Chapter Eight: Finding Beauty

In my last post, I began with a quote. I really liked what that led to, so I'd like to do the same today. 

I really love this.

"What's your favorite thing about your mother?"

"She loves life more than anyone I've ever known…recently she's had some health problems. And her health got so bad at one point, she called me and said, 'I was starting to wonder if there was any reason to go on. But then I had the most delicious pear!'" 

-Humans of New York

--

When I was in eighth grade, I had the most beautiful long hair which I absolutely loved.  There was this guy at my school that I had a huge crush on who never noticed me. 

One day I decided I was going to cut all of my hair off. Maybe then he'll see me, I thought. I've spent the last seven years growing my hair back out again…and every once and a while I think that maybe I will cut it again but am stopped by this thought…amen like women with long hair.

I have always struggled with my image. Worrying about what others think of me. Friends, strangers, family. I walk around constantly worried that I am going to upset someone. A lot of times I slip up, and that just makes me try harder. 

For the last week or so, I've been feeling a little left out from my group of friends. I was feeling hurt, and trying to figure out what it was that I did that could have upset them…then I realized that I had been removing myself without realizing it. In my head, I don't belong with these four friends who had been very close previous to my joining them here in Italy, and I let my insecurities get in the way of that. While I was drawing away, I blamed them for leaving me behind. After realizing what I had been doing, I decided to use that time to understand what the real problem was, and that lead to my new goal.

Here is what my soul searching revealed to me:

There is something incredibly beautiful about individuality. When one of my friends looks cute, and I acknowledge that to them, it doesn't occur to me that they dressed the way that they did in hopes of my appreciating it. Individual styles, choices, and tastes are part of what make being abroad so fun. I am here, in part, to learn about a different culture and people. I've learned their language, I've eaten their food, and awed in front of the country that has lain before me so beautifully. Why then should I be worried?

I want to live for myself. 

"When I was twenty, I made a plan to get a good job and be secure. Now i'm thirty-five, and I need a plan to be happy." -Humans of New York

I am twenty years old. I have a plan to get a good job and be secure. I don't want to be thirty-five and searching for a plan to be happy. 

Saturday night, I left work at ten and headed home to get changed and go to the Sporting Club, with no plans to go out afterwards. When I arrived, I knew no one there. I found out after arriving that Maria and Claire had gone to Milan to see One Direction in concert, and Julie and Dani arrived, but left shortly after. Then, I was introduced to some Italian girls, and we immediately hit it off. I spent the night playing calcetto (foosball), drinking a bit, and then headed to the Lido, after some convincing. 

My first time, pretty much since being in Italy, without a single English-speaking-crutch to be had. I forgot myself (not due to the drinking) and had the best time I've had since being here. For the first time in my life I let go, had fun, and danced the night away with a great group of girls.

For me.

And it felt really good.

And that guy from eighth grade? He never looked twice at me. 

Beyond myself, the only affirmation I seek is that of God. Earthly impressions are gone as fast as they come. Plus, I'm in Italy. The clock is ticking, and it's my time that the hands are counting. Besides, sometimes enjoying life to the fullest is simply about appreciating the little things…be it a perfectly delicious pear, or pear and walnut gelato from the gelateria down the street. 

Chapter Seven: A Home For My Heart

"Everyone is just walking along, concerned with his own problems, his own life, his own worries. And we're all expecting other people to tune into our own agenda. Look at my worry. Worry with me. Step into my life. Care about my problems. Care about me." -Sharon Creech

I can't speak much to what life was like fifty years ago, I wasn't there. All I have known for the majority of my twenty years, eleven months, and four days on this earth has been distorted and transformed by the emergence of technology. It's happening here, but it's nothing like it is back home. Facebook has become this tool that people use for everything, good and bad. The moment something happens, everyone you've ever known learns about it instantly. From sharing sorrows to happiness, worries, triumphs, sickness, bad days, good days, problems or promotions at work, travels...

Why then is there no further sense of unity between us and our "friends?" Congratulations and condolences in the form of likes and comments rarely turn into cards or phone calls for our "friends" triumphs or failures. 

Bellagio is a small town. Everywhere I go people are talking to each other: standing In a shop and talking, walking on the street talking, sitting and talking. If you walk down the street and someone you know passes by they stop their car and catch up with you. It's not like the superficial neighbor-talk we experience all too often in the US - I made eye contact with you and now I have to ask how your kids are doing. There is a community here. Everyone knows everyone, and if they don't know you, they want to. Shop owners look you right in the eye and say, "Ciao," every day, and when you finally go in and start a conversation, it's almost impossible to leave because they want to know everything about you....where you're from, who you know, where you work,  where you learned Italian, when you leave, and are you coming back? Just imagine walking into a coffee shop in America and having your barista treat you this way after seeing you for only a second time....and not just that,  but giving you a ten percent discount for coming in a third time. 

I feel more at home here than I ever have in Ohio or New York. 

The closest I've ever felt to this community was in Mackinac...and oh, how I miss it!

The inspiration from this post may come from my location of writing this afternoon...

Enjoying a lovely day off at the pier, and although it's a bit overcast, I'm surrounded by the beauty of Lake Como. As I look out over the largest mountains I've ever seen, framing the small towns built into the hills in a way only Italy seems to have mastered, I can almost hear the clock ticking. I've been here over a month now, and the six weeks I have left seem flimsy and fleeting. When I say I never want to leave, it's much more than just a summer of fun that I don't want to only have as a memory...I feel as though this little village and their way of life has made an imprint on my heart, and quickly become home. The thought of having to ever wake up and not be able to walk through these charming, cobblestone streets for a cappuccino before a day of fun, adventure, friendship, and truly raw joy, has me in tears right now. How could I even think of leaving?

Chapter Six: The Grand Hotel Villa Serbelloni

First I want to apologize. I've been quite neglectful. You see, I've been here for over three weeks already and I realize I've hardly told you anything about the place in which I spend most of my time...

The hotel, as you may have guessed from the name, was originally built as a villa, or rather, some rich guy's house. That was back in 1815, when it was less than a quarter of its current size, and the town of Bellagio much less of (rather, not at all) a tourist destination. At some point between 1815 and now, the villa was turned into a hotel, several wings were added on, and a third floor of rooms was added to the top. As you walk through the halls, you are guided along by marble floors and pillars, stretching throughout the entire property in true Italian style. It is easy to find your way around the hotel, unless you get lost while staring up at the hand painted mosaics, original to the villa, that cover the ceilings throughout. The staircase, called the scalone reale,

or loosely translated into "huge, impressive, royal staircase into heaven," (exaggerated) can be found in the center of the Grand Hotel Villa Serbelloni, located across from the ballroom. It is in this impressive, 1815 original ballroom, where every night a bass, violin, and piano trio can be found playing the Cinema Paradiso suite, at my request, in addition to all of your other classical music favorites from eight until midnight each evening. For a classical music lover such as myself, nothing could make working the late shift more enjoyable. 

Work itself has it's ups and downs, like any other job. While working forty hours per week for no pay can be exhausting, there is no where else in the world I would rather be spending this time. The hotel is exquisite, my coworkers are absolutely incredible, and the guests are mostly wonderful. Although I'd love to share some of my stories, I think it will be better to save them for my post-employment "epilogue" chapter. Regardless, I love the hotel, where I live, and the people I am surrounded by each day. My Italian has been getting better and better, especially after a glass or two of wine, and my coworker Elisa told a guest a few days ago that I am fluent. Although I'm not so sure I completely agree with her, I am certainly on my way there. 

Outside of work, I meet up with my coworkers every single day because, as I said, they are awesome. Be it at the Bellagio Sporting Club, the Hotel DuLac, Lido, or the beach bar Armando's, we always have a great time. 

A few other abstract thoughts I wanted to mention: 

My favorite part about work -- what I call "family dinner." Each day, for lunch and dinner, I go up to the employee dining room to eat. Unlike any other employee dining area I've ever seen, this one is unique in that there are only two tables, and the same ten or so people sit at one table, every day, and eat together. It is cozy, but it is so much fun. As the weeks have been going by and my Italian has been getting better, I've found that sometimes the best part of my day is getting to unwind for a half hour while laughing and eating with my friends, young and old, and of every rank in the hotel. It's certainly unique to me to have my manager come up and eat lunch with me, while joking with the servers in the restaurant and their managers alike. I guess really what i love is that there is no difference in rank when we enter for lunch. It's really neat, and has allowed me to get to know a lot of people I would have otherwise never met.

My favorite part about living in a small town -- guest loyalty discounts. But first, let me explain a few things. When I wake up for work, I first stop on my way down to get a custard filled, powdered sugar covered brioche, and a cappuccino with cocoa from the pasticceria that is closest to my apartment. On my way home from work, I stop at the gelateria next door to that to get the only type of gelato I will ever again try, pear with walnuts. It sounds weird but take my word from it that this stuff originated in Eden. After getting home and changing I either head back downtown to the DuLac for a glass of wine, or over to the Sporting Club for the same, plus a pizza. Now, three weeks into this routine, I have finally started reaping the benefits of what I call "life as a local."

1- I now receive 20 cents off my 2.60€ breakfast at the pasticceria.

2- For the times when i pass by the gelateria without money, i have now established good enough credit with my ice cream lady that I can always just pay tomorrow. 

3- At hotel DuLac, discounts when I buy two or more glasses of wine (doesn't happen very often I promise!) and at Sporting, portion increases and an occasional food discount. 

It's not a bad life.

My favorite part about Italians: language barriers. A few days ago a coworker said to me, "Why are you laughing?" What I heard, "What do you love in a man?" 

That one was a little awkward.

My favorite part about the culture: national unity in one sports team. Tonight was the first Italian "football" game in the FIFA World Cup series and it was crazy. Never in my life have I seen so many people gather together like this. There had to be 75-100 people at the Sporting tonight, and the eruption from them when the Italian scored their first and second goals, and finally won, were unlike anything I have ever since experienced. It is clear that there is no joy known to man as great as there is to an Italian man whose country has just won a football game.

Also, for the sake of my reputation among my Italian readers, I will hereby avoid use of the word "soccer."

So then...I just realized it is 3:15 am and I've been writing for an hour. Hope you enjoyed, but now it is time for bed! A dopo!

Chapter Five: Under the Bellagio Sun

It is no surprise to me that life in Bellagio is different from that of life back in the US. A new country, language, and culture bring with them many changes. But, beyond the differences in fashion, food, and (as my friends and I have noticed from the multitude of children running around unattended) a different sense of responsibility, the biggest difference I've seen is in the way people go about their lives here.

A couple of days ago, I needed some things from the grocery store, and had gotten out of work relatively early. As I was walking back with my bag filled with wine, cheese, chips, and m&ms (a 10€ shopping trip) I looked around me and noticed a few things. First: the mountains. They are completely sprawling on the horizon: huge, majestic, and impossible to miss. Next were all of the people...there were a lot of them. Just walking around. Not seeming to be headed anywhere, not rushing, just taking a walk. People do that here...it's kind of cool. Cars seem almost unnecessary sometimes. I guess it's really just that the atmosphere  - surrounded by beautiful mountains, the lake, and this amazing little town - give you a sense to just slow down your pace and look around a bit. Why not? I'm only here for two more months after all.

After my fun little shopping trip came time for the weekend...and I have to say, it was the most Italian-culture-intensive weekend I've had yet. Although I had to work on Saturday, I got off in time to meet up with my friends and, for the first time, really get dolled up for Lido. We all did our makeup together, curled each other's hair, and were sharing each other's shoes.

Ok, so that part was a little American. Moving on....

We went up to the sporting club, had a few drinks, and listened to the whole crowd of people at Sporting sing, passionately, along with songs that were the Italian equivalent to when "Don't Stop Believing" comes on in an American bar, and finally headed to Lido, where we arrived VIP again. :-) I stayed until four, and was still, for some reason, awake at five to see the sunrise. What a treat!

I learned the next day that our friend Claire, who works at the DuLac, had a little moment herself after the club...our friend Mickey gave her a ride in his Vespa to the beach bar Armando's, and unfortunately Claire got off the bike on the wrong side slipped on the pavement, and went tumbling about five feet straight down into "the wilderness" as she described it. It took a few minutes, Mickey jumping down to help her, and three more strangers to pull her up, but despite a few bear-like scratches (giving a new meaning to the nickname Claire-Bear) she was fine, and had a great story to tell later. 

The next day I was off work, so I woke up around noon-ish to go back to the sporting a sunbathe for a few hours. The rest of the group showed up around three, when we went in the pool for a bit, then decided it would be fun to check out the lake. Although they don't have a lot of actual "beaches" here, there is a great place called San Giovanni that is basically a huge pier that people like to hang out on. When we arrived, everyone was sitting up on the walls, but we were hot and decided to take the 10 foot jump into the cold, choppy lake. And how much fun we had! I only jumped in a few times, because there was a long swim back to where you could get out of the water, but it was fantastic. I think it must have looked like a lot of fun because right after we went in most of the other people hanging out there decided to join us. 

This is what summer is supposed to feel like.

And, in Italy, this is what summer looks like:

Anyway...we left the lake, went back for a shower, and then met up with Dani and drove 20 minutes up the mountain to this tiny, locals-only restaurant that served real Italian food. We ordered two liters of (very strong) red wine, and everything family style to share. Included in the feast were things like pickled (or something like that) onions, various cheeses,  salami, some type of pasta I'd never heard of before, donkey (yes, donkey and yes, I ate it and yes, I loved it), polenta with garlic and cheese, and for dessert chestnuts with chocolate and whipped cream. We stayed for about two and a half hours, and laughed so hard I was crying. We all re-lived Claire's fall into the wilderness, made even more hysterical after several glasses of wine, and finished the night off with a small glass of limoncello. After heading back we stopped at sporting, but by that time we were all so exhausted from the food, the sun, and swimming that we left shortly for bed.

Today I woke up, got a quick lunch, and came back to sporting where I've been all day. My sun tan is coming along wonderfully,  and the heat is intense, but I'm surrounded so much beauty all the time I could hardly care. 

I love it here, and I love this way of life. 

I could hardly ask for more...except perhaps another glass of wine.

Chapter Four: Dolce Fare Niente

I have to say vacation spots are much more charming when the streets aren't filled with horses..and what they leave behind them. There is a good reason Bellagio is called the Pearl of Lake Como. It's incomparable. It's beautiful. And I'm pretty sure it's not real.

I've been having a much more difficult time writing here than I did in Mackinac. It's not that I'm not inspired by what I see every day. What I think the problem is, actually, is that none of this looks real. I've been waiting to come to Italy since January of 2012, and now, here I am. In Italy, 

Maybe it was all of the horse shit in the streets of Mackinac, but it all just felt so much more real. Here, it sometimes feels like I'm watching a movie...one that I don't belong in.

Most of our guests, and most of the tourists here in general, are American...but I don't feel connected to them. Honestly I find them to be, for lack of a better word, brutto, ugly. Not looks, obviously, just their personalities. On my way to work yesterday, I passed a couple in the street who were arguing. They had passed a restaurant that the husband wanted to eat at because it looked good, and it was close. The woman insisted, angrily, that she didn't want to go there, she wanted to go to the restaurant  that Trip Advisor said was good. 

Why do we do this? Italy is filled with so many amazing things to eat, drink and explore, why do people plan out their trips so close to the tee of what everyone else has previously experienced? Does anything really beat the experience of walking into some corner dive bar and finding out through sheer dumb luck, that it is the best place to eat in the whole city? Plus, Italians don't use TA, so by going to that site to get recommendations on where to eat in Italy is just dumb. Ask a local. It's worth it. 

The other thing that I've learned since being in Italy is that it really is about who you know. The five of us here in Bellagio - Maria, Julie, Claire, Ryan and I - have had the extreme pleasure of getting to know easily the kindest and most incredible family in Bellagio, the Leone's. Their patriarch, Luca is the owner of the Hotel DuLac, the Hotel Bellagio, and the Sporting Club, all of which are now our regular spots to socialize and relax. Dani, Luca's son, is one of our closest friends here in Italy. Having grown up in Bellagio, he is the perfect person to help us learn our way around town. In fact, on Saturday night, we all went together to Club Lido, the beach club we went to shortly last week. But this week was a little different. Because, this week, for a small cover, we arrived VIP at Lido....which means bottle service. I'm not sure it was really for me, but I have to say it was truly a once in a lifetime experience, and definitely the most fun I have had since arriving.

Other than Lido,  it has been a relatively calm and slow week. Every night after work the five of us, plus Dani, usually, meet up at the DuLac or some other wine bar in town and relax. It's really an amazing way of life. Additionally, my Italian is getting better and better. This week I learned a very important word that I now use all the time : starnutire, to sneeze. Other than that, I have been getting along great. Several times a day I am told that i speak beautiful italian. Plus the day that someone told me that I am Bella come il sole, or, as beautiful as the sun. 

Did I mention that I don't want to leave?