R.T.D. in Italia

One Year, One Month, Twelve Days Later...

2010-05-12T16:02:00.002-04:00

I’m heading back to Rome.

Despite my hiatus from blogging (which directly correlates to my return to the U.S.) I still kept tabs on my favorite blogs. One of them, the Olive Notes, posted a story entitled ‘Back to It’ in which she reflects on writing and her blog. It got me thinking about mine, how my inspiration for writing and my love of life doesn’t seem as focused as it was in Italy. It could be a combination of my American lifestyle, my career, a new direction in my love of life. I use the excuse that I don’t have time anymore (partially true) but more than anything else I feel as if I fallen back into a comfort level in which I don’t get the most out of life. My ever-loving girlfriend (A) is really the only one that keeps me on track with that. I constantly let myself slide.

With that said, I’m getting back into life…starting with my blog. It was initiated as a way to keep friends and family in touch with my life in Rome but morphed into a reflection pool somewhere along the way, one that I direly miss swimming in. I thought it appropriate to start anew with my trip back to the Eternal City. Our impending flight tonight to Rome has the emotional and intellectual juices flowing. There’s so much to see (again) and even much more to relive. Old friends and family are waiting, familiar dishes to be rediscovered, millennia-old streets to trail blaze repeatedly…Rome has seized me once again. Beyond our trip, we now live in the Upper East Side of Manhattan and there’s a whole other city (neighborhood included) to explore and immerse ourselves in. It’s only a two week vacation for A & I but it’s a catalyst. There’s no time like the present.

I’ve spent the last few nights reading old posts of mine and reflecting on where I’ve been, where I’m going, and who/what has shaped me along the way. At 25 I can say that I know who I am, what I want, and whom I want it with (appropriate use of whom?). In reading these old posts I thought about the questions I posed to myself upon returning stateside. I’ve since found a job I’m very happy with and started living a life that has me waking up a gracious man every day. There were questions about friendship and what friends meant to me. I constantly referred to my rooftop, of which I now have one here in NYC (not the same character though). I think about on my posts on positives and negatives of Rome, the beaches, weekend trips around Europe (I never posted on my friend’s wedding in Romania…epic), my family, school, summer, lifestyle…..I love it. I thought back to my guest post for The Lost Girls and how I loved the concept of getting ‘lost’ (congrats to them on the release of their new book and Warner Bros. contracting movie rights to their story). Also, I noticed a theme in many of my posts, with some reference to drinking, either while writing, during sometime in the near past/future, or heading to an alcohol establishment. It’s something I’ll look into.

My blog needs a facelift, I know, and it’s something I’ll work on when I return stateside. Reading Joe’s Italyville and Lisa’s LLWorldTour on a consistent basis gives me a sense of what AOL must have felt like when Google & Yahoo came along. I can’t promise it will be high tech but I can promise my writing will be as insightful (and long winded) as ever.

Love it or hate it…. I’m back

A Week of Firsts

2009-02-08T12:18:00.000-05:00

I reach back through the last seven days (technically nine since I’m including Friday Jan. 30^th) and realize that it truly has been a week of many firsts for me. It makes me think of the old adage “you learn something new every day”. Well, this past week plus I’ve seen, tried, met and/or encountered something new. Much of it revolves around my roommate’s newfound schoolboy crush on a Saudi Arabian woman. I start with the most embarrassing and go as follows:

Hurt my ankle playing frisbee
Learned a few Arabic words
Befriended a group of Saudi girls
Saw my first movie of the year (yeah, a stretch)
Cappuccino milkshake
Ate at ‘Da Francesco’, a trattoria I’ve been wanting to ever since I moved to Rome
Drank a ‘Montenegro’
Met the Saudi Arabian ambassador to the Holy See (and received an invite to dinner at their house)
Used ‘Tiger Balm’ (some Chinese version of Bengay but much more powerful)
Tried ‘cacio e pepe’…a traditional Roman dish that I have since fallen in love with

What firsts have you experienced of lately??

"One Dozen Please" - Nearing the End

2009-02-02T12:41:00.002-05:00

I haven’t done a post like this since before my move to Rome and figured it appropriate with my time here coming to an end sooner than later. I have chosen my return flight back to the states for good so don’t be surprised if the rest of my posts here are nostalgia themed or have some kind of reference such as “I remember when…” or “Back in…”. In reading Joe’s last post from Italyville it discussed his three biggest Italian pet peeves. If you get a chance read it because I couldn’t agree more with him, although I would’ve thrown in the way Americans pronounce ‘manicotti’ as well. I have decided to take my ‘one dozen’ and split them; half of what I will miss most about Rome and half of what I can’t wait to get away from. If my memory doesn’t fail I’ll try and do an update days before I leave and compare. So without further rambling…

The Good
1. ‘Those Nights’ – You ever have such a great time with your friends, families, complete strangers…whomever…that you refer to as ‘one of those nights’. A smile creeps across your face whenever you begin to rehash the irreplaceable memories that were made throughout the course of the evening. This past Saturday was one of ‘those nights’ for me and I think I had just as much fun rehashing it the next morning with my roommate than I did actually enjoying it the night before.
2. Food – Getting tired of Italian cooking is a myth and during some of my harsher moods I may consider it blasphemy should you utter such a statement. Yes, it’s always nice to grab a hamburger every now and then but it’s for a chance of pace, to keep your taste buds guessing. I will never get tired of delicious food.
3. Lifestyle – This can completely ruin your day at times, considering Italians’ general lack of urgency, care, interest, and thought among topics that some Americans consider dire to survival. The moment you let yourself go you’ll realize that falling into Italian lifestyle is not only a necessity to getting the most of your time in Italy, you find more happiness in the little things (at least I do). Of course there are parts of Italian lifestyle that drive me crazy (see “The Bad” below) but I’ve come to accept them as daily routine and I get the better out of it for my acceptance.
4. Friends – This year I’ve spent living in Rome has created another life for me. When I look back on the past twelve months I will forever refer to them as “The time I lived in Rome…” They wouldn’t be what they are without my roommate and all the friends I’ve made in the process. Some friends will remain with me for life and some will fade away when I move back to NY, but they are the catalysts that shaped my experience.
5. Rooftop – From the surprise party I threw my roommate to the countless summer days (and nights) it will be difficult to part with my rooftop terrace and all it has to offer.
6. Intangibles – As I depart Rome so ends a year of all the necessary smiles and frowns, thoughts and expressions, and trials and tribulations that shaped my experience. Not so much the memories but something that I feel, the changes present in me…the intangibles. I couldn’t have asked for more.

The Bad
1. Public Transportation – to even begin to get into this explanation will no doubt leave my laptop’s monitor with a hole the size of my fist through it. Third world public transportation puts ATAC to shame, seriously. I asked the driver the other day if the bus stopped near a certain part of town and he told me just to get on and we’ll see. He was too busy listening to the Roma soccer game to answer my question. That was after I waited 45 minutes for a bus that is supposed to arrive every 15 minutes.
2. Italians walking – I believe I may have commented on this before and many people find it adorable to watch old men strolling with their hands behind their backs or little kids walking to school, and it is. But Italians, Romans especially, have this disease that forces them to, despite having most of the sidewalk to themselves, walk directly at you or change course to make sure they cut you off. Maybe they’re so used to driving that way that they find it necessary to walk as such also. My Roman friend put it best, “We’re always in the way…always”.
3. Sexism – I find this more comical then anything else, so I guess I could have categorized it in the ‘Good’ section. It doesn’t matter when you sit down at a restaurant, if you walk into a café first, what order you’re in on line at the mercato…if attractive women are present just get used to the fact that you’re getting served after them. Yesterday I saw a barista stop the order he was fulfilling for a group of old men to service two extremely attractive young women who had walked in.
4. Poor Service – Italians are noted for their food, yes, but certainly not for their service. I don’t mind waiting to receive my food. I actually really like the fact that when you sit down to dinner it’s a whole ordeal that takes all night. What I don’t like is when they bring you the wrong order, forget what your order was, get agitated when you ask for cheese, or spill beer on you and then yell at you when you complain to them about it.
5. Money – Rome is an expensive city, and that’s coming from a New Yorker. Combine the fact that you’re spending in euro & your wallet is empty.
6. Cleanliness – Romans take their city for granted. The way in which they treat Rome is ridiculous sometimes. That can be said for many major cities around the world but the more I travel the more I realize that this city is dirty, and the Romans don’t have a care in the world about trying to clean it up. Foreigners take better care of the city then its inhabitants do. I’m sure to catch some flack for this one.

*Receiving an honorable mention for the ‘Bad’ of Rome is the noise my roommate makes when eating. It sounds like feeding time at the watering hole. He’s going to give me hell for this one.

Recapping Life

2009-01-20T12:04:00.004-05:00

If you’ve never watched the television series “How I Met Your Mother” I suggest you give it a try. One of the main characters, Neil Patrick Harris, always seems to comment about his blog. It got my thinking about mine, or should I say my cobweb ridden one. My last post was in September and there are many things that people have been asking me about. It may not be the most personal but the best way to solve this is to recap life so enjoy the bulleted version of the last five months.

September
My last post was in September so why not start there….
-I spent a long weekend visiting Krakow, Poland. To date it has been my favorite city that I visited in Europe so far. This will be the new Prague of Eastern Europe. It’s a clean city with fabulous architecture. Krakow is rich in history, universities, culture and the landscape has escaped tourist overload. Enjoy the food and friendly (yet not very engaging) Poles. We also spent a day at Auschwitz-Birkenau and whatever I write will not do the history that both places hold justice.

October
-This month was not nearly as eventful as September. Between my trip to Poland and the surprise birthday party I threw my roommate on the roof of our apartment building there was a lot to top. Also, I was in full swing with one of the most stressful terms I’ve had in studying. Not only was the workload enormous but I would be missing the last week of school because I was heading back to NY for a week to see family and friends. I felt slighted when I went home in July for my friend’s wedding, only getting four days to take off (and those included travel time). This made it necessary for me to not only stay diligent with my school work (extremely hard in Rome) but I needed to stay a week ahead of schedule in order to pull this off. Constant presentations, case studies, a night time job, and perfect Frisbee weather drained me mentally and physically.

-My week in NY was spent doing…yup…absolutely nothing. I visited friends, spent time with my family, and even made it into the city for a party my friends planned for me at a karaoke bar in midtown. During this trip I got to see my parent’s new puppy for the first time. If you can recall my dog Riley died in July. My parents had decided that they wanted to get another dog and they pulled the trigger when they got back to the U.S. after visiting me in August. Her name is Bella and she’s an English cream Golden Retriever. This is the first female dog we’ve ever had so my parents anticipate a much calmer, smaller Golden (or at least they hope). I’d be lying if I said it was an extremely sad moment to step out of the car for the first time and not have Riley run out the front door to greet me.

November
-Thanksgiving…enough said. My roommate made his first trip out of Italy since moving here two and a half years ago (the U.S. excluded) when joining my friends and I for Thanksgiving in Prague. I must have an affinity for Eastern Europe and Prague was no different in the place it will hold in my memories. To justify its rank to all the other places I’ve visited is impossible, as both Croatia and Poland have their own charms equally. Throughout my trip I tried some of the best beer my taste buds have been privileged to enjoy, inhaled a traditional Thanksgiving dinner (turkey, potatoes, pie, etc.), soaked up Prague’s infamous nightlife, explored its history, and befriended numerous Czechs (one of which is visiting next month). Did I mention the night I was locked out of my apartment by the immovable object that was my roommate or the Christmas market debacle?? If you ever get this scenic city remember to take note of the best architecture in Europe (the rumors are true) and try a chicken sandwich from the street. It comes on a roll the size of a hamburger bun but the chicken cutlet is the size of a Frisbee.

December
-I spent the first half of this month looking forward to the second half. Midway through December I boarded a plan bound for JFK and was lucky enough to spend the next month on Long Island, enjoying the holidays with my family. While home, in typical American fashion, I couldn’t just sit on my ass so I waited and bartended for O’Reilly’s Pub and Restaurant. They deserve the name drop for allowing me to make some money and all the free beer, so there you go. The weeks spent with my family will stay with me forever because, well, they’re memories with the most important people in my life. Why would they not stay with me? I also got to spend an absorbent amount of time getting scratched and bitten by Bella while wrestling with her on the floor of the den (or outside in the snow). I don’t need memories with her. The scars across my arms fill that hole and are a constant reminder that she’s still a puppy. There are countless more stories that scripted themselves during my stay at home and some of them have yet to have a conclusion penned. I guess these unfinished memories were the catalysts for the calming yet anticipatory feeling that occupied me on my return flight to Rome. There’s so much more waiting for me when I get back…

January
-Currently I’m back in Rome at my friend’s apartment waiting to actually eat something today. Two cappuccinos, no matter how Italian you are, do not constitute a meal at any point in time and it’s six at night so you can imagine the flagrant words coming from my stomach. I’ve preoccupied my thoughts of lately with my impending finish here in Rome (not food despite what you may think). What am I going to do when I finish in March?? Where am I going to go?? Straight back to the U.S. or do I travel?? For how long?? As of now I do not have a return ticket to NY so it seems like an open playing field. There is one thing I do know for sure…I made a promise and I plan on keeping to it. Who are we without our word and integrity -- That’s where I leave you…

Disgruntled about Everything (mainly football)

2008-09-16T08:31:00.002-04:00

I thought I may be able to get through my entire stay in Rome without venting in any of my posts. Mission failed. The title might be a little misleading but I’m in a sort of rut. It feels like things have been working against me of lately and it’s built up to the point where they need to be addressed without yelling at the top of my lungs. This upcoming weekend’s trip to Poland couldn’t have come at a better town but even in my current state of malaise I’m not as excited as I probably should be. So…in neatly bulleted format with a few laughs thrown in…here’s what’s been grinding my gears:

Café Settimiano: The local coffee shop prides itself on serving the students of John Cabot University. Plenty of my friends frequent the spot and many of them are friendly with the owner, who they claim to be such a generously nice man. If he’s so nice how come every time I go there (and I never go there alone anymore) with my friends I always, ALWAYS catch an attitude from him?!? It’s become such a dismal scene for me that I’ll meet my friends there but I refuse to buy anything from the café. Just the other day I ordered a cappuccino and macchiato for my friend and I, drank mine at the bar and left his there while he went to get his attention outside. He stated he didn’t want it so I went back in to get it for myself and PUFF…it was gone. When I asked where my macchiato was I had the barista telling me that I shouldn’t wait so long to drink it (a grand total of 20 seconds) and that he took it away. Naturally, I told him that was ridiculous and to make another one immediately. I paused for a second, debating whether or not to peg him in the face with the glass but I really needed the caffeine and didn’t feel like wasting a euro on this tool.

NFL Officials favoritism towards the Patriots: This has been going on for years now and I thought it might end now that Tom Brady is injured but nope, it keeps on rolling. Granted, many teams play as if they’re expected to lose to the Patriots, as my Jets did yesterday, only facilitating the issue but there always seems to be the one point in the game where the Pats need a game turning event and it’s normally provided in the form of a blatantly favored officiating call (i.e. – their ‘roughing the passer’ call yesterday in the fourth quarter on 3rd down). This is football, not chess, and I pretty sure they were going to throw the flag if the lineman breathed on Cassell. It made me want to hurl my bottle of beer at the television and knockout the Pats fan next to me (the anger only applies to sports, I promise). It’s like watching the Bulls when Jordan played. The zebras should be ashamed of themselves.

Italians walking: The only time I swerve when walking is on the way home from the bar, although some may challenge me on that. I’ve accepted and adapted to the fact that all Italians, even in a major city such as Rome, are outpaced by tortoise when walking through the streets. Cultural difference noted and compromised. But I am CONVINCED, without a shred of doubt in my mind that they purposely walk in front of you, towards you or in any possible manner that they could get in your way. They do it on purpose, this is not an exaggeration, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. Not a day goes by that I’ll be walking along the sidewalk, see two ahead of me coming in my direction and kindly move to whichever direction will allow us to pass each other amicably. But oh no!!! At a distance of no greater then five feet they’ll begin to make a b-line straight for whatever path your walking in, stopping face to face with you and putting their hands up as I should have been able to read their mind and know that they were going to cut me off. I could’ve moved to the sidewalk on the other side of the street and they would have doubled back to cut me off. Unreal! I know you’re reading this laughing to yourself but I swear on my most valuable possessions there is a 100% truth rating to this. Anger in check and all, one day I will toss an Italian into the middle of the road for doing it if they complain to me.

St. John’s University: Yes, you’re reading this correctly. We’ve moved into a palatial new campus and that’s not an exaggeration. It’s an actual old palazzo, and I love the campus…great neighborhood (Prati), plenty of amenities and nearby shops, and easily accessible. The issue is that ever since we’ve moved here the internet has been spotty at best. You’ll have signal for a minute and then be without it for three. It’s frustrating beyond all explanation, especially when you’re paying enough money to own a small island just to study here. When internet is an integral part of your coursework and communication with your professors just imagine the hindrance generated when you can’t access it. That’s the thorn in my side on this end of the Atlantic. I won’t even begin to get into what a nightmare it is to deal with my Financial Aid office at the New York campus, since all of my finances are handled there. They didn’t even know we had a Rome campus! They’re constantly calling my parents telling them that I have to come in and sign paperwork and fill out forms because of past due payments made. Upon graduation I may send each person in that office a helmet and some swimmies.

I’m sick: This is the icing on the cake that’s perpetuating this terrible mood I’m in. My last post was all about the difference in summer season for me here in Rome, and how I still feel like I’m in the summer. Wow did that come back to bite me in the ass. It rained all weekend here in Rome and the temperature dropped significantly. [side note – Doesn’t that always seem to happen?? It doesn’t rain forever and then when the clouds open up it feels like it’s always late Friday afternoon and they don’t close until late Sunday night, just in time for a sunny work week??] The last time I saw rain in Rome was the end of May and just like that fall reaches out and grabs your shoulder. I wore a hooded sweatshirt yesterday!! I guess I could tack the weather onto what’s pissing me off of lately as well. In the interest of time and sanity I’ve listed a few, less aggressive thorns in my side…

- Weather patterns: really, it changed in the blink of an eye
- Noise: it’s normally quiet on my block and surrounding it but lately everyone and their grandmother has a jackhammer or their car alarm is going off at 1 a.m.
- Political questions: I don’t like talking politics at home with Americans. What makes every foreigner think I want to talk about our presidential race with them? It’s impossible to have an amicable debate about politics with anyone.

P.S. -- In reading over my post now that I’m finished, as I do with every one I write, I realize this is a full on ‘bitch session’. Thank you for taking the time to read it and I apologize because I can’t give you back the seven to ten minutes you lost in your life. First round is on me next time we meet. I’m currently listening to the song “I’ll Keep Your Memory Vague” by Finger Eleven and it has a soothing quality to me that’s making me feel much better so maybe that eases the reading somewhat. Download it…

Counting Down Summer

2008-09-08T12:03:00.002-04:00

Generally the official end of summer is represented by Labor Day weekend. Since I’m not in the U.S. and it’s still scorching hot here in Rome I am officially extending summer throughout the month of September. Just this past weekend I spent my Saturday at the beach in Sperlonga, an ancient Roman resort town that still gushes beautiful beaches and an equally beautiful landscape. We took the train from Rome’s main Termini station and the trip itself is about an hour and fifteen minutes, getting off at the Fiondi station. From there we have to take a bus for 20 minutes or so to Sperlonga. The water and beach quality is considerably better then the closer Roman beaches and it’s a great time to just get out of the city.

By the time we got home and showered it was a little past 9 at night. After a quick dinner I decided to take a nap before heading out for the night. Around one in the morning I headed out to Avenue, an outdoor club located on the hill adjacent to Palatine hill. I got there around 1:30 and my friend was already behind the turntables, hard at work. The place was packed out for the night, sporting between 2500 & 3000 people at the height of the night. Besides being one of the best clubs in Rome the place was so crowded because there was a special event taking place. Madonna was in Rome for a concert that night and at the end of the concert her resident DJ, DJ Enferno, came to the club and spun a set from 2 until about 3:30 in the morning. Since my friend had to stay with DJ Enferno while he did his set in case something went wrong with the equipment he invited me to hang with him in the roped off area. After a few cigars and free booze I concluded that it was a solid night...but the night was only beginning. When he finished his set DJ Enferno invited my friend and I to hang out for the rest of the night in the roped off area the club had set up for him and the rest of Madonna’s entourage that had joined him at the club. A few of her dancers, managers and band members were already knee deep in bottles of vodka, Dom and plenty of women when we arrived. We were joined by a friend of mine who owns the company that promoted the event and I spent the next two hours enjoying a lifestyle that I only read about in Maxim.

The club closed around 5:30 and there was only one thing to do then…breakfast. We called our friend met up with him, DJ Enferno, Madonna’s guitarist, manager and a few girls from the club earlier at a 24 hour bar in Piazza Venezia. I took time to step back and scan the table and look at all the people before me: DJ, guitarist, manager, promoter, Victoria’s Secret model, another model, DJ, another model and then student (that’s me for those of you slow on the uptake). It was another one of those moments. Before I knew it the night turned into morning and the sun had risen over Rome while I was wishing some a safe flight to Hamburg and others a safe trip home. When my head finally met my pillow I thought that my clock was broken or maybe it was because I was looking at it angled but it seemed to show quarter after 7. If my phone didn’t ring at 1:30 that afternoon I was convinced I could’ve slept until dinner time. Who said summer was over? I’m counting down the days of 'estate' while I enjoy the Eternal City…

A Familyar Tone (La Costa d’Amalfi)

2008-09-03T11:52:00.004-04:00

Aug. 20
I did not wake early enough to catch the sun rise over the hills but I did take some time to enjoy the view and snap some last minute photos before we packed and headed back along the A1 towards our next destination. As we attempted to pack the car, much to Sergio’s amusement, I handed him the multiple steaks we still had left over from dinner the previous night. Truth of the matter was he had a grill for which he could cook them on and we didn’t…buon appetito. We didn’t take the same way back to the A1 as we did coming to town but hey, who doesn’t like trailblazing through Tuscany? We entered the A1 through Orvieto and, if you have the pleasure of driving past, make sure to keep your eyes open. It’s a picturesque Tuscan village set atop a lonely hill worthy of a postcard.

We finally were on the highway (excuse me, autostrada) speeding towards our next and final destination, the Amalfi Coast. It took us a solid four+ hours to reach Naples and begin our treacherous drive along the infamous coastal roads. We were staying in the town of Praiano, nestled along the coast between the two more recognizable towns of Positano and Amalfi. I was eager to redeem myself from the steak debacle the previous night so, being the navigator, I proposed going in the back way towards Praiano instead of entering via Salerno and spending most of the drive on the seductive yet painfully arduous SS163, running the whole coastline. We successfully navigated our way towards Sorrento then down to the south coastline and eventually heading east towards Praiano no thanks to Google Maps. Our choice of accommodation for this stay was Hotel Onda Verde. I’ll get my review out of the way immediately: beautiful location, nice amenities, large rooms, quiet yet comfortable atmosphere, and solid local feel. Unfortunately they were extremely poor in the service area. Since we were tired from travel we decided to eat at their restaurant for dinner instead of trekking through town. The food was delicious but there were problems with the bill, as they attempted to charge us an extra 5% service charge, which left us with a sour taste heading to bed.

Aug. 21
Up early and full from breakfast we made our way street side to wait for the SITA bus to Positano. Today we planned on visiting the island of Capri, home of some of the most breathtaking views eyes are privileged to (not to mention some solid Limoncello). As we travelled along SS163 in the bus we all got the feeling that our driver must have been a Formula 1 driver in is former years. You need nerves of steel to drive a hatchback on this road and he’s at the helm of a bus barreling down two way streets that barely fit one car. We didn’t think the 10:00am ferry to Capri was possible but with Andretti at the wheel and our expert descending skills we managed to navigate down the hillside of Positano with time to spare. Before long we were seated topside enjoying the sunshine and view as we made our way towards Capri. My uncle and I were offered seats by a newly engaged Italian couple. Antonio had his doctorate in economics and worked for the government in conjunction with the EU’s economics department. His fiancée, Maria Louisa, was as sweet as she was stunning and explained that they were a group of ten (family) scattered among the boat on vacation. It was refreshing to be immersed in an Italian conversation amongst new friends, at it had been a while since my last opportunity.

We arrived at Capri’s main harbor and made a b-line for Capri Time Boats. It was the best euro that came out of my wallet last year in Capri, as we received a 2 ½ hour private boat ride around the island, complete with stops in multiple grottos and a swim in the ‘Grotto Verde’. We were greeted with disappointment as the manager stated he did not have any boats available at the moment. As if he had choreographed the move he immediately ended his sentence and presented a cell phone to his ear. Great news…his friend could take us on his boat and the coast for the seven of us would be €30 euro each, €5 euro more then the previous. I would’ve paid €50 for the experience and this year’s was even better, as the trip lasted almost three hours, made a few more stops to swim and gave us all the free drinks and booze we wanted.

[side note – Nastro Azzurro and swimming in the waters of Capri actually will not make you sick…it’s the subsequent ending of the boat ride and the attempt to stand on solid ground that messes up your equilibrium, true story…]

After thanking our friend profusely for an excellent adventure in his boat we made our way towards the nearest restaurant in a hasty fashion. More beer was out of the question for me but food is always welcomed. From lunch we hailed a taxi to the top part of Capri town for an afternoon of uneventful shopping but certainly intense exercising and people dodging through the mountainous and crowded streets. Catching the 5:30 ferry back to Positano, we weighed our options as far as dinner was concerned and found it better to do some light shopping in town and eat back in Praiano. Upon waiting for the bus to arrive we were greeted with the time honored Italian tradition of not lining up, arriving at the last minute and consequently expecting to be the first on the bus as if you owned the damn thing. To my uncle’s credit, for all the pushing, shoving and yelling he endured from Italians for having the audacity to arrive early and wait in line like a decent human being, he held out much longer then expected before firing back at them. It’s a physical deficiency among Italian genetics…they just can’t form a line on which to wait like proper individuals and subsequently berate you should you attempt to do so. This group had no idea what they were getting into, given the sheer size and strength of my uncle. Congrats to Uncle-Scotcho for keeping his cool…the gold star goes to you sir.

Despite the antiquated website ‘Il Pirata’ was a solid dining experience. Located along the cliff side beneath our hotel, the restaurant sported a solid wine list and menu. After dinner we took a walk along the water towards the cove that impersonated a beach during the day for locals. As it turns out there were a few shops and three restaurants the personalized the cove and provided it with some bustling nightlife. Another night for sure…

Aug. 22
Our group had dubbed Friday Amalfi/Ravello day. The cook (yes, the cook) had informed us when we arrived that the road between Praiano and Amalfi was closed do to a fire that caused a rock slide along the hill. There were buses that ran between the two towns but instead of the normal 15-20 minute ride the bus was required to go around and come from the other direction, taking well over two hours. I wouldn’t really call that an option so we headed down towards the cove where the water taxi ‘La Sibilla’ docked and departed for Amalfi. After 45 minutes and €15 euro we were standing on the pier of Amalfi, scanning the panoramic view of this epic coastal town. Instead of describing objects as extremely beautiful I should just call them ‘amalfi’. Up and down the main strip with purchases such as ceramic dishes and old fashioned hanging lights provided for a perfect storyline in our memories. We ducked in and out of the countless liquor stores sporting an abundant variety of limoncellos as well as a plethora of alternative fruit and crème liquors. Numerous enotecas and trinket shops occupied the remaining storefronts, giving Amalfi’s main street the flair of tourism heaven. Even I joined the act, thanks to the never ending generosity of the ‘rents, touting a leather-bound journal with the Maltese cross (also the official symbol of Amalfi) stamped in wax on the front cover.

In my personal opinion it’s a criminal act to visit Amalfi and not take a day trip to Ravello. This town sits atop cliffs that overlook the Amalfi Coast as well as a valley to the north side, sporting a small and cozy community with plenty of restaurants and touristy shops but not an overwhelming amount. I never got the in-your-face touristy vibe I have received from so many other towns when visiting Ravello. This was my second stint at this coastal oasis and I got to see another wedding taking place at the main church in town. What a place to celebrate one of the most important days of your life and, as with the previous I had the pleasure of watching, it was ending at Villa Cimbrone. Villa Cimbrone is the pearl of Ravello’s essence. To date this Eden has provided me the most impressive coastal landscape. It hurts to get on that bus and head back down the mountain.

We made our way to the pier a solid half and hour before the arrival of the taxi so as not to miss it and to relax. It gave me time to reflect, not only on our day in Amalfi, but on the trip as a whole. The next day we would be checking out and leaving paradise for ancient ruins and eventually back to Roma. I sat atop the second level of the pier staring out at a peninsula and the sun fading behind it. My family was front and center on the lower tier, soaking in our last moments. For me that moment grabbed hold of everything that I felt throughout the trip, everything I felt during my stay in Rome, everything that means everything to me. Family truly is the most important piece of my life and I couldn’t fathom having any other relationship then the close-knit one we have now. They mean too much to me and the best parts of my life, the brightest memories always involve them.

Instead of being wiped from a day of two towns and countless hills we were invigorated by the sadness of it being our last night on the Amalfi Coast. We wanted to make the best of it and we did. Despite not having a huge appetite we were in the need for some food. Wine was more of a priority and we set out with three bottles in hand looking for a restaurant. We were drawn back to the cove where we ended up settling down at Alfonso a Mare. I asked the owner if it was alright if we brought our own wine and he said it wouldn’t be a problem. He noticed we brought three bottles and quickly set our party of seven in the corner away from everyone else. Smart move on his part. As a show of good faith we offered for him and the waitress to join us in a glass and while our waitress refused the owner was more then happy to taste some Super Tuscans from Banfi. They went well with the brick oven pizzas we ordered for the table. A few hours of good food and better wine made for more of a saunter then a walk back to the hotel. Walking up the steps towards our room I paused to gaze out of the glistening coast, one last good night to paradise.

Aug. 23
I packed the previous night in anticipation for an early checkout. By now we were experts at packing the Fiat and at times it looked like we actually new from the get-go that it would be that crammed in the car. We were veterans at sharing space and my uncle had become a veteran behind the wheel. Donning sunglasses, an orange scarf wrapped around his head like a burqa veil and a FDNY hat, I could only draft comparisons to a 21st century Red Baron in drag. We came around the north end of the coast and exited out towards Pompei (its present day spelling), a city lost to the world for over a thousand years. Talk about poor luck, as the inhabitants of the city were still rebuilding from an earthquake that devastated the area in A.D. 62 when Mount Vesuvius erupted on the morning of August 23, A.D. 79 to swallow the city in fiery ash and lava. Pompei is a city best researched beforehand, or at least taken with one of the audio guides or official tour guides. There’s so much to see and for me to describe it without being able to visually put the words to objects would be a waste. This was my second trip to Pompei and I asked myself the same questions as the first. Why would you build the new city directly around the old, used to be covered in lava, Pompei and even closer to Vesuvius. I understand that the volcano has been labeled ‘inactive’ but I don’t trust that for one second because I feel measurements like that are unattainable and, as well all know, nature can be unpredictable. Looking back at Vesuvius I still have trouble wrapping my head around the fact that scientists believe the volcano was more then three times the size it is today when it erupted almost 2000 years ago. That’s scary to think about let along build a town next to. What the ancient Greeks did for port cities huh?

It was time to say goodbye to Pompei and hello to lunch at the Autogrill along the A1. The chicken sandwiches deserve at least two stars and filled me up for the rest of the day. My family was leaving the next day for NY and they booked the Marriot in Fiumicino near the airport so it would be smooth sailing the next morning when departing. We made our way along the G.R.A. and autostrada until I could see our exit for Via Portuese. The smooth sailing was interrupted by a closed exit, THE exit we need to take, and why in the world I expected there to be a detour sign is beyond me. That makes way too much sense for the Italians. We spent the next 15 minutes trailblazing, during which we enjoyed pleasant views of a military base, unfinished highways and gas stations. Forced to ask for directions, we turned around and found Via Portuense, following it to our ultimate destination.

Is there anyone that’s really good at goodbyes because if there is kudos to them. It’s a difficult task to master. So in the hugs and tears at the hotel I instead choose to say, “I’ll see you later” alluding to my return to NY in December for the holidays and possibly even in October for a week. My uncle, father, mother and I headed to Fiumicino airport to return the car and, seeing as they had some time to wait for the shuttle back to the hotel, we decided to grab a drink at the bar. When we hugged and kissed for the last time before I headed towards the train station and back into Trastevere. There’s only so much you can say to explain your feelings...the smile on my face said it all. See you soon...

A Familyar Tone (Roma & Toscana)

2008-09-01T07:55:00.008-04:00

It’s been a week since my family departed home for New York. For my parents it was there third time here in Italy. For my aunt, uncle and sister-in-law’s parents, it was their first experience. For all of us, it was a memorable ten days.

Aug. 15
As with the first time I greeted my family at Rome’s Fiumicino airport, I stood at the crowded arrival gate with a piece of paper held high in the crowd. The paper displayed my last name and the ‘cognome’ of my aunt and uncle. The four of them came in on the same flight and we waited for my sister-in-law’s parents to arrive what was supposed to be 30 minutes later. I had woken up at 4:30 in the morning to check the status of their flights, since they were supposed to arrive at 7:30. Their flight had been delayed at least three hours because of poor weather in NY (thank you flightaware.com). I instantly saw them and noticed they were plus one in numbers. My friend from school mentioned to me that her girlfriend was visiting and happened to be taking the same flight so I told her to meet up with my family and we’d give her a lift back into the city center. All in all, we ended up leaving the airport a little after 1 pm!! Welcome to Italy on Ferragosto!

My family was running on adrenaline, checking into their B&B in Trastevere and immediately departing for an impromptu tour of Circo Massimo, the Colosseum and Palatine Hill. The beauty and awe never escapes me every time I visit historical sites in Rome. I close my eyes and imagine 300,000 Romans sitting in Circo on marble slabs, 50,000 shouting at the top of their lungs for their favorite gladiator, Rome getting its start atop a mound of dirt…all of it leaves me not even wanting to search for words, just enamored. That night I had made reservations for an outdoor dinner at my favorite restaurant in Trastevere, La Scala. A successful beginning to a wonderful vacation.

Aug. 16
Since the Vatican is closed on Sundays we woke early and sauntered over to St. Peter’s. Heading in the direction of the museum entrance, we could see the line forming down Via di Porta Angelica (at least a two hour wait). I spoke with some friends from the tour company I used to work for and we were able to go in with one of their groups. Since they have reservations waiting isn’t necessary and before we knew it we were heading up the escalator to portico that begins your journey through the Vatican museums. We decided to do it at our own pace and spent the next five hours walking the four+ miles of statues, mosaics, frescos and all things noteworthy of the Roman Empire. Ironically, well at least to me, my favorite piece in the whole museum is a certain Greek statue constructed before Christ.

We exited in search of shade and refreshments. Once fulfilling both needs we sat down at the ‘Insalata ricca’ in Piazza Risorgimento for lunch. On our walk back towards their B&B I suggested an ‘apertivo’ on my rooftop. We raided the supermarket Despar for cheeses, meats, wine and beer and found ourselves on my rooftop overlooking the Botanical Gardens (which I visited for the first time earlier this week, a memorable experience). They left to freshen up at their B&B and we met up a few hours later to head out to dinner. My roommate decided to join us and, seeing that Montecarlo was closed for holiday, we dined right outside of Campo di Fiori at a restaurant called ‘Baffetto 2’. Please, please try their specialty pizza. The night was capped off with drinks at a bar down on the Tiber River. A large group of my friends came out to meet my family and all agreed that they now understand why I’m the way I am and that my family is a great group to hang out with. Another successful night…

Aug. 17
The plan was to spend half a day sightseeing and then pick up the rental car in the afternoon at Termini train station for the drive to Tuscany. The morning consisted of visits to the Pantheon (my favorite place in all of Rome), Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps. We realized that going to church for the French wasn’t an exercise that we’d probably engage in daily back then thank to those monumental steps and took the metro to Termini. We arrived a little before two, just in time to be an hour late for closing. My senses had temporarily left me for the day and I forgot that nothing is normal in Italy. The rental car place, combing the timing of August and Sunday, closed at 1:00 pm. We had the only car rental place open call our rental company, Maggiore, at Fiumicino airport. They were open until midnight but unfortunately did not have a car that would fit our party of seven. We would have to stay in Rome for the night.

The exact moment we arrived back at the B&B to try and check back in for the night my family got their first taste of the endless possibilities of Italian hospitality. The B&B only had special suites available, much pricier, but gave them the rooms at normal cost. They also called every single Maggiore outlet in Rome to check for another car, to no avail. To cap off their generosity they contacted our B&B in Tuscany to tell them about our predicament. The Tuscan B&B said it would hold our reservations and only charge us half price for the night that we were missing and, if it wasn’t holiday season, wouldn’t have charged us at all. They got settled in their rooms and we headed out for some lunch, stumbling upon an ‘Aristocampo’ with €15 liters of Mojitos. Jackpot! After an unmentionable amount of Mojitos, beers and ‘paninos’ , a lunch in which we made friends with a well-to-do woman from England and a journalist from South Africa, my family went back to their B&B and I to my apartment. We met up for dinner about 100 feet from their apartment at a restaurant called ‘Ivo’. I played chaperone while the kids drank and ate the night away at one of Ivo’s outside tables. After they went to bed I headed out for a few with my friend, her boyfriend and her girlfriend that I had met at the airport.

Aug. 18
My excuses include lack of sleep and waking up at an ungodly hour, but for the life of me I could not direct my uncle out of Rome in the rental car. We saw some interesting road construction, I’ll give them that, but eventually I broke down and did what no man should be forced to do…I asked for directions. To my credit (and pride) we weren’t to far away from the entrance towards the G.R.A. and consequently the A1 north into Tuscany. With our Fiat van that should be advertised as “suitable for seven WITHOUT luggage” we made our way towards Castiglione D’Orcia. With one in the back with the luggage, four in the middle and my uncle and I up front, we stopped at Hotel Nonna Rosa in Chiusi as soon as we exited the A1 to stretch and use the facilities before tackling the beautiful yet nondirective back roads of Tuscany. It looked like a clown car as we pulled into the parking lot and virtually fell out of the Fiat as the doors opened. Caffe, cappuccinos and some quicker, residential directions got us kick started towards Hotel San Simeone. Driving along the SS2 we saw a sign that said we were only a few kilometers away. We picked the nearest hill and assumed that was our destination, with Castiglione D’Orcia sitting atop it. We were correct and greeted at San Simeone by a cordial man named Sergio. In our three day stay Sergio would become a talked about fixture of our vacation and, before going any further, I HIGHLY recommend his B&B. Our lunch reservations for Banfi’s ‘La Taverna’ restaurant were at 2 so we basically checked in and headed out.

Lunch was fantastic, as were most of our meals during the trip, and we made our way towards the tasting room to start our tour of the facilities. Serena, a relatively new addition to the Banfi community, brought us to their new facilities down the road. We had the pleasure of touring their new vat room and storage facilities underground. It was beyond interesting, considering the enormous size of Banfi compared with so many of the other vineyards that I’ve visited. They truly are a super producer of wine. Our tour ended back at the tasting room, sampling some of their Super Tuscans. As we went to pay for our tasting and pick up a few more bottles to bring home (they ended up getting drank during our trip) we were greeted with free Banfi corkscrews that aren’t for sale. We were also elated to find out that our tasting and tour had been complementary. In the beginning of July, while attending my best friend’s wedding, I had the pleasure of meeting one of his wife’s uncles. As it turns out this fantastic man happens to be a high ranking employee of Banfi on Long Island and had our visit marked as V.I.P. when I explained to him that we planned on heading out there. Needless to say we’re in his debt.
Our visit concluded with a few pictures and we headed back for the B&B.

When we returned to the B&B Sergio informed us that most of the town restaurants were closing at 9 and that we didn’t have too many options for dinner. Most of the family wasn’t very hungry but my father and I were close to asking directions to the nearest cattle farm in order to take matters into our own hands. Sergio suggested the bar at the base of the hill, which he stated sold little ‘paninos’ and ‘crostini’, possibly even some small cold plates. Beggars can’t be choosers so my father and I decided that was our destination and the rest of the family quickly changed their mind to join in. We sat outside with wine & beers and ordered some nice dishes from a fairly extensive menu. When the woman came out with our food I thought she was carrying medieval shields. The sizes of the portions were enormous and the food was better then you could possibly imagine. At 10 o’clock, when the bar was supposed to be closing, as we were still all smiles for striking it rich, more and more of the town started to pour in. By the time we left (I think a little after 11) there was music playing and residents socializing throughout the outside seating area. So much for closing time…

Aug. 19
A new day brought a new adventure. Today’s adventure included a tour and tasting at Altesino followed by an afternoon trip into the town of Montalcino and it’s famous ‘Enoteca La Fortezza’. Should you ever make your way to Altesino beware the half of the trip feels like you’re driving through someone’s backyard. We spent a few kilometers on the dirt roads of the open fields that embody the stereotypical Tuscan landscape until we arrived at the Altesino. To date his winery visit and estate are my favorite, hands down. I’m sure that if I make it out to Napa or Bordeaux my opinion may change but for now, I’m sticking to Altesino, and my reasons are numerous. They produce some of the better wines in Tuscany while still keeping to tradition. I didn’t get the feeling that I do on many other estate visits, that feeling of modernization, of a leaning towards a futuristic wine making process. They seamlessly blend new methods without losing touch to their historic base. They just put in new facilities yet they’re small and by no means overbearing. The barrels are a mixture of Slovenian and French oak and are kept underground beneath existing facilities. I knew that it was 2008 but felt like it could easily have been 50 years earlier. The aura I felt while throughout the stay was priceless and the location and view that the estate offered was captured the complete essence of what I expect from a winery settled in the Tuscan countryside. I could’ve spent the rest of my summer their and even offered a hand during the ‘vendemmia’. Our tour guide Teresa did a great job leading us through the estate and tasting and the privatization of the tour made it that much more enjoyable as well. As we went to leave and purchase some wine we were presented with twelve (12) free bottles of their white wine to take home with us. It turned out that our man Sergio was good friends with the winemaker of Altesino. He put in a phone call to inform them of our visit and we were given free wine as a gesture of hospitality and generosity. They even offered to hold on to our wine while we went to Montalcino so it didn’t bake inside of the hot car while we were in town.

Upon our arrival in Montalcino we parked the car and actually paid for parking this time (as opposed to last year's illegal park job that has us sitting on a €195 year old unpaid ticket). First things first, it was lunch time. We had heard about a fantastic hole-in-the-wall spot off of Piazza del Popolo in town called ‘Taverna di Grappolo Blu’. Despite the small technicality that they were closing in 15 minutes to clean up and prepare to reopen for dinner, they seated us nonetheless. The food was plentiful; the service just as good and the fact that the owner of the trattoria was our waiter speaks volumes of the personality of such a place and Tuscany in general. Get the rabbit and you won’t be disappointed. Actually…no dish disappointed us. So, after lunch, we did what any other sensible human being in Montalcino would do…we went to the ‘Enoteca La Fortezza’ to taste a flight of five different Brunellos. I didn’t get a good vibe from the guy serving us and his recommendations only reinforced my feeling. Four of the five wines, in my opinion, were lacking. Go buy the 2003 La Serena…I thought it to be one of the better Brunellos I’ve had. I’ve a lover of wine so it was upsetting when we trusted this snob with his recommendations and, instead of doing right by us, just threw five wines out there. Thank goodness at least one of them was solid (again, in my opinion). After some brief shopping, much to the dismay of half of our party (your guess at which half), we headed back to Altesino to pick up our wine then to our B&B. We greeted Sergio, thanked him profusely for his call to the winery and all that resulted because of it. Since we were going to clean up and head to the terrace for an ‘apertivo’ we invited Sergio to join us as well. His response, “Absolutely!”. We brought a bottle of white from Altesino and Sergio brought the glasses…and salame…and cheese…and consequently a bottle of white from the Alto-Adige area that produces some fine Pinot Grigios. I told you Sergio would be a solid fixture of our vacation. We spent time enjoying the sunset over the hillside and getting to know Sergio. Earlier in the day we had spoken to high about dinner options and he made reservations at the best restaurant in town for us so, when 8:30 rolled around, we unfortunately had to end our apertivo. We asked Sergio how to get to the restaurant and he simply pointed to a square a level down on the hill. “It’s the one with the light on outside, only one in the piazza”, were his directions. Two minutes later we were seated at our table in the corner of the restaurant for what was to become an unforgettable dinner.

‘La Cisterna nel Borgo’ had a solid range of choices and was the only restaurant we visited with an option of various soups. The restaurant’s menus were only in Italian and my lack of knowledge with Tuscan dishes as well as some of the words made for an interesting Q&A with the waitress. My mother and I settled for first plates that were off the menu, indulging in tagliatelle mixed with butter, various spices, truffle sauce and a generous amount of truffle shavings. Other plates around the table included mixed salad, split pea soup, wild boar and different pasta dishes. Four of us decided to get second plates and this is what made the dinner memorable. At my insistence the four of us split two orders of ‘Bistecca alla Fiorentina’, my favorite Tuscan meat dish. The waitress, to her credit, warned us about the size of the dishes and told us to split one for all four. I insisted that we have two for the four of us because when she said that it would be two kilograms I didn’t think that one kilo would be enough for four people. My previous dishes of bistecca alla fiorentina were thin slices of absolutely succulent meat so you can imagine the look on all of our faces when she brought out what can only be described as a baby cow on a serving tray bigger then some dining room tables. They were two kilograms EACH, not in total, and the pieces were more then an inch thick. On our table was PETA's worst nightmare. We obviously couldn’t finish it and were left with a cinderblock of meat to take back with us. There were plenty of jokes to go around for the rest of the trip thanks to my blunder and plenty of tears when the bill came. You would’ve thought the cow won best in show at the summer fair for what we paid. Apparently the restaurant must have called Sergio at the B&B when we left because upon our arrival back he asked my sister-in-law’s parents about dinner, waited a few seconds, then quipped, “A little too much meat ?!?!”. Upon hitting my pillow I feel into a food induced coma.

The Weekend

2008-08-03T09:46:00.001-04:00

Yesterday my roommate came bursting into my room around 10:30 grinning ear to ear. Beach! Our friends frequently rent a car for the weekends and, when they do, there’s normally a beach day planned. Since it has become ungodly hot in Rome and everything is now ‘chiuse per ferie’ (closed for holiday) what better way to escape it all then the Mediterranean. For those of you who are not familiar with ‘ferie’ the easiest explanation I can offer is that for the whole month of August most Italians go on holiday, hence most spots being closed.

We walked over to my friends place, hoped in the car and were speeding out of Rome along the SS1 towards Fregene. A hotspot during the 60s & 70s amongst the who’s who amongst Romans, Fregene still holds an aura about it. This beachside town is home to 4 km (2.5 miles) of golden sand and restaurants. During the nighttime Fregene turns into a hotspot for beach loving, late night partiers, as some of the restaurants become discos, headlined by Gilda on the Beach. We arrived around 11:30 and spent the next five hours basking in the sun, throwing around a tennis ball in the water and walking along the coast. We couldn’t ask for a more refreshing day. The beach provides a perfect backdrop for planes arriving from the north into Fiumicino airport, far enough away that noise is not a problem but close enough to make out the airline logo on the tails of the planes. Make sure you’ve got a window seat to the east when arriving into Rome, look for me waving to you…

That night, after stepping out of the shower, I realized that if my hair was green I’d be mistaken for a tomato. I dressed gingerly and headed over to the Ris Café for an event sponsored by Arctic vodka. Before the party got started I spent some time on the phone with my parents back in NY. It was my father’s birthday so I’m glad I got to give him some birthday wishes. We all got excited as the countdown to their arrival is now less then two weeks.

There was a nice ‘apertivo’ to go along with some tasty vodka, a few drinks and then a few more drinks at Ris Café. When you’re friends with the owner and everyone who works at the café your night normally ends up as such. I also befriended the Arctic girl working the promotion and she was generous enough to give us some nice parting gifts. She’s going to Sardenga next week for holiday and despite repeated attempts I couldn’t get a vacation out of it. I hear Sardenga is an absolute oasis (well, the coastline at least) during the summer so why not give it a try?!? Our party at the Ris Café went mobile, as the next stop was Bar della Pace to say goodbye to a good friend of my roommates. I probably could’ve gone to bed right then and there on the table but, instead, the night took me to the Trastevere pub Freni/Frizione (translates into Brakes/Transmission…yeah, I know). Basically, the pub is inside an old building that used to house an automotive shop and the piazza out in front is where the party’s at. Eventually, I found my bed and attempted to sleep in Sahara-like conditions.

This afternoon I folded like a cheap deck of cards and had lunch at, gasp…McDonalds. Ever since I arrived in Rome I’ve been adamant about not eating American fast food. My roommate, on the other hand, has no objection and, combined with our other friend’s admiration of milkshakes, I was easily peer-pressured into the breakdown. There’s no magic, just less of a selection in Italian McDonalds. Nothing to report except that the expansion of their Euro menu is a necessity. Tonight is a DEFINITE movie night and, hopefully, an early to bed night. I was thinking of sleeping in the fridge but it depends if we eat enough for dinner to clear some space. Maybe then I won’t wake up feeling like I’m locked in a sauna.

Define Friendship

2008-07-31T07:29:00.001-04:00

I remember my father telling me that throughout life I’ll have many people that I call ‘friends’ but are more like acquaintances. From time to time I think about such a statement and weigh it into real life perspective. Merriam-Webster and my father seem to see eye to eye on the definition of what a friend is.

Every person has their own definition for what a friend means to them, how valuable friendship is. This has been a topic that’s had me thinking since this past weekend. I reflect back on the friends I’ve made, friends I’ve lost and friends that I can’t live without…that helps me get a better definition of what friendship means to me.

This past weekend a group of us got together at one of my Italian friend’s house just outside the city center of Rome. He informed us that he’s moving to London to pursue a job and a fresh start. We brought up the topic at a scrumptious dinner his parents cooked for us and they couldn’t be prouder for him. Tonight we’re all getting together for a farewell dinner and, while I haven’t known him for that long in comparison, it’s still sad to see him go. He’s a guy that I enjoyed spending time around and with. That’s one part of my definition of friendship.

Another part is having someone who’s there for you, through the best and the worst of times, the man/woman that’s part of your memories during such affairs, always for the better. They can understand you in a way that only an internal relationship can provide. You get a feeling, a sense of the other person. When they’re not around, when you don’t see them frequently, when there’s no contact…it creates a void.

Sometimes you don’t pick your friends, you just naturally bond. Whether or not I choose them or we just happened to walk into each others lives, I feel like my life could not be enriched as much as it has if I had different friends. This past weekend, fresh off his honeymoon, my friend sent me an email to call him immediately-important-urgent, you get the picture. I thought that another tragedy had been inflicted on my world back home. I called him Saturday afternoon and, instead of frowns, he left me speechless.

I recently saw my friends and family on a whirlwind, four day visit to NY for a wedding. Returning back to Rome in what can only be described as a flash trip left me feeling cheated and wanting more time enjoying a Long Island summer. My friends knew this. So…back to the phone call…my friend informed me that they had all pooled in money to pay for a roundtrip flight back home for a week in August, I just had to pick the dates. Again, speechless.

After a few days of thoughts, checking flights and basically tearing myself apart in my mind I sent a massive email responding to their offer. Their gesture was overwhelming and I couldn’t, in good conscious, accept it. From the beginning I felt guilt for accepting the offer and guilt for rejecting it. Some may think I’m crazy, selfish, ungrateful, all of the above…but then again, we’re probably not friends. Would I love to spend a week enjoying the Long Island summer with my friends & family? Absolutely…actually, at there’s nothing else at this moment that could bring me more joy given everything that’s been going on. Even though I didn’t accept their offer it was the offer itself that I will hold so high when I think about them, for the rest of my life. It wasn’t the potential action but the gesture that will engrain itself deep inside of me, encompassing all aspects of my definition of friendship.

To all my friends who were part of this, please print out this story and pass it around to those who don’t get a chance to read it. For lack of better words at this moment, I miss you all tremendously…

To all, I invite you to weigh in on your definition of friendship…

Dubrovnik, Croatia

2008-07-25T11:24:00.005-04:00

I couldn’t let my trip to Croatia pass without giving it some recognition. My visit to the Dalmatian coast country only encompassed the city of Dubrovnik so don’t take it as a knowledgeable guide to how the country operates, only how the ‘Dubrovs’ get things done (I made up that word if you were wondering). We got to our cruising altitude only to begin our descent into Dubrovnik and it was a picturesque landing coming in along the coast. On the flight I sat next to a very cordial Maltese woman and we got to chatting about my possible next vacation. Her name is Angela and apparently she was meeting her husband and friends in Dubrovnik for vacation. He sailed their boat from Malta to Dubrovnik via Bari with friends since, despite living on such a tiny island surrounding by water, sailing is not in the cards for her.

The bus ride into the main ferry/bus station along the bayside gives you a teaser of the beauty of Old Town, as the view from the cliffs down to the city revels in both bright and weathered clay tiles. From the main station we stared across the bay at the peninsula, home to the Lapad and Babin Kuk area of Dubrovnik. We attempted to spot our apartment, with no success, and we walked to the nearest taxi for a lift to the apartment we rented. We were originally six but because of problems with the booking system of AirOne one of my friends received a confirmation receipt but they never reserved a spot on the plane for him. Long story + many variables = he never made it to Dubrovnik. Back to the taxi ride, our cabby spoke four languages. His English was probably the worst of them all so it was some of that and more Italian. Let’s just put it this way, he kept commenting on how tan I was but instead called me black. I explained to him that there’s a big difference but it fell on deaf ears. He also stated that I might be the luckiest man in Dubrovnik, staying in an apartment with four girls. Our conversation went something like this:

Cabby: “Look at you, very black”
Me: “No…I’m not black…you mean tan…sono bronzata, non nero”
Cabby: “Capito…you black – so, four to one, very lucky you. You no go hungry. They cook and clean for you”
Me: “See, I was lucky until you said that”
Cabby: “My wife cooks. Don’t let her cook for you. End up in the hospital. Make sure girls cook well for you.”
Me: “I think restaurants are the way to go”

We were greeted at our apartment we rented by Mario, his wife and adorably baby girl. Not only did they have things in the fridge for us but they gave us maps and informational pamphlets on Dubrovnik as a whole, Old Town as well, and offered to get us more specifics on any day trips we may want to take to other islands or Montenegro. To cap off a taste of the Croatian hospitality we received they drove my friend and I to the nearest supermarket so we could stock up on some food and drinks. Mario offered to wait and drive us back but we told him that we wanted to walk back, get a feel of the community a little bit. His wife thought we were crazy, a 15 minute walk through a hilly town in this heat?!? After a quick game of rock – paper – scissors with the wife to see if we were hoofing it or taking the car back we bid them farewell and I began my first shopping experience in Croatia. I still convert Euros to dollars in Rome sometimes and now throw a third currency into the mix, the Croatian Kuna, and let’s just say I needed a notepad and calculator to buy anything during the trip. Some currency info…5 Kuna equals about $1…so when we walked into the supermarket for some reason I immediately had a mental lapse. My eyes fixed on the prices and I was outraged that a huge bottle of ‘pivo’ (‘beer’ to those of you who aren’t fluent in Croatian or alcoholics) cost 8 Kuna. After starring at the bottle for 30 seconds I was snapped back into reality and happy to realize it was only $1.60. I didn’t want to seem like that out of control, uncivilized, beer hording young kid so I only took a few bottles. Walking around the supermarket I came to realize that I grossly underestimated the country’s natural inhabitants. The Croats are drinkers, wow. They have their own isle for beer, a legit entire isle, wall to wall, top to bottom…beer. There was so much beer that they stacked the variation of choice, 20 bottle cases of 66cl (22 oz…?), in the vegetable area. Most people had beer dollied out to their cars. Maybe I just caught them at the right moment but I got the impression the whole weekend that they were heavy but civilized drinkers. You always saw them buying it but never drinking or loosing their minds in public. Go figure…

That night we made dinner at the apartment, had some drinks on our front porch and headed out to a local bar along the bay side of the peninsula, Orka. After a few rounds at Orka and some interesting conversation with the bartender (we were the only ones there) we meandered out along the marina, soaking up the lights and beautiful atmosphere on our way home. We decided that a beach trip the following day was necessary.

Copacabana isn’t your typical beach that you’d expect in the U.S. There were more pebbles then sand, hence the abundance of lounge chairs being utilized, but the view was gorgeous as you can in the picture below. It was a beach area where the bay meets the ocean, a portal for the cruise ships to entire Dubrovnik. Out in the distance there was a buoy and of course I had to swim to it. The temptation was too much and it brought me back to my vacation to Bermuda a few years ago when some of my family and I swam out to a rock peaking above the swell. I took a minute to pause and soak in the atmosphere, and by that I mean catch my breath before swimming back. Around the portion of the beach were we setup there was a dock to dive off of into the ocean on one side and a point to walk into the water on the other. That’s where we discovered the fish that were no bigger then six inches feeding off of the rocks. The interesting thing is that they must be used to people because you could walk around them, catch them in your hand, let them swim between your legs…they were not phased by this at all.

That night we went to Old Town, the main walled center of Dubrovnik. To explain the history behind it could earn you three credits at your local university so I put you in the hands of an easier, less reputable source (Dubrovnik). There are two main gates [Pile & Ploce] on the north and south side of the walled city respectively; with most entering through Pile gate to the main street that runs the length of Old Town. You can walk the walls of Old Town to get some of the most beautiful views the city center has to offer. We choose dinner at a restaurant on the docks of the main port/marina of Old Town and I can still taste the mussels. If you like seafood this is your place and I put a picture of the restaurants sign below and if you don’t like seafood Dubrovnik is actually rich in Italian dishes as well. This turned out to be the best seafood I’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying and apparently the place is a hotspot among locales (see, Rick Steeves doesn’t know everything). Our party was six people, with a friend joining us from Split on the trip, and we sat outside along the docks of the marina. To get the full scope of how the meal went you’re going to need some background info. First, the food didn’t come out in dishes, it came out in pots. Second, the pots were about eight inches in diameter and stacked to the top with food. The waiter even said he thought we ordered too much. When all was said and done we didn’t have enough room on the table to put the salt and pepper shakers. Here’s what we got, in pots:
-four orders of mussels in white wine/seafood sauce
[the bowl they brought this out in could’ve doubled as a bath tub]
-two orders of calamari fritte plain
-oysters
-half of wheel of cheese soaked in oil
-seafood risotto
-shrimp scampi
-four carafes of house white wine
-two loaves of bread The waiter actually never took away pots as we finished, probably afraid he’d lose a finger reaching past us. We finished EVERYTHING! I don’t think they even had to wash the dishes since we made sure we left no particle of food behind. After they rolled us out of the restaurant we walked the outside of the wall around the main tower of the marina to the jetty area. On the outside of the wall there’s a little bar area so we bought a few cans of beer, walked further along the outside of the walls and rocks, out among the Croat youth, until we propped ourselves down on an area of rocks looking out towards Lokrum island and the Mediterranean. It was a picture perfect night. After finishing our drinks we went to a bar/lounge called Gil’s situated on the old wall by the marina. There we befriend two Canadians, Jeff & Maria, and again enjoyed the atmosphere. Following Gil’s we made our way over to Club Fuego/Latino. The place was a great hangout and discotheque, with plenty of young Croats and internationals mixing it up. Everyone was just happy to party but the place optimized what the word crowded means. We took the bus back to the apartment to cap off our first full day in Croatia. [btw – our dinner bill with tip was 1065 Kuna, about $36 a person]

As the sun rose the following morning I think we all still had food coma. Two of my friends decided to take a boat trip to surrounding islands, three of us headed into Old Town for a day trip to walk the walls and embrace the city, and my last friend laid out by a local pool and got some school work done. After walking the walls, which takes a solid few hours if you take your time, my two friends and I were famished. We settled for one of the many small side street restaurants in Old Town. The city itself is best described as a bowl, with the main street being the biggest and lowest point of Old Town. The streets (better described as alleys) that spider off of the main street keep going require you to keep climbing steps upwards as you approach the walls. Needless to say, we choose one something close to ground level after walking all afternoon. After lunch we stopped by a bar for a quick recharge of espresso and cappuccino. We got to talking with the bartender and waiter, the only two working, to get a sense of the locals. Turns out, they don’t really like the Italians to much. They rivalry rooted way back when with the Venetians still bears true today with the locals. He talked about the time he spent living and working in New York and then I saw they had a box of Romeo and Juliet Cuban cigars behind the bar. They were more expensive then the outrageous prices I saw when I went to Montreal years back. Turns out they barely even mark them up because it costs so much to get them there. I was hoping maybe he’s throw me one but instead he gave me this mystical creation called blueberry juice. It was beyond fantastic and I seriously thought about setting up an import business plan with him when I return to the U.S. Can you get it back home or am I delusional?? Actually, don’t answer that.

That night we all met up back at the apartment to make dinner. While the rest of the crew was to tired to head out I wasn’t letting my vacation lull away so one of my friends and I headed into Old Town with the intention of hitting up a trendy bar/lounge called EastWest. She stopped along the main street to take money out of the ATM and while waiting I noticed one of the side streets loaded with people. Naturally, we diverted down the street to notice three separate bars situated strategically next and across from each other to create a social atmosphere that mixed Croats, internationals, live music and drinks. We never made it to EastWest. At one of the bars we befriended some English girls and a few Croats and made our way back to Club Fuego, this time much more amicable.

The next day, our last, I made sure to get up early because I wanted to walk the walls of Old Town again. It was such a beautiful experience and my camera died on me the previous time so that was a factor as well. I was up and out the door before the apartment woke up. I took my time walking the wall and taking in every last moment of this seaside paradise. From our previous walk my friend and I had discovered a cannon hole in the main tower protecting the marina that sported a solid ledge to crawl out onto and relax while you stared out into the ocean, mountainside and the rest of Dubrovnik. I came prepared and spent the next hour inside that cannon hole, reading and writing, while Banje beach was framed right in front of me across the water. Others walking the wall stopped to take pictures of me sitting in there and one woman commented that she was weak in the knees watching me. I met up with friends and had lunch in Old Town before we were picked up at the apartment by Mario’s wife and driven to the airport. Lunch in Dubrovnik and dinner in Rome.

If you’ve made it this far in my story then you can go a little further. I apologize for the length but there was so much that stuck in my mind and I left so much out as well for the sake of some sort of consolidation. The Croatians were very, very hospitable, social and accommodating people as whole. Virtually everyone spoke English and many spoke Italian as well. There was a general kindness amongst the people that I compared to the feeling I get whenever I visit Tuscany. If you smiled they smiled back and I felt that they genuinely wanted to be as friendly as possible, not for business purposes, but because it was the type of person they were. I don’t know how to sum up the mini novel I just wrote (it’s copyrighted by the way) so I’ll leave you with a piece of my personal writings:

“Europe has to contain some of the best stimulation to your eyesight that one could ask for. This city is up there with Capri, a slightly different touch thanks to its size, grandeur, people, history…well just about everything I guess. The walk along the old walls allow you to not only enjoy Dubrovnik’s history itself, it allows you to enjoy life no matter where you come from or where you’re going. Life doesn’t stand still here because it’s to busy being beautiful. I think I could stay on this ledge forever while I write…”

Miss you Riles…

Riley

2008-07-20T12:03:00.001-04:00

I had intended to a post on another topic. Last weekend I spent four days in Dubrovnik, Croatia and I had wanted to write about the experience because, for those of you who have never had the chance to visit, it’s an absolutely beautiful city and worth the trip. I’m sure there are many cities around the world that warrant such a description but the beauty of this Dalmatian coastal city won’t leave me, I promise you that. For now, Dubrovnik will have to wait.

Summer classes are officially over. Thursday night I had my final presentation for my capping ‘Business Policy’ class, a project that encompassed the analysis of a possible strategic alliance between my university and Caritas Roma. I’m actually meeting with my professor in a hour’s time to discuss possible alternatives to staying on and assisting with the alliance during implementation stages. After class Thursday night we all looked forward to getting together at the Abbey Theater to celebrate the end of summer classes, look forward to a month and a half away from school work and say goodbye to some friends who had completed their degree or were finishing it back in the U.S. I couldn’t have gotten half way through my first drink when my phone rang and, recognizing it as a private number (home), I immediately went outside to take the call.

My family had been keeping tabs on me throughout my summer classes and they knew how difficult and stressful they were on me. After a few minutes of small talk about my presentation my family seemed to be laboring through the conversation. They conferenced my brother into the conversation via Key West where he was celebrating his friend’s bachelor party. My father took hold of the conversation and explained to me that there had been a problem at home they needed to discuss with me.

For those of you who know me on a personal level and the rest who have read my previous posts about Riley, you’ll know that he’s much more then a dog to my family and I. Riley encompasses the spirit that we could only wish to achieve, a happy go lucky attitude that loved life just as much as he loved all of us. So when my father could barely strengthen the words out of his heart to tell me that this past Tuesday that Riley had died of apparent heart failure, I couldn’t breath. Throughout my life, whenever I was away, albeit college, vacation, work…I always wanted to know immediately about any serious issues pertaining to family because to me they’re the most important part of my life (far and away the most important). My family made a group decision to wait until Thursday night, after my presentation, to tell me because they were afraid I wouldn’t be able to focus on my work. Not to long ago I would’ve been beside myself with their decision, considering the fact that I’ve made it clear so many times I want to be informed immediately, but this time it felt different, it was different. I wasn’t angry or distraught or enraged by their decision because I could hear it in their voice, over an ocean bounced across a farm of satellites, that it was a grueling decision that weighed heavily on them for those three days.

You couldn’t have punched me square in the face for no reason and elicited such a profound reaction (or should I say no action) from me. I couldn’t speak, didn’t want to, didn’t want to be out anymore, just didn’t want to be near anyone. Confused about what I wanted and didn’t want at that moment I choose the only path that I’m accustomed to, I just wanted to be alone. Promptly I finished my beer and excused myself from the pub to a chorus of bewildered faces as to why I would leave a night I was looking forward to for so long. In what seemed like a flash I found myself atop my roof smoking a cigar and drinking Skyy straight out of the bottle with a photo of Riley on my lap. My phone startled me back into reality and I spent the next thirty minutes on the phone with my parents.

As I said before, not many people understand how much Riley meant to my family and I. Many people have family pets that can only be described as more ‘pet’ than ‘family’. Riley, and all of our dogs for that matter, was a part of the family and nothing short than another brother or son. I’m half way around the world and even though I don’t see him on that daily basis like I used to I can still feel his eyes staring at me with his football in his mouth, eager to play now that I’m downstairs. He was an affectionate dog and loved to kiss each and every person that came through the house although his kisses were more of slaps with a gigantic tongue that could be compared to a red slip-and-slide. His love and his loyalty both embodied the same adjective, unwavering. Inside of me I can’t help but kick the fact that I wasn’t there for him during his last moments unlike all those instances he was there for me. I just felt like I let him down not being there during his last days…

R.I.P. – Riley
April 1, 2001 – July 15, 2008

Stateside (Steve-o Edition)

2008-07-07T09:20:00.003-04:00

*This post was written on Wednesday, July 3 but I never got the chance to post it while I was home in NY...gives you an idea of the whirlwind four days I experienced. Below is a picture to get you started*

I was able to fly standby from Rome direct to New York, instead of my original flight which had me connecting through Chicago. That flight had me arriving into JFK at 8:30 tonight instead of 1:40 this afternoon. As I write this we’re currently cruising over Greenland, late because of technical issues back at Fiumicino when taking off. I thought this might be a good time to write a little.

I’ll be home until Saturday only but we’ll see if we can change that as well. Now that I’ll be in the U.S. it’ll be easier to contact the airlines to see if I can’t push my flight back to Sunday. I have the time. My trip home is for the sole purpose of attending my friend Steve’s wedding. The whole trip itself, the short time span and intense distance, may have some people wondering if it’s worth the voyage. There’s so much that goes into it, and goes beyond a simple wedding.

Remembering my life without Steve is impossible for me. We grew up together and there’s no substitute for experiencing life with someone else. It creates a bond that can only be described as majestic. Many people unfortunately never have the pleasure of experiencing such a feeling and it’s disappointing to know. From elementary school to class trips throughout junior high, broken chairs on the back deck, racing along in his Galant, nights at the marina, there’s plenty of vivid memories in my mind that include Steve. The countless stories created from his visits to Marist, the night we got jumped at 7-eleven, Frost Valley when he led me blindfolded into a tree, the parties at my house, parties at his apartment…the list is endless. My favorite night of last summer took place in my backyard. Its crazy how having all the boys back in town can turn some harmless backyard fun into an epic night.

As the years pass I feel people confuse the status of their relationships, especially friendships. Growing older, growing up requires advancing your life in new directions and because these new directions may not coincide as they once did at a younger age does not necessarily denote an increasing distance or void in your friendship. If it’s done one thing for me, more extremely with the move to Rome, it has enhanced my closeness with my friends without even having contact with them. I feel like my understanding of how lives progress has been enhanced ten fold. Steve is the first of my friends to get married, first to purchase a house and the first to take that next step in life. It’s another part, another piece of our friendship.

Something must be said before I finish. Thank GOODNESS he found Bethany to move forward with. In the years I’ve known Bethany I feel as if I grew up with her as well. She has that aura about her, just a comfortable sense of happiness. I’m just as excited with the fact that Steve has found the woman he wants to share the rest of his life as I am with that woman being Bethany. She’s an all around beautiful person.

Before the guy in the seat next to me thinks I’m one of those cliché romance novelists I’ll wrap this up. How excited I am to see my family, watch one of my closest friends get married and take Riley for a walk around the block can’t be explained in words (although I tried). The anticipation of touching down in at JFK airport has never been so intense. Stateside at last…

P.S. – I’m one of Steve’s best men (our other close friend Tim is co-starring with me) and I haven’t even touched my speech. Think some of the body paragraphs are a solid foundation?

Spanish Revolution

2008-06-23T14:07:00.002-04:00

Unless you've been unconscious here for the month of June you've been following the Azzurri in their quest for a second European championship (they previously won it in 1968). Quick background about the UEFA European Championship:

Started in 1960 (hosted by France) with four countries battling for the title (expanding to eight in 1980 then the current 16 in 1996)
Originally called the European Nations' Cup until the 1968 competition when it adopted its current name
There have been 10 different winners
In 1992, Denmark had failed to qualify but were included in the tournament when Yugoslavia was thrown out because of civil unrest in the country. Denmark then proceeded to win the tourney

Unfortunately the quest by the Italians to capture their second Euro championship fell short last night when they lost to Spain in penalities [4-2]. The reaction here in Rome can only be described as "distraught". It was as if the gov't passed a ban on drinking coffee. There might as well have been a raincloud over everyone's head instead of the blazing heat that's swarmed Italy's capital over the last couple of days. My friends and I were out watching the game shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the population. In an instant the pub transformed from civil to civil unrest, with enough insults, blastphamist spats and cursing to warrant an NC-17 rating at the door. Most of the comments were directed at Luca Toni, Italy's talented striker who failed to produce anything that looked like solid football throughout the tournament despite countless opportunities to shine.

It was such a different scene last night and today from the joy I saw just five days ago when the Italians beat France to advance to the quarterfinals. As I was walking home from dinner that night I remember everyone driving around town, chanting and waving Italian flags in a ridiculous state of happiness. Two Roman ragazzi actually came a screeching halt in their Fiat about ten feet past me on the road, stepped out of their car cloked in Italian flags and face paint, and shouted 'Forza Italia'. When I responded in kind one of them came sprinting towards me his arms wide open as the other went out into the middle of the street to inform every other car passing by, just in case they hadn't notice the pandimonium, that Italy had won. The guy gave me a hug as if I had just saved his life and began dancing and cheering while returning to his car. My friend next to me was frozen, for she thought he was a crazy man. Nope, just an ultra (beyond diehard Italian football fan).

In contrast to that ecstatic night today brought a tired city and, I presume, a tired country. For the first time since I arrived here I heard no talk of the previous days match. This one stung and we'll have to wait two years until the World Cup begins to defend the title...

White Dresses, Black Suits & Stress

2008-06-16T09:59:00.005-04:00

I promised to leave complaining in the states. Just never seemed right to complain while I'm living in Rome but some things just can't be left alone. School has caused an immense amount of stress this summer for me. Attempting to cram a semester's worth of work into a five week session is absurd, I'm convinced. If I knew before what I know now I'd be sitting back, relaxing and enjoying my summer instead of dreading the next five weeks worth of classes. I've already marked down July 17th on my calendar as yet another Italian holiday...lets call it Liberation Day...the day in which I'm done with school for the summer.

I just read over the syllabus for each of my two upcoming courses (MGT 502 - Org. Behavior & Ethics/MGT 700 - Business Policy, Capstone course) and there's enough demanded by both professors to make a grown man cry. I'm especially angry about what's expected of us from my MGT 502 class, a basic MBA course. Our professor knows that most to all of us are taking our capstone course during the same period yet I see no relief or sympathy in sight. She's asking for WAY too much of us. Also, I almost had to stretch my whole entire MBA program into the fall of next year because my capping professor originally said that missing one of my classes was unacceptable. I'm heading back to the U.S. in a few weeks for my best friend's wedding and, as his best man, I can't really skip it. As it is already I'm cutting my trip short for the demands of this class, not getting to spend nearly enough time with my family as I'd like. Thanks Professors!! I'll keep you updated on what I decide to do...thinking maybe I'm going to drop my MGT 502 class and take it another time if possible.

[Don't worry mom...while the I'm stressed out with school my appetite hasn't been curbed one bit. I actually cooked a full course italian meal last night...for myself. Yup, cheese/bread/oil to start, first plate of gnocchi in a cheese sauce, second plate of chicken with porcini mushroom risotto, fruit & port for dessert.]

Speaking of weddings (terrible transition, I know) as the temperature rises and summer floats over Rome the church bells have seen more action then usual. White dresses and black suits seem to have taken over the steps of all Roman churches during the weekends. Wedding season is in full swing in Italy's capital. As I walked home from work on Saturday I passed a procession awaiting the bride and groom's exit. Later on that day, walking towards the pub to meet up with friends, I passed three sets of newlyweds taking pictures on Capitaline Hill. The backdrop provided for memories inside of memories. There's something to be said for wedding pictures in which the Forum and Colosseum over your shoulder's are enhanced by a fading sunlight. It's moments like those that I swear my eyes are luckier then any other set in the world. Part of me feels that, while the hands of Michaelangelo, Raphael and many others no longer live to construct Rome's most beautiful treasures, their spirits still hover around the city to make sure it never loses its artistic grandure. I promise I'll post some pictures on Flickr next time and link them. It also helps that the stress I feel from school fades beyond my senses whenever I encounter moments such as the aforementioned, when Rome seems to stretch our its arm and rest its hand on my shoulder.

Also, think about the stressful moments those couples (including their family, friends, pets, tailors, florists, church clergy, travel agents and any others that always incur the wrath of a bride/groom to be) must have dealt with leading up to their smiles?!?!

A Weekend To Unwind

2008-06-05T06:55:00.003-04:00

This past Tuesday was the three month mark from when I arrived in Rome. The previous week was by far my most challenging in regards to both the mental and physical demands of playing worker by morning, ragazzo by day and student by night. In response to such a strenuous week what did I decide to do this past weekend? Those of you who understand me best already know and for those who don’t, I continued my abuse of mind and body in another way. After the weekend festivities (I’ll get to them in a second) I took time to reflect back on the past three months and what they’ve brought. I'll get to them in my next post but first, I digress to Thursday night.

After our last class of midterm week my fellow MBA students & I decided it was beyond a necessity that we go out. We found ourselves in Campo di Fiori enjoying some beer and nachos at Sloppy Sam’s. This isn’t our place of choice (normally Saby’s) but we were craving nachos and Saby’s happy hour hadn’t started yet. A few of our friends who didn't take summer classes met up with us and we took the party across Via Arenula to Rock Castle. The night ended with us heading back towards Campo and trying to get into an afterhours bar to only find out we were actually too early! to get in. Go figure that at 3 am we were too early for the bar.

Friday I headed up to school after work to kick around the soccer ball on the fields at my school with some of my friends. After heading home to shower I promised a few friends from work that I'd meet up with them at Shamrock, the normal pub for after work relaxing by the Colosseum. My two friends (David & Kresten - a kiwi & aussie) & I had decided earlier on that morning to meet up for a few before heading out for a guys night. Both of their girlfriends were out of town and the Italian girl I've been spending time with (we'll call her 'A') had dance all night. One of my closer friends here, Greg, decided to join us for drinks but his fiance made sure he didn't make it out to the pub crawl the three of us decided to crash. I know most of the people who work the Spanish Steps pub crawl and we throw them business through the tour company. So, in turn, they return the favor when I decide to have one of those nights.

Saturday was more of a recovery day then anything else, as we decided to do an extra tour. I didn't get off of work until almost 1 and then headed to Shamrock to meet up with Greg after a quick nap. I bailed after a few pints to head home to change before the birthday party for two of my colleagues. We arrived at Circolo degli Artisti and spent a few hours in their outdoor garden. Apparently a hot spot amongst the roman youth, I wasn't too impressed and would've have found it more entertaining would I have been there for a concert. So my friend Taty & I bailed to go meet up with my pub crawl friends at their last stop, a nightclub called Gilda. After an hour of dancing we needed a more pub like setting. One can only take so much house music so enter Scholar's Lounge. The last stop on whirlwind tour was my rooftop to watch the sun rise.

Sunday actually became my recovery day that I anticipated for Saturday. What does any hungover, famished American do on a Sunday afternoon in Rome when they get up around noon? You guessed it, they shower, brush their teeth and head to Parco di Traiano opposite the Colosseum for some Argentianian 'pollo verde'. Every weekend it seems that all the spanish/portugese speaking immigrants in Rome gather on this hill to get together and enjoy themselves. There's a particular family that sells homemade dishes and on Sundays, for 5€, you can get a huge tray full of rice, fries, veges and green chicken topped off with picante sauce and a bottle of soda. It erases Saturday night in 30 minutes. Beyond fantastic!!! Just beware if you don't understand a word of Spanish and you can't point with your fingers because Italian and English are not understood by them. At night my roommate (Jason), his girlfriend, 'A' and I decided to go see the new Indiana Jones movie at the Metropolitan on Via del Corso, by Piazza del Popolo (a must see next time you're in Rome). After the movie, besides being slightly disappointed, I was hungry. The long walk down Corso and back to our apartment only heightened that urge and, as always on Sunday nights, I cooked a large dinner. The special for the night was 'bucatini alla carbonara' but it didn't go over as well as I'd hoped. First, turns out Jeanell doesn't like carbonara (thanks Jason for the heads up) and the 'bucatini' was just too thick of a pasta for a carbonara sauce. Despite everyone saying how good it was you know that feeling you get in your stomach when you're disappointed. I had it all night...

Monday was an Italian holiday, their Republic Day, celebrating the establishment of Italy as a republic on June 2, 1946 (bet you thought Italy was older). In typical Vatican fashion they stayed open, being a separate country, so I had to work. But an Italian holiday does not go uncelebrated, regardless of your country of origin. So Greg and I set out on our own mini pub crawl of sorts. We had a drink at Cork's after work, lunch at a Sardinian trattoria (had Sardinian gnocchi, beyond delicious and different from regular gnocchi), a few more drinks at Mulligan's where apparently we walked in on an afternoon Enya party (don't ask), and found our tour ending at Finnegan's playing pool in the back room for hours. Greg's fiance Maria and 'A' met up with us and after a few more pool matches we headed out to dinner along Via Cavour. It was the first time I had a filleted Argentinean steak and certain won't be the last...wow! It was also a good time to enhance my Italian, as it was the primary language at dinner. Greg and Maria are Romanians who have been living in Rome for the last five years so their Italian is fluent and 'A' was born and raised in Roma so no need explaining that. Dinner, as always in Italy, was a learning experience.

This had to be one of my favorite weekends in Rome and served as the perfect reward for the previously dreadful week. The stress that I knew would carry over into this week until I got my midterm grades back went away for those four days. It gave me some insight into myself....I can put aside such huge weights in my mind to enjoy life when I want, when surrounded by good company and good times. I'll remember that going forward. Before I leave you, my two midterms I didn't want to get back, ended up getting a B on both of them. Relief...

p.s. - for those football fans out there, don't forget Euro 2008 starts this weekend... Forza Azzurri!!

La Questura

2008-05-27T10:31:00.003-04:00

Yesterday my number was called. For those of you unfamiliar with the process required to legally stay in Italy for a period beyond the three month grace period your passport grants you, it is supposed to be necessary to obtain a permesso di soggiorno. I say ‘supposed to be necessary’ because, just like any other country, there are numerous amounts of people living here with no documents whatsoever. This seems more prevalent in Italy then back in the U.S. to me but here in Roma I’m the foreigner and spend my time surrounded by such people so maybe it just seems that way to me. Going forward I’ll talk about it as if your life depends on obtaining your permesso

Moving on…within the first eight days of arriving in Italy you must complete the forms provided by the immigration office via the post office that can be found online or at your local Questura (police station). Complete these forms fully and beyond correctly. Yes...beyond correctly...because once you arrive at the post office all of your proper documentation, photocopies, visa, necessary stamps, etc. you can still be turned away if you crossed something out or put the total number of pages at 24 when there's really 25. Also, you must go to a Poste Italiane (Italian post office) that dons the 'Sportello Amico' label. It's going to cost you some coin to get submit all the paperwork for processing (currently 27 euro) and to purchase the necessary Italian country wide emergency health insurance for a year (98 euro). Once this is all complete you receive your receipts that act as your temporary, well, everything.

Completely uncharacteristic of Italian bureaucracy, I received a letter from the Questura a few weeks later (record time for Italy) requiring me to show up in two months (again record time) to submit all my receipts, sign some documents and get finger printed. Now I have heard all the horror stories from everyone, even Italians, as to how the Questura can produce a "brutally horrible day, beyond the worst you could possibly imagine without bodily harm" [thanks Doug] from foreigners and Italians all the same.

I strolled into the Questura for my 10:26 appointment at 10 am sharp, armed with my bank financial management textbook in anticipation of reading all of it, the man's newspaper next to me and random police pamphlets while I waited to be called in. Everyone I spoke to said that I should plan for it to be an all day process. I thought I was being thrown out the station for making to much noise with my highlighter when they called for me to come in around 10:30. I was home, making an egg sandwich, by 11:15. It was one of the MOST pleasant times I've had dealing with Italian bureaucracy. I probably could've been home by 11 if the origins of my last name wasn't a topic of discussion and they'd let me leave without a few english lessons. I actually ENJOYED my time spent with the two officials, 'extremely kind' being the best way to describe them.

For those of you who have never had to deal with such a process my story above is a rare and unique case and should be treated as a fluke if you're gathering data for a case study. For those of you who have had to go through such a process and it certainly took a few years off of your life, I have this to say...hang in there. Just request to go to the Questura located on Via San Francesco a Ripa, 64 in Roma and maybe you'll get treated as wonderfully as I did. Now, this is not to say I won't receive a letter soon enough stating everything was done improperly and I'm going to have a to run through a homemade gauntlet to correct any mistake made along the way. My story is more or less a glimmer of hope that for one day, for one person, Italian bureaucracy was at the forefront of political efficiency in the world.

Falling Into Lifestyle...my apologies

2008-04-29T11:48:00.009-04:00

Talk about slacker huh? It's been three weeks since I last posted. Someone please never let this happen again. I've built a solid fan base of about seven readers (three if you subtract family) but who's keeping count. I promise to be more diligent now that I'm on vacation for a bit. What...reword that sentence. I promise to try to be more diligent now that I'm on vacation for a bit. Ah, now that reads better and more honestly. It's not laziness...I PROMISE! But you live here for this long (two months) and it's easy to get sucked into the Italian lifestyle, which can only be described as 'bo' (who knows).

I have a calendar above my bed that I actually printed out off the internet because trying to find one in Italy is like walking into a bar in Rome and rooting against AS Roma. You just don't do it and you're liable to get your ass kicked. That's how rare calendars are in this city, I swear. I'm surprised Romans have clocks in public. Romans, possibly all Italians outside of Milan for that matter, don't make plans more then 15...18 minutes in advance.

-"What are you doing later on tonight?"... Eating seems to be the only guarantee.

-"Want to meet up for lunch tomorrow?"... is that a serious question...

I'm thinking that if anyone in the building caught wind that I have a calendar that's grounds for throwing me off the roof into the botanical gardens, which by the way provide lovely rooftop scenery (yes, I just used the word lovely...let the shock settle in for all of you reading outside of England). I remember the aggressively large calendar that adorned 1/3 of my desk at work and the vast array of colored ink that turned each month into what, from a distance, could be mistaken for a first-graders art project. Meetings, occassions, games, parties...the list was endless and so justified the calendar. I used to forget to give my mom messages that my aunt's called half an hour before she walked in the door (for the record - I don't pick up the phone anymore), let along that my friend's party start's at 11 next Sat. at Black Finn and he's turning 24. I blame sports and random trivia for taking up much of my mental capacity. From college on I've always had some kind of planner. You simply just don't need one here.

[side note - I'm drinking wine as I write this...see my previous post]
[side note to the side note - I had a bottle of 2001 Banfi Poggio alle Mura last night...try immediately...fantastic]

So, in this long, convoluted circle I've created, blame my lack of writing on my body, mind and soul falling into the Italian lifestyle of throwing daily plans out the window and just......living. You know what, I love it. I've taken to calling people back a few days later and saying "yeah, just returning your call". Instead of them responding with, "I called you three days ago" they always respond, "thanks for getting back to me so soon". I feel obliged to tell them it's only because they're so important to me. I've taken to wandering aimlessly around Trastevere and the city in general, going for an evening passegiata, cursing Roma for drawing 1-1 to Livorno (while secretly pulling for my 'viola'), never...ever drinking coffee in plastic (or porta via) and, while not really meaning to, slowly embracing the Italian lifestyle. It's romance is intoxicating. If I don't stop writing soon the wine will have something to do with that as well.

I went to my friend's birthday party this weekend and, as is true in only this country, met and befriended so many people there to celebrate and many that were just enjoying the night out. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that going up to a random group of people and striking up conversation about anything and everything of interest is not only socially acceptable, it's basically dress code for bars, pubs, restaurants and any random piazza. In NY skepticism runs wild and I'll be the first to admit I do nothing to try to overturn this certainty. We're born with a look on our face that tells the doctor, despite helping mom through labor, I'm not to sure you did the best job you could in delivering me (and I better get a window crib). I still harbor that skepticism but so much of me has taken to not letting a moment pass without keeping every last drop out of it.

With that said, I'm going to grab a quick nap before meeting up with my friend tonight. For those of you reading this, thanks for putting up with my procrastination. For those of you reading this and wanting to join in such procrastination, I've got a couch-bed and flight prices are only heading upwards from here on out. Normally a jar of peanut butter reserves your spot but I have since discovered almond (and pistaccio) cream thanks to Emma & Penelope's sunday brunch a few weeks ago that makes Skippy look like pipe greaser. So, a bottle of ketel one (non-existent in Italy) will book your reservation going forward.

A presto amici...

The Importance of Education, Alcohol & Rooftops

2008-04-07T11:19:00.002-04:00

Direct all questions as to where I’ve been during my two week hiatus to both of my professors. Last week I had my first big reminder that I am indeed back in school, midterms. Obviously I’m no stranger to midterms and all they entail, having already completed my undergrad. What I am a stranger to is the workload demanded from an MBA student and, consequently, the obnoxiousness of how difficult the midterms can be. I will hand it to my Advertising Management professor though. Since we have to complete in-class presentations of two chapter topics and consistently work on an overall advertising campaign project for our Rome program, he did cut us some slack. His midterm was 40 questions, multiple choice, weighted and he gave us direct information from the chapters to study (all nine of them). My Capital & Money Markets teacher was not so kind.

Our grade is based on three elements of class, a midterm, final and class participation, all weighted equally. She gave the class the option of a take home midterm and, in our defense, who wouldn’t jump on that opportunity. One week, ten questions and 30 pages later I handed in my midterm, financially overdosed from all the numbers and research I completed. Given all the interest rate information I read up on I’m pretty sure I could single handedly advise the Fed on what to do with the mortgage crisis and inflation rates plaguing our economy right now. I keep my cell close in case Bernanke calls. In all fairness to my professor I am getting my MBA so I shouldn’t expect another undergraduate experience. Then again, I’m not quite yet at the doctoral level either. Something tells me I’m not going to be opting for a take home final, although I love a good challenge.

There’s a reason it’s called a Masters of Business Administration. If you’re not looking to master the subject material you might as well inquire about getting your AMBA (almost MBA). To save you some time…they don’t exist. This brings me to the importance of education. While my financial midterm might have been a little over the top in many minds all the information I learned through my research was invaluable (well, not according to St. John’s and their price tag). I don’t think I could have studied such material at a better time, given the economic conditions facing American society today. I’m not saying that the imminent recession (we’re in one but according to standards we aren’t technically there…yet) is great so as to enhance the value of my educational experience but the timing of it all is so advantageous. The importance of learning is multiplied during times like these.

So what’s the importance of alcohol you say? Simply put…how else do you think I made it through midterms? Io scherzo (I’m joking). One thing I did notice though is that it’s become a part of my educational experience. I can’t tell you the last time I sat down and completed some school work without a drink around. As I type now I’m finishing off a glass of Tawny port. Before you judge and through out words like ‘alcoholic’ and ‘problems’ look at this from an outside viewpoint. I’m not talking about the drinking style you’re used to back home (insert binge drinking story). It’s perfectly acceptable, if not encouraged to have an afternoon cocktail on your lunch break or even in between classes. It’s part of the social atmosphere that is Italy and most of Europe. Whether it’s a glass of wine, pint of beer, sip of port or maybe even a Mojito while you enjoy the sun, it’s a social normality. During the afternoons you’ll see hundreds of people outside at café tables all around Rome enjoying a drink with friends, family, significant others and the social occasion expands when someone else they know just happens to be walking by and stops to join the party. Jason (my roommate) and I tend to go to the same café in the afternoons for a drink while we get some work done. In America we call each other up on the phone to talk about our lives, Italians meet up for a drink to do it. This truly is a face to face society and I think it promotes such a great atmosphere. So before you judge a book by its cover, come visit Italy and enjoy the ‘social’ importance of alcohol.

Yes, somehow…someway…rooftops are part of this equation. Back home whenever I wanted an escape without going too far, sometimes I’d crawl out my middle room windows and lay out on my roof. Summer nights provided some of the best moments, as I’m at the top of the general tree line and the skies tended to be cloudless and starry. Half of the excitement was not killing myself when trying to scale the 60 degree pitch up to the flattened out area. The importance of rooftops, the functionality of rooftops, takes on a whole new meaning here in Italy. My building is an old monastery converted into apartments, complete with a finished and tiled flat rooftop. The spider web of clotheslines provides ample opportunity for drying laundry and the plethora of chairs allows for a relaxing enjoyment of the afternoon sun. Ever since the rains stopped here in Rome I’ve been up on the roof everyday. I made it my office during the afternoons of midterm week and as I type now I’m enjoying the sun with my laptop properly placed. Across the way workers are renovating the whole apartment building but what are they working on mainly? You guessed it, the rooftop. They’re building up the perimeter walls and laying tile down. At nights during the summer Jason said that him and his friends will hang out on the rooftop, light some candles and enjoy the Roman summer nights. Many rooftops I see are mini oasis complete with a plethora of plants, vines, table sets, verandas, umbrellas and vast arrays of lattice to provide privacy. Just last weekend a family was having Sunday lunch on the rooftop, soaking up the Roman sun. Rooftops seem to provide a naturally peaceful atmosphere that offers anything and everything you could be looking for.

Pasquale

2008-03-24T07:52:00.000-04:00

Being that I’m spending what is arguably the holiest day of the year for Catholicism in Rome I felt obliged to celebrate it appropriately. How many times am I going to have the opportunity to attend Easter mass in St. Peter’s Square presided over by the pope himself? Kinda a no-brainer...so when my classmate Gabriel said he could get me tickets to the ceremony I pounced on the opportunity.

I currently have two of my close friends visiting. I’ve known Lew ever since elementary school, when we competed against each other in Little League. Our friendship has grown tremendously since then and continues to grow with every year that passes. His girlfriend Jeana and he have been dating for about six years now and Lew couldn’t be luckier having her in his life. She’s also a great friend and, while it’s only been six years I’ve known her, it seems like a much longer time. Yesterday morning the three of us braved the worse weather I’ve endured since arriving in Rome to listen to the pope give Easter mass to a packed out St. Peter’s Square. Tens of thousands of people spent the morning attempting to enjoy the sermon while simultaneously contriving ways to stay dry. Only the sermon was a success. We’re still drying out our clothes from yesterday morning, the same ones we literally had to peel off of ourselves in order to change.

While the weather today has improved not everything else has followed suit. Jeana is extremely sick, most likely a product of the horrendous weather we braved through during mass. She can’t sleep and her throat and head are constantly in pain. Lew & I set out this morning while she slept to visit the market and attempt to get her some medicine from the pharmacy. Unfortunately, having a momentary lapse that we were in ITALY, everything is virtually closed today. The Italians consider the Monday after Pasquale a holiday as well. So, to conclude, we can’t get Jeana any medicine until tomorrow and we’re eating leftovers for dinner.

Not everything is cloudy though. Last night, not letting the holiday spirit out of our sights, we headed out for a nice Easter dinner. While ‘Sora Margherita’ was our main destination in the old Jewish ghetto, go figure, it was closed. Our contingency plan was ‘La Carbonara’ located in Campo dei Fiori. The menu was extensive, which may seem like a plus, but I wasn’t overwhelmed with the dishes. Better to have a smaller menu in my opinion, concentrating on specialty dishes and quality instead of quantity. Regardless, I was pleasantly surprised with both of my dishes. For my primo piatto I had rice in a shrimp cream sauce and as a secondo piatto I went outside my boundaries and tried their eggplant parm [side note: I NEVER eat eggplant at home]. It was jaw dropping delicious. My future dishes may see more eggplant. Lew started with a specialty pasta and finished with a veal cutlet and lemon sauce while Jeana’s salad and penne alla carbonara were plenty. To wash it down I ordered a bottle of the Ruffino tan label chianti classico. The waiter brought out the 2004 and I asked if he had the 01’ or 03’ in the back but he said he didn’t. While the 04’ pales in comparison to the two aforementioned vintages (and probably was too young) it did the trick and all three of us enjoyed it regardless. We capped off the night at a different restaurant in the piazza with yet another bottle of chianti, spending the next hour plus people watching and rehashing old stories. It was the kind of night that couldn’t have been enjoyed with anyone else but family and friends, a night that may never leave my memory.

Despite the weather Rome seems to embed itself in my heart more and more as the days slowly fad away into the past but never out of my site. Every day I catch myself glancing back on my life, thinking about all the people that have affected it, all the memories, and simultaneously constructing new memories, meeting new people. I’m getting there…

Roma

2008-03-14T13:45:00.006-04:00

Ahh yes, finalmente, I'm completely settled in Roma. It only took ten days (rapid by italian standards) but my apartment is completely functional and I'm beginning to balance work & school after a rough stretch. Day by day I gain more knowledge on the language and the fluent expressions that only the italians possess, as they begin to form a line in my memory. In less then two weeks I've already begun to befriend so many expats and italians alike. It seems everyday that I'm meeting new people, encountering different adventures and slowly gaining a solidarity around my neighborhood. I could sit here and write for hours upon hours about everything that's happened this last week and a half but who in the world has the time to read it and, honestly, it's 7:00 pm (19.00) here and I'm going to need to start cooking dinner soon. I'm thinking gnocchi in a simple red sauce, side ball of buffala mozzarella (best in the world) and some vino rosso.

For those of you who don't know, my apartment situation completely fell apart and I was screwed out of a place to stay and my rent money. Still trying to recover that but every day that passes it seems more and more unlikely to happen. Enter Jason... my new roommate. He's an economics major at John Cabot University that I kept in touch with just in case something like this occurred. He was looking for someone to take over rent of the other room in his apartment in the Trastevere neighborhood when his other flatmate moved out. Presto! He's a great roommate and the flat is in a great area, perfect bachelor pad. Our apartment building is actually an old monastery that they converted into housing. My room has high ceilings (about 15 feet) and plenty of room. A full-sized bed, in wall shelving, pullout sofa-bed couch, armchair, bookshelf, armoir and coffee table all encompass my room. It's about twice the size of my bedroom back home, go figure. I refurbished an old Sanyo radio left in the room, caked in dust, that possibly was brought over during the time of the Renaissance from Asia. Now I can hook up my iPod to it and, while it's not exactly Bose, it gets the job done. I promise to post pictures soon enough of my whole apartment...

Today was my first day off of work in a while and I took advantage of it by getting some food shopping and cleaning done. The supermarket is about a 15 minute walk from the apartment along Via della Scala through Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere and down to Via Natale del' Grande (tranlates into "Big Christmas Street"...how festive). This supermarket has the best prices in the area and supermarkets in Italy are virtually exactly as they are in the states, just about 10 times smaller (granted I'm living in a major city). The only glaring difference is that you weigh your own fruit and veges at designated scales, press the corresponding number asigned to each product and a sticker is printed that is to be affixed to the bag and rung up at the counter. Basically, they don't weigh this and compute the price when you leave, that's your responsibility.

I also did some laundry and some cleaning as well but that's not very exciting. We're looking into getting wireless internet in our apartment so, judging by italian standards, when we request it this weekend, someone should be by in about a month or two to check out the apartment. Then they'll say ok and another person will be back to install it about three months later. So right now, I'm judging that by the end of summer I we should have wireless internet in the apartment!! Gotta love this country...

Alright, I'm off to cook up the aforementioned delicious dinner and crash my the pub crawl my friends work for. Madre & Padre, you'd be proud of my cooking skills. My future wife's cookbook is working miracles over here now that I have all fresh ingredients, so thank you!

A presto...

I'm Here...

2008-03-05T12:22:00.002-05:00

It's been a while since I last posted and I barely have any time, as I'm still getting settled in Rome. Long story short, I had to get a new apartment, which I'm moving into on Friday morning. Kudos to my friend and her roommates for letting me crash until then. I'm kinda in a state of disarray, with most of my things at my soon to be apartment and a few items at my makeshift home for now. It's only been a few days and I've got some great memories to hold on to...

More to come once I get my laptop....and permesso di soggiorno....and my phone up and running....and moved in....and you get the picture....

Red, White & ???

2008-02-25T09:51:00.005-05:00

This is my second blog somehow related to politics and I have even surprised myself. Let me state that I am far from that political guy you may infer from this. You'll never catch me at a convention, primaries are like spring training and in the end (my hint to you) they're all lying anyway. I'd much rather talk about sports, traveling or the oscars but this was something that hit me on Friday and has stuck with me all weekend. As always, bear with me...

A common question posed to me leading up to my imminent departure has been if I like Italy better then the United States. It’s the kind of question that forces you to come up with a politically correct answer when in reality I have no answer. Each has their own endearing qualities that strike me in ways only they can. I chose Italy for the next two years for a multitude of reasons and you can check out my guest post on Lost Girls for some of them. Now, my next statement may ruffle some feathers if taken personally (or not) so please don’t. I’ve always been a very outspoken person so why stop now.

Stereotypes develop, not as a result of finely crafted stories, but because, at their core, there’s some truth to them on a general scale. Do stereotypes exist because they’re absolute truths? Of course not! Those who believe this to be true usher ignorance into their lives at that very moment (as if that probably hasn’t been a revolving door already). But people who turn a blind eye and denounce stereotypes as nothing but nonsense continue to allow them to prosper and grow. If you’re truly set on digging in & combating them, remember, anger begets more anger and you certainly won’t get that ‘victory’ you have your mind so set on achieving. So, my solution, educate.....

I've heard the stereotypical term "ignorant American" become prevalent on an international stage throughtout the last few years and I can't stand it, partly because it's true and partly because we continue to allow it to be true. I love my country without reservation. There are so many aspects I love about living in the United States that I can’t find anywhere else I’ve traveled. First on that list is the freedom we’re granted, the same freedom so many citizens take for granted unfortunately. Everyone is quick to judge, to point the finger at our government and I’m somewhere in that crowd somewhere as well. This is not only one of our freedoms but something that's expected out of every citizen, keep an eye on who's governing you. We shout and yell that they’re ruining our beloved country and all the foundations for which we were so prosperous. They probably don’t even know anything about our country or how it works…right? Before we’re so quick to judge lets step back and take a look in the mirror. Who’s the finger pointing at now? After all, you and I were the ones who appointed these ignorant people to office.

Italians are proud of their heritage, proud of where they come from, proud of, well, being Italian. Here’s my challenge to you. Show off your red, white & blue and prove to yourself before shouting at our candidates that you have a grip on our country’s backbone. Listed below are 20 (more like 26...I originally had 35) of the 100 questions taken directly from a government issued N-400 Naturalization test. It will be revised and updated as of Oct. 1, 2008. Look them over…no need to respond...but do you think you could pass?

How many stripes are there in the flag and what do they represent?
What country did we fight during the Revolutionary War?
Who elects the President of the United States?
How many amendments are there to the Constitution & what are the first 10 called?
How many branches are there in our government and what are they?
How many senators are there in Congress?
For how long do we elect each senator / each representative?
What is the capital of your state and who is the current governor?
Who becomes President of the U.S. should the President & Vice-President die?
Name the 13 original states.
Who said, "Give me liberty or give me death."?
Name one requirement, according to the Constitution, a person must meet in order to be eligible to become President.
How many Supreme Court justices are there and who is Chief Justice?
Why did the Pilgrims come to America?
Who was the main writer of the Declaration of Independence?
Who wrote the Star-Spangled Banner?
What is the minimum voting age in the United States?
What did the Emancipation Proclamation do?
In what year was the Constitution written and what is the introduction called?
Who is the Commander in Chief of the U.S. military?

In Vino Veritas

2008-02-19T21:56:00.008-05:00

This past Sunday my family and I took a trip out east on the island to visit Long Island's wine region. The region is separated into three distinct areas, with most wineries located on the north fork of the island as opposed to the south fork. The north fork is then split up into two stretches, the north road and the south road. More known for its whites then its production of reds, the wineries out east are plentiful and continue to advance in quality as the years progress. Apparently the 2007 harvest is bound to be the best yet. The region is attracting more skilled wine makers and improving in its techniques, from harvest to finish. We normally head out to visit the wineries several times a year, mostly during the summer and early fall, as that's harvest season. It's a great day trip as an escape to what feels like a distant land even though the drive is about 45 minutes. For my family it has become a great way to spend time together doing one thing we all love, exploring our taste buds. I swear I can see my brother owning a vineyard out there sometime in the near future, as he is the head wine-nut in our family. His knowledge on all aspects of wine is so incredible that expect a novel out before the end of the decade. Anything less would be a grave disappointment because he's a wine encyclopedia personified.

Being so close to the vines, tasting all the variances of wines, the sight of vast fields of grapes, fermentation tanks, French oak...it's a spark of all my wine memories. Every time we head east, every time we uncorked a bottle, I'm eagerly transported through time. My mind begins to wander through the memories I have of visiting the wineries throughout Tuscany, time spent wine tasting out in Cali and, of course, past experiences like those of this weekend. While Tuscany may seem to trump all other experiences to an outside eye, the truth of the matter is that they all hold memories dear to not only my heart, but those that matter most to me, my family.

Sunday was indicative of such sentiments. We sampled the wines from five wineries allowing the south road, the first three of which we have never been. Yes, five wineries, don't judge. We may be wine lovers but we're 'drinkers' first and foremost. Unfortunately, being the east end of Long Island, you do run into your occasional group of those holding their heads so high it looks like they're showing the inside of their nose. Never understood that snob characteristic and please, don't try to explain because I don't care anyway. One winery stood out above the rest, in the quality of its wine and its memories provided.

While it was overcast outside of Laurel Lakes Winery it was the sunniest day of the year for two young people inside. A couple had just finished their flight when they guy dropped to one knee and proposed to his girlfriend in the middle of the tasting room. With tears rolling down her face and words suddenly lost she turned a deeper ruby then the estate merlot and shook her head in approval. Not to be a downer but I technically never heard her say yes but, then again, I was across the room. I was to busy discussing my with my pops the possibility that the guy sitting next to us was Eric Barton, outside linebacker for my beloved New York Jets. I confronted him on the way out and it was indeed him but I'm not really a big fan of his. I had a few comments in my mind that went like this:

-"After the season we just had shouldn't you be studying film right now instead of wine tasting?"
-"You get back to playing like you did with the Raiders and maybe you'll prolong your career."
-"If you weren't wearing a Mets hat I'd dislike you more as a football player then I do now."

In the end I backed down, mostly due to his size, and wished him luck on next season. I did tell him I'd be watching with a critical eye though. My pops & brother got a good laugh at my expense; we got to see an engagement first hand and ultimately befriended the couple next to us with stories of wine & Italy. Ah the power of wine...

Not Really Lost, More Found Then Anything

2008-02-11T20:53:00.002-05:00

I have the pleasure of introducing you, or reintroducing you, to Jen, Amanda & Holly...the lost girls. As fellow New Yorkers sharing a passion for travel they were nice enough to allow me to guest post on their blog. They dropped everything, put the rat race on hold, and spent a year travelling the world. How many people do you know that say "I wish I could just travel the world". Well, they did it. After reading through their story they seem to have lost and found themselves, along with so much more.

We find out more and more about ourselves as the days pass. If you don't then you're not really paying attention to life and yes, you're letting it pass you by. In his studies John Locke takes a deep look at the mind in his writings and works on 'the self'. Read Locke's paper, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Or, if you don't feel like wasting a decent chunk of your life, just believe that his writings touch on the previous subject that we possess a self-awareness and self-reflective consciouness that allow us to learn from our daily activities and the activities of others. Freud attempts to disprove this theory through 'transparency of self', or introspection, but I've never been a big fan of him. His whole psychosexual development studies seem a little to...umm...thorough shall we say. Creeps me out a bit.

Alright, now I've lost myself so this seems like a good place to crash land. Just check out the girls' journey and think about what we can learn from ourselves through our life experiences spent travelling.

Super Days

2008-02-05T21:12:00.000-05:00

Today marks a day of frenzy and excitement on a state, national and international level. Let's start internationally, as Fat Tuesday signals the end of Carnivale. For those of you who have never experienced Carnivale or just do not have a general understanding of the concept, check out the link. I couldn't explain it any better myself. It's an event, wherever you are in the world that celebrates, that is best described through participation and enjoyment. During my initial studies in Firenze I was lucky enough to endulge in the greatest street parade I've ever been a part of in Viareggio. All the baracades, wraught iron stansions, uniformed police and choreographed parade routes I was so accustomed to here in the U.S. did not adequately prepare me for Viareggio's Carnivale parade. You are the parade! Nor do the social festivities here even touch those embarked on by Italians & stranieri alike during this time of mischeif and general sensation that life is one big party. It already has me daydreaming of Carnivale 2009.

At a state level, in case you're a hermit devoid of any media contact, the Giants held their parade honoring their recent super bowl victory down the 'Canyon of Hereos'. This portion of Broadway runs from Battery Park up to City Hall, drawing its honorable namesake from the plethora of parades that have graced this stretch throughout the years, from championship teams to historical accomplishments all the same. Being that my office is smack in the middle of this route on Broadway I got to enjoy the scene, mayheim and parade from start to finish. My boss was nice enough (he's a Giants fan) to allow us some free time from work to go down and enjoy the parade. As the players passed by it gave a sense of humanity to them and their accomplishments on the field. They're regular humans, just like you and I, and that gets lost in translation while we're shouting (or at least I'm shouting) at the television as if we're on the sideline strapped to a headset. What I took most from the parade was not that the atheletes and their accomplishment that was awe-inspiring, but the ability for sports to bring people from all walks of life together. Bankers stood alongside street vendors alongside construction workers alongside students and the list goes on and on. There's no better picturial of this than calcio (football in most of the world). Italians and many others alike eat, sleep and breathe the sport, forming a common bond that puts aside all differences for the moment in which they search for national glory every four years and regional glory every week of the season (I won't get into the Champions League, Euro '08, etc. otherwise I'll be on this piece all night). The point I'm trying to make (bear with me) is that on a day when a massive amount of love for one sports team drew together millions it gave a glimmer of hope in my eye that maybe, just maybe, the same cohesion can be shared on a national stage come October.

If you're not a registered voter you can sign up online via your state's Board of Elections website. A simple Google search should get you there or, if you live in New York, just check out this link. We all have our own opinion on what we want changed with this country, whether it's our foreign or fiscal policy, homeland security, education system, the list is endless. One thing that all Americans seem in agreement on is the need for change, and not just the verbal committment candidates have been riding to victory since the end of Vietnam. For the first time in a few decades there seems to be a message in the air from voters demanding that action be taken to generate progress in restoring our country to the economic and political status that endeared around the globe.

'Farfallina' wrote a great piece today on the bridging of times between baby-boomers and generation x-ers, from the fashion to politics, on her blog. While not as radical as the times of the late 60s & early 70s, it seems that our generation is finally getting fed up with our growing dependence on oil, a weak economy and even weaker dollar, poor social services and what seems to be a general neglect of society from those we elected into office. Governments should fear their people, not the other way around (Orwell?). We truly have entered a time in which government affairs seem to be dicated by our own politicians' financial outcome. While I'm not naive as to think that this doesn't happen during every administration there just seems to be a general malaise in an attempt to bolster this great nation I've grown up in over the last eight years. In less poetic terms, We're Being Screwed!

In countries like Australia voting is compulsory for every citizen aged 18 and over at the penalty of fine and court fees. While I'm not suggesting that this is the solution to a politically apathetic society it may be important to look at such systems as a model for inspiration. Have you ever met an Australian before? While the ones I met don't list politics as the first thing on their social agenda they all have a common thought process: "If I have to vote I might as well spend some time knowing who my choices are and what they stand for". The ripeness of political apathy amongst the general population is as much to blame for our government's failures as the elected leaders themselves. The time of self reflection has seemed to present itself and I hope my fellow gen-xers follow suit. Whom you vote for the ideals that you base your opinion on are solely at your discretion. My plea to all is that you take the time, get involved (either passively or actively), understand what you want to see changed over the next four years and VOTE! Lets make this election a turning point in American history based on an politically educational revival, not just a blind pull of the handle...

Weighty Issue

2008-02-04T19:46:00.001-05:00

Yesterday my grandmother brought over some fresh, homemade sausage & peppers. Every now and then she comes out with a random gem and this was one of them. It was like the woman could instantly taste the outcome as she balanced the amount of sweet and spicy peppers she added, strips onions, a perfect amount of sausage. I wonder if she watched Julia Child on television back in the day. I've never seen her make a French dish but I'm sure the ambition is there.

I had dinner with my mother & aunt tonight, as my father (despite oral surgery) was out bowling in his league tonight. If you ever met him you'd understand that many basic laws of the medical profession need not apply in his mind. Like the 'not driving after anesthiga' rule, or the general 'I just had surgery so I'll take it easy' thought process. Anyway, as I'm cleaning up, narrowly avoiding wearing my grandmother's food, my mom turns and says:

-"Those jeans are filthy, you gotta clean them".
-"Madre, these are my lounging jeans, I have at least another month left worth of use in them", I justified.

This is when my aunt dropped the bomb that I had given no thought to whatsoever up until right now: "Well I guess you're packing light to Italy then..."

Che? Whoa...she's right. I hadn't given it much thought because I'm coming back to the U.S. in July for my friend's wedding. Five months, no worries, but the more I think back to my months spent in Florence the more I realize that I generally looked like a vagabond. I tried combinations of clothes, producing a variety of mixed colors even Bob Ross would've been proud of. No happy trees in sight unfortunately. The more I think about it the more I feel like it's a non issue though. I've done it once and I can do it again. But then another blow, when I stayed long term in 2005 the weight restriction on bags was 75 (70?) pounds. Now it's 55!! Even though I'm a guy this is still an issue, not because of the whole fashion sense (although that has something to do with it) but because, in my mind, all I see is the following equation:

less luggage weight = less clothes packed = more laundry to be done

I haven't even arrived in Rome yet and I already need a girlfriend/wife. Any tips, pointers, suggestions, general tirades towards my aforementioned sexist comment?

For Love of the Game

2008-01-31T12:20:00.000-05:00

Ever since I turned on my computer today I’ve been without Lotus Notes. For three hours this morning, after getting the daily arbitrary initial work out of the way, I’ve been handcuffed. Apparently there’s a huge internet outage paralyzing parts of Asia, the Middle East & North Africa. Not sure if that had anything to do with my LN failing but, after reading the article on CNN, I was expecting Arnold to break down the door, wielding a sawed off, calling for me to help him destroy SkyNet. Thank goodness for espn.com, as it gave me some time to catch up on some much needed sports knowledge.

For those of you who don’t know me, let me just get this out in the open…I’m a sports nut. Any sport (sans synchronized swimming & alligator wrestling) invented I’ve tried and/or am willing to try. I’m a true believer that you’re born with a competitive gene in your DNA. I think I got two. Yes, I’m the type of man who will challenge words in Scrabble and taunt you during a pickup game of basketball out in the street. Anyone over the age of 12 is no longer subject to the “let them win” rule. If those little kids are going to talk trash while dismantling me in Halo you can count on a stiff-arm in backyard football.

All joking aside, I’m a diehard Mets, Jets, Islanders, & (gulp) Knicks fan. Calling myself a diehard Fiorentina fan would make me feel like a fraud since I can’t watch every single one of their games or visit the stadium (the small issue of moving to Rome holds some weight as well). In the end I’m a lover of all NY sports teams except the Rangers. There’s no love lost when it comes to that team and their fans, with bar fights, random verbal abuse and public threats all acceptable acts.

Unless your postal code mirrors that of Santa’s workshop, or you just have a general disdain for sports, you’ve noticed that my beloved Mets have traded for the best pitcher in baseball. Sending four prospects, only one of them even close to major league ready, for Johan Santana has been and probably will be the best offseason move in the whole league. As any Met fan knows I won’t breathe easy until I see him on the mound, donning a Mets uniform, starting on opening day. This move arguably makes them the team to beat in the N.L. All they have to do is wrap up a contract extension, pass all physicals, and line up for postseason tickets. I know the Mets suffered what has to be the worst end of the season collapse in baseball history last year, but the past is the past…right? Isn’t the point of history to learn from it so we don’t make the same mistake twice?...like putting Tom Glavine on the mound in the last game of the year during a must win situation? Now that nod goes to Johan… and mlb.tv online might have one more subscriber content on watching the Metropolitans in the middle of the night overseas, computer screen and all…

The 'Golden' Life... (part 2)

2008-01-30T17:26:00.000-05:00

Leading up to MacGyver's death there was talk that he was the last of household pets. My brother was graduating college and moving to Connecticut, I was in the mists of my junior year of high school, with only one more year left before I went away to start my college experience and my father's position in his company was demanding more and more travel. It seemed somewhat logical at first glance but as the months passed without a dog in the house it was a constant reminder of just how much Mac meant to the family. In May of 2001 we said basta, no more, no longer could we live without a furry golden beast reigning terror on all vulnerable items of the house. We thought about a different type of dog, a Siberian husky possibly, but why change a good thing. Enter Riley.

Let me be the first to explain that I was adamantly against the name Riley. Just down the street they had a golden a few years old named Riley. I wanted some separation, an uniqueness. My family finally convinced me (and man were they right) that we'd probably end up have a handful of nicknames for him. To date the number may be up in the twenties. When we went to the breeder to check out the puppies it came to our attention that there was a plethora of females but only one male. Normally you want to pick from a litter that has at least two males. Growing up with six sisters, being the only male in the house, my father knew what this poor soul was in for so we decided to give him a shot.

People may ask why we must have a male dog. Valid question ---> valid answer: With absolutely no harm meant to the female gender and general dog population, but we didn't want to come home one day learning that somehow, someway, our dog was knocked up. I could already see my father yelling, "How could you let this happen!?!" while our dog just lowered her head and slinked away. The issue definitely wouldn't have been dropped there, probably with a few more disapproving father looks, statements made at the dinner table, and late night rambling until one of us finally turned to my father and said, "Dad, she's a dog, she can't understand the words 'teenage pregnancy'" to which he'd respond, "You bet your ass she knows what I'm talking about."

The breeder brought out the puppies to the front yard, along with the mother, to let them run around. Take away the obvious factors and immediately you could tell which one male. He was the only one playfully instigating the rest of the bunch while they all huddled around their mother. He seemed just as content playing with us as much as with the rest of his family. We brought Riley home that afternoon and in the coming 6+ years he's been part of our family we had no idea that he could possibly be more friendly and human-like then MacGyver. Boy were we wrong.

Riley had the pleasure of enjoying a bigger house (which he took full advantage of) than Mac, yet much less yard space. We only had our pool for a few years during his life but he enjoyed it just as much as his predecessor. I remember the look on his face after the pool was torn down and I began dismantling the deck. It was one of total dismay. "What do you mean no more pool time?". We ended up buying him one of those plastic pools about a foot deep. In the summertime we drag it out into the yard, fill it up about halfway, throw some golf and tennis balls inside and let him go to town. He too loves sports, must be a family thing. Even though he can't get his mouth around a football, soccer ball or basketball, this doesn't stop him from trying and using his 100 pound frame to body you out of the way so you can't steal it from him.

He is still as active today as when we first brought him home and, while it's a testament to his good health, it sometimes can be a peril to yours. If you're not careful, what looks to be a small lion coming down the hallway full speed will end up ramming you with one of the assortment of toys at his disposal. His two favorite are a stuffed squirrel and rabbit, with a tiny football coming in a close third. Being that he's constantly carrying those stuffed animals around in his mouth all day you're not excited about the fact that he wants to play tug-o-war with them. You're to tired to play, you'd rather watch tv or you just don't have the time... too bad. Ignoring him won't do, as he'll continually jab your any limb in order to get your attention (and I do mean ANY limb). We've learned to just stick our feet out and he'll entertain himself by wrestling with them, yes your feet, for a good 10/15 minutes. This is followed by some growling on his part, as if they were antagonizing him. Shoes and sandals might as well have a bulls-eye on them. Once acquired he'll take off to another room with them for about five minutes, finally realizing that you didn't chase him, and return to the scene of the crime just long enough to get your attention. His whole life revolves around getting your attention. Once again, he's a retriever, he can't help it. One of the most talked about items in my dorm room at school were my sandals. It looked as if they'd been typed to chum and thrown in the shark tank. He never torn or ripped at them, just a few chops here and there. I still wear them every day.

To attempt to list all of his favorites might turn this short story into a novel. Tops on the list are eating, sleeping and playing. Come to think of it, that's all he really does. When we bring in the groceries from food shopping he's the first one rummaging through the bags to find something he can drag into the living room to lay down with. More times then not it's the box of dryer sheets or a 10 pack of gym. He loves Christmas time and the whole decorating of the tree process. In his younger years he'd take the ball ornaments off the bottom of the tree but no more. Riley's two most prized possessions outside of his realm of toys are his collar and bandana. Taking them off to bath him elicits a reaction that, ironically enough, mirrors that of a person whom just lost their dog. I used to let him sleep in my bed with me, and still do on special occasions, but unlike Mac he can only walk UP the stairs. Coming down is a whole new issue (if you saw the slope of them you'd understand...I'm still amazed I've survived all these years despite a plethora of tumbles). So carrying down a 100 pound dog on steps that scream twisted ankle wasn't the safest of tasks. This, and the fact that he's a bed hog seals the deal for me.

There's something to be said about pets who give back so much to your life. It seemed that everyday my interaction with MacGyver and now Riley helps me discover more about myself just as much as I do about them. Open your eyes wide enough and it's crystal clear how much we can learn from our pets, especially those whom have taken there place as another member of your family. While they grow in age you grow in enrichment. I can't say enough about the loyalty of my dogs (or any dog for that matter) to their owner. In part 1 of this blog I spoke of the Christmas card kindling thoughts of the pieces of my life I can't take with me to Rome, how deeply I will miss them, how deeply I will miss Riley. It truly feels like another relationship in your life and he'll give you as much love back as you're willing to put in. Judging by his constant shadowing, I think I'm doing alright...

The 'Golden' Life... (part 1)

2008-01-29T21:37:00.000-05:00

Where did January go? In cleaning this past weekend I found a rogue family Christmas card sent out this past year. Didn't we just usher in the new year? I still see Christmas decorations (no offense but that's pure laziness or an over zealous sense of the holiday, btw, I don't judge). How is February knocking on our doorstep? With the one month mark until my move steadily approaching this weekend, I took some time to reflect on the massive pieces of my life that I'll miss dearly. Staring at the picture on our card brought to mind one of those pieces and I'll get to him in Part 2...

I have not known life in my 23+ years without a pet. My first dog was a mutt of german shepherd and border collie mix. Cooter was, by all means, the definition of a pet dog. He had no human tendencies, no vices, no acquired expectations. He slept, ate, guarded the house and occasionally served as a giant teddy bear to hug during my infancy. It's strange the things we remember as a kid and I still have the image of our neighbors ducklings on my walker in our living room. I think Cooter was more perplexed with them then I was. We've had a hamster (Spike) and fish. [side note - goldfish can live under any conditions and have ridiculous life spans, so much so that you end up buying bigger fish to eat them].

Some time had passed in between Cooter's death and the house felt empty. For my 10th birthday I asked and received a puppy. This was a family decision and as a family we decided on a golden retriever. When we went to the breeder we just watched the four male puppies for a half an hour or so. One was overweight, two were rolling around in what seemed to be rain puddles (turned out to be puddles of a different matter) and one just wanted to hang out with the humans. It was an easy decision. On our way home he slept on blankets with his head tucked under the door handle. Being that he was my birthday present, I got to name him. Naturally I picked MacGyver. Please try and state you didn't love that show. He had a plethora of nicknames and, whenever he heard his full name, he knew his was in trouble (sound familiar?).

A good amount of my vivid images of any pet are with him. He was the epitome of a house pet. As a puppy I remember spending a few nights laying half in his cage with him until he feel asleep. This took longer then you may think, seeing that he found it more entertaining to bite anything he saw fit, from my shirt to my fingers. Even my ears were fair game. Mac grew into that awkward, lanky stage a few months later and quickly realized that the ironing board separating the living room and dining room was no longer the Berlin Wall. During the winter he couldn't get enough of sleeping up against you to stay warm, playing in the snow and generally never leaving your side. Being over six feet and allowing your 85 pound golden to sleep in your bed sometimes isn't the best recipe for a good nights sleep. Summertimes were spent running around the yard with repeated attempts to steal the pool basketball mid-flight on its way to the hoop from the pool deck. Sometimes he fell in, with his face turning from all smiles to oh sh*t in a matter of seconds. Other times he felt inclined to relax on the raft as it floated around the pool. We even have video of him on the raft with party glasses on, priceless. You couldn't play any sort of sporting event in the yard without his intervention. Wiffleball was certainly out of the question, don't even think about ping pong on the driveway, even basketball was a borderline no-no unless he could join. He did have his mischievous tendencies, list including and not limited to thievery of clothing, shoes, towels, bed sheets, hats, pillows, stuffed teddy bears and virtually any other item within his grasp. He would never rip them apart but instead more or less stole them for attention. He is a retriever after all. Mac learned to open up the cabinets that housed his treats. Coming home to an empty box of biscuits and a dog with a serious stomach ache tipped us off. Toilet seat must be down at all times, not Mom's rules but house rules because of him. Unlike so many other dogs he knew he wasn't allowed on the furniture and actually adhered to this but that never stopped him from testing the limits.

Though he was my dog MacGyver always had the closest bond with my father. Working from home, Mac had a constant companion throughout the day in my dad. As the years passed and his face grew prematurely white faster then what seemed to be normal, it raised some alarms and my dad noticed his behavior on a daily basis. We knew that pedigrees, especially large ones, don't have long life spans, but he wasn't close to double digits yet. His antics around the yard and the house seemed to minimize. No longer did I have to worry about him stealing both the shoes and socks off my feet in an attempt to start some wrestling play time. It turned out Mac had thyroid cancer. At the tender age of 6 MacGyver died. We called my brother at school and he came home for the weekend, burying him in our backyard. For those of you who are close to your pets you'll understand this when I say that Mac was nothing less then another member of our family. He wasn't merely a pet but instead a brother, son, nephew and friend to anyone who met him. Provided you scratched his belly, Mac would sit and listen to any and all problems, thoughts, anything you needed to voice but had no audience to release upon. His unwavering loyalty and constant companionship brightened every day, softened any pain and gave a true definition to hearing the term 'man's best friend'...

Books of '07

2008-01-17T20:00:00.000-05:00

The fate of reading amongst society seems to be intertwined with that of the influence of the Catholic church. It's rooted worldwide but it's a diminishing practice only found prevelent amongst an older generation. This current generation, the youth movement that I'm a firm part of, tends to gravitate towards technology that's two steps behind cloning humans. The enjoyment of reading during one's leisure time seems to have gone by the wayside.

Well, despite my self-admitted technology craze, I still find time to align myself with ancient philosophers.

"No matter how busy you may think you are, you must find time for reading, or surrender yourself to self-chosen ignorance".

Confucius stated this in his writings during his heyday. I couldn't agree with him more. I first started reading consistenly in college as, believe it or not, an escape from reading. With my eyes glancing over page upon page of capital & money markets, corporate finance and various other money driven studies I went into sensory overload. I thought my tax professor was going to have us memorize some sort of IRS creed from their government handbook. I needed some adventure in my pages. This is where leisure reading became my escape, a sensation (yes I'm a nerd). Currently I'm reading Alexander Stille's "The Sack of Rome". Questo libro brings to light the rise of Silvio Berlusconi and his impact on Italy.

Every night before I go to bed my eyes fixate on the tower of books shadowing over my nightstand. Once the book is finished the tower gets another story added on. I've been reflecting back on all the books read in the past year, each telling a story of sorts. They seem to be more then just pages, they're an inward reflection to the most difficult year in my life, sparking memories of admiration, torment & elation (to name just a few emotions). Below are all the books I read in 2007:

Paolo Coelho - The Alchemist
Nicholas Evans - The Divide
Joseph Heller - Portrait of an Artist as an Old Man
Frances Itani - Deafening
Dale Carnegie - How to Win Friends & Influence People
Ernest Hemingway - For Whom the Bell Tolls
Beppe Severgnini - La Bella Figura
Andrew Wilson - The Lying Tongue
Neil Boortz - Somebody's Gotta Say It
Susanna Clark - Dr. Strange & Mr. Norrell
Rhonda Byrne - The Secret
Frances Mayes - Under the Tuscan Sun
Tim Parks - Medici Money
Khaled Hossieni - Kite Runner
Frances Mayes - Bella Tuscany
Phil Doran - The Reluctant Tuscan
Jhumpa Lahiri - Interpreter of Maladies
Frances Mayes - A Year in the World
Daniel Silva - The Secret Servant
Tucker Max - I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell
John Grisham - Playing For Pizza
William Styron - Darkness Visible
Richard Paul Evans - The Last Promise
Gabriel Garcia Marques - Love In The Time of Cholera (my fourth time reading this)
Irene Nemirovsky - Suite Francaise

2008 List (so far): Luigi Barzini - The Italians; Franz Wisner - Honeymoon with My Brother; John Berendt - City of Falling Angels

Student Visa

2008-01-14T19:20:00.000-05:00

Today was my appointment with the Italian Consulate for submitting all my paperwork in order to obtain my student visa. I was excited and nervous all in the same period, although having to get up at 4:30 to catch a train into the city didn't make me the happiest man in the waiting room. I got online at around 7:30 in the morning, the first online. Around 8:15 the line was wrapped around the corner of the consulate. Upon entiring the carabiniere guard scanned my passport and handed me a cover sheet with all my requirements. My heart dropped once my eyes finished their review of this decisive sheet of paper. The last requirement stated health insurance. I did not purchase this. I was under the impression that once I registered with the Questura for my PdS and the necessary Italian insurance I was in the clear. I immediately took out my health plan card through my employer and hoped it would do the trick.

I finally got up to the window around 10:00 in the morning. The 15 or so minutes he took to look over my paperwork seemed like an eternity. He handed my sheet stated what visa I was applying for, told me to have a seat and wait for my name to be called. I took out John Berendt's "City of Falling Angels" and began to read. Two hours and multiple chapters later I was called up to another window with this sensation that I was getting rejected all because of health insurance. The woman's smile through the glass discipated all tension as she reached for the officially stamped letters from my school for my acceptance. She informed me that I'm to return on January 30th in order to pick up my student visa.

Mission accomplished....

The final piece, finding an apartment....

Housing, Visa & Time

2008-01-09T12:21:00.000-05:00

Housing:
I hit my first major speedbump in my MBA transition. Upon contacting the student affairs officer at my school I thought I'd be all set. How naive. I received an email back a few days later stating that they no longer had apartments for rent through the school and the landlords they used were all booked up because of the precarious time I'm starting my schooling. Not many programs run on the 'quarter' schedule in college. This program is broken up into fall, spring and summer semesters, with each semester containing two, month and a half quarters. Interesting to say the least. So where does that leave me? Well, I had planned on having my housing costs included in tuition, and this was a major point for me. If housing is included in the tuition then my student loans will cover the cost of housing. Now that I have to find an apartment on my own, viola!, money has to come out of my pocket. I'm going to contact the school and see if, whatever apartment I find, I can have my landlord bill St. John's directly and have them tack it on to my tuition costs. Problem solved. If only it were that easy, like a light switch. Trying to find affordable, realiable housing on your own from another country is one of the most slippery slopes imaginable. I'm making progress though...

Visa:
My dean recently got back from his holiday vacation spent in California for two weeks. It brought memories of my annual trips out to SoCal to visit family and spend time in the most beautiful weather in all of the US, hands down in my mind (give me 80, sunny, no humidity and an intricate landscape and I'm sold. I think the fact that I'm not actually living there and on vacation just adds to my sensational outlook). With a quick exchange of emails I was registered for 'Capital & Money Markets' on Monday & Wednesday followed by 'Advertising Management' on Tuesday & Thursday. He's sent the official documents DHL this morning and their Queens campus is sending me official letters as well. I got my Affadavit of Insurance signed and notarized, as well as the Affadavit of Support. This morning I made color copies of my passport and my fathers (he had to sign some docs with his birthplace, Germany, on them and I didn't want to leave anything to chance if the visa officer needs proof of his citizenship). Where does that put me? Hmm.. I still need passport sized photos (get them on my lunch break), completition of my Schengen visa application and bank statements on bank letterhead. Combine it all with copies, neatly organized in a folder and I think I'm solid. I'm staying at my friend Jon's apartment in the city Sunday night because getting up to take the train in to the consulate at 4 in the morning to wait on line is not an option I even entertained.

Time:
Anyone else need 30 hour days? Although then I'm probably looking at a 14-18 hour work day and poof!, there goes that extra time. There's so much I want to do, so much I have to do, but days and nights pass as if I'm standing still. Many people claim the necessity to prioritize better. Most of these people are retired mind you. I can prioritize with the best of them when it comes to life, or at least so I thought. As it turns out I'm not alone. Go figure. It seems that nobody has enough time in their days to accomplish what they want/need/must. I thought maybe it was a tri-state area disease, or even one that only spread along the coast lines and major cities. I ask this question to anyone reading this, don't you wish you had more time? Has there ever been a day in your life (don't count vacation, cheaters) that you haven't had to sacrifice one thing for another for the sake of time? During my time spent across the pond it seemed that the Italians I encountered and interacted with always had enough time to accomplish all they had to. I'm thinking this is more due to the fact that they don't fret as much as others do in regards to certain things more so then them actually accomplishing their daily goals..... ah time....

New Years... importance of family

2008-01-03T20:09:00.000-05:00

With my impending move to Rome to pursue my graduate degree sentiment between my family and I has been distant. This was something that was sprung upon me as quickly as I sprang it upon them. I had been planning for a while but the time between my acceptance (December) and my starting date (March) feels like something out of the Adam Sandler movie 'Click'. Time just seems to be in fast forward. It seems as if we've both been struggling to find common ground, being such a close and tight knit group. At times I feel resentment on their part in regards to my decision but I don't rule out the fact that it's my over-analytical mind running its course. I always love spending time with my family and that has increased exponentially now that I'm leaving.

Dinner Table

So what better way to indulge in family festivities and take the initiative in thawing tension then New Years! My family throws a party notoriously well. Just ask my friends, who conjure up ways to any family function. I've given up stopping them and now it's become a staple to invite them as well. My original plans were to have dinner at my brother's house and out by 9:30. Next thing I know, some glasses of ketel one and few bottles of wine later and the hands on my watch show 10:30. Did I drink to much? I was so consumed with the feast of lobster tail, crab legs and loin on the table that I had hardly taken time to breath, let along check the time. As a matter of fact, we all were shocked when we stood up from the table and it was almost 11. The scene during dinner was something similar to an all you can eat buffet, free of charge, for only 15 minutes. The use of forks and knives saved us from looking like it was feeding time at the watering hole.

Unreal Wine

I decided then and there, amidst the laughter and smiles and wine, I was at the exact place in the world during I wanted to be at the euphoric moment. It was as if I had lost my hearing and everything moved that much slower in my mind. It's moments such as those that will never escape my cluttered mind. These will be found someday down the line, some moment in time, wedged between breaking my wrist during the state semis in soccer and cliff jumping at the world's largest natural aquarium in Xel-ha. I told you I have a cluttered mind. Memories need no mental file cabinet I always say.

I spent 30 minutes at my friend's house and was back in time to see the ball drop. Rounds of hugs & kisses & well wishes were embraced. I'll always remember my grandfather's face and how much he means to me as a tear ran down his cheek while he struggled to tell me how proud I have made him, make him and will continue to make him. He's been the steadiest figure in my life and our candid knows no boundaries between each other. For without his 'everything' I'm not sure I would have lasted...

My Brother & I

Student Loans & What Remains...

2007-12-31T14:34:00.000-05:00

If there is any downside to getting my MBA in Rome, we have a runaway winner in the necessity of paying for your education. The cost for getting your MBA somehow seems extraterrestrial. It reminds me of the scene in each Austin Powers movie when Dr. Evil gives his ransom demands at some absurd amount, except I actually have to pay it. While my scholarship helps me out somewhat I'm still a hefty amount lacking in the funds department.

Viola! Student loans. For those of you who have never had to engage in the beauty of FAFSA I can break it down for you. It's like the first time your parents asked you to mow the lawn or vacuum the living room. When you first have to do it the task itself seems like the biggest pain in the ass and you can't get the phrase, "What's the point in doing this" out of your head. But the older you get and the more times you continue to do it you realize the necessity for its completion and the overall satisfaction of the outcome. Alright, to much of a stretch for some of you? Lets just say if you're paying for school on your own and you don't have tens of thousands of dollars laying around, it's your saving grace. Living in NY makes me eligible for the TAP program offered by the state government as well. Every little bit helps. I've always saved my change and as a last ditch resort I've cut my spending to an absolute minimum, only survival items and the occasional bar tab. I even find myself not spending singles and hoarding them in a cigar box in my room. I feel like Shylock.

I have finally completed all my student loans and they're being processed as we speak. This is the first time completing them while I claim financial independence from my parents so I'm hoping I receive (and should) all the funds I need. Also, never before have I been so excited to complete my taxes. Being that I'm still paying off loans from my undergrad I'm bound to get them all back when I file in February. With my loans all complete that strikes one more task from my checklist...

What's left... passport sized photos are a necessity. Emails must be sent back to my dean and the student advisor in assistance with housing. Apparently I'm going to need a roof over my head. Who knew? I also have to contact the consulate, hope that the planets are aligned and get a straight answer in regards to the specific documentation I need for my visa appointment. Statements of my feebly underfunded but overinflated bank accounts (thanks to some temporary family contributions that must be returned swiftly upon receipt of my student visa) are also a necessity.

While all this seems like, and is, a lot to handle during this time of the year considering the nature of my work, I'm loving every minute of it. I thank those of you who now read my blog and have taken an interest in my journey. It means more then you can understand. As for tonight, I wish all of you a safe and happy new year. Dinner at my brother's house and a party with my friends, how does a new years get any better....

The Holidays

2007-12-27T15:57:00.000-05:00

As I've gotten older and the years have passed the holidays have lost some of their luster. I can remember the days when I'd be up before the sun, jumping up and down on my brother's bed while he waved his hand, haplessly attempting to turn me away. I would be counting down the days to Christmas once Halloween was over. My advent calender only fueled the excitement. As a student you had so much time to be able to get into the holiday spirit and observe the transformation that was taking place around you. Even in college I was able to embrace the holidays.

It feels like ever since I've started working full time, and even my senior year of college, the holidays just don't hold their appeal. I don't mean to sound like a downer but that's just how it is. I don't embrace the winter, the snow, the madness that goes on around me during this time of the year. This was the first year that I truly didn't even get excited about Christmas. Who doesn't get excited about Christmas!!

I'm almost upset with myself. I attribute all of this to the stress that seems to be never ending over the last few months. I haven't had a chance to sit down and really just enjoy my time. There's been to much to handle, to much on my mind. Now that I've been accepted to school I have only a short amount of time to get ready for my move to Rome at the beginning of March and an even shorter time to gather all the necessary information for my student visa appointment at the consulate on the 14th. I still haven't finished my student loan application! Combine this with the stress of working in banking during year end and I need a serious glass of Ketel One on the rocks. Is there anyone else out there stressed beyond belief right now???

It's Official...

2007-12-21T11:34:00.000-05:00

I'M IN!!! I'M IN!!!

I received word this past Wednesday that I've been accepted to the MBA program at St. John's University in Rome!!! On top of that they're going to give me a scholarship covering 25% of my tuition. After months and months of planning, studying, tests, records and, most stressful of all, waiting, I got the reward I was looking for. This has been a dream almost three years in the making upon my return home from my first study abroad experience in Florence.

When I first read my email I was so happy I had to step out of my office for a moment. I walked downstairs, crossed the street, headed to Chase Plaza where I let out one of those jumps with a first pump. You all know the type. You see it in movies or a commericial, the main character generally making a fool out of themselves in a large public square or gathering, not having a care in the world because of their own excitement. I was that fool.

I was so ecstatic that the first thing I did was call my family and share the good news. They're excited for me but upset all in the same because I'll be gone for so long. There's always the possibility that I won't be back. Last night I invited all my friends out to our local bar we always visit and broke the news to them. They took it in stride and most of them are just as excited as I am. They know how much this means to me.

Going forward, there are so many things I need to address. I have my consulate appointment on January 14th and that takes top priority. I need to get all my required docs in order. I have an idea from my past experience with obtaining a student visa but rules change. Contacting the consulate to nail everything down becomes priority numero uno right now. There are so many other needs that must be handled as well, but they're best saved for another post....

Rome...hear I come...

Who can you trust??

2007-12-10T16:26:00.000-05:00

One thing I've had a difficult time handling over the last few years is the presence of lies and false pretenses that seem so prevalent in my life, specifically over the last four months. These have been the most difficult I've ever had to endure internally, so difficult that I even started to show externally (which never happens). I keep everything on the inside and rarely let anything (or anyone) penetrate the surface. It's easy for me to shut it all out when I'm lied to or feel wronged somehow. I take my time, normally a few days, sometimes just a few hours...think about it, digest it and move on. For some reason I haven't been able to shake anything during these times...

All I can think about is how easily people can switch their feelings, thoughts, words, ideals, love, loyalty... basically their general sense of everyday interaction in the world. How can they stare someone else in the face and blatantly lie without second thoughts or remorse? Do they know it's wrong and just don't care or do they really believe there's nothing wrong with it? Is it just a natural selfishness?

This is a big problem I can't get past and is routed in most of my problems. It begs the question that titles this post, who can you trust? One hurdle, and probably the biggest, I need to clear in order to get back to being me is the ability to trust people. I don't, I can't. Especially when it comes down to serious, personal issues... face to face, heart to heart --- people straight up lie to my face. They do it with a disasterously cold attitude. I'm not naive. I know this is part of life. I've lied before. Show me someone who hasn't and go ahead, put them on pair with some biblical figures. Even Peter didn't step up for J.C. when he needed him (sorry, not blasphemy, I'm just not as religious as I once was). But I can never look into the eyes of a loved one and bluntly lie for selfish reasons, knowing full well it will break them.

I guess what hurts the most is that right now beyond anything else is the only person in my life I trust is my brother... trying to swallow that everyday will drive you crazy. How is it so easy for people not to care, to say they do only for those to be words unfulfilled?

"One Dozen Please" - Songs

2007-12-07T13:25:00.000-05:00

Everyone has a top ten that they love to write about or list out whenever questioned. It could be movies, drinks, food, names, etc. While it seems the most logical to roll out your favorite ten I want to keep part of NY and all it has to offer with me wherever I go whenever I write. When I hear "dozen" for some reason I just think of the bagel store on main street, or the donuts from DD by my office or the garlic knots from Gio's. What better way to remember NY?

Music is a big part of my everyday life. I listen to every single genre virtually....yes, even country on a rare occasion. I just can't stand when artists just scream into a microphone. Sorry, that's not music...

There's not a day that goes by that I'm not listening to some form of music. My Ipod rarely leaves my sight. It's so easy to mold your music around your mood. There's no doubt that the music you listen to reflects your state of mind, whether it's for days, months or just seconds. I figure I'll make this a once in a while thing...give you a small glimpse inside what is by far the scariest part of me... so here's my dozen songs for the moment...

Quietdrive - Rise From the Ashes
Lifehouse - Quasi'modo
Counting Crows - She Don't Want Nobody Near
Relient K - Who I Am Hates Who I've Been
Eric James & the New Century - Trust
Pilate - The Travel Song
Jimmy Eat World - If You Don't, Don't
Third Eye Blind - Wake for Young Souls
The Used - Blue and Yellow
Led Zeppelin - Fool In the Rain
Dashboard Confessional - Stolen
Goo Goo Dolls - Big Machine

The Waiting Game

2007-11-14T13:46:00.001-05:00

So I've finally made the push and submitted my MBA application to St. John's in Rome a few weeks ago. I faired well on my GMATs and got all the necessary information filled out. My application essay seemed to be right on point. My two recommendations came from my advanced Italian professor from college and 'gulp' my boss! I took the leap, sat him down man to man (typical guy move) and explained to him what I wanted to asked him to write me a recommendation. I was almost sweating during our meeting. He said it would be his pleasure because of the fact that I've worked so hard for him & my firm over the last year and half. How about that?.... and now I'm nervous as all hell. This is a big step to take and it's one that I want so badly I envision it constantly. I'm the type of person who likes to have control of every situation and knowing that I don't have control of this anymore leaves me in a constant state of panic. I'm ridiculous!!

I'm also in panic mode because I'm not sure where I actually believe I'll get the money to do this. Let's assume I do get into the program lets run down the list of where to even think of paying for this:

I'm going to have to take out student loans for everything, basically selling myself to Sallie Mae and my bank on the pretext that I'll make it through my MBA (if I get accepted), find a job that pays well, and repay all these loans.
I'm banking on getting a solid bonus and using that money to help stabilize me for a while.
I know it's going to be necessary to get a job while I'm there but while my italian is above average it's not even in the realm of fluent. Very good is a stretch. Good seems to five days a week.

Moving forward to other obstacles:

Student visa
Housing
Computer
Did I mention money yet?
Did I also mention I haven't been accepted yet?

Despite these minor details I'm still as determined as ever to find see my way through this. I've been in contact with St. John's and they're reviewing my application now.

So it begins...

2007-07-30T14:16:00.000-04:00

I've finally set in motion the wheels that direct the vehicle I'm hoping to drive all the way to my dream. I'm sure there are many out there that can't possibly understand or begin to fathom why I would embark on such a journey. Then again I'm quite sure those people have never seen what I've seen, felt what I've felt, and lived the life I've lived. Also, and I'm positive of this, they've never been to Italy. I have nothing to which I'm obligated to stay for here in the U.S. and family will always be family no matter where you are.

This is something I want to do, I need to do. I've always told myself that I'm going to live my life the way I want. The day I stop doing that is the day I stop being me. I've registered for my GMAT test (September 15th) and plan on applying to St. John's in Rome to study towards my MBA. It's a year and a half program in the center of Rome. I've always started applying to positions in Italy, preferably in Florence since I want to reside in Tuscany one day. I'm still torn on the idea of getting my TEFL certificate in order to teach english to the Italians while I'm there before I leave.