Nostalgia

Transitions are hard, and when you are going through something the reality of what you are doing is cloudy till the storm passes and the dust settles down. Moving to Italy was a huge change for me. I was suddenly surrounded by everyone who spoke only Italian and was lucky to find a few Italian and American friends with whom I could speak in English. Suddenly speaking in another language and having no option but to keep trying is one of the toughest things I've every done. My mind was clicking away making words up at times when I couldn't find the right word for "ticket" or "tissue". The Italians where I lived were always ready to correct my mistakes and though it annoyed me I definitely made sure to correct myself each time I used that new word. After a few years I felt free speaking in Italian. I could think in Italian, feel what I was saying and smoothly comprehend what people said. It was glorious.

Then we packed our things in 34 boxes. As I packed each box I labeled exactly what was in each box for US Customs. And our boxes shipped to NJ. Our bodies flew to NJ. I thought it would be easy to fit back into society, start a job, drive, make new friends. It wasn't easy. In fact it was really hard to readjust but we did so with the methodical determination of a a cat looking for the open tuna fish can. We just kept going. Hurricane Sandy came and blew trees around us like petals in the wind. It was scary. But we kept going.

Now the rumble of the storm from moving is starting to go away. Things are becoming familiar. I know where the good J.Crew is with good deals. I know where to go buy the good bread, the good cheese and the real pastries. Faces are familiar, the priests are familiar, the potholes driving home from work are familiar. I have a new routine feeding the cats that is familiar: little scoop in the morning and larger meal after work.

Rushing to and from work is my rhythm. Sometimes when the rhythm stops to take a break my mind wanders to Rivoltella, Italy where we lived. I feel a pain of missing it, missing my warm lovely friends but instead of distracting myself I let my mind wander because it is so beautiful. If I have a hard time sleeping at night I close my eyes and mentally walk from my red door in Rivoltella down the stairs and to the end of the street where the gentle cows hung out smelling like poop. Then I take a right and walk towards the town, stopping to pet Bella the black lab, and passing the containers for recycling. I see my neighbor Carlo working on his olive trees and little old ladies going about their day with their shopping carts. I see that the grocery store Conad is closing at noon for lunch and the grouchy cashiers are checking people out so they can take their lunch break.

Then my mind wanders over to Cremona, Italy. It is Wednesday and the street market is out. There are sellers from India and Africa who speak more languages than a Harvard linguist. The church looks at me and smiles. It has been there for centuries.

I never missed Baltimore, but I always miss Rivoltella. Here are some pictures of the places and things I miss:

I miss walking everywhere.

The colorful old buildings

Views into the valleys

Naked nice statues in the street

Naked scary statues in the church

Taking a one hour train to Venice on a rainy day

The Venetian carnivale

Italian creativity

Old gossipy ladies

The retired men arguing about everything especially politics and pensions.

Venetian canals 

Good fruit, good cheese, good everything. Si mangia bene.

Cities flags that look like a Beatrice Potter illustration. 

Having time to carefully bake.

Having time to watch the cats fight.

I like Bentley's pounce.

Those are just a few things I miss. I will add them to my favorite things. I'm sure Maria Von Trapp didn't always go around in white dresses with blue satin sashes but perhaps the fact that she didn't made them even more special.