To All Italian Drivers.......STOP means STOP!!!!

 

     Rant for the day....Italians have to be the worst drivers in the world!  They take a stop sign as a suggestion that only needs to be considered, rather than adhered too.  Today I was running and as I was crossing an intersection a car pulled into it not looking straight ahead, but instead only to the right resulting in him not seeing me even though I was directing in front of his car.  Who drives into an intersection without looking in both directions before pulling into it?  Italians! I would have been happy if he just looked straight ahead because then he would have seen me.  Is it too much to ask that someone who is driving through an intersection first check to make sure that there is not someone or something ahead of them in the intersection?  Lucky for me the driver was going slow enough that I managed to pound my hands on the hood of his car loud enough to startle him.  I had the superwoman pose with both hands spread on the hood of the car as if I could stop it.  Seems funny now, but was not at the time.  I am sure that I had a look of terror on my face as I thought for sure I was going down.  He managed to brake fast enough for me to stay on my feet.  He seemed shocked that there might be someone or something in front of him.  But not shocked enough to apologize for almost running over me.  No, instead he gave me a wave and carried on as I stood there with my heart pounding.  To all Italian drivers....STOP means STOP!!!!!! 

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Mamma Mia!!!!

     

     While I have eaten many times with Italian friends in restaurants, one thing that I have wanted to do since coming to Florence is to enjoy a traditional meal in an Italian home.  This opportunity finally came.  With excitement my friend Karen, Libby and I headed on the train to Prato to spend the afternoon and night in the home of an old Italian friend of Karen's.  She warned me to be prepared for all of the food and wine.  We skipped breakfast and lunch wanting to make sure that we were famished when we arrived.

     The trip took an unexpected twist when as we arrived in Prato and Libby began to diarrhea in my Michael Kors purse.  She had been fine the night before, so to say that I was shocked as I dared to look into my purse was an understatement.  Just as we were trying to decide what to do with a dog covered in diarrhea and a purse that smelled....well you can guess...Karen's friend pulled up.  Like a true Italian he did not see it as a big problem.  While Italians are very passionate it really does take a lot to get them upset.  With most things they have a "this is not a problem" attitude, which is probably why they out live us North Americans.  

     As we arrived at Orianno's home I handed Libby over to his wife so that I could deal with what I saw as a molto grande problema - diarrhea all over the lining of my Michael Kors purse.  Purse hanging on the line to dry and Libby bathed it began - the on-slot of food and wine starting with the traditional Italian before dinner drink of prosecco.  I was full after the second course, but the food just kept coming.  After the second course I remember sitting back in my chair trying to breath while thinking to myself you cannot go throw up from being so full; if they think it is an insult to turn down more food they for sure would see it as an insult to go throw up.  Saying I was full was not an acceptable response when I was asked if I wanted yet another serving.  To an Italian you can always make room for more.  In between courses I had to take Libby out as clearly she was not feeling well.  And when she didn't make it outside my gracious hosts did not bat an eye about Libby having accidents in their home.  Thank God Italians love their dogs as much as they love their children.  

     I was up all night with Libby.  As the night passed I became more and more worried about her.  It became clear that something was seriously wrong with her.  As I sat in the bathroom the next morning feeling as though I was having birth contractions it hit me; the chicken.  Libby and I both ate some of the same chicken the previous day before heading out to Prato.  I ran into the kitchen and pulled the zip lock back out the fridge and as soon as I opened the bag it was clear, Libby had food poisoning.  Thank God I had only eaten a very small amount.  When we figured this out Orianno, our kind host, took matters into his hands.  He called his vet at home and explained the situation.  Despite it being Sunday morning the vet insisted on coming into the city and seeing Libby right away.  While I knew it was urgent that Libby see a vet I must admit on the drive to the clinic I was thinking that this was going to cost hundreds of euros.  In Canada it costs $175 just to walk into the door of an emergency veterinary clinic, before a vet has even seen your much loved pet.  

     The vet could not have been kinder.  After a thorough examination he concluded that indeed Libby was victim to the spoiled chicken.  He gave me some shots to give her and some pills, as well as special food to help settle her stomach.  As the vet was getting the medicine together for Libby I expressed my gratitude to Orianno for taking me to this wonderful vet, and my shock that he actually left his family to come into the city on a Sunday morning to see Libby.  Orianno explained that this is normal care for their much loved dogs here in Italy.  I told him that I was worried about the bill, given the cost that I would have been facing in Canada.  Orianno was shocked at what I would have paid in Canada and suggested that we tell the vet.  I said, "Not until he gives us the bill".  We had a chuckle.  After receiving a bill of 45 euros, yes only 45 euros, we explained to the vet what this visit would have cost in Canada.  The vet was shocked and suggested that such fees were robbery, as he gave me his number to call him anytime if Libby did not get better within a few hours.  While Canadian fees may be robbery, I don't know how he makes money with his fees.  But who and I to argue with how Italians love heir dogs.   

     As we arrived back at Orianno's home at about 12:30 pm he looked at his watch and proclaimed, "The crisis is solved so now it is prosecco time".  And then it began again; the food and the wine.  As we were getting ready for lunch Mamma, his 85 year old mother, came out of her room.  She had slept all through the previous night.  Mamma eyed me up and down and even with my bad Italian I could tell that she was shocked by my height.  By Italian standards I am a giraffe at 5 ft. 9".  Mamma may be all of 5 ft and 100 lbs wet.  As we stretched between courses Mamma came up to me and with zest grabbed my breasts with both hands and exclaimed, "Molto bella!".  Seems my height was not the only thing Mamma was eying.  Poor Orianno was mortified and apologized for his mother as she has Alzheimer's and therefore is not always able to filter her thoughts and actions.  Karen and I laughed hysterically about Mamma's admiration of my breasts.  I asked Orianno if this was a case where it would be appropriate to say "Oh, Madonna".  Italians only use this phrase in extreme circumstances as it is considered profane.  He laughed agreeing that his mother grabbing my breasts would be considered such an extreme case where it was permissible to use the phrase.  While we were all laughing I said to Orianno, "If my dog can diarrhea all over your house and you take it in stride, your mother can grab my breasts anytime".  With that we sat down to yet another course of delicious food and another glass of wine.

     While my dream of enjoying a traditional meal in the home of Italians was not quite what I imagined with Libby getting so sick, I will never forget the hospitality shown to me by this wonderful family, and most of all I will never forget dear sweet Mamma.             

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28 Years of Love and Laughter

  

     As I set out for university 28 years ago I had no idea that I would meet the most incredible women. While I thought about the classes that I would be taking, and yes the parties, as a teenager I did not foresee what would be the most meaningful experience of my days at Trent University; forming life long friendships.  Together we grew from teenagers into women.  Over the course of 3 years we went from carefree teenagers cramming together for tests, and supporting one another to get that paper in on time (which no doubt was neglected because of the nights that we shared together at the pubs or the "purple Jesus" parties), to women with goals.  As graduation neared, and each of us having dreams that would take us on very different journeys, we did not know at that time what we know today; that despite what path we took one thing would remain constant - our love for one another. 

     Over the course of 28 years we have shared great joy together and weathered many storms together.  As friends we have been there to laugh so hard together that a few of us have peed our pants (one's body is never quite the same after childbirth), have provided words of support to one another when needed, and yes even wiped away tears.  We have come to know one another like no one else knows us because of the history that we share, and we still deeply love one another anyways.  

     While we have shared great happiness together, it is through the storms of life that we learned that we can always count on one another for love and support, without judgement.  A true gift.  Many years ago when we all dressed up as hula dancers, with skirts made of of garbage bags, we danced the night away together having no idea at that time that we would hold each others' hands through life for the next 28 years, but that is indeed what has happened.  

     While our lives have at times not permitted us to spend as much time together as we would like, time is not a barrier to our special friendship.  No matter how many weeks or months may pass between when we can see or talk to one another, it does not matter as when we reconnect all time is erased. That only happens between dear friends who have craddled one anothers' hearts for so many years through the rainbows and storms of life.  

     This past summer we had the great joy of spending 2 weeks together here in Florence as I begin a new chapter in my life.  While we know our friendship will be different in that I am not going to be an hour away from them, my friends being who they are were excited to celerate and share in where my journey has taken me.

     While we now have children that are as old as we were when we first met, and we have careers that keep us busy, for a moment in time we stepped away from our responsibilities and just enjoyed being together.  While we did not make hula skirts out of garbage bags, there was a night where we did find ourselves out on the streets of Florence (some of us in our pajamas) once again laughing like we did as teenagers without a care about what others thought.  As we drove through the hills of tuscany, swam in the sea and ate together on the terrace we did what only cherished friends can do; thought out loud about the small and big things in life, without worry about what one another would think.  It is only with true friends that you dare to share your thoughts.  Although we did at times break into a sweat when Joanne would proclaim, "I have a question".  Joanne's thinking goes to places that none of us have gone, but because of our bond we knew we were safe in answering honestly.    

 

     Over the course of 28 years we have created many cherished memories together.  As we shed tears saying good-bye to one another after making so many wonderful new memories together, we took comfort in knowing that while we have taken different journeys on our quest to grow as individuals we have not, and never will, grow apart.  I think on the 40th anniversary of our friendship we should once again don hula skirts made out of garbage bags, but instead of toasting exams being over we need to toast the precious gift that we have given one another that truly is priceless; our friendship.  I say 40 years because I know with confidence that we will still be the best of friends then.   

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I'm The Living Proof.....I Can Start Flying Now

      As I was returning back into Florence today, after a 12 km run through the countryside, I felt grateful for my life here.  While taking in the extraordinary cityscape, and thinking about all that brings me joy here in Florence, I thought of a song that I heard this week on the show Private Practice - The Living Proof by Mary J. Blige.  On Private Practice the character Amelia was fighting an uphill battle to recover from drug addiction.  While that was her journey, many of us have fought our own uphill battles and are living proof that not only can nothing keep us down, but we are determined to once again fly.  I know many inspirational women that are indeed THE LIVING PROOF.  In our own ways we are all flying again.  I ran through the streets of Florence with a smile on my face knowing that my best days are right in front of me 'cause I'm the living proof'.      

It's gonna be a long, long journey
It's gonna be an uphill climb
It's gonna be a tough fight
It's gonna be some lonely nights
But I'm ready to carry on.

I'm so glad the worst is over ('cause it almost took me down)
I can start living now
I feel like I can do anything, yeah
And finally I'm not afraid to breathe.

Anything you say to me,
And everything you do,
You can't deny the truth,
'Cause I'm the living proof!
So many don't survive,
They just don't make it through
But look at me
I'm the living proof! Oh, yes I am.

Thinking 'bout life's been painful. Yes it was.
Took a lot to learn how to smile,
So now I am gonna talk to my people about the storm -- about the storm.
Oh, so glad the worst is over ('cause it almost took me down)
I can start flying now
My best days are right in front of me
And I'm almost there
'Cause now I'm free!

Anything you say to me
And everything you do
You can't deny the truth
'Cause I'm the living proof.
So many don't survive.
They just don't make it through.
But look at me
I'm the living proof!

I know where I'm going
'Cause I know where I've been
I'm gonna feel strong, that's showin'
I'm gonna be strong, keep growin'
That's the way that I will.

Anything you say to me
And everything you do
You can't deny the truth
'Cause I'm the living proof.
So many don't survive,
They just don't make it through
But look at me - yeah yeah
I'm the living proof!

Nothing about my life has been easy, no.
But nothin's gonna keep me down, no - down.
'Cause I know a lot more today
Than I knew yesterday, now
So, I'm ready to carry on,
Oh, Lordy. Mmmmmm. Mmmmmmm

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My Summer Vacation.....Diarrhea, Distress and Denzel Washington

     

     During the month of August most italians flock to the sea to escape the heat of the city and the tourists.  Many shopkeepers close their stores for the entire month of August.  The stores that remain open are closed most afternoons, so that those that cannot go away for a month can at least take day trips to the beach.  My friend Alanna and I decided to live like the italians and escape to Positano for a few days.  We were very excited when an italian friend of mine kindly offered us her car to use.  The excitement poured out of our bodies when as she handed over the keys to us she casually mentioned that the air conditioning was not working.  Italians are not big on details.  Alanna and I looked at each other with slight panic as we knew the 6 hour drive to the sea without air conditioning was going to be a challenge to say the least.
     Just driving along side italians is a challenge as "rules of the road" is a concept that they just don't seem to have grasped.  Italians tend to completely ignore a stop sign, they feel free to drive anywhere on the road even if it means taking up two lanes, they drive at lightning speed, and rather than passing you they get so close to your rear end that they are almost touching your bumper as an indication to get out of their way.  Worst of all, when driving around a bend they without fear will come into your lane and just when you are sure that you are going to have a head on collision they dart back over to their side of the road.  The highways are not monitored by the police.  Instead they have speed cameras, but in big flashing lights your are warned when one is coming up.  Italian drivers slow down for the camera and then quickly accelerate back to what seems like their normal 150 km an hour speed on the autostrada.  I, going 130 km an hour, was driving at what was very apparent an irritatingly slow speed to the italians.  I am not sure what was worse; having to be so alert every minute, or the sweat that was pouring down my body from the lack of air conditioning.

Libby, happy on my lap at the beginning of the drive.

     We did have the windows part way down, but not all the way in an attempt to control the noise which was giving me a headache.  The noise was so loud that I felt like I was standing in front of a speaker at a concert.  For hours all I heard was this pounding bass like sound.  I didn't realize at first that the windows only part way down meant that Libby was not getting air down on her as she laid across my lap.  As she got hotter and hotter we tried to get water into her.  Then she looked at me like she was feeling really sick and that we needed to stop, but there was no place to pull over on the side of the autostrada.  Over to Alanna's lap she went, I think hoping to convince her that we needed to stop immediately.  I became very concerned as I could see in her eyes that she was not feeling well and then it started....diarrhea on Alanna's shorts.  She quickly grabbed a plastic bag and put Libby in the bag so that the mess could be contained.  I was of no help as I could not take my eyes off the road and the crazy italian drivers speeding past me darting in and out.  I just kept thinking that I had to get as fast as I could to the next rest stop.  Alanna seemed surprisingly calm during the diarrhea crisis, but then all of a sudden she turned tomato red.  I have never seen anyone get as red as her.  Just when I thought things could not get any worse, they did.  Alanna started to heave.  I thought that for sure she was going to be sick and if she did the vomit was for sure going to head my way with the wind.  I could not help but burst out into laughter.   Neither of us planned on this kind of moment being part of our adventure.

Libby looking a little queazy.

     Finally at a rest stop I took Libby into the bathroom, and with shampoo from my suitcase, I gave her a bath in the sink.  Poor Libby looked at me like what the hell are you doing to me now.  But then she seemed to quickly feel better as the cold water cooled her body.  Libby cleaned, and having drank a lot of water, off we went again.  I wet a shirt with cold water for her to lay on for the rest of the trip.  While Libby is loved by my many friends here in Italy, I have officially appointed Alanna as her godmother after this drive.  We laughed about our driving nightmare the rest of the way to Positano.  Alanna said that if she was sick her plan was to vomit in the bag with Libby in it.  Poor Libby would have for sure been traumatized if that had happened.  

My poor baby in a plastic bag.  

     Positano is breathtakingly beautiful.  There is just something about being by the sea that makes me instantly relax.  At the sea is the only place that I am quite happy doing absolutely nothing all day.  Libby was an angel down at the beach.  While she was very happy laying in the cool sand under the lounge chair, every once in a while she would insist on switching to the lay on well lets just say a more cushiony surface.  

Alanna and Libby

       The sea at Positano is refreshingly cool and the most amazing turquoise colour.  As I floated in the water it took my breath away as I looked at the beauty of the coast.  

  

           

     About an hour by water is the island of Capri.  On the way one cannot help but look in awe at the many yachts.  Positano and Capri are known to attract the rich and famous because for the most part celebrities have anonymity there.  When your mouth is not dropping by the sheer size of the yachts, it is dropping in awe at the beauty of the many grottos.

Coast of Capri

                                                                                         

                                          

 

     As our boat came to a stop the captain announced that he was giving us time to jump off the boat and enjoy a swim in the sea by a grotto.  While I wanted to go for a swim, I immediately thought about how was I going to get into the water because there was no way that I was jumping off the side of the boat.  I have such a fear of heights that I do not get up on a chair.  I could feel panic start to sneak in, but I did not want to miss this experience.  So up on the rail of the boat I climbed.  As I stood there I told myself not to panic as I looked down.  This was a very large boat so it was quite a jump down; a treacherous jump overboard in my fear of heights mind.  (Alanna later said it was about 6ft.)  I just kept telling myself that I could not miss out of this life experience.  After a deep breath, and a count to three, I jumped.  It felt so exhilarating.  As I surfaced I was so proud of myself.  I did it!!

      

     I did not know when I was up at 7am to straighten my hair, and put on make-up, for a day trip to Capri that I would end up challenging myself to face one of my fears.  Instead, I envisioned casually looking in shops and admiring beautiful architecture.  As I stood on the railing of the boat my hair and make-up no longer mattered.   Instead what became important was living life to the fullest and seizing this opportunity to experience something that I had never experienced before.  With that came the courage to jump. 

     After our day on the island of Capri, and at sea, we celebrated our adventure with prosecco and a panini on the terrace of our bed and breakfast.  A simple celebration seemed more fitting than getting out the hair straightener and make-up once again to go out for dinner.  Sometimes it is good to just be. 

Prosecco, a panini and jammies.
What more does a girl need for a good celebration?

Enjoying the view from the top of Capri.

Strolling through Capri.

When Libby gets tired in my bag she happily goes.

     Positano is built into the side of a very steep mountain.  You don't have to worry about what you eat while there because you burn off every calorie climbing up and down the steep roads and the many steps to the beach; so many steps that you can actually feel it in your thighs as you climb them.  One evening we decided to eat up near the top of the town so that we could experience the view, and we had heard of a restaurant where the food was well worth the trek up.  I decided to leave Libby in our room because she seemed so tired.  I mistakenly didn't think about that while I leave her at home alone without any problems, I had never left her in a hotel room before on her own.  Just as we entered the restaurant, huffing and puffing a bit, I was told that the owner of the B & B where we were staying had called because Libby was so distressed being left alone that he was worried and we had to go back.  Down the hill we went to get her.  Alanna up until this point had always affectionately called Libby by the nickname "little girl" or "little princess", but as we trekked up the hill a second time to return to the restaurant for dinner Libby's nickname became "little bitch".  She slept on my lap for the entire dinner very content, and the next morning all was forgotten and Alanna was back to calling her "little girl". 

         

Dinner out.  Libby is asleep on my lap.

Each day a restaurant, with pleasure, cooked Libby grilled chicken breast.
Nothing but the best for my little princess.

Alanna enjoyed the fresh seafood.  I, on the other hand,
don't eat food that is staring back at me.

     Every day we enjoyed laying at the beach.  I felt like I was in heaven basking in the sun and listening to the sound of the sea hitting the coast as I dozed off and on.  Just when I didn't think that life could get any better it happened; I heard the voice of the most beautiful black god from above - Denzel Washington.  I opened my eyes and there he was walking past me as I lay in my lounge chair.  I truly was in heaven.  I was told that Denzel comes to Positano every year with his family.  We were lucky enough to see him other times in town and each time his handsome looks made my heart skip a beat.  

     On our last day in Positano I went into the most wonderful little shop where everything in it is related to lemons.  Positano is well known for its limoncello.  The delightful shopkeeper said that she had seen Libby and I walking around town and she could not help but notice how many people stopped me to take pictures of Libby.  We chatted for quite a while about Libby and our visit to Positano.  She then went on to say, "Denzel Washington may be in town, but the real celebrity here is Libby".  We chuckled how a dog was getting more attention than him.  Italians don't seem to be starstruck, but they are sure struck by my sweet little Libby.
     Just before leaving Positano I spun a sailor's wheel of fortune, of sorts.  It said that I was going to get married next summer.  I immediately uttered, "No way".  The gentleman looked at me with surprise at my adamance and said, "Yes, it is very possible".  Alanna then spun the wheel and it said that she was going to be very touchy next summer.  She figures that she will be helping me plan the details of my wedding and I will drive her crazy with my OCD attention to detail.   I don't know what the future holds for me ladies, but those of you who would like to lose a few pounds before my wedding pictures I am giving you fair warning that you may only have until next summer.  I figure if the friendship between Alanna and I survived this trip to Positano, it can survive planning a wedding.  

Lemons in Positano are like no other lemons.  Look at the size!

Libby enjoying her day on the boat.
She seems to prefer boats to hot cars.

A day at sea is exhausting.

Alanna told me at 7 am that there was no point in
straightening my hair and putting on make-up.
Clearly she was right!!

   

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