Molto piacere. Sono ubriaca.

I'm more than halfway through my stay in Sicily. I've eaten more bread, pasta, and olive oil consecutively than I have in my life, and have heard enough Mama mia's to keep me satisfied for a while. I've tanned every possible way there is to tan in the sun, from laying out on a rock island to relaxing on a boat this afternoon. I now know how to say important things like "cold water!" and "I like eggplant," in Italian, and I got plenty of practice counting to ten due to a paddleball game on the beach with Giulia's 5 year old cousin. I only made a fool out of myself once that I know of, when I was trying to say "Nice to meet you" to a girl we had just met and instead said "Molto obrigada," which is some nonsensical combination of Italian and Portuguese meaning "very thank you." I think I have too many random Catalan, Portugese, and Italian words in my mind waiting around until I commit to actually learning how to form a sentence.

On an island where there's an aversion to sunscreen and working more than 11 months a year, where the Mayor can't pay the city's electric bill yet fireworks light the sky every hour, and where and you can know how much time has passed by seeing how far the lava has crept down Mt. Etna, I've naturally noticed some cultural differences. For example, while we were driving one evening, Giulia's Dad asked me if I liked horse, and I replied, all wide-eyed and naive, "You mean, to ride?" Then I saw the man flipping over a piece of meat on the grill, and a picture of a stallion in front of a restaurant. Apparently her father is against the idea of it, but Giulia is all about it. I told them I didn't judge, but I couldn't eat it because we used to have a horse as a family pet. Although maybe the threat of being sent to Sicily would have made Seeker behave...

The other major difference is the casual Mafia presence here. Instead of paying a parking fee to leave your car for a few hours, there's a nice man who will watch your car for you and only ask for a euro or so on your way out. Of course, if you refuse to pay he might write down your license plate # and smash your window the next time, but is that really any worse than when a faulty parking meter eats your quarters?

Tonight we're going to a friend's party. I'm getting better each time at navigating social gatherings where I don't really speak the language. When we went to a pool party last week, I hung around Giulia until I identified who knew English or Spanish, then assigned myself the task of making Mojitos. We'll see how it goes tonight, but I may soon be able to file this in with my mainly useless talents, right next to being able to understand Spanish/Catalan people speaking English.

I hope all is well in America!

Ciao from Sicilia!

I'm in Sicily now, the Italian island being dropkicked by Italy's boot. I arrived last night, and her mother had made an amazing Italian dinner. We sat out on the terrace with a view of Etna, the active volcano on this side of the island. You can actually see smoke coming out the top and lava flowing down. And if it wasn't perfect enough, fireworks started going off in the distance, and we had background music coming up from a club nearby.

We went out to a bar with Giulia's friend Alessandra, who doesn's speak English or Spanish (even though any communication issues are my fault, because I'm the one who came to Italy without knowing Italian). We've been having really stunted converstations (me pointing at some pictures, asking, "familia?" and she responds with "no, amici"), but Giulia's a very patient translator and by the end of the two weeks we've both vowed to improve our respective English and Italian.

What I know so far is... Ciao. Mi chiamo Laura. Sono Americana. Non parlo Italiano. Gratzie. Prego. Bellisima. Spinaci. Pomodoro. Buonanotte.

Very useful. What I also learned is that I'm the palest person on the island, to the point where at least 3 people have asked me whether or not I've been to the beaches yet in Barcelona. Yes. Yes I have.

We're headed to la playa now, with leftovers from last night's dinner stuffed into panini bread to make the most delicious-looking sandwiches I've ever seen. Later on, we're going to a pool party at Giulia's cousin's place.

I'm having so much fun already I would say that I don't want it to end, except that immediately after I return, Ashley will be in Barcelona! It's going to be a good month...

Juca

One of the first people I met in Barcelona, and one of the nicest people I will ever meet, my good friend Juca, was in a bad accident recently.  It left him unable to move from the neck down, and stuck in a crappy hospital bed with no privacy or entertainment.  I've been to visit him twice, and he's always smiling and blowing kisses, even though he can't talk yet because he still needs help breathing.  Please send all the positive thoughts you have towards Barcelona, or to his family in Brazil.  I would give anything to be able to walk into Patagonia to hear him shout "Laurinha!" and sneak me free samples of ice cream, or to know that he could be back on his roller blades again.  I normally think that everything happens for a reason, but I'm really struggling to find the reason for this.   

El estado del techo

I'm alone in my apartment this week while my roommates Roger and Xavi are on vacation in Portugal.  Last night, I was minding my own business, watching the latest episode of "Weeds," when I heard a noise in the apartment.  The walls are especially thin here, but I was sure it was coming from inside.  So I grabbed a screwdriver to fend off my attacker, thinking of how I would stop him dead in his tracks with a glimpse of my weapon and a witty Charlie's Angels-type line like, "Don't screw with me, hombre."  But instead of a ladrón, I saw the kitchen ceiling about to collapse, and BOOM, 3 seconds later I was screaming as all the drywall and lights fell to the floor.  Right after I placed a frantic call to my roommate, the upstairs neighbors came down to make sure I wasn't buried in the rubble, and we had a nice little chat.

In the morning, the door woman and a repair man came to clear out all the debris and install a temporary light.  No problem, except for a nice coating of asbestos on all our pots and pans.

Later today, I took more pictures with my photographer/student, who claims he's going to add a few to his portfolio to see if I can work with him if one of his clients needs someone in the fall.  I felt very glamorous for a few hours, with the studio and screens and flashing lights.  Then, I immediately came home to find that the bathroom ceiling, too, had collapsed.  So, still in my photo shoot dress, I put on rubber gloves and began picking up big chunks of ceiling out of the toilet.  Needless to say, the glamourous feeling didn't last long.

At any rate, I'm going to Sicily on Friday to visit Giulia for two weeks, so I can deal with any collapses, floods, fires, or ghosts for two more days. 

And no, Mom, I'm not coming home.  Not yet, anyway.