2 Years Gone

Posted on June 21, 2014 by liguriansun

“Do not cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.”-Dr. Seuss

Yesterday, I walked out of the building for the last time as a teacher. Saying goodbyes to colleagues I wouldn’t see this summer, I eventually choked up on my way out the door, overwhelmed that I was leaving my favorite job, my favorite apartment, and my beautiful home in Europe, walking distance to the sea.

This was a dream I had for many, many years – probably since I took my first trip to Europe in 1997: Paris, the Riviera and Rome. The tour also included Florence and Assisi — and I realized I loved Europe, loved the way I felt in Europe, and wanted more. I studied abroad in England in 2001. I backpacked alone for the first time that summer. I came back the following summer for more. I kept coming back. I remember telling a close friend,”When I close my eyes, I see Europe. It’s all I want.” I dreamed, and schemed, and then in January 2012 I accepted my job, in a story as told here when I celebrated 6 months in Europe. I almost chickened out, but I knew in my gut it was the right step, a necessary check on my timeline. And when it was time to decide whether to stay in this beautiful, peaceful, comfortable life or move on to my next adventures, I waffled and struggled, but for many reasons, I knew that it was time for NY. Maybe not forever, maybe just for a year or two, but for some reason, it’s time to be in NY. When confronted with the easy path or the hard one, I know I will grow from the challenging path. As weird as it sounds, the challenge at this point is to move home. I have enjoyed every moment of my time here, and rather than stay and resent certain things or wonder what if, I am leaving at my peak of enjoyment, preserving the memory. But before I tie the bow on this experience, I have a Grand European Farewell Tour!

I remember my New York Grand Farewell Tour. From February until my August departure, I savored every moment of my life in New York, visiting things like a tourist, going out with my friends as much as possible, and realizing how great things were at home. With this new trajectory, I scraped off my barnacles and felt revitalized and full of energy. Of course, none of this was easy. The emotions of leaving my job, friends, family, car and familiarity; the bureaucratic paperwork that took until just days before I hopped onto my plane–my friends wondering if I’d even be able to go when I was at my farewell party; packing my apartment for storage and shipping some belongings overseas; completing the days of paperwork and office visits upon arrival; figuring out how to get a cell phone and internet, how to ask for things at the grocery store, how to call a taxi, where to find tacos, where to buy cheddar (not in Italy!), where to get deodorant with antiperspirant; cooking daily; purchasing and riding a scooter; retrieving contacts stuck in customs; changing that strange fluorescent light bulb; getting the guy to get the geckos out of your water heater; getting stuck places because of delays or train strikes; dealing with Italy in general. But it was all worth it, and it was all possible thanks to the kindness of my colleagues and the patience of my friends and family who listened to my homesick gripes as they faded. Genoa became my home.

They say you can’t go home again, so I know I’ll have to reacclimatize to New York City, finding my more relaxed Mediterranean ways might not suit me well in the frenzied city. Yet I will have friends, family, and all the things I’ve been missing. I am setting new goals, treating my time back in NY as possibly temporary, so I need to enjoy it while I can. I want a nice apartment (no downgrades since I love what I have now); I have my leased car and I’m going to get a scooter there as well! I’m going to try out more adventure activities (rock climbing, kayaking, whatever comes my way). I’m going to do more US travel on the weekend. Friends in Cali and Chicago, I’ve never been to Colorado, Skiing in Vermont — so much to see! I’m going out in the city as much as possible mixed with many chill dinners at home with my closest friends. I’m also looking forward to my cats; I’ve been known to Skype them.

The job search from abroad was certainly tricky. I had resigned from the NY City public schools, so I wasn’t guaranteed a job in the system. I had to apply to even be considered as a candidate. Then I had to find the right fit. All through email or skype and with a time difference. Yet it worked out!

I absolutely love where I work now. I’m happy to say that my new school is also an excellent match for me: internationally minded,with coworkers who have worked abroad and/or traveled extensively like me, IB-inspired, semi-selective and serving a community of students who want a rigorous curriculum despite their incoming scores (except for the honors classes–which are selected). I will only be teaching 11th grade plus one elective (currently I teach 8,9,10,11,12). I enjoyed the variety of 5 grades, although it will be nice to just have one preparation so I can focus. I really liked what I saw when I flew in last month for both the school visit and a wedding, Just before I received the official job offer, my boss told me that my job opened up again here. I had agonized over the decision, spent a long time preparing for my job search, and ended up with something special and rare. I knew I couldn’t second guess. I just had to go, so I accepted the offer and am on my way.

But first:

A few days here to enjoy the gorgeous weather of June in Genoa. Days at beach, nights at beachside bars, perhaps dancing. Riding my scooter all around. Then next week, I fly to Belgium to visit my friends in Ghent and enjoy a charming canal view hotel room in Bruges. Upon my return, I have some time in Genoa again before Krakow with a friend for 4th of July weekend. I fly back, then that evening, two great friends from NY will be staying with me to explore the region. After they leave, I have a day to pack for my big adventure and pack up my apartment for the big move. I head to Interlaken, Switzerland in the Alps for a charming 2 nights on Lake Brienz, one of my favorite spots in the world. Peaceful reflection, hiking, biking, swimming. . . ahh! Next, I take a train to Constance, Germany where I meet up with my father. We will visit spas, museums, and explore with a car. Next, we take a train to Merano in the Dolomites, for hiking and fresh air, followed by Trieste where we meet a family friend, then a drive to Lake Bled, Slovenia (new country for me!), then to Rimini for a night, a quick peek at San Marino, then finally a couple of nights in the Cinque Terre before my shippers come. Dad and I enjoy a couple of days in Genoa, he leaves, then I have a few final days before back to the USA. It’s been great, and there are great things ahead.

My 10th grade students were so sad I was leaving. They wrote a sweet card, thanking me for “Being the Best English Teacher We Ever Had” and gave me this gorgeous Murano Glass Heart necklace. So touched!

I was wearing the perfect outfit for this sweet gift. That evening, I went to Milan for the evening to meet up with my brother and his girlfriend who just arrived from NY. This is in my hotel room there. I spent a lot of time in Milan hotel rooms coming and going somewhere special or meeting with friends and family.

For our last Italian class, we walked down to the sea for aperitivo and Italian conversation. Our colleague/teacher gave us these wonderful gifts so we can take a bit of Genoa with us!

I’m enjoying every moment. Right now, I’m enjoying a lazy day in bed, the door open to my terrace as the sunshine spills in, birds singing sweet melodies that are the soundtrack to my life here along with the occasional scooter. I have the peace and time to reflect. Content. Filled with gratitude. I have been truly blessed.

Without Reservations: Travels of an Independent Woman

Posted on September 15, 2013 by liguriansun

Back in Italy for year 2. Three weeks after landing, I’m getting settled back into my routine, learning to let go of home again, and moving forward. I had such a relaxing, restful summer with the people I love most, so it broke my heart to leave again. Yet Genoa welcomed me with sunshine and stunning views, and along with some wonderful people, she reminded me that this is home too.

My flight landed on the 25th of August, and I began work on Monday the 26th — a week preparing for our students with evenings swimming in the Mediterranean or scooting about with Stella. The next weekend, I was lucky enough to return to Venice as one of my best Fordham friends and her boyfriend were about to depart for a 2 week Adriatic cruise. We shared an apartment one vaporetto stop away from the train station, and enjoyed a delightful Friday night strolling the streets, searching for the most perfect restaurant while catching up. I was jealous of their upcoming cruise, but Kristen reminded me that I live in Italy. Even if I had to go to work on Monday, it was the start of a new school year at a job I love, a far cry from the chaos and stress of the life I left behind in the overcrowded schools as one of many frazzled and under appreciated NYC teachers. On Saturday the 31st, before they boarded the “People Mover” to their cruise, Kristen handed me her copy of Without Reservations, a book she mentioned over dinner in the US this summer. A woman leaves her job for about 9 months, to follow her dream of immersing in several European locales without reservations. She was going to avoid planning and to see what happens.

I began the book yesterday. The best and worst aspect of living alone far from home is Saturday morning. I wake up in my cozy, renovated apartment with its terra cotta and marble floors, exposed brick, and garden views. I wake up too early due to the ever present bells, birds, and scooters. I make some coffee. Maybe turn on Netflix or Apple TV. I check to see if I got any iMessages or texts on WhatsApp. Scroll through email. Scroll through my Twitter and Facebook feeds. And it’s only been 15 minutes. The weekend looms before me, all mine for whatever I want to do, whether that is nap on the couch, stare at the wall, or travel somewhere. But as exciting as independence is, it’s also lonely. We are wired for family. And I left mine in the States.

I went to move my scooter, but it was so beautiful and sunny that I couldn’t just go back inside after circling the block, so I rode along the coast. I hit a snag of traffic and tried something new . . . passing the huge line of cars, crossing into oncoming traffic cautiously, and relishing the true pure joy of owning a scooter. Winding high in the Ligurian Hills, with the Mediterranean to my right, glittering in the sun, I could smell flowers and fireplaces. I saw my reflection in the rearview mirror, and I was smiling. I paid a price for this, but what bliss! As I reached Recco, known for inventing delectable focaccia formaggio with its flaky crust and liquidy stracchino, I climbed high into the hills on unexplored little roads, treating myself to sublime views. I stopped Stella and was about to reach under the seat for my iPhone but realized I didn’t have it. I just stepped out for a minute . . . didn’t plan this. So, free from social networks, free from sharing the experience, I was able to fully immerse myself in it and enjoy in the moment. It felt more special and pure as a result.

I wound my way down the hill, past super fit bikers challenging their lycra-clad quads, and headed back home where I changed into a swimsuit to hit the beach before the good sun was gone. The pebbles were strewn with seaweed, providing a softer than usual bed. I fell asleep to the cadence of Italian voices. When I awoke, I practiced deciphering the sounds, realizing that I understand more than just snippets of conversation these days. “Watch me, watch me uncle!” “I can’t believe what she said.” “We had ravioli and prosciutto and [kisses fingers] it was delicious.” “Children, it’s time to go.” Real conversations.

I waded into the choppy water for a good workout. Instead of just swimming, I have been using the aqua-size skills I learned from Mom’s class at the Y. And since the salt water makes us more buoyant, I can do these exercises without the flotation belt. It’s fun, and I can do both cardio and strength training while enjoying the stunning scenery all around me. After a half hour of cross country skiing, reverse jacks, hamstring curls, etc . . .I swam back and towel dried. When I reached into my bag, I saw the book from Kristen, and as the sun turned into the Golden Hour, I began. Over a year later, I’m still in awe at where I am and what I am doing. The old me would have read this book with complete longing, traveling vicariously through the author. Now I read it as a companion to my own journeys.

I was drawn in right from the opening inscription:

There are years that ask questions and years that answer. -Zora Neal Hurston

This is my time for answering, I suppose. While I am temporarily rooted in Italy, I have the freedom to wander on weekends and breaks, or even after work. I have the mental space to reflect and allow my mind to wander. And after all the hard work of settling in last year and prepping for 5 different classes while learning the IB and catching up students who were behind . . . ahh . . . I have space and free time this year. It is wonderful, and I have earned it.

When Alice Steinbach left for Paris, a friend said “Cheers to a successful trip.”

What I didn’t say was that “success” was not something I was seeking from this venture. In fact, I was determined not to judge this trip, or its outcome, in terms of success or failure.

As I noted in previous posts, expectations breed disappointment. I am trying to take this adventure as it comes: the good and bad, the wild and relaxing, the painful pining and euphoric awe . . . filling my days with wonder and writing my story. I’m writing some of it here as I reflect along the way. But my mother reminded me, “Your story is not yet written.” Who knows what is next? All I know are my plans for class and the trips that I have booked. Sitting here on my couch, shipped from NYC, with my cozy favorite blanket and a bottle of Barbera del Monferrato vino . . . I relish my freedom and independence. I don’t want to live like this forever, and I won’t, so cogliere l’attimo. Back to my book.

Back in the USA for Independence Day

Posted on July 8, 2013 by liguriansun

It was super wonderful to be back in America for the 4th of July, which is both the birthday of America and my baby brother Rich. When he was very little, he used to think the fireworks were for him. And for many, many years, the entire family gathered at my parents’ house for a massive yet chill backyard BBQ / birthday celebration. After a day of silly conversations, lots of amazing food, and chillaxin’ or napping in the grass with grill-scented dreams, we’d convene around a Carvel ice cream cake to sing Happy Birthday. Everyone in Red, White, and Blue. Family. Friends. Joy. At night, I’d head off for some excitement with friends – fireworks, another BBQ or party. I love this quintessentially American holiday – patriotism, a whole summer of memories awaiting us. The anticipation of many good days. The epitome of why I wanted to be home now.

When I get nostalgic for the way 4th of July used to be, I think of the last episode of The Wonder Years, as they celebrated Independence Day . . . one last time the way it was.

The next day Winnie and I came home. Back to where we’d started. It was the fourth of July in that little suburban town. Somehow, though, things were different. Our past was here, but our future was somewhere else, and we both knew sooner or later we had to go. It was the last July I ever spent in that town. The next year after graduation I was on my way [. . . ]Like I said things never turn out exactly the way you’d planned. Growing up happens in a heartbeat; one day you’re in diapers, the next day you’re gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house like a lot of houses, a yard like a lot of other yards, on a street like a lot of other streets, and the thing is after all these years I still look back with wonder.

I grew up in Yonkers, NY on the border of the Bronx from 1980 to 1989 when I moved to a town much like that portrayed in Wonder Years, one of the Post-War suburban ideals where kids could be kids, biking to their friends, enjoying and exploring with wonder. Waldwick in Bergen County, NJ. I love my Yonkers experience, and it played a huge role in shaping my early years, especially with visits to Grandma in Innwood, Manhattan–sometimes feeling like a NYC kid. But I’m so grateful to my parents for choosing this beautiful, simple, peaceful town where I finished growing up and now stay when I return “home.”

Of course, just like for Kevin Arnold, home has changed.

After my grandparents passed away, as we all grew up and a bit more distant without the strong lure of the matriarch’s wings pulling us together, the giant family BBQ was canceled. Instead, now it’s just my parents hosting their kids, who have returned to the nest for the day or the summer. Yet while this year it was a bit quieter, with slightly less food and missing the laughter of my young cousins and the humor of my grandparents, it was a lovely day.

A friend visited me from the city, and we went swimming at Brookside, the lake where I used to lifeguard for many years. We enjoyed excellent food at my parents’ house, including the Carvel cake, and then drove into the city for a rooftop BBQ with some of my best friends from Fordham. Plenty of laughs, smiles, sunshine and relaxation as locals set off fireworks. I spent much of that party sharing stories and ideas from my time in Genoa, feeling completely grateful that, at least for now, I have the best of both worlds. I live a blessed life.

With my friend Denis who hosted a fabulous rooftop BBQ with his wife Natalie.

With my friend Kat, as you may remember from Whirlwind Weekend

I’m a Stranger Here Myself

Posted on July 1, 2013 by liguriansun

So here I am home again after 10 months away, with just a 2 week interlude at Christmas time. Coming to America then after 4 months abroad, it was nice to be home; it was such a whirlwind that I didn’t have too much time to notice differences. But now after 6 straight months, after Liguria started to feel like home, after I’ve gone through all the phases of culture shock and adjusted to life in Italy . . . coming home has been . . .surreal.

Back in my city with my Starbucks Iced Coffee and the Empire State Building in the background

Of course home is comfortable. And it’s wonderful not to work, focusing on traveling, seeing friends, and just curling up on a couch with a book or my computer and this blog. 🙂 But it has definitely been a kind of reverse culture shock that has had me feeling weird and sometimes overwhelmed.

They say, “Leave New York before you get too hard; leave Los Angeles before you get too soft.” I chose Italy instead of Cali, I guess. Same idea. But while I’m still known around the school and the hood for my “tough, no nonsense, get it done and get it done now style” I have learned to relax and slow down more. I have that side of me that loves “Il dolce far niente,” the sweetness of doing nothing, as the Italians like to say. In New York, that is viewed as time wasted, and we’d be criticized for being unproductive. Let me tell you, I love to chillax’ and I brought that peace right here to my couch and the local beaches.

Jones Beach Field 6 in Long Island — where I went Saturday (not my own photo)

A local swimming hole by my parents’ house. I used to be the head lifeguard here for many years. Now I just enjoy the sand and fresh water swimming.

Before boarding the plane, I had a strange thought. “I’m heading back to a gun culture.” A thought that never really crossed my mind until I had so much time away from it. I could walk around Genoa at 3am, and often did. Even in the “bad” neighborhoods, you wouldn’t have to worry about guns, and shootings were not really in the news. I lived in a neighborhood in the Bronx where I used to hear gunshots periodically, sometimes once or twice a month or more. I got used to it, and I knew how to protect myself and avoid dangerous situations. But now that I’ve . . .softened . . . I’m wondering if I let my guard down too much. I have to remind myself to watch my back but to avoid fear. My coworker Paul said it best: “Genoa is so peaceful and passive. We really don’t have much to worry about here, do we?” And that has been nice.

There have been other moments of reverse culture shock that I will list. Not necessarily bad, just clearly different.

Driving my car, I realized I didn’t have those smooth, sharp skills and couldn’t just parallel park her like a thoughtless breeze. I did, however, improve my scooter skills during the past few months.
In the grocery store, I was overwhelmed and almost didn’t know how to handle it. All the variety of foods that I couldn’t find for months. Cheddar, all kinds of cheddar all over the place. Mexican, Thai, all kinds of options. Yum! And then aisles and aisles of pre-packaged, processed or frozen foods — foods that taste great but are filled with things that poison us. I learned really quickly once I moved to Italy that my health, fitness, weight and general well being improved in days just by eating fresh food. I missed a lot of these foods, but I knew that I couldn’t just dive in and gorge because my body is not used to it. How do I shop now? And oh wow, that blood orange juice from Italy is $7, where I could get it for 2 euros in Italy.
In Duane Reed, waiting for a train, I spent the time walking up and down the aisles at the absolute variety of products. Dozens and dozens of options for shampoo, deodorant, even 5 types of nail scissors. In Italy, you got the few items (or item) that the store chose. And I saw Opi nail polish for $9. It’s 17 euros in Genoa! I just walked up and down, and left without anything. I have trained myself that I don’t need that much stuff, and ultimately can’t afford it. But I was just mesmerized by the variety.
Walking through the streets of Manhattan, I heard English everywhere and felt comfortable. And the streets were wide, big. Manhattan is cramped and overbuilt, but there was space. Genoa consists of tiny streets, alleys, roads where you have to squish up against a wall to avoid being slammed by a passing car’s mirror.
Lying in the sand at the beach. It was powdery, soft, take it home with you type sand. So different from my pebbles or the trucked-in “tiny pebbles” that some beaches have.
Lawns and trees. I’m staying at my parents’ house in the leafy suburbs in NJ, 25 minutes from Manhattan. There are green, landscaped lawns everywhere. Tall trees, pine trees, so many different types of vegetation. I was worried how I’d react after leaving so much sublime and stunning beauty, but I have come to realize that it’s still beautiful here, just a different type of beauty. And I’m enjoying it.
Tipping. As I purchased my Starbucks Iced Coffee from a drive through — how American!– I saw the tip jar and remembered to throw in a buck before grabbing my marshmallow dream bar. I have to remind myself I’m back in a tipping culture. In Genoa, you don’t really tip at all, except maybe a euro or two at the hair salon. When I went out to eat, I had to remind myself that the bill was more than I thought. I’m afraid I’ve turned so European that I’d accidentally leave without tipping — but luckily, I’ve been with others so far. I did have that mistake in Ireland after a haircut when I walked out without tipping more than a couple of euros, then went back to be sure they got their 10 percent. oops! And as we know, the US is a 20 percent culture. It’s so weird to me after so much time in Europe where it’s included. But I know all too well that servers don’t get paid much. When I worked at Chili’s after college before my Australian jaunt and then eventually grad school, I only made 2 bucks an hour on the clock! Then I had to report my tips. I needed those tips, and what I actually made wasn’t mine because I had to tip out to the bartender, the expeditor, the food runners, etc. Whew. Anyways, differences.

This is all that’s on my mind for now. I’ll continue to post as they come to me. It’s fun to drive the same roads and bridges, sit in the same diners and cafes, and visit the beaches and city streets that I missed so dearly during my time away almost as much as the faces of those I love. But I’m not the me of Summer 2012 . . . I’m slightly European and it’s all slightly foreign. Very interesting.

I can’t even imagine how comedy author Bill Bryson felt after moving back to the USA after living in England with his wife and children for 20 years. Upon his return, he published the book I’m A Stranger Here Myself, which I have chosen as the title of this post.

Send me on my way

Posted on June 21, 2013 by liguriansun

Today’s a special post. Live from my office at my school on the last day of work. 10 months to the day since I boarded the plane in a whirlwind of emotions, leaving for my new life in Italy. The amazing, challenging, fun and incredible year has come to a close. My 9th year as a teacher. 6th year as a high school teacher. 2nd year teaching middle school. And my first year in Italy! It was a huge and exciting decision, and I can’t imagine if I had not accepted this amazing offer which has changed my life so positively. So much joy, beauty, adventure, some loss and lots of reflection. I spent much time thinking about NYC and my family, missing home and the familiar comforts. I spent much time getting excited about my travels and exploring the gorgeous landscape and culture of Liguria, but I was also always counting back hours to see what time it was in NY, looking at the weather, and messaging friends at home. Yet over all that time, Liguria became home. Tomorrow, I have a ticket to fly home. Where is home?

When I purchased this ticket — Thanks Dad! — my father then said, “You should have stayed a week or so to enjoy Italy and your scooter . . . or even to travel.” To be honest, I’m low on my travel budget, everyone’s heading off, and I just was really looking forward to a long, relaxing, extended time in NYC and Jersey with family and friends I have missed so much. And my cats! But now the weather is absolutely stunning, day after day. The turquoise blue waters call, and I dive in after work, then bask in the warm glow of sunshine sprawled on warm, smooth rocks and pebbles. I head to my friend’s house for vino on her balcony, which faces a castle, as we watch the sky turn pink then an inky indigo, long after 9:30pm before walking home under the stars. I stroll uphill to my apartment, past balconies strewn with beach towels, couples walking dogs (everyone has a dog here in Genoa), and smell the flowers in full, lush bloom. Genoa is at her finest right now, and I have chosen to leave her. And that hurts.

One of the many beautiful beaches along Genova’s coast.

Genoa will be stunning when I return in August, as I have learned from last year’s arrival. I was able to swim well into October. It was sunny almost every day in those months, and it will still be lovely. I have so many adventures, good times, wonderful conversations, beaches, lakes, mountains, hikes, fire pits, great food and smiles waiting for me at home. I guess I’m just really realizing the huge effect of a transatlantic move. My heart belongs here as well as there. I’m very grateful that I have another year to return and enjoy, and now that I am settled, the lessons are planned, the books read, and the details sorted — I can enjoy it all even more!

I’m overwhelmed with emotions. Last night, I just said goodbye to a choir friend who is moving back to Lithuania. (A great excuse to travel one weekend in the fall!). We had an excellent sushi meal followed by Neopolitan pastries, and then stood in the parking lot, lingering, delaying the inevitable. Now, my classrooms are cleaned, posters torn off the wall, drawers emptied, my office tidied, papers purged . . . and it was all a crazy trip down memory lane with flashes from the past school year. It really was wonderful and joyful. This is a special school.

At graduation, we said farewell to our seniors. Administration prepared a special slide show, showing pictures of the kids through the years. 3 of them started at age 3! I managed to hold back the tears until that rolled across the screen to one of my favorite songs “Send Me on my Way.” A few days later, the seniors returned to our farewell ceremony, to give some more speeches, lots of hugs, and then . . . on to their lives. It was an honor to be their teacher, to get to know them, and to be part of their lives. They have touched my heart, and while we had so much work to do, I always looked forward to class.

It is my last day of work with my colleagues, friendly faces I met on an August day before sharing focaccia formaggio by the sea, sharing aperitivi in Piazza del Erbe, dancing till early morning, laughing in the office during stressful times, and over time, becoming cherished friends. Off to lunch, one final meal for the school year.

Send me on my way now, but just for the summer.

Whirlwind Weekend

Posted on March 4, 2013 by liguriansun

When I departed for Genoa, one of my best friends Kat was there at the airport to send me off along with my parents. Kat gave me lots of luck and hugs, and said “I’ll be there soon. I’m also good with postcards.”

Kat kept good on both promises, with postcards arriving frequently to brighten my day and a whirlwind weekend visit planned. In the fall, Kat called and said “I can’t get much time off from work, but I’m coming. Alitalia has good fares. How about March 1st?”

Kat arrived fresh from JFK on a Friday and departed on Monday morning, for a fantastic, fun-filled weekend adventure. What perfect timing. Work was at its most chaotic of the year, with International Baccalaureate assessments and paperwork due — super high stakes work. As this was my first time through it, there were a lot of nitty gritty details and stressful aspects (work to be redone, late work, formatting) that I didn’t anticipate. All of us IB teachers were like zombies walking through the day. Usually, Friday arrived and I was relaxed and peaceful with a light schedule, all classes completed by 11:30. When Kat arrived from the airport, I was in a meeting with a student, and didn’t even have a minute free to run down to the office to notify them of Kat’s arrival fresh from the Genova airport. Luckily, she met the director who asked around and found me. When I exited the classroom with my student, there was Kat’s smiling face. How can she look so awesome and fresh from an overnight flight? Amazing.

Originally, Kat said she was up for anything and just wanted to spend time with me. But this was her first time in Italy. She was also a Medieval Studies major (along with Spanish), so I knew she would appreciate a lot of the wonder of Siena and Florence. In the days before her departure, I said, “I have a crazy idea. Want to spend a night in Siena? It’s beautiful. Then we can visit Florence before heading home on Sunday.” When I saw that the train to Florence stopped in Pisa, we planned for that as well. 3 nights, 4 cities. And we did it!

I gave Kat a quick tour of the school, which she noted was beautiful. She also asked, “How do you like it with all the little kids?” As a group of 3-year-olds walked by in a neat little line like ducklings. “I love it. It always brightens my day,” I responded. The director had generously given us lunch tickets to enjoy a meal in the cafeteria. I had hallway duty upstairs for the first part, so Kat took the opportunity to meet many of my coworkers, noting that they were extremely sweet, friendly and positive. That truly is the vibe of our school.

I joined Kat when my duty was over, and she was in mid conversation about all the wonders of Siena. One coworker said, “You will eat well. This lunch food doesn’t count as your first Italian meal.” It’s ok for school food, but this is true.

I walked Kat down to my apartment, which is just minutes from the school, where she settled down for a short winter’s nap, and I went back to work until the end of the day.

Back to my apartment, I roused Kat as we prepared for an evening in Nervi, a nearby resort neighborhood along the sea — where I take all my guests on their first night much like the school brought me when I first arrived. There is no better welcome to Genoa and the Ligurian Coastal beauty.

We walked along the passegiata and walked into a quaint seaside restaurant called Chandra, with views of the waves crashing against the rocks. With a slightly Indian vibe, we enjoyed the quaint decor, snacked on the free snacks with our drinks, and then ordered our meal, featuring focaccine (friend dough filled with soft, yummy stracchino cheese). I had chicken tandoori and Kat had a pasta dish, I believe.

I’m showing off the beautiful new necklace Kat bought me at the Met as a hostess gift along with plenty of other practical and fun goodies and meals to spoil me.

We chatted, caught up, enjoyed the sea, and then enjoyed the live music as it began to play. With jet lag for Kat and general fatigue for me, though, we couldn’t last through more than a couple of songs. Back to Genoa for bed. A big day ahead of us on Saturday.

We were blessed with glorious spring-like weather that weekend, with temperatures climbing into the low 60s, a delightful break from the soggy 50s we had in the week leading up to her visit. Saturday morning we had breakfast, then headed into the city to see Genoa. I showed Kat the medieval center, the port, Columbus’s alleged birthplace, and we even had some time for boot shopping . . . while there were some good potential options, we didn’t find exactly what Kat was looking for but we enjoyed the browsing experience.

Back on a bus, we grabbed our overnight bags, then back on a bus for Brignole train station, then to Siena via Pisa. I slept most of the train ride, absolutely exhausted from work. Kat began her many postcards (I believe she sent 30 something). The sun was in that glorious golden hour, and with our latitude, it lingers longer than in other parts of the world. We consulted the map, and made a mad dash for the iconic slanted architecture.

It leans a bit more every year, and as I had not been since 2004, I could really feel like it was leaning noticeably more. After posing for the obligatory “let’s hold this thing up” pictures, we strolled back through town, past postcard shops and touristy knick knack pushers, back to the train and towards Tuscany and Siena.

At one random station, we stopped to get a snack and read the board for our connection. Our train was cancelled! Ahh, Italy . . .always full of frustrations. We had to sit in the station and wait a bit for the next train, but we were grateful there was a next train. We rolled into Siena a bit later than we anticipated, but glad to be there with fresh air and stars peeking out of the inky sky. Having not been there since 2002, I was very pleasantly surprised by the redo of the train station. Previously, you had to board a bus, grab a taxi, or walk up a very long hill to the city, with the station settled at the base of a big hill. But now, they have constructed an elaborate system of escalators and people movers that bring you easily and conveniently to the top of the hill, where you can then stroll through the medieval wall and right into town, all lit up in its serene romantic beauty.

We were tired from the travel, but captivated by the magic of the city. Siena is special, and I will always choose staying her over Florence. It’s a popular day trip place, but to stay allows you to experience the real magic when the tourist crowds disperse, and you can wander and enjoy in peace and serenity. Kat had articles from the New York Times Travel Section and she had a recommendation for a restaurant in the main square. We found it, and enjoyed an absolutely delicious meal with a view of City Hall. Then a short stroll just outside of town to our hotel, which we were so excited about. We chose a quaint b&b with 360 degree views of the hillside.

Upon arrival at our hotel, we experienced a bit of a snafu. They accidentally gave away our room to someone who arrived looking for a room. The person working the desk was not a regular, so she made a mistake. I was so exhausted and irritated by that point, but Kat works in hotels and knows this can happen. They rebooked us in a nearby hotel in the same area. We ended up with two single rooms, and the rooms were on the road instead of secluded like the other hotel. However, the quality was excellent as was the service. The original hotel was very apologetic and offered us discounts on future stays. So it’s all good — and these things are part of the travel adventure. I slept very well, and we awoke to a beautiful breakfast with views over the hills and valley in the bright sunshine. Delicious. No complaints. Another gorgeous day awaited us.

After some photos in the garden, we saw the civic museum with its famous mural. Kat educated and entertained me with her wealth of medieval knowledge, enhancing the experience. We then boarded a train to Florence and headed to the Duomo for a quick photo stop then straight for the Uffizi Gallery, where we had booked “Skip the line” tickets for a nominal fee. This was my 5th time in Florence, and I was finally getting to see the Uffizi. So much outstanding, famous and beautiful art to contemplate. We spent hours there soaking it all up, took some photos outside along the river, stopped for some yummy pizza, then back to the train. Yes, there was unfortunately a lot of clock-watching on my part to make sure we could do everything — and it wasn’t as laid back as I would have liked to be. But we made it happen, it was a great adventure, Kat was in awesome spirits, and I had a blast.

We rolled into Genoa that evening, and instead of going straight to sleep, I hung out in the living room with Kat for a sleepover style late-night chat.

Here is a slideshow of our adventure:

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Kat left for the airport 5:30 the next morning, with a stop in Paris long enough for her to enjoy the city then back to New York. What an amazing, fabulous adventure. Thanks for visiting!

“I’ll be back!” she said. I’m looking forward to our next adventure, whether it’s a weekend somewhere in Italy or Europe, or a longer break. We shall see. Until I post our next adventure, you may be interested in checking out Kat’s photography blog: http://hhphotogsummerstreets2013.tumblr.com

-written 26 June 2013 but posted in March for appropriate timeline

Cheers in Dublin to 6 months living in Europe!

Posted on February 22, 2013 by liguriansun

Exactly 6 months ago, on an unusually hot and humid day, I saw the twisting, stunning Ligurian Coast from the airplane and landed in Genoa, Italy with several new colleagues. It was the culmination of a whirlwind of planning that commenced around this time last year, as I started paperwork and the long process of packing up my wonderful, comfortable life in NYC for the adventure I always dreamed about.

The fountain at Piazza de Ferrari, cooling off in the mist. I was not posing, believe it or not . . .a friend just caught the bliss.

I had been plotting and scheming a way to do this for so many years, even as a high school junior, contemplating attending college at the American University in Paris. Studying abroad in England, with weekends all over the country and the continent, ignited the travel bug; the summer after that study abroad experience, I had the fever big time.

I was heading back to England for my flight home after three weeks solo backpacking around Europe post graduation from college. I was sitting on my overstuffed backpack at the Bruges train station when a woman started talking to me, explaining that if I was a teacher, it would be easy to live abroad. “I don’t want to leave Belgium” I had told her. “I love it here.”

“There are jobs in Belgium and all over Europe at US Military Bases,” she explained. That stuck in my mind, and a fantasy began exploding, but honestly, I had no intention of becoming a high school teacher, with dreams of a Masters and eventually PhD in English on my mind. A tanned, happy girl in low pig tails, a dreamer.

We parted ways, and I kept that dream in the back of my mind but thought it would probably be something else that brought me to Europe. One day, one day. Maybe grad school. Maybe working at a hostel, I dunno. But I had to come back. And LIVE here.

Eventually, after backpacking around Australia and many other fun post-grad adventures, I started my MA program in English at Fordham University, then wanted to get a PhD but took time off to sort things out, get on my feet financially, and figure out my whole deal. I got a job as an adjunct professor at Iona College in 2004, when I had just turned 24 years old. That was so much fun, and I knew I loved teaching. A few years later, very happy but pretty darned broke, it was time to reevaluate — and I saw a poster in the NYC Subway: “You remember your teacher’s name. Who will remember yours?” It was an ad for the NYC Teaching Fellows. I realized I loved teaching, wanted to give high school a try and wanted to help the community I had been living in for many years as I lived by Fordham University, which happened to be located in one of the most poverty-stricken neighborhoods in the city. I applied after the deadline was extended, after I stopped hemming and hawwing, and before I knew it, I was in an overwhelmingly intensive summer training program. Instead of sunny days on the beach at my lifeguarding gig, I was in an overheated un-airconditioned classroom with 60 kids. Yes, 60 “Don’t worry, many will drop out,” said a supervisor as I watched kids sit on the windowsill and floor.

That fall, September 2007, I began teaching at a high school right by my apartment, and met wonderful colleagues and amazing students that I am still in touch with today. It was one of the most challenging yet rewarding experiences of my life. Although I only had a 2 year commitment, I stayed 5 years, 3 additional years after completing my Education Masters at City College. Then it was time to reevaluate again. Time was ticking, life was slipping away and I thought: hey, I’m not married, have no kids, no property, and no serious strings. Remember that dream? Remember it? GO FOR IT!

So, how did I figure all this out? I thought, ok, I want to work at an international school. I looked into the military schools, but you have less options to choose where you work. Even still, I did apply. But after studying in Norway on a fellowship in Summer 2010, I learned about international schools and how great they are. I thought, ok, what are some of the best schools? Looked them up, and then looked up who accredits them. CIS. Ok, so I applied to be a candidate for CIS, the Council for International Schools. I also entered my information, got recommendations from my principal and other supervisors, put together an application package, and I was in the system. I paid for some of my own International Baccalaureate training (IB) to distinguish myself from the heaps of other English teachers, trying to give myself that competitive edge and a school the incentive to hire a non-EU teacher. Although they tell you to be open-minded, my heart was set on Europe. I was coming from one of the greatest cities in the world, and I wasn’t going to leave it for anything other than my dream.

January 2012, I flew to London for a huge fair, and was overwhelmed by the response of notes in my email and my mailbox in the candidates lounge. A day and several interviews later, I had narrowed it down to four exciting prospects. But Genoa was number one in my mind. Let’s be honest: I saw the salary online and didn’t even contact the school, thinking, “Oh no way can I make that work.” I did not know Italy had a special tax exempt status for two years. But still . . .

So, one of my emails was from my boss in Genoa. He seemed so positive, and I was curious. I went to google maps, knowing Genoa was in the North, the food belt . . . but where exactly? And then “OMG, it’s on the water!!! Oh, right on the sea!” I enjoyed the interview and there was just something so unique about the school community that came across in the director’s presentation. He showed us pictures of Salty Cats Day, and I thought “This place is special.” So, I had options at other schools that were amazing but when the Genoa offer came in, I knew I had to take it. But not before I had one of the most sleepless agonizing nights ever as I tried to decide. I woke up, and after checking my email, I discovered my dad had worked out my financials to show me that it would be possible. And that . . . they would help. (It is in a very large thanks to them that I have a little travel budget!!) My mom, who was originally against my coming said, “Who could you be if you followed your dream?” It was simple and short. And I knew what she meant. I walked over to accept my position.

When I told my other prospects I had accepted another offer, one man said, “It is a good decision. It’s how I started my own international career . . . in Italy. You won’t get rich, but you’ll live richly.” It’s true. I may not be paid a fortune, but I’m paid a fortune in beauty. La Vita e Bella!

Flying home, I was walking on air. I ended up getting a taxi ride all the way to the airport for the same price as if I had transferred to the train (nice cabbie), and then when I flew out of London, I flew right over Central London, with a sparkling view of the London Eye, Tower of London, all bright and glimmering in the sunshine. I had never flown this way in all my years of flying to England. Everything magically fell into place.

When I came home, I was so ecstatic, I couldn’t contain my excitement, as I called everyone and then eventually broke the news on facebook for 86 likes and a bunch of comments and well wishes. “This is pretty much a combination of everything you love,” somebody wrote.

yes.

Everything was dreamy after that. I had a glow that just didn’t wear off. Oh, and then I received a message from the US Department of Defense to come down to DC for an interview for positions for the 2012-2013 school year. Ahh, but I already had my job! But still, so nice to be invited. 🙂 With departure on my mind, my life had a new trajectory and spark, and I began to carpe diem and savor every sweet, delcious, awesome moment of the life I was leaving behind . . .for now. It was half a year of celebrating and partying which was revved up in the summer for The Grand Farewell Tour, one of the best summers of my entire life.

I was elated and exhausted when I finally landed in Genoa. While I do miss home, especially everyone I love, I also am savoring every moment here because although I can stay international as long as I want, I know this particular experience, given many factors, can’t last. But oh, it is so so beautiful and it has changed me and my career forever. Whether I return to the NYC school system (They have Public IB Schools) or continue at an international school or seek another private school, I know I will always stay with the IB and that I will always have this experience tucked away in my heart, soul, and . . . the very fabric that is me.

Grazie Mille to my former self for giving me this great gift! Grateful for everyone in my life for all their support during this process. I have never smiled so much.

Today, I am in Dublin for my annual visit with my mother (who just got her IRISH passport!) and my Great Aunt Minnie. Instead of flying from JFK with them, I just met them here. I will certainly have a Guinness in celebration. CHEERS!

I’ll leave you with this video which is like my theme song while living this good life here: One Republic “Good Life” 🙂

Sweet Home New York City

Posted on December 26, 2012 by liguriansun

I love my life in Italy; it’s a magical adventure filled with wonder, many discoveries, and lots of beauty. School is a full and fantastic busy, and I have fabulous colleagues. Yet . . . my home will always be NYC.

Getting here was quite an adventure. I departed on the morning of December 20th, eager for an evening arrival home. Mamma’s cooking, cuddling with my cats, and seeing friends — a cozy, chill welcome. Instead, my flight from Genoa was cancelled. I was at the airport with several colleagues who were taking the same connecting flight to Munich before departing for our various destinations across the US. As we waited, we saw one of my students, his sister and father. They were on their way to LA.

DELAYED. We stared at the board and I grew more and more nervous as my connection in Munich was just over an hour. First a half hour delay, then an hour delay. Then it disappeared off the monitor. This was how they informed us that our flight was cancelled. We followed my students’ father outside security as he explained that this happened last week with the same flight. Mechanical difficulties. My student said, ‘They were spinning the propellar for an hour, then gave up.”

After an hour online to rebook our tickets, wondering if they could find us seats during the Christmas rush, we finally had our new connections. I was going to Munich at 5, then to Frankfurt where I’d sleep in a hotel and fly out the next morning. 17 hour delay. During this process, several other coworkers popped into the airport for Ryan Air flights to England. When Ryan Air is the reliable flight, you know you’re in trouble.

I was sad because I was supposed to land in NYC at 6pm that night, and possibly go out to meet some friends. But instead, I passed out exhausted in a really nice hotel room with light snow outside in Munich. It looked like the bed was comfortable until I went onto it and almost bounced off a la Clark Griswold in European Vacation.

To the airport early in the AM. Lufthansa was full so they rebooked me on United and the woman was kind and upgraded me to premium economy extra legroom seat. I didn’t realize until I boarded the plane and learned that these seats usually cost an extra $179 each way. Finally a break. I slept most of the flight, read a bit, and then flew over Brookside Swim Club, my old summer hangout where I worked, taught swim lessons, and was head lifeguard for many years. Now I go as a patron. My parents live very close, so I tried to spot the house, but couldn’t find it. I did see my high school, then the NYC skyline. Oh, how could I ever leave this great city? Only for a place as magnificent as Italy. I swear, New Yorkers have to be darned choosy when we take a post overseas. And there’s no where else I’d rather live in the states.

Groggy and sleepy, I showered for a tea party with family friends, then showered again to go to a dinner party. Halfway through the appetizers, it was 3:45am on my clock. I didn’t make it to dinner and was in bed soon after. On my way out of the city, I met up with a friend for quick drink and a fun reunion. I mentioned something about going home on January 5th, and he said, “This is home. You are going to Italy on January 5th.” Ahh, yes.

The following day, I chilled, went for a haircut and enjoyed my cats. On the 23rd, my parents and I took a train into Manhattan to see the decorations, the windows, and go to the Bryan Park Christmas Markets, a tradition my mom and I have done since 2007. This year, Dad joined. It was a beautiful sunny day, and it hurt my heart to see places that were so everday to me, so splendid . . .and knowing that soon I have to leave again until the summer.

Christmas Eve, I met up with two great friends for lunch in Ho-Ho-Kus. Turkey and Brie. mmm. Turkey! My brother joined the fam for dinner that night, and then it began snowing! Soon after, I drove to Fordham to sing with choir alumni in the beautiful Midnight Mass, a tradition that I have been doing since 2002 after I graduated.

Christmas Day, I woke up to a sunny, cozy morning, nursed a big coffee (can’t do that in Italy, although the flavor is much better) and opened a handful of gifts. It was a modest Christmas, but that is good because how much can I carry back anyway? And I got some nice things, including a Chi flat iron to play with. Also, I have a nice check which I decided to use for Spring Break. I’m taking suggestions. Where shall I go? So exciting.

It was so wonderful to be with the family, with everyone I love. It is very strange to live abroad, with people who are fast acquaintances and buddies, but you are away from your true friends and family. Your coworkers become your surrogate family — but it’s just not the same. Permanent expat life is so tempting, but this is the hard side. Being away. I don’t think I can stay forever. But the reunion was so nice and filled me with a warm glow. Content. I am blessed.

Merry Christmas. Buon Natale a tutti!

Here is a slideshow of my pictures in America so far.