It's almost been a month since I left, and I feel like I've left you with more emotional baggage, than actual substance about my trip. So, here are some fun facts for you about Italy.
-At my school, there are mixed gender bathrooms. This means that you walk into one bathroom that has several stalls and it's for members of both sexes. It is very awkward for us Americans, however, all of the natives find it completely normal to meet in the general room and chat it up while we wash our hands.
-bars are the everything store here. You buy your bus tickets, pastries, cappuccinos, sandwiches...you name it, they probably sell it. So saying "I'm going to the bar" at a Christian institution is completely normal, and usually means you're going to get bus tickets to go into town, or a snack in between classes.
-contrary to popular belief, this place is not perfect. Actually. It is infested with mosquitoes, and it rains at the most inappropriate times here.
-not that it's a bad thing, but there are probably more Romanians in Italy, than there are Italians.
-Disney was right, gypsies really do where long flowing skirts and hoop earrings.
-late night bus stops are super sketch.
-"prego" can mean just about anything. From you're welcome, to please buy this flower for me.
-After a week of getting stared at, you realize that the men stare at everything that is or appears to be female. You also learn how to keep walking and ignore sketchiness.
-Also, safety comes before courtesy when it comes to men here.
-Street vendors have a magical power that allows them to identify you as American. No matter how European you try to dress and act.
-The best things to do here are free. Watch sunsets, take silly pictures, and stroll through the center people watching.
-Italians praise you if you pronounce the first syllable in a paragraph in Italian correctly.
-They're also geniuses. In art, in culinary skills, in people reading.
-There are more churches in Italy than Chuck Norris could count.
-Little villages are the best.
-Italy really does make you wish you were in love.
-It is impossible for me to forget you. Everytime I go somewhere, I can't help but think who else would enjoy that place with me. And I get very homesick for the people in my heart.
-But. I don't want to leave, either. So, just come join me :)
Details on adventures and experiences to come. Much love!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
Realization.
Sorry about that. I just reviewed my last post and realized how chaotic and disorganized it was. You'll forgive me though. Because you know how my brain works. Or should, by now.
This post is going to be heavier though.
This weekend, we headed off into a Tuscan region around a hilltop town called Poppi. We stayed at a place that was somewhat like the Italian version of Cohutta Springs. It was a spiritual retreat for the school: faculty, staff, students, ACA participants.
Now, you all know how much I love the outdoors, so it will come as no shock to know that as we were arriving and my little eyes were taking in massive amounts of beauty, my little Guatemalan heart was pounding inside my chest. I felt like I was home. Which led to my first pit of loneliness and homesickness. I don't know if it was the cypress trees, or the brooks at the bottom of the mountain, or the fact that I wore my Summer Adventures gear, or the fact that I had no internet and couldn't talk to those I love. Or the overwhelming memories of all the people I love. Or maybe it was the combination of everything put together. But I had this huge urge to see my family and sit down and cry. And take off this weight that's been holding me down and admit to everyone how absolutely tired I am.
Tired of loving. Okay, not of loving. But, tired of the pain and suffering that comes with loving what you musn't. And of accepting God's will. When your own is so very strong.
And so with this big beautiful place, I could only feel this awful pressure and an insanely huge desire to cry.
But then, God came in with His love and His affirmation that things happen for a reason. For His reasons, and if you follow and accept them, this whole mess that we make...it gets easier. And I realized that my problems, my struggles, my pains...they are nothing.
You all know that I feel that being here is God's will. And up to now, I've been somewhat unaware of why. This weekend I found out the first reason.
As we were taking prayer requests, the men's dean asked for prayer for a family who stayed at Villa for a while. They have a four year old daughter, with a very rare form of cancer, who has been promised death.
She is four years old, and her childhood has consisted of hospitals and crying. This seems so unfair. But, God has His reasons. When he started talking about this child, I had this overwhelming feeling to reach out to her and her family. Because of what my own family experienced with loss and our own mourning and acceptance, I feel a need to go to them, to minister and to take them the peace that only God can give. Up to two years ago, I had not made peace for Danny's death. There was always guilt in my heart. I still felt like I was the less gracious of the siblings. Like I was the one that should have passed. But there are so many things that he left us. He left us with this burning desire to see him again, and to be like him. The knowledge that someone as young as him could have such a vast understanding of God's will. Jesus said we must be like little children. And while he was, he was also a little man. Because he showed us how to be strong when no physical strength is left.
I also sometimes think that God took my Danny because things might have changed. What if his heart had strayed as he got older? Danny is quite likely the cause for many to reach out for salvation. And so there was a purpose. A divine purpose, and that, that gives me peace beyond compare. Maybe not enough to keep away the most awful, painful thoughts all the time, but enough to always be able to know, that God had His reasons, and the day we can all see them clearly, we will be so thankful!
I ask you, I beg you. Right now. Pray for this family. For this child who is unknowingly a source of reconciliation with God. Pray for me. That I may listen carefully and let God speak through me. And pray that if it be God's will, for her to live. And for her to be an example and a glorification for Him.
I don't think I've ever felt anything like this.
Because of the intensity of all of my emotions. I was able to get spiritually closer to my new friends as well. Up to now, we've had good conversations. But no really fruitful conversations. This weekend, we talked about everything. Our pasts, our dreams, our heartaches. And I am happy to say that all of us are headed towards one goal: serving God as much as possible while on earth. It's such a crazy feeling. To know that you'll never run out of work to do.
I have a feeling I am making life-long friendships here. And I know for a fact I will never ever forget this experience.
So, for a second. Let me thank you, for your contribution to my crazy plan. Whether it be in form of verbal support, hugs, offerings, prayers, kind thoughts. Everything. I will never be able to repay the goodness that I have received. But thank you, and God bless you.
Please continue to pray for me and my journeys. And especially, for this little girl and her family.
I love you, miss you, and bless you!
Mary
This post is going to be heavier though.
This weekend, we headed off into a Tuscan region around a hilltop town called Poppi. We stayed at a place that was somewhat like the Italian version of Cohutta Springs. It was a spiritual retreat for the school: faculty, staff, students, ACA participants.
Now, you all know how much I love the outdoors, so it will come as no shock to know that as we were arriving and my little eyes were taking in massive amounts of beauty, my little Guatemalan heart was pounding inside my chest. I felt like I was home. Which led to my first pit of loneliness and homesickness. I don't know if it was the cypress trees, or the brooks at the bottom of the mountain, or the fact that I wore my Summer Adventures gear, or the fact that I had no internet and couldn't talk to those I love. Or the overwhelming memories of all the people I love. Or maybe it was the combination of everything put together. But I had this huge urge to see my family and sit down and cry. And take off this weight that's been holding me down and admit to everyone how absolutely tired I am.
Tired of loving. Okay, not of loving. But, tired of the pain and suffering that comes with loving what you musn't. And of accepting God's will. When your own is so very strong.
And so with this big beautiful place, I could only feel this awful pressure and an insanely huge desire to cry.
But then, God came in with His love and His affirmation that things happen for a reason. For His reasons, and if you follow and accept them, this whole mess that we make...it gets easier. And I realized that my problems, my struggles, my pains...they are nothing.
You all know that I feel that being here is God's will. And up to now, I've been somewhat unaware of why. This weekend I found out the first reason.
As we were taking prayer requests, the men's dean asked for prayer for a family who stayed at Villa for a while. They have a four year old daughter, with a very rare form of cancer, who has been promised death.
She is four years old, and her childhood has consisted of hospitals and crying. This seems so unfair. But, God has His reasons. When he started talking about this child, I had this overwhelming feeling to reach out to her and her family. Because of what my own family experienced with loss and our own mourning and acceptance, I feel a need to go to them, to minister and to take them the peace that only God can give. Up to two years ago, I had not made peace for Danny's death. There was always guilt in my heart. I still felt like I was the less gracious of the siblings. Like I was the one that should have passed. But there are so many things that he left us. He left us with this burning desire to see him again, and to be like him. The knowledge that someone as young as him could have such a vast understanding of God's will. Jesus said we must be like little children. And while he was, he was also a little man. Because he showed us how to be strong when no physical strength is left.
I also sometimes think that God took my Danny because things might have changed. What if his heart had strayed as he got older? Danny is quite likely the cause for many to reach out for salvation. And so there was a purpose. A divine purpose, and that, that gives me peace beyond compare. Maybe not enough to keep away the most awful, painful thoughts all the time, but enough to always be able to know, that God had His reasons, and the day we can all see them clearly, we will be so thankful!
I ask you, I beg you. Right now. Pray for this family. For this child who is unknowingly a source of reconciliation with God. Pray for me. That I may listen carefully and let God speak through me. And pray that if it be God's will, for her to live. And for her to be an example and a glorification for Him.
I don't think I've ever felt anything like this.
Because of the intensity of all of my emotions. I was able to get spiritually closer to my new friends as well. Up to now, we've had good conversations. But no really fruitful conversations. This weekend, we talked about everything. Our pasts, our dreams, our heartaches. And I am happy to say that all of us are headed towards one goal: serving God as much as possible while on earth. It's such a crazy feeling. To know that you'll never run out of work to do.
I have a feeling I am making life-long friendships here. And I know for a fact I will never ever forget this experience.
So, for a second. Let me thank you, for your contribution to my crazy plan. Whether it be in form of verbal support, hugs, offerings, prayers, kind thoughts. Everything. I will never be able to repay the goodness that I have received. But thank you, and God bless you.
Please continue to pray for me and my journeys. And especially, for this little girl and her family.
I love you, miss you, and bless you!
Mary
On being educated by Italians...and everyone else.
Wanna know a secret?
There is about a grand total of 10 Italians at my school.
Everyone else is either Latin American, Romanian, American, or of some other European descent.
The good news is, they all speak Italian (and about three other languages). Minus the Americans.
Wanna know another secret? My Spanish has gotten to be beastly. Because I have to think and talk in Spanish to understand and be understood. It's beginning to mix though. I put in some Italian words into my Spanish now by accident. And my brain is constantly saying "Allora" mid-thought. It's kind of funny.
On the other hand, it's very confusing. Sometimes, I use my French to answer. For example the other day, on the bus, we were talking to this Italian lady, who had taken French in college. So, she would ask her questions in Italian, I would respond in French, and then translate it into English for the people around me. Maybe it will get more natural eventually. But for now, my poor little brain has a hard time.
I am a mut of languages.
Classes are going well. Very well. So far there is nothing very hard and I feel like I'm picking up the Italian quickly. I have a feeling that when I come home it's going to be my secret language. I'm also starting to freak out about who I'm going to speak Italian with. Because I want to keep up with it.
I've made some valuable friends who speak to me in mostly Italian and explain and teach me different (non vulgar) phrases. I'm very thankful.
But I feel like this is leading into my next post, so this is the end of this one. Stay tuned for part III for today.
There is about a grand total of 10 Italians at my school.
Everyone else is either Latin American, Romanian, American, or of some other European descent.
The good news is, they all speak Italian (and about three other languages). Minus the Americans.
Wanna know another secret? My Spanish has gotten to be beastly. Because I have to think and talk in Spanish to understand and be understood. It's beginning to mix though. I put in some Italian words into my Spanish now by accident. And my brain is constantly saying "Allora" mid-thought. It's kind of funny.
On the other hand, it's very confusing. Sometimes, I use my French to answer. For example the other day, on the bus, we were talking to this Italian lady, who had taken French in college. So, she would ask her questions in Italian, I would respond in French, and then translate it into English for the people around me. Maybe it will get more natural eventually. But for now, my poor little brain has a hard time.
I am a mut of languages.
Classes are going well. Very well. So far there is nothing very hard and I feel like I'm picking up the Italian quickly. I have a feeling that when I come home it's going to be my secret language. I'm also starting to freak out about who I'm going to speak Italian with. Because I want to keep up with it.
I've made some valuable friends who speak to me in mostly Italian and explain and teach me different (non vulgar) phrases. I'm very thankful.
But I feel like this is leading into my next post, so this is the end of this one. Stay tuned for part III for today.
I am waaaaaay behind.
So much has happened, and everything triggers so many different things in my mind that today, there will be multiple posts.
First. Let's talk about the Uffizi.
For those of you who don't know what it is, it is one of the main art museums here in Firenze (Florence). It houses works by Botticelli, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and several other artistic geniuses.
Now, I've always been into physical arts...dancing, acting, singing. I dig those. I understand them and they are aesthetically and spiritually beautiful to me. I mean, I acknowledged that statues and paintings were beautiful too, but I don't think I ever really cared too much to pay attention to them.
Going into the museum I made myself promise to not be pretentious. But at the same time, I wanted to be able to find some beauty in it. I mean, I was going to be stuck there for at least two hours.
So it began. We walked through some very old medieval artwork. I was not a fan. Very Constantinople-esque. Gold everywhere, ornateness, big pictures. Too much boom.
Then moving into the renaissance...I began to feel myself tingle. The blurred eyes of the Madonna. The way they painted womens' hands so delicately. It all started getting to me.
When we reached Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" I could have cried. Instead, I shook as I was surrounded by strangers of various ethnicities who would've all laughed at me/mocked me in their various languages.
It was so beautiful. How do you do that? How do you come up with something you've never seen and put it in a way that still shakes people 500, 600 years after you came up with it? It blows my mind. I talked about that later with Horacio, who is an Art student here in Florence and is also a big fan of Botticelli. I don't have an answer yet though. So we'll just say that genius falls a little short.
Now, I want to talk about the human body. For a second, lets put aside all of our societal preconceptions and just talk honestly. The human body is absolutely beautiful. Michelangelo and all those crazy-curious Greeks and Romans had this whole thing right. Our bodies are beautiful things. Our muscles. I don't think I'd ever felt that way about the human anatomy before. But as I stood there looking at these statues and looking at the perfection that was thought so beautiful (and is thought so indecent nowadays), I couldn't help but admire.
We were wonderfully and beautifully crafted for a reason. I mean, I'm not saying we should be naked all the time. That would be chaotic. But God's plan for our bodies...genius.
Needless to say, I came out of the Uffizi with a different prespective. And I can't wait to learn to look for more in what I'm seeing and going to as I begin my History of Italian Art class.
I'll let you know how that goes.
If you have a minute, look up "The Birth of Venus," "Spring" (Botticelli), and "the Annunciation" (Michelangelo). Definitely my favorites.
More to come later.
Love you, miss you, bless you!
First. Let's talk about the Uffizi.
For those of you who don't know what it is, it is one of the main art museums here in Firenze (Florence). It houses works by Botticelli, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and several other artistic geniuses.
Now, I've always been into physical arts...dancing, acting, singing. I dig those. I understand them and they are aesthetically and spiritually beautiful to me. I mean, I acknowledged that statues and paintings were beautiful too, but I don't think I ever really cared too much to pay attention to them.
Going into the museum I made myself promise to not be pretentious. But at the same time, I wanted to be able to find some beauty in it. I mean, I was going to be stuck there for at least two hours.
So it began. We walked through some very old medieval artwork. I was not a fan. Very Constantinople-esque. Gold everywhere, ornateness, big pictures. Too much boom.
Then moving into the renaissance...I began to feel myself tingle. The blurred eyes of the Madonna. The way they painted womens' hands so delicately. It all started getting to me.
When we reached Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" I could have cried. Instead, I shook as I was surrounded by strangers of various ethnicities who would've all laughed at me/mocked me in their various languages.
It was so beautiful. How do you do that? How do you come up with something you've never seen and put it in a way that still shakes people 500, 600 years after you came up with it? It blows my mind. I talked about that later with Horacio, who is an Art student here in Florence and is also a big fan of Botticelli. I don't have an answer yet though. So we'll just say that genius falls a little short.
Now, I want to talk about the human body. For a second, lets put aside all of our societal preconceptions and just talk honestly. The human body is absolutely beautiful. Michelangelo and all those crazy-curious Greeks and Romans had this whole thing right. Our bodies are beautiful things. Our muscles. I don't think I'd ever felt that way about the human anatomy before. But as I stood there looking at these statues and looking at the perfection that was thought so beautiful (and is thought so indecent nowadays), I couldn't help but admire.
We were wonderfully and beautifully crafted for a reason. I mean, I'm not saying we should be naked all the time. That would be chaotic. But God's plan for our bodies...genius.
Needless to say, I came out of the Uffizi with a different prespective. And I can't wait to learn to look for more in what I'm seeing and going to as I begin my History of Italian Art class.
I'll let you know how that goes.
If you have a minute, look up "The Birth of Venus," "Spring" (Botticelli), and "the Annunciation" (Michelangelo). Definitely my favorites.
More to come later.
Love you, miss you, bless you!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Less about me, more about them.
Every place has it's good and bad people. You just have to find the perfect balance, because you can learn from both; you can learn what not to do, as well as what to do to live a beautiful life.
One Italian saying I'm already loving, is that the morning was made for waking up slowly. Maybe so that you open your eyes when you're ready, or maybe so that you enjoy the sunshine coming in through your window. Sometimes laying in bed stretching is far more delicious than actual sleep itself. Whatever the reason may be, I agree with them. However, breakfast is at 7:30.
How contradictory of Italian culture this school is!...just kidding. The beautiful thing is, there is a cafe close by where you can get everything from pastries to martinis. Yes, they drink before noon here. In fact, I saw a lady come in and drink at 10:00 am.
This culture is nothing like American culture. And it is nothing like Guatemalan culture either. Italians and Florentines have a taste of their own.
I like food, so I'll try to explain it that way. Imagine seeing a bright fruit for the first time. Because of it's brightness, you would assume it ripe, and you would expect it to be sweet. So you buy some of the fruit, you go home, wash it, and eat one. You were right, it is in fact sweet. However, it has an aftertaste that you are not familiar with...not a bad one, just somewhat tangy and unexpected. The next day, you eat another one. It is sweeter then, and the aftertaste is more familiar. By the third day, the fruit is delicious, and the aftertaste takes up residence in your taste buds.
That is the best way I can describe how these people make you feel.
Not to say that I am completely convinced to become one of them in every sense though. There are still a couple of things I have not gotten used to. For example, they marry very late. I keep seeing men over here who are well over thirty who are still wandering around with no rush to get married. Maybe it was just my little American concept of Italians...but I thought they were really quick with these things. I guess there's not so much of a rush as I thought so. Not that I'm feeling rushed...or that I can even think about marriage right now, but I do see myself married before thirty.
Another thing, the men are very verbal. The first couple of days, it was flattering. After three or four days of them yelling out at you and staring with absolutely no shame...things change. I am a little heartsick for some southern chivalry, if I'm honest.
To the people I have met though.
In every school there are going to be little closed off groups of people. Exclusives, outcasts, rebels, sillies. This is no exception. However, I've found that if you sit with them and just listen and laugh, they appreciate it, until you get clearance to speak even when you've not been asked a question. Then you become a part of them. I'm a roamer though, so I like having a part in every group.
I can't remember if I've told you about the Cafeteria situation yet, but I will anyway. At the school itself, there are people from everywhere: Romania, Georgia (the country), Brazil, the US, and Italy. So, when we sit down to eat and to talk, we speak a mix of languages. For example, when I am speaking, I speak in Spanish for the most part...mixing in the few Italian words I know, and asking in English if I am correct. And so if you were to come in and sit through a meal, you would hear a little bit of everything. French, Portuguese, Spanish, English and Italian. It's really cute. And I'm slowly accepting that instead of learning Italian, I'm going to learn whatever crazy mix I hear in the Cafeteria. (Just kidding, mom. I really am learning Italian)!
I can't believe it's been almost a week since I've been here. This time last week, I couldn't even imagine what it would be like waking up in Florence.
But I can't imagine waking up any other way now. With my arms outstretched, my toes pointed, my mouth curving in a smile, and my eyes waiting for the right moment to open and love this place all over again.
I still miss and love you,
Mary
One Italian saying I'm already loving, is that the morning was made for waking up slowly. Maybe so that you open your eyes when you're ready, or maybe so that you enjoy the sunshine coming in through your window. Sometimes laying in bed stretching is far more delicious than actual sleep itself. Whatever the reason may be, I agree with them. However, breakfast is at 7:30.
How contradictory of Italian culture this school is!...just kidding. The beautiful thing is, there is a cafe close by where you can get everything from pastries to martinis. Yes, they drink before noon here. In fact, I saw a lady come in and drink at 10:00 am.
This culture is nothing like American culture. And it is nothing like Guatemalan culture either. Italians and Florentines have a taste of their own.
I like food, so I'll try to explain it that way. Imagine seeing a bright fruit for the first time. Because of it's brightness, you would assume it ripe, and you would expect it to be sweet. So you buy some of the fruit, you go home, wash it, and eat one. You were right, it is in fact sweet. However, it has an aftertaste that you are not familiar with...not a bad one, just somewhat tangy and unexpected. The next day, you eat another one. It is sweeter then, and the aftertaste is more familiar. By the third day, the fruit is delicious, and the aftertaste takes up residence in your taste buds.
That is the best way I can describe how these people make you feel.
Not to say that I am completely convinced to become one of them in every sense though. There are still a couple of things I have not gotten used to. For example, they marry very late. I keep seeing men over here who are well over thirty who are still wandering around with no rush to get married. Maybe it was just my little American concept of Italians...but I thought they were really quick with these things. I guess there's not so much of a rush as I thought so. Not that I'm feeling rushed...or that I can even think about marriage right now, but I do see myself married before thirty.
Another thing, the men are very verbal. The first couple of days, it was flattering. After three or four days of them yelling out at you and staring with absolutely no shame...things change. I am a little heartsick for some southern chivalry, if I'm honest.
To the people I have met though.
In every school there are going to be little closed off groups of people. Exclusives, outcasts, rebels, sillies. This is no exception. However, I've found that if you sit with them and just listen and laugh, they appreciate it, until you get clearance to speak even when you've not been asked a question. Then you become a part of them. I'm a roamer though, so I like having a part in every group.
I can't remember if I've told you about the Cafeteria situation yet, but I will anyway. At the school itself, there are people from everywhere: Romania, Georgia (the country), Brazil, the US, and Italy. So, when we sit down to eat and to talk, we speak a mix of languages. For example, when I am speaking, I speak in Spanish for the most part...mixing in the few Italian words I know, and asking in English if I am correct. And so if you were to come in and sit through a meal, you would hear a little bit of everything. French, Portuguese, Spanish, English and Italian. It's really cute. And I'm slowly accepting that instead of learning Italian, I'm going to learn whatever crazy mix I hear in the Cafeteria. (Just kidding, mom. I really am learning Italian)!
I can't believe it's been almost a week since I've been here. This time last week, I couldn't even imagine what it would be like waking up in Florence.
But I can't imagine waking up any other way now. With my arms outstretched, my toes pointed, my mouth curving in a smile, and my eyes waiting for the right moment to open and love this place all over again.
I still miss and love you,
Mary
Friday, September 10, 2010
This place makes me so happy.
If you know me, you know part of the reason I am here, is to run away. If you don't know me, then now you do.
I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore in a place where I knew everyone and everyone knew me. In a place where I was expected to be...everything. At the same time. And I can't always be the strong one. I can't always be the one to rely on. Not that I don't want you to rely on me or anything. I'm glad and thankful for the people in my life back home, and I'm glad it's comfortable enough to share burdens. But I need some unburdening of my own.
A wise friend once told me that I'm a fixer. But as a fixer, I need to fix myself first before I can go out and change the world. I need to charge myself, make sure my connection is strong, that I'm on the right path. The path Upward.
Long story short, I was tired and weary. There were too many things for me to be able to process. And I love loving, but loving can drain the life out of you sometimes.
So I ended up here, 4000 miles away from my problems. And they're still here, sure. But I can unburden in peace by the cypress trees, with the grass between my toes, looking off into a city full of people to meet.
I mean, maybe the feeling will fade eventually, but right now, I feel like a little city girl going to the mountains for the first time. If I wouldn't look like such a silly little American, I would run through the yard with my hands in the air, laughing. Okay, I lied. I did that yesterday. It was just perfect. The combination of 75 degrees, with a breeze, a light heart, and a patch of sunshine overcame my sense of shame. And I ran and laughed and spun around in circles until I drove myself silly.
After the severe case of the giggles, I just laid there and looked up into the sky. It was as if God was sending out rays of I love yous in everything. In the calls of the strange birds that there are here. In the rose petals dancing in circles on the sidewalks. In the mountainside behind me. In the bluest sky I've ever seen. My little Guatemalan heart could have exploded with happiness. And I know it might not always be like this.
And running away doesn't solve any of my problems. Because later on at night, they kind of found their way back to me. It seems 4000 miles of ocean don't serve as 'do not cross' sign. But those 4000 miles of endless blue give me peace to think things out rationally, in my irrational mind.
So this morning, I woke up and sighed that happy little sigh of satisfaction. And I smiled before I opened my eyes, because I knew that when I would, there would be a balcony waiting for me to admire the beauty of this place. A place that makes me sing with happiness.
One of the things I love best about this place: These people love to love. They love to make you comfortable and familiar and at home. Everything is a "brava! bene!" And they say it...over and over and over again. Until you don't feel like such a foreigner. And you feel like you've been here forever.
That's not to say that I don't miss you, because I do. And if anything, I've grown closer to friends with this big gap of an ocean in between us. But. But. But. (like I said, Italians are repetitive). This is definitely the right place for me. Right now.
So, it's a little crazy. When have my decisions been sane? It's not normal?...this is me we're talking about. If it were normal and rational, I wouldn't be here. I was meant to live a life of adventure. Everyone has their own path. Some people stay in the same place forever, and there is nothing wrong with that. But with the gypsy hearts like mine (which is not so much of a gypsy anymore...I'll write on this later), you have to constantly be just a little bit uncomfortable. You have to learn and grow. And sometimes, the same place serves as a road block instead of an open door. So I hopped on the first plane that led to this door.
Don't worry. I'll be safe, and upright. I'm not going to jump into the deep end. I am just squeezing the life out of every opportunity I get.
So, I love you and miss you. But I'll get home eventually.
Right now though, it's time to love this place, and explore, and let the little girl inside me know it's going to be okay.
Love and blessing,
Mary
I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore in a place where I knew everyone and everyone knew me. In a place where I was expected to be...everything. At the same time. And I can't always be the strong one. I can't always be the one to rely on. Not that I don't want you to rely on me or anything. I'm glad and thankful for the people in my life back home, and I'm glad it's comfortable enough to share burdens. But I need some unburdening of my own.
A wise friend once told me that I'm a fixer. But as a fixer, I need to fix myself first before I can go out and change the world. I need to charge myself, make sure my connection is strong, that I'm on the right path. The path Upward.
Long story short, I was tired and weary. There were too many things for me to be able to process. And I love loving, but loving can drain the life out of you sometimes.
So I ended up here, 4000 miles away from my problems. And they're still here, sure. But I can unburden in peace by the cypress trees, with the grass between my toes, looking off into a city full of people to meet.
I mean, maybe the feeling will fade eventually, but right now, I feel like a little city girl going to the mountains for the first time. If I wouldn't look like such a silly little American, I would run through the yard with my hands in the air, laughing. Okay, I lied. I did that yesterday. It was just perfect. The combination of 75 degrees, with a breeze, a light heart, and a patch of sunshine overcame my sense of shame. And I ran and laughed and spun around in circles until I drove myself silly.
After the severe case of the giggles, I just laid there and looked up into the sky. It was as if God was sending out rays of I love yous in everything. In the calls of the strange birds that there are here. In the rose petals dancing in circles on the sidewalks. In the mountainside behind me. In the bluest sky I've ever seen. My little Guatemalan heart could have exploded with happiness. And I know it might not always be like this.
And running away doesn't solve any of my problems. Because later on at night, they kind of found their way back to me. It seems 4000 miles of ocean don't serve as 'do not cross' sign. But those 4000 miles of endless blue give me peace to think things out rationally, in my irrational mind.
So this morning, I woke up and sighed that happy little sigh of satisfaction. And I smiled before I opened my eyes, because I knew that when I would, there would be a balcony waiting for me to admire the beauty of this place. A place that makes me sing with happiness.
One of the things I love best about this place: These people love to love. They love to make you comfortable and familiar and at home. Everything is a "brava! bene!" And they say it...over and over and over again. Until you don't feel like such a foreigner. And you feel like you've been here forever.
That's not to say that I don't miss you, because I do. And if anything, I've grown closer to friends with this big gap of an ocean in between us. But. But. But. (like I said, Italians are repetitive). This is definitely the right place for me. Right now.
So, it's a little crazy. When have my decisions been sane? It's not normal?...this is me we're talking about. If it were normal and rational, I wouldn't be here. I was meant to live a life of adventure. Everyone has their own path. Some people stay in the same place forever, and there is nothing wrong with that. But with the gypsy hearts like mine (which is not so much of a gypsy anymore...I'll write on this later), you have to constantly be just a little bit uncomfortable. You have to learn and grow. And sometimes, the same place serves as a road block instead of an open door. So I hopped on the first plane that led to this door.
Don't worry. I'll be safe, and upright. I'm not going to jump into the deep end. I am just squeezing the life out of every opportunity I get.
So, I love you and miss you. But I'll get home eventually.
Right now though, it's time to love this place, and explore, and let the little girl inside me know it's going to be okay.
Love and blessing,
Mary
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Ciao from Italy!
So, my adventure has begun!
As I write, I am sitting in my delicious bed, inside of my 15th Century Villa of a dorm.
I will spare you the minute details of my travels so far, and just get to the highlights.
First things first: I am safe, and happy.
Flying was relatively easy. The only parts that were not my favorite were the flight from Pittsburgh to Paris, and maneuvering the Parisian airport. Other than that, it was the usual: jumping on a plane, smiling at my neighbor, and sleeping.
One fun story from the Parisian airport. I was waiting in my terminal, and went to buy a pastry. While there, a French young man behind me offered to pay for my meal. I thanked him and politely declined. His response: "Ahh! 'Taken' ruined the lives of European men!"
Now, if you haven't seen 'Taken' it is a movie about a teenage girl who gets abducted while traveling Europe. If you have seen "Taken," then you can imagine how hard it was for me to keep a straight face afterward.
Anyway.
When I finally made it to Florence, it had just finished raining. As I was looking out my window, I noticed that there was a rainbow forming. This made my heart smile. I felt as if God was re-asserting that fact that I am supposed to be here. I mean, the rainbow was originally a sign of a promise. Noah did as God instructed, and in turn got life, and bragging rights on continuing the human race. Now, I feel as if this is where I am supposed to be. This is God's will. And while coming to Italy may not seem like a huge sacrifice (you all obviously didn't see my parents in action trying to get all of this ready), there is always a need for ministry everywhere. I'm not exactly sure why I'm here yet (aside from the fact that it is beautiful), but it seems very right.
Anyway, after being picked up, I immediately went to lunch in the Cafeteria. It was absolutely incredible. They feed us like Spartans. Carbs, carbs, carbs...and a small salad.
I feel myself falling in love with this place more and more every second.
The places, the view, the people, the language--they are all incredible.
So far at Villa, everyone has treated me as if I've been here forever. And in a way, I kinda feel like I have. The way the shadows reflect the mountains. The way the sun shines over the hills. The autumn breeze that is beginning to kick in...it all feels so very much like home. Then, Tuesday morning, it hit me like a brick. There is this HUGE ocean separating me from the people I love the most. Thousands of miles of blue. I could feel the anxiety (and extreme jet lag) beginning to kick in, when I heard "Ciao Bella Maria! Vamos a mangiare!" from outside my balcony window.
Yes ladies, the time has come to speak of Italian/European men. Now, I originally came with every intention of being on a man diet. I didn't come to Italy to find men. But, they make it a little hard to not be noticed. They're not very good at being incognito. Picture this: the most charming, handsome men...with accents: that is my definition of Italian and European men so far. Now, that is subject to change and I am still very aware of their status as dangerous. But, when in Florence, and complimented...I think I'll take it, thanks. My diet is now under reconsideration.
Speaking of diets...
Americans have no concept whatsoever of Italian food. I will never again eat dominos or pizza hut or any of those places. And ice cream? That is nothing. Today I had Pizza at the Pizzeria that won World's best in 2002, and Gelato at the Gelateria where the Medici's are said to have frequented. Mama mia!!! My taste buds will never be the same. Just that made me want to go to the embassy and apply for residency.
I had the Pizza Regina, which is made with truffle oil, mushrooms, gorgonzola cheese, and basil. If your mouth isn't watering, you are not human.
Anyhow. I'll begin to post later about my friends so far and my roomie. But for now, my little fingers are tired, man! Also, I'm kind of new to this whole blogging deal, so lemme know if I'm not writing enough, or if I need to condense the information.
Love, miss, and bless you!
Mary
As I write, I am sitting in my delicious bed, inside of my 15th Century Villa of a dorm.
I will spare you the minute details of my travels so far, and just get to the highlights.
First things first: I am safe, and happy.
Flying was relatively easy. The only parts that were not my favorite were the flight from Pittsburgh to Paris, and maneuvering the Parisian airport. Other than that, it was the usual: jumping on a plane, smiling at my neighbor, and sleeping.
One fun story from the Parisian airport. I was waiting in my terminal, and went to buy a pastry. While there, a French young man behind me offered to pay for my meal. I thanked him and politely declined. His response: "Ahh! 'Taken' ruined the lives of European men!"
Now, if you haven't seen 'Taken' it is a movie about a teenage girl who gets abducted while traveling Europe. If you have seen "Taken," then you can imagine how hard it was for me to keep a straight face afterward.
Anyway.
When I finally made it to Florence, it had just finished raining. As I was looking out my window, I noticed that there was a rainbow forming. This made my heart smile. I felt as if God was re-asserting that fact that I am supposed to be here. I mean, the rainbow was originally a sign of a promise. Noah did as God instructed, and in turn got life, and bragging rights on continuing the human race. Now, I feel as if this is where I am supposed to be. This is God's will. And while coming to Italy may not seem like a huge sacrifice (you all obviously didn't see my parents in action trying to get all of this ready), there is always a need for ministry everywhere. I'm not exactly sure why I'm here yet (aside from the fact that it is beautiful), but it seems very right.
Anyway, after being picked up, I immediately went to lunch in the Cafeteria. It was absolutely incredible. They feed us like Spartans. Carbs, carbs, carbs...and a small salad.
I feel myself falling in love with this place more and more every second.
The places, the view, the people, the language--they are all incredible.
So far at Villa, everyone has treated me as if I've been here forever. And in a way, I kinda feel like I have. The way the shadows reflect the mountains. The way the sun shines over the hills. The autumn breeze that is beginning to kick in...it all feels so very much like home. Then, Tuesday morning, it hit me like a brick. There is this HUGE ocean separating me from the people I love the most. Thousands of miles of blue. I could feel the anxiety (and extreme jet lag) beginning to kick in, when I heard "Ciao Bella Maria! Vamos a mangiare!" from outside my balcony window.
Yes ladies, the time has come to speak of Italian/European men. Now, I originally came with every intention of being on a man diet. I didn't come to Italy to find men. But, they make it a little hard to not be noticed. They're not very good at being incognito. Picture this: the most charming, handsome men...with accents: that is my definition of Italian and European men so far. Now, that is subject to change and I am still very aware of their status as dangerous. But, when in Florence, and complimented...I think I'll take it, thanks. My diet is now under reconsideration.
Speaking of diets...
Americans have no concept whatsoever of Italian food. I will never again eat dominos or pizza hut or any of those places. And ice cream? That is nothing. Today I had Pizza at the Pizzeria that won World's best in 2002, and Gelato at the Gelateria where the Medici's are said to have frequented. Mama mia!!! My taste buds will never be the same. Just that made me want to go to the embassy and apply for residency.
I had the Pizza Regina, which is made with truffle oil, mushrooms, gorgonzola cheese, and basil. If your mouth isn't watering, you are not human.
Anyhow. I'll begin to post later about my friends so far and my roomie. But for now, my little fingers are tired, man! Also, I'm kind of new to this whole blogging deal, so lemme know if I'm not writing enough, or if I need to condense the information.
Love, miss, and bless you!
Mary
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