I finally realised today why I seem to be hungry all the time even though my fridge is bursting with food.
My first job with a salary and my part of Italy is cheaper to live in so it should be bonuses all around. What I realised today is that there’s a catch! I work every day of the week and on weekends and during my siesta I happen to be planning work… for work. My early mornings and late nights also mean that ultimately I don’t have time to cook a proper meal and eat.
Therefore, my fridge is bursting with delectable food. If only I had the time to eat it before its sell-by-date.
There’s a calmness and tranquility about Italy where the silence is no longer a restraint. Sometimes silence can speak volumes.
This is something I didn’t realise when I first moved here. The silence surrounding me was suffocating as it greatly differed to the jubilant laughter echoing around the streets of London. What I failed to notice was the beauty in the silence. The fact that the silence speak volumes, you just need to look a little closer and listen a little harder. The silence tells a story, sometimes an even better story than shouts of laughter.
Everyone here is integrated in their lives and the mechanic routine of every day. They must work, they must eat and they must sleep to survive. At first glance it would seem a drone of a life. Always doing the same things and not having time to relax or enjoy life. It’s only a façade, an impression given by most places you visit in the South but in reality all it means is that these people are hard workers. They work hard and sometimes don’t play harder (in contradiction to the UK’s recently popular phrase) but I finally see the beauty in it. They believe they do enjoy their life or at least they try it. It’s a different kind of enjoyment.
The pleasure of resting in silence or taking a walk can be taken for granted in most countries, cities and homes. Italians most definitely know how to take pleasure from their food and I can’t argue with that because the food is divine. I manage to cook great pasta and sometimes wonder if there’s something magical in the water. My point is that I think Campobasso is peaceful and serene. Every place has its positives and negatives but focusing on the positive will always give a clearer and more hopeful outlook.
Living in a place such as this not only makes me appreciate everything I have back home but also makes me feel grateful for being here. I can Italy my home now and truly mean it but not because I have a house here but because I have a different, more carefree existence here and it is great. To not be surrounded by the minor struggles and complaints of everyday life is a joy. It’s not turning a blind eye to the bad but changing the direction of my 20/20 vision.
Finche c’è vita, c’è speranza.x
I went to Rome last weekend and have finally chosen the favourite part of my day. This was a gruelling task as everything I saw was wonderful and striking. The architecture blows my mind. I can’t conceive how someone could design such intricate details with their bare hands… and I haven’t even seen Michelangelo’s paintings yet.
Here is a list of what I saw:
A million other fountains…
Tribute to the King…
A lot of Roman ruins
Tribute to peace – a loud horn wailed and a flock of birds flew to nearby tree tops in silence. It makes you wonder if they’ve been trained or more so that they do it because of years of tradition.
The High Street
A panoramic view of Roma.
After the sunset view of Rome I went down to another square close to the Spanish Steps and the shops. There a young man in his 20s began various renditions of old British songs on his electric guitar. At one point a nun went over to him and started talking to him while he played. It was hilarious and quite a sight. Especially when she had a little go on the strings. His music and his positivity created a great atmosphere around the square and I loved it. I finally decided that this man’s music was my favourite part of Rome.
Not the monuments, especially not the flower sellers (they ‘gift’ you roses and then ask for compensation), not even the Pantheon which is jaw-dropping. My favourite part was the beauty you find in small, sometimes insignificant encounters.
My brother and sister-in-law finally got married in the first week of November. After a few hundred years everyone thought it was about time. The entire family have waited for a very long time and we were all going grey with the wait.
Indian weddings are amazing because it’s like they are never-ending. At least for an entire week you feel like the fun, celebrations and stress will never end. There’s something going on every day (which also means a different dress everyday… ) and sometimes you don’t have any time to yourself. I snuck off the day before for some me-time in the morning, it was a good thing because the rest of the day was packed full of last-minute plans. This part may just apply to me for the day before as I was trying to fit in seeing my friends as I was only home for the week.
It’s strange that so much time and effort (… and money) goes into a week-long wedding but when it finally comes around the week goes in a flash of camera shots. There’s always the instant relief that you no longer have to wear high-heels and heavy Indian clothes every day. This is then followed by an immense feeling of sadness because all the laughter, tears and happy memories will forever only be memories.
Regardless of how quickly it went, the week also displayed the love within my big and forever expanding family. I miss it a lot, but it just means that when I eventually go home all the love and kindness (… and snappy arguments) will still be there. The wedding planners had everything conducted perfectly (I mean my bro and his wife!), even the unplanned things. For instance, I never want to see a father-daughter dance again. Everyone was in tears including the bride herself. I asked my brother if he was sure he wanted to take her away from her family, she seemed so sad… he told me to shut up.
It was a proud day for everyone and I couldn’t stop smiling. Weddings are happy and sad but the sadness comes from people missing in action. All it really means is that in those sad moments, you should be proud of who you are because whoever is missing, is missed because they were a remarkable person and would have been extremely proud of you on that day.
With all of my love.x
My dress for the wedding ceremony… day 6!