Cara Italia,

domani torno negli Stati Uniti e non so come parlarne.  Ti posso solo dire che nonostante abbia il cuore così pesante e pieno di emozioni, faccio fatica a trovare le parole per esprimere tutti i miei sentimenti.  La cosa semplice sarebbe dire che sono triste, triste di lasciare te e le persone a cui voglio bene.  Le nostre emozioni però sono profonde e complesse, e triste è una parola facile per quando non vogliamo guardarci bene dentro.

Mi viene da dirti quanto sei importante per me e quanto mi mancherai.  Quanto mi hai insegnato della generosità, della simpatia e della bellezza, ad apprezzare i pranzi che durano 4 ore, e ad amare.  Ma neanche questo mi soddisfà, tanto che mi sembrano solo pensieri semplici dei vacanzieri al rientro a casa, contenti di aver conosciuto l'Italia dei loro sogni.

Faccio fatica perché parlare onestamente di te vuol dire parlare onestamente di me, e come fa una persona a separarsi di se stessa e riflettere su ciò che è stato metabolizzato nel suo essere?  Sei diventata parte di me e io di te e quindi quando dico che mi mancherai quello che sto dicendo veramente è che mi mancherà la parte di me che può esistere solo qua e che ora lascio a te.  

Il mio cuore è pesante e pieno di gratitudine, di speranza, di amore e di nostalgia e già di un'enorme voglia di tornare.  Ma la tristezza no.  Non c'è spazio per la tristezza.

Grazie e un bacione,

Jenn

Dear Italy,

Tomorrow I return to the US and I don't really know how to talk about it.  I just know that my heart is heavy, often heaving with emotion, which makes it seem even sillier that I'm having such a difficult time finding the words.  The easy thing would be to define what I'm feeling as sadness over leaving you and the people I love.  But our emotions are deep and complex and sadness is just an easy word for when we don't want to look down within and decipher what it is that keeps bubbling up.  

I want to express how much you mean to me and how much I'll miss you, how you've taught me about generosity, simpatia and beauty.  Of living days to their fullest, taking time to savor meals and loved ones.  But even those just feel like simple vacationers' thoughts upon returning home from holiday, content that you've lived up to the Italy of their dreams.  

I struggle because speaking honestly about you means speaking honestly about myself, and really how does one step outside herself and reflect on what has been metabolized into her being?  You have become a part of me and I of you.  So when I say that I'll miss you, what I'm really saying is that I'll miss the part of myself that can exist only here and that I now leave to you.  

My heart is full and heavy with gratitude, hope, love, nostalgia and already a fierce longing.  But not sadness.  There's no room for sadness.

Grazie e un bacione,

Jenn

"If I have learned anything through all this, it is no matter what, to always leave your heart open to those around you. There is a lot of love to be shared if you just let it in."

Reflections Under a Fig Tree During a Late Summer Shower

Sometimes, nothing is more perfect than a gray, wet weekend. It gives you an excuse to stay snuggled deep in bed til the late morning, rousing only when the thought of blueberry pancakes tempts you more than the softness and warmth you find there.

And when nature calls for the little beast, we head up to the hills, where the cover of chestnut trees and pine keeps us dry. On our way down, we stop under a fig tree, where he snacks on the fallen fruit, lightly fermented remnants of August's heat, and I the ripe ones from the branches overhead. We stay there, the only two souls out in this late afternoon shower, until I can't reach anymore and it's time to go home.

I'm living with a doping druggie.

My little man is sick and has been prescribed cortisone, which I had to buy at the normal pharmacy since it's a human drug as well. It doesn't work like that in the US, does it? Don't think so. Anyhow, check out the NO DOPING indication on the back of the box. Hilarious, right?

Elvis is gettin jacked, yo.

Poor, but sexy. But wait. Before we get into talking about Berlin, let me talk about how Berlin almost didn't happen.

So my flight was out of everyone's favorite Milan Malpensa airport, which meant I needed to take the shuttle bus from Torino. I had reserved my seat online a few days prior to my departure and on the day of, made sure to show up early to the bus stop. I didn't want any drama or hysterics getting to my flight after all. I arrived with a good 25 minutes to spare, studied the posted bus schedules, saw mine was listed, as well as an indication to the cafe over my shoulder where you could buy a ticket if you didn't have one already. I went to said cafe for a quick coffee before the bus arrived and spent the rest of my time twiddling my thumbs.

Finally a bus arrives and everyone starts dumping their luggage into the holding area below. Just to confirm I ask the driver, "This is going to Malpensa, right?"

"No."

BLAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"That bus stop is all the way at the end of this street (very, very long street). What time is it supposed to leave? 5:00? You're never going to make it." It was 4:57.

BLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PANIC.

"Wait. Wait. Let all the other passengers get on and then I can drop you at the second stop. Oh wait. No. You'll never make it."

"What if I take a taxi????" Look of uncertainty. "Well maybe you could make it then."

I dash off for the taxi stand a few hundred yards away. A group of drivers who were gathered around their buddy's cab see me arriving, a frantic gallop as graceful as Big Bird himself, full on panic in my eyes. Everyone scatters.

"IHAVETOGOTOPORTASUSAANDIAMVERYVERYLATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The poor driver begins to panic himself and is tugging on the backseat door which will not open. He yells at me, "GO AROUND TO THE OTHER SIDE AND GET IN!!"

We take off. And manage to hit every red light. Finally as we approach the vicinity of where the second stop is, I ask him if he knows precisely where the buses for Malpensa stop. He isn't sure but we spot a group of people with luggage under a portico.

As we screech to a stop in front of them, he commands me, "Ask them if this is the stop!" I roll down my window and ask in what I perceive to be my yelling voice, "IS THIS THE STOP FOR MALPENSA????!" Everyone ignores me. Except the poor girl who happens to be positioned right in front of me. She studies me for what felt like minutes before she decides to respond, "Yeah. This is it." I must have looked like a crazy person, but I made it. Thank God.

And luckily that was the most harried part of my vacation. Good to get that out of the way.

So, back to being poor but sexy. That is Berlin you know. Its mayor deemed it such a few years back and the slogan has stuck. And I must say, by the end of my time there, I was starting to grasp the sense of it. As Katherine pointed out to me my first day there, no one really seems to work. Everyone is just out and about, enjoying a slow hour of coffee at a cafe, or strolling along, seemingly without a care or destination in mind.

For all you history buffs out there, you would be probably be disappointed that beyond a fantastic personal tour done just for me (thanks again Patrick and Katherine!), I didn't do a lot of touristy stuff. Of course I did see remnants of the Berlin wall as well as the once controversial (is it still or have people gotten over their qualms?) Holocaust memorial.


Beyond this though, my time was spent cozying up to the city, taking long walks along canals, enjoying the charm of Berlin's cute little neighborhoods, laughing, drinking beer (which is cheaper than bottled water !!), snuggling with a little beast, lingering over coffee and extravagantly long breakfasts, eating the world's best kebab (true story), falling in love with flammkuchen, visiting the Turkish market, picnicking at Tempelhof airfield, beer gardening at Tempelhof, and just catching up.

I must say it was both fun and disconcerting to be someplace where I had absolutely no clue what anyone was saying, and where I didn't know how to express even the most basic niceties. One day I was on my own for a few hours and had Katherine teach me how to order a currywurst in German. I butchered my way through the order, "Eine Currywurst mit Darm und Pommes," (One currywurst with casing and french fries.) and felt quite proud for getting the sentence out and being understood. But of course the transaction couldn't be finished with that; there were still the sauces to be selected and drinks. So as the cashier rattled on in German, I just had to shrug, scary smile him and say, "Sorry, that's all I got."

One tradition that makes me think I may have a bit of German blood pumping through my veins is the afternoon cake and coffee break. Hello! Where have you been all my life? There are the cutest little bakeries, just little holes in the wall, that offer an astonishing variety of cakes - chocolate favorites, black forest, fruit offerings, apricot, rhubarb, apple, carrot cake. I am so on board with this afternoon ritual, I can't even tell you.

It was windy that afternoon and sadly the last few bites of chocolate cake blew onto my leg.

All in all a fabulous ol' time. And just look at this little cutie I got to play auntie to.

Auntie Jenn and Baby Juniper

I'm home, but longing for days with a high of 82 degrees and liverwurst (which are completely unrelated aside from their Berlin connection). Who would've guessed that spreadable meat in a plastic casing could be so freaking addictive, but it is. And why didn't I bring one home with me?? Sigh.
At least I got my mustard. Yum.

Elvis, on the other hand, is missing days where I don't dunk him under a cool shower. I am not sure if this is effective and/or if he hates it. I've also tried soaking a towel in water and making a little nest for him, but he isn't too interested. He also dashes away when I aim the fan at him. Doesn't he get that I just want to help him be more comfortable???
Any other ideas for keeping your furry pup cool in this ridiculous heat?