Why I keep feeling gobsmacked

UPDATE: Many a concerned email has made its way to me since I posted this. While unfortunately the below still rings true, it was just a vent. A vent that worked, since as soon as I put it out in cyberspace, I was instantly renewed! So, no worries all, but thanks for caring.


I came to this realization today: I am not equipped with the right tools to deal with Italian culture. I don't speak their language, quite literally.

What do I mean? Ponder these:

Exhibit 1. The translation company who so certainly assured me I'd be working for them full-time has been yanking me around. They don't contact me for weeks, and then suddenly send me the last translation back marked with trillions of very stupid corrections (i.e. "as well as" instead of "and). Andrea tells me that this tactic is almost definitely a very studied one, to keep me on my toes so they can use me when they like but keep an excuse not to take me on full-time.

Exhibit 2. I finally realized that our magazine editor where I work - who loves to rip into our interns for their writing skills, or into me for the few articles I write - doesn't know how to spell, or write for that matter. She dictates emails for other people to write and hands off jobs as if they were hot potatoes. So it was like a bolt of lightning when I realized that she's been covering up that she didn't get this job on merit.

Exhibit 3. I went back to work after lunch today because I was supposed to have a meeting, but my co-worker ended up not coming because he was running late. When he told me this, he was speaking very close to the phone and most of what he said was jumbled. I realized, after I hung up the phone, that in my confusion at trying to put what he was saying together, I didn't properly express just how annoyed I was that he'd stood me up. And on the way home, I realized (taking into consideration all the learning I've been piecing together about the Italian psyche) that he mumbled into the phone on purpose, for the very purpose of distracting me.

Sound like too intricate of a conniving plan? Too deceptive or evil-handed? Well, welcome to my world. People think that way, especially in the business world. They seem to have that cunning in their Italian DNA.

Problem with all this is that I live and work here, and I am not prepared to change my own way of thinking to fit into their game. I refuse to lower myself to that, but it means that - time and time ago - I am going to have to deal with being left behind and screwed over. It means that I have to learn to deal with hanging up the telephone and then, 2 minutes later, realizing with my delayed American reaction that someone just pulled the blindfold over my eyes.

Oh, and in case you were wondering: yes, I'm having a bad week.

Urban Trekking

Map in hand, we spent the day exploring the windy side streets of Perugia - some I never even knew existed - in search of the city's public fountains, 8 of them total. My calves hurt and Mom's foot may never be the same, but it was worth it for all the great views. Plus, it gave us a chance to work off at least one-millionth of all the food we've eaten this week!

Giving Thanks: the Gang

(from left) Mom, Clare, Luca, Laura, Claudio, David, Rita, Dad, Marcello, Chiara, Andrea

Giving Thanks

Call me cliche', but Thanksgiving really is my favorite. I mean, what other time during the year can you have an excuse to eat all that pumpkin?

Thanksgiving has always been a chance for Andrea and I to make our own roots and set our own traditions, surrounded by some of the people we care most about in the world. It's a day-long moment for reflection, a chance to look inside and be thankful and - miracle of miracles in this house - stop complaining for a second and just enjoy it, dammit.

It's the official start of the holiday season I love so much, it's the warm smell of baking pies and the enormous, laughable size of the 15-kilo American-basted turkey Andrea's Italian mother has successfully added to her kitchen repertoire. Thanksgiving is nutmeg and cinnamon, tart cranberries and a comfortable couch. It is all the simple goodness of life, seen for what it really is: absolute luxury.

Enjoy the day, and remember to take one long moment just to look around the table and be grateful for all the luxury in your life. Wish we could ALL be together around my table this year!

Sunday already!?

Wow, as I sat down to write this I was totally positive it was still Saturday.

So this past week was good and bad. Good because things at work were relatively calm and because Andrea and I got to spend some nice time together. "Bad" because I went to a meeting in Florence for work on Friday and it seems the company's hoping to cushy up my job some, make me and my position more important. Which means one thing (hence the "bad" part): now I have to figure out, once again, what the hell it is I want.

Luckily, I have some time to contemplate. Most of these new-and-improved company Big Ideas are "smoke in mirrors," so I guess I can hope that this is yet another fine example, as that would make packing it in and hauling it out wayyyy easier. Eh. I can only say what I've been saying: We Shall See. (And then I can make myself giggle, because when I type that too fast I always accidentally write "We shall wee." Which, of course, is also true.)

My parents get here next week for their annual Thanksgiving visit, and Andrea and I are looking forward to it. We're finally going to do Thanksgiving on actual Thanksgiving Day this time, with Andrea's parents, Claudio, Clare, Marcello, Chiara, Giacomo, Laura and Luca. Every year I really want to invite more people - everyone I know, basically - but then I start doing a food-and-plate count and it's just not feasible. They, and you, will all be with us in spirit (unless you are one of the people listed above, then you'll be with me for reals).

In an extra note, I don't know if any of you have been following the news of the English student who was murdered here in Perugia? It happened about a week ago, and it's been weighing heavily on my mind since then. She was 22-years-old, living just a few short streets from where I used to live, and from where almost all of my foreign friends once lived or still live in Perugia. And one of the suspects, Congolese man Patrick, was an acquaintance of mine when I was a student - he befriended a couple of my roommates and came over once or twice to our apartment - for innocent chats, I even remember once that he made us some fried dough in our kitchen.

Anyway, I feel especially close to this story, as it happened so closeby, happened to a foreigner and seems to have at least in part been carried out by an American girl, both of them about the same age I was when I got here 9 years ago. So many bad things happen in the world every single day, but this whole story seems parallel to a universe I used to be part of - namely, the student population of Perugia. Which the news has been potraying to be one big drugged up sex party! Sure, foreign students here are, as the Italians say, spensierati, without a care in the world. And, sure, the study abroad life is based often on parties or drinking, but a lot of that - at least it was for me and most of the people I know - was red wine at an Italian dinner, or innocent dancing at a disco or a drink at the pub. So, what I'm saying is, don't believe all the hype. And let's hope this whole thing gets resolved soon, for everyone's sake.

I guess I had a lot to say today. Have a great week everyone!

The Dead go shopping

Having a flea market to honor the Day of the Dead is, admittedly, an oddly capitalistic tradition for an already-odd pagan holiday. But, whatever, as long as I get a porchetta sandwich and a fun and colorful walk through the kiosks with Andrea, I couldn't care less why they bring it!

Spices galore...


Rides of all kinds...


Old-school fun...


Wholesome Happiness!....


see today's Project 365 picture here

Pinocchio

Theater production number 2 at Teatro Morlacchi (public theater of Perugia) was a success this time 'round, which basically means no dancing dolphins!

The production was very interesting, and involved the chunk of the original Collodi version of the story with Pinocchio at his worst: the fox and the cat tricking him out of his gold coins, his lying to the Fairy, his journey to the Land of Toys and subsequent donkeydom. Here is a picture of Pinocchio being whipped into donkey shape by the Fire-eater:



Anyway, so two Perugian thumbs up!