I have failed to find anywhere in Italy, and as for food, we have been eating excellent meals at home using fresh, seasonal organic produce from the farm store nearby.

We started our trip by flying into Bristol and driving our rental car to Bath to stay a couple of nights with the Mills. Bath is a beautiful city and the Mills have this gorgeous home about a 15-20 minutes walk from the city center. We toured the Roman Baths and had a delicious, but stressful lunch at Demuth’s vegetarian restaurant. Viola is at a stage where she is just impossible to take out to eat as all she wants to do is explore and walk around – doesn’t eat and doesn’t allow Steve or I to eat either. It’s a bit of a shock for us since both Giulia and Paloma have always been very easy to take out to restaurants – ever since they were babies. After lunch, Steve was suffering from allergies and the girls were bored and tired so he took them back to the house and I played tourist alone. The Jane Austen Center, Royal Crescent, a pilgrimage to Neal’s Yard Remedies and then the rain started and I headed back too. There’s lots more to see and do in Bath that a future trip will have to remedy.

Now for the past 12 days we’ve been staying in a small rural cottage just outside of Penzance. Jeremy and Cyndy Levine are former Beehive guests who offered us their home for the 3 weeks we are here. They are staying just about 20 meters away in their guest studio. The Levines have 8 grown children and have lived in this cottage for the past 32 years. It only has 3 small bedrooms and with all of us bumping into each other and the furniture and the steep child un-friendly staircase, we can’t help but wonder on a daily basis how the hell they managed to raise 8 kids in this house.

But I adore this country life. The 80 bus doesn’t wake me up at 5:30am. Steve and I go for a morning jog past farms, cows, horses and adorable stone cottages and schoolhouses. The weather hasn’t been very cooperative, but we have managed to get a few beach days in and Steve has surfed a bit, but not nearly as much as he had hoped.
We’ve taken walks on beautiful green ocean side cliffs and the girls have actually enjoyed themselves on these walks when on past vacations all we’ve gotten are moans and groans at our attempts to get them out and about in nature.

Paloma celebrated her 5th birthday on 13 July. We ordered a chocolate cake – appropriately enough – from The Honey Pot Café. They now have one of our business cards stuck next to their cash register. The day was dreary – rainy and cold, but Giulia and had fun as she helped me choose Paloma’s gifts and then after a quick lunch, we made it out to Paradise Park – a bird sanctuary and children’s play center. We all had fun on these massive slides with names like Deep Blue and Deep Red. Afterwards we had yummy locally produced ice cream at Mr. B’s and then headed home for a hot bath and presents. Paloma’s birthday was a hit as you can tell by the smile on her face as she is surrounded by some of her gifts – a pink dress, fairy wings, a fairy ballerina doll and book.


Yesterday was a dud day as we were supposed to go to Newquay to meet up with a surf buddy of Steve’s, but we didn’t make it. The whole day was one of waiting in gas stations and parking lots for mechanics and finally a tow truck. I won’t get into every annoying boring detail, but needless to say we won’t be using again nor recommending Europcar and we most definitely will never buy a Kia.

Today we met friends of the Mills - Ben and Demelza who also have 3 daughters similar in age to our girls. They were so hospitable and friendly and it turns out they have a commercial property that they rent out - currently to a secondhand book shop owner. Since we’ve been here Steve and I have considered the thought of moving here to open an Italian restaurant. The idea of reinventing our lives yet again appeals to us. My only condition in a move is that I don’t want to learn a new language, and I don’t want to move to another big city. Cornwall has various pros for us: the girls could have continuity in their education since they already go to a British school, we would save loads of money as they could go to public school, ocean and surfing for Steve, country and horses for me. The cons would be the weather and the culture. I like the family and food centered culture that is Italy. I like Italians and I like Italy. I enjoy speaking another language. We also don’t want the girls to lose their chance at citizenship. Right now we have a very flexible work schedule. We can take off for 6 weeks over the summer. We can work remotely. Owning a restaurant is incredibly hard work and very time consuming. Now we have time to spend with the girls. Our ideal would be if the girls were older and could work in the restaurant with us. When we told the girls our idea they already worked out their roles and planned out a children’s menu, but would it be appealing to them when they could actually physically do it?

Lots to think about, but as usual, we’ll see where the wind blows us.

Whew!

School is finally over. The month of June was very full of activity – school plays, concerts, last minute birthday parties. Giulia and Paloma were great in their productions – Giulia as the Emperor in the Emperor’s New Clothes and Paloma as a “child” (easy costume!) in The Ugly Duckling. Thankfully, the songs this year weren’t “brain stickers” so we have come out of it relatively unscathed. Previous years have had all of us including friends singing the songs over and over and over and over again all summer long.

Not to mention how busy it has been at The Beehive with high season in full gear and despite the dismal turnout of our last exhibit, we had an inauguration of another exhibit on the 28th since we had already made the commitment to our friend who was coordinating the exhibit. A young Belgian couple “sponsored” by the UN (although they receive no money from them) travel throughout the world to developing countries and take photographs of children. The two are really talented – their photographs, which are completely spontaneous and which seem so effortless, are so full of feeling and depth. The turnout for this event was even worse (about 10 people), but in all honesty, I was resigned to the fact that it would a low turnout especially at this time of year even if I had hoped to be proven wrong.

The girls got their summer haircuts and Giulia who at first was depressed with her long hair being cut up beyond her shoulders – now says every morning “I love my hair!” The day I was due to take them to Claudia, their hairdresser, I was at The Beehive when I got a call from Giulia saying “when are we going to get our haircut?” I foresee many mother/daughter spa days in our future! Claudia did a great job as usual. She’s been their hairdresser since they were both about 2 years old and has a soft spot for them and every time we are there tells everyone within earshot how great they are – the perfect customers. She’s very patient with them, but then again they make it easy for her – they don’t cry or squirm and they love the whole process – hair washing, cutting, blow-drying and the spritz of finishing spray at the end.


This past weekend we attempted to de-stress in Abruzzo by staying at the farm of a colleague who discovered us on the internet and leaves flyers for us to give to guests at The Beehive. Antonello is a young Italian philosophy student who hosts foreigners at his family’s organic farm just over the border in the region of Abruzzo – a mountainous region east of Rome famous for many of its national parks. People who are interested in staying at the farm should know this is definitely on the more rural side of the Italian agriturismo (farm holiday accommodation). Agriturismi range from 5 star quality with down pillows, nouveau cuisine and spa services to a real working farm - smelly farm animals and all where you drink warm goat's milk for breakfast and wake up at 5am to trek the hill to the very rural cheese makers. Italy Farm Stay – the name of Antonello’s agriturismo – is much more along the lines of ecotourism than most and definitely falls into the latter category. I'm afraid my days of getting eaten alive by unknown insects in the room since there are no screens on the windows are over - if those days really ever existed! I'm afraid his place does not have the kind of comfort I crave now, but I definitely appreciate his spirit, enthusiasm and hospitality. Antonello, Steve and I had a spent a good time talking shop – city guests vs. country guests – but people with unrealistic expectations and inflated ideas of customer service are the same no matter where you are. He’s got a great concept here, but he does know his limitations being in an area that has very little tourism.


We got back on Sunday and have spent today getting ready for our trip to England. We leave tomorrow for 3 weeks - a couple of days in Bath visiting friends and then 3 weeks in Cornwall near Penzance. I can't wait! The current wrench in our plans is that for the third time now we have an expired passport to deal with. The first two times we were at the airport. This time we need to wake up at the crack of dawn and head over to the embassy. Hopefully, my next post will indeed be from England!

Insomnia Blues, Part III

Seems to be a pattern here - I think the only time I can write anything down is when I'm up at some ungodly hour of the morning, unable to get back to sleep. For the last several nights I've had trouble, but lay in bed for 1-2 hours before finally falling asleep again. This time I felt too restless.

This past weekend we met up on Saturday with some friends who were celebrating their 25 year wedding anniversary. Barbara and Federico live now in Sant Agata dei Goti - a very cute town - near Caserta outside of Naples. They got fed up with Rome and after the English language bookshop that Barbara's family had owned for about 40 years closed uneventfully, I believe they felt it was their time to leave as well. We visited them last spring and I think like many couples who have lived together many years without children - it was a bit overwhelming for our family of 5 (especially with very young children) to descend on them even if it was just for 2 days. We definitely wore them out. They own a dog which I've noticed with many dog owners - again, many who don't have children - they make these comparisons between dogs and kids and how they seem to think the two are very similar. I've owned dogs and I have kids and I can tell you without a doubt that there is no comparison. Dogs are easy, kids are not.

Sunday was the American Father's Day which is always the one I remember so we all got into the car and following our trusty Slow Food guide ended up in Bracciano for lunch at Vino e Camino in the central piazza, which is unfortunately also a car park. It's such a shame when they do this in towns here instead of leaving it pedestrian. The restaurant sits directly next door to the Odescalchi castle recently made famous by the Cruise/Holmes wedding. We had a fantastic lunch even though we spent most of it chasing Viola all around the piazza. She had decided this weekend to give up walking with someone's hand for support and now was launching herself fearlessly onto the uneven cobblestone. Afterwards, we headed down to the lake and the girls took a toxic dip with a large Eastern European contingent before we headed back to Rome. Pizza and gelato for dinner with our friends Genevieve and Steve and that was my Steve's perfect father's day - a mellow, easy-going time and not having to do much of anything!

The Cutest Baby in the World

Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating, but I'm entitled. After taking this picture, I wanted to run back to DPAM and purchase another 364 outfits exactly like this one. Viola update: she's still not walking unassisted and only a hand will do. She says "Mommy" for everything, I think she is confused. She must hear that word so much from Giulia and Paloma that it has become the word for when she is happy, angry, demanding, etc. Ah well. The "daddy's girl" phase has started. She's caught on how fun Steve is and is now very unhappy when he leaves. She has the sweetest smile and those dimples! I am so very happy she is here.

Insomnia Blues, Part II

I've been up since 2:30 - pulled out of a dream by what I thought was the sound of the phone ringing. In my 20's, I lived for that sound - day or night. It meant endless possibilities: a chat with a friend, finalizing plans for the night ahead, a band to see, what bar to meet up at, the latest gossip, an anticipated date with a guy I had just met, and during those chronic bouts of unemployment - a job offer. The phone ringing also had its moments of dread during those years - the bill collectors, and back then, I had loads of them hounding me down, thriving it seemed on the sound of fear in my voice. These days friends call my cell phone so when that phone rings at home, it can mean only one thing: trouble - a problem at The Beehive or an unhappy cross-pollinate customer. Or worse - as we get older, I think trouble with family, someone sick or dead. So that imagined sound of the phone ringing interrupted my already restless sleep and here I sit once again. I don't sleep very well as it is - Viola wakes up at least every few hours, crying and only my milk will put her right again. She sleeps with us so it's physically not that demanding, but my idea of vacation would be 8 solid hours of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep. I lie in bed for a good hour or so, trying to fall back to sleep, but my mind starts to wander and very often I start to think about the past and people I used to know. Tonight I thought about Paul Dickerson and for a moment had the idea of sending him an e-mail. But he's a ghost to me now, and someone I really should just leave in the past. So I think to myself - "goodbye Paul" and let his image fade away back into the darkness. It's been a difficult lesson for me to try to keep myself present - to not think of the past or the future. It's been so ingrained in my nature to have regrets and to anticipate what is yet to come. It's taken many years for me to feel comfortable in my own skin, and in the here and now is where I finally prefer to be.

Disappointment

As I sit here at 4am writing this I am suffering greatly from my attachment to people, ideals, expectations. Last night was the inauguration of our annual children's art exhibit/charity event. This was the third year and in a lot of ways - it was the best year. The artwork itself is gorgeous, absolutely fantastic - just bursting with the children's imagination and creativity. The invitations looked great thanks to our ex-staffer Michaela who is a graphic designer, the food and drink were abundant and delicious thanks to our cafe staff person, Gianluca who was there all day cooking. Steve stressed and sweated and ran around town since the beginning - dealing with the art supplies, the print shop, getting the little tags for the canvases, putting them on the canvases, hanging the show (no mean feat) besides all the hundred other bits and pieces that needed to be taken care of in preparation for the opening night. When all was said and done, we just wanted people to come - enjoy the children's artwork and socialize a bit. Hell, it wasn't even necessary to buy a painting, but just come. And did anyone? A dismal turnout of about 30 people. With 140 students in the school - so let's say about 100 sets of parents since there are several that have more than one child - and another 140-150 friends and colleagues that we invited in addition - 30 people just isn't enough validation to convince me that we should continue this initiative considering the amount of effort it to takes to pull off this event. Only two teachers and the headmaster came and forget anyone from the main school coming - they barely acknowledge our existence as it is. And in the end it's disappointment that I feel - the friends who said they would come and didn't, the friends and parents who should have come and didn't. The complete lack of support, community and philanthropy surrounding us is too depressing for words. I'm very glad we raised some funds for the educational center, but with all that we already have to do - it's a lot of extra work for us to put upon ourselves when no one gives a shit enough to support it. I had all these ideas of having small acoustic concerts and readings in our garden, some creative community spirit, but now I think - what's the point? To add salt to the wound, we also found out last night that The Beehive just proved to be a convenient meeting point for some of the parents who were all going out to dinner together. We were invited along only as an after thought when they essentially had one foot out the door (we declined). This sends Steve and I both down a negative path regarding friends and friendships. Should we keep all of our relationships with people on a superficial level in order to avoid these pangs of disappointment? That seems a sad way to live life and not very realistic.

Have pillow, will travel

Steve and I went to an environmental fair in Florence on Friday called Terrafutura. It's taken over the old Sana fair which now seems to be getting more and more corporate. The Eurostar was so fast and efficient and it never ceases to amaze me how wonderful it is to travel by train here. The fair grounds were just several hundred meters from the train station and having to carry Viola in her wrap, I certainly appreciated the convenience. The fair was interesting and informative. Steve got a groovy off-white hemp jacket - his "desert" look that he has been trying to perfect for several years. I got a subscription to a local eco-magazine and some organic baby bath soap for Viola. Slow Food puts out a yearly publication called "Osterie d'Italia" and we have never had a bad meal following their recommendations. We were looking forward to putting it to the test in Florence, but running out of time we just ate a buffet at the fair which was enough to take away the faintness and hunger and that's it. When she was awake, Viola enjoyed the people and donkey watching.

Too soon our time came to an end and we headed home. Boarding the train, we spied "Pillow Girl" and marveled again at why in the world anyone would tote along their pillow from home on their travels. It's not even a small pillow that could be discreetly shoved into a backpack or suitcase. It's a huge, standard sized pillow with the pillow case dangling awkardly over the arm of the usually, young American girl who is dragging it with her all over the continent. For some reason, this image really creeps me out - it's like going into an adult's room and finding row upon row of stuffed animals. Recently at The Beehive we had someone forget a pillow she was traveling with. Her mother has now been in contact with us because she has made Federal Express arrangements to have it sent back to her daughter. I wanted to see this pillow for myself - was it trimmed in gold, handmade, filled with the feathers of a rare bird? No - it's your average - drool over it and change it when gets gross - pillow. The time and expense her mother has taken upon herself to get this pillow back to her daughter is beyond me. Just let it go!! It's a pillow!!

Whaleriding in San Lorenzo

Last night I went to a book reading by Witi Ihimaera who wrote "The Whalerider". I was so incredibly moved. When all the Kiwis in the room (including my friend Sally who has a beautiful voice) got up to sing "Pokarekarea ana" - I felt tears come to my eyes and it didn't matter that I didn't speak Maori - I understood it at its most base level. Hearing this song, I would "die because of love" too.

San Lorenzo is such a great neighborhood and we got the chance to eat at one of my favorite restaurants, Arancia Blu. It was a "girl's night out" and six of us chatted in a mix of Italian and English for 3 straight hours and my voice was hoarse by the end of it. It's nights like last night that remind me so much of the things that I like about Rome and our lives here.

It pains me when I see college-aged guests at The Beehive heading over to Campo dei Fiori for pub crawling at all the "Irish" pubs hanging out with a bunch of other foreign college students. Fear and anxiety of stepping out of one's comfort zone leaves them with an antiseptic and less than authentic experience. For a more genuine Italian experience they should head over to the Piazza della Immacolata in San Lorenzo and hang out with other 20 somethings for a joint or a beer and perhaps in snatches of Italian and broken English they could have a real cultural exchange. That's my geotouristic wish. More on my current obsession with geotourism in a future post.

Electric Boogaloo

For the most part we walk and take the bus here, but our scooter has always come in handy for getting around Rome when time is short and we can't wait around 20-30 minutes for a bus. The public transit system here is great when you have all the time in the world, but if you need to be somewhere at a specific time or if you have multiple appointments or errands - it's a logistical nightmare as what would take a few minutes on the scooter, turns into an hour on public transit.

When Steve and I purchased our first scooter - our 1992 "Shitty Fifty" (Honda SH 50) gave us a newfound freedom we could only experience here and in this way. At the time, the helmet laws were not being enforced and as the breeze whipped through our hair - oh how grand and romantic it felt to get around Rome this way! Then the helmet laws came into place, but it still didn't damper our enthusiasm for our scooter. Our poor little Shitty Fifty had a hard time though. Scooters and cars are treated ruthlessly and brutally by other people. They get knocked over, scratched, dented, and in the case of our car - punctured. There have even been instances of arson - somebody getting their kicks torching vehicles.

For my birthday several years ago, Steve bought me a newer used scooter - a '96 version of our Shitty and our first scooter which barely could make it up a hill anymore was put out to pasture in the scooter parking lot across the street from our apartment, and one day, mysteriously disappeared. We had the foresight to take off the plates.

Now 8 years later, the romance with our scooter has fizzled a bit although with 3 children and not getting out at night as often as we would like - we still feel a thrill when it's just the two of us getting on the scooter and taking off for a dinner or an art exhibit blessedly alone. New emissions laws go into place this fall and our second Shitty Fifty will be forced into retirement. What were we going to do?

Enter - Ruote Elettrica (Electric Wheels). The idea of buying yet another gas guzzler and clean air menace filled us with environmental dread. So we decided to go electric. No environmental repercussions - the price was right, the insurance cheaper and no waiting period - we were sold! Our "Silver Bullet" (it only goes 40 km/hr/25 miles/hour) gets us around town quietly and effortlessly. It's a dream to ride without the noise and vibration and the constant feeling that my spinal column has been left behind on one of Rome's many cobblestone streets. Our stress levels have decreased. If only every one else in Rome would get the hint - this town would be blissfully quiet. But that's a dream that will never be realized- as I will get into more detail in a future post titled "Roman Scooter Drivers are Assholes"

Happy Mother's Day

We celebrated Mother's Day today with Sally & William and their daughters, Lucy & Matilde. Caterina, Daniel and newly born Max were supposed to make it as well, but Daniel was suffering a stomach bug and unfortunately they couldn't make it. Sally is from New Zealand and William is a mix of what I can only describe as aristocratic American and Portuguese. He grew up in Morocco and has led a pretty international life. We met them through St. George's, our daughters' school - they are a great family and we have become good friends.

Steve made a yummy brunch - french toast with strawberries and bananas; zucchini, mushroom and tomato frittata; whole wheat pancakes; potatoes made with onion, paprika, coriander seed and tarragon and topped it off with bellinis (peach juice and prosecco - why don't we have these every day?!) All the girls ate quickly and went to go jump on the trampoline and the adults just sat around eating pieces of Sally's yummy Portuguese polenta cake and drinking cappuccinos. My kind of day!

After everyone left, I tried to phone my mother a couple of times, but got only the answering machine. This seems to happen often on major holidays - her birthday, Mother's Day, Christmas - and I get the feeling sometimes that she knows people will be calling her and she just doesn't want to talk.

With my mother, I have a lot of good memories and I can remember some bad. What I've noticed as I've gotten older though is that I don't really have a meaningful adult relationship with her. When I was young and she could care for me in a way that had nothing to do with me being a more independent person, she was wonderful. She was full of love and kindness. Once I started trying to break free, the relationship changed. Then my father died and the relationship between us never went back to the level of closeness we shared when I needed her for everything.

She adores our daughters so the girls get cards and gifts from her on occasion, but I never receive a phone call. She can use the excuse of expense, but she never called when we lived in California either. After all these years, she finally made the trip out here to visit us last March when Viola was born, but I'm sure she will never repeat it. I could be sad about all this, and I am some days especially when at The Beehive I see so many mothers and daughters traveling together of all different age groups and I think "that will never be us". However, for the most part I remember the person who rubbed my head when I was sick, let me play practical jokes on her and would laugh hilariously at all of them, listen to me go on and on about my dreams and hopes and fears, cooked and cleaned and did all the million things she had to do day in and day out for a family of 6. She brought me into this beautiful world and for that I will always be grateful.

Happy Birthday Beehive!

The Beehive turned 8 years old today! We’re not doing anything special – we’re holding out for the 10th when we’ll have a big blow out party. Right now the scaffolding has just gone up in the garden - what timing. As in many buildings in Rome, The Beehive is located in a condominio/condominum which means that each apartment is owned independently and an administrator oversees general meetings that take place every once in a while to decide on issues regarding the building. Recently the condominio voted to have the façade of the building restored – something Steve and I voted against because of the cost. Cost is based by how many square meters you own and we have quite a bit. The work is going on regardless and since we have a garden, the scaffolding is sitting right in it. They were supposed to start at the beginning of March with the work scheduled to be done by May. Well, it’s May and they've just started to put up the scaffolding so now the work probably won’t be done until July – essentially the entire summer when our guests want to be out in the garden. Oh well, as they say here time and time and time again: "pazienza/patience".

Little did we know back in Los Angeles when we were dreaming our dreamy dreams about moving to Rome that we would now – 8 years later - have fulfilled our dreams and so much more. Even at my most jaded and cynical moments, I look around and feel an overwhelming gratitude for the quality of our lives that The Beehive has afforded us. The flexibility to be there for our children (hell, to even have had children!), the unscheduled days, coming up with an idea and implementing it without having to run things by a boss or a committee, feeling creative and fulfilled. Don't get me wrong, there are days when I wish we could lock the doors and pull down the serranda - the hospitality business has its ups and downs, but even so, I love The Beehive which through its welcoming doors allows us to be a friend and a resource to guests and the community at large.

The Beehive has always been an extension of ourselves, and many times we have called it our first child. It's with fondness that I can look back and remember - so many, many tales to tell. But the best part has been that through it all I have done this with my best friend, my business partner, my biggest fan, my love - Steve Brenner. Thank you my little Beehive - for all the wonderful moments and memories! Happy birthday and wishing you many, many more.

Lunaroma - the official soap of The Beehive

Yesterday, Steve and I took a break in the middle of the day to drive out to Poggio Mirteto, a small town about 45 minutes north of Rome. Our friends, Deepa and Michele, are a lovely Austrian/Italian couple who live and work out there making these amazing handmade soaps that we use for the rooms at The Beehive as well as sell in what we like to call our Beehive Bottega. They wanted us to have lunch with them and we were starving so it was very difficult to say no - we just had too much to do that day and needed to get back to Rome. Michele insisted the restaurant we would go to would be “veloce” (fast), but fast food just doesn’t exist here and Steve and I knew that “veloce” meant that it would be 2 hours instead of 3. Oh, how I hate turning down a lunch offer especially in these smaller towns where the food is always amazing. We will definitely have to take them up on it the next time. This is a picture of them in their laboratory with their exquisite soaps. They'll be made available for sale on our soon to be created on-line Beehive Shop. More details on the "shop" in a future post.

My superstar girl

My meeting with Giulia’s teacher = Giulia is a star! I am so proud of her. She is amazing. Here’s a poem Steve wrote for her earlier this year. I’m sure when she gets old enough to fully understand it, it will make her cry as much as it makes me:

“Late at night you make me promise
that tomorrow we'll play another game.
You're six years old and think only one move ahead
so I help a little, and show you how events will unfold.
But I don't let you win
so that when you do it'll be real
and you will have outsmarted me fair and square.
I wonder if you really like to play
or if you've figured out that I won't say no
to another game
which in itself, would show your natural strategy
of how to play father and daughter
and checkmate me every time”

Insomnia Blues

It's just past 4am and I've been awake now for 2 hours. After having children, I didn't know most of my sleepless nights would come not from anything the kids were going through (illness, teething, etc.), but would instead come from my own mind going and going and going. Yet I don't like to leave the bed for any length of time during the night as Viola sleeps in bed with us and I'm also afraid that during one of her wakeful moments she will crawl off. Thankfully, the mattress is on the floor so I'm not worried about her doing major harm, but still - not pleasant especially on our hard tile floors, and she doesn't need anymore damage after her most recent illness.

Now almost 3 weeks post chicken pox, Viola is finally starting to look a bit better. Her skin tone is started to even out and her eyes are shiny and bright, she is quick to smile again. But she is so pale that a lot of the red marks are still there – very fresh and raw and not properly healed. She definitely has a few pockmarks and the irritating thing is that she didn’t even scratch at them, but because some of the early scabs got rubbed off either by sweat (her forehead, back, chest) or by just the particular area they were in (the corners of her mouth) she now has scar tissue. I try not to beat myself up that I didn’t get the vaccine, but that mother’s guilt is hard to shake sometimes. Here’s a picture of her just as she started to get scabs. Still, peaceful and uninterrupted.

The Sock Monster Cometh

Steve and Chris Diamond, our best friend who lives in Washington DC, are writing a book together. It's the adventures of the Sock Monster, that mythical creature who comes into your washing machine and steals one sock. Steve is writing it with the help of Giulia and Paloma and Chris will draw the pictures. I'm sure it's going to be amazing, even if we are the only ones ever to read it. It makes us miss Chris even more knowing that this project will have to be done long distance.

The Elephant in our Garden

It's been a week and it's still there - the black and blue elephant in our garden. Last week Steve decided to buy a trampoline for the girls. It was only after he started setting it up that he realized it would completely overtake our garden. We couldn't stop laughing at how absurdly huge it was, and decided to celebrate its presence on the European Labor Day (1 May) with a trampoline/pizza/sangria party. Here it is in a quieter moment with Steve, Giulia and Paloma.