Pessimistic about Optimism

At what point does optimism become denial? It would seem that any sentient being vaguely familiar with world history would accept the following as fact: 

- religions will always fight, despite the fact that many of them have the same principals called by a different name;

- some men will always use brute force to dominate womankind;

- the current generation will always do what’s best for themselves rather than sacrificing for the better of the future of humanity;

- politicians will always be corrupt; marriages will always seem better from outside, and truth will always be relative and so on and so on;

But yet around the world, there are people who chose to believe that the world can and maybe even will get better. It would be a pleasure to see the world improve on my watch, but to want this and to believe it are two completely different stories. I do concede that with pressure the pendulum can swing in the direction of our aspirations, but before long human nature kicks back in and things return to the way they have always been. 

At times, when I see movements like “Occupy” or the “Arab Spring”, I get downright giddy that I am witnessing the brink of a new era. But, even though these movements gain momentary traction, we quickly see the “protectors of status quo” counter any advancements with their handy tools: money, power, politics, and fear. Why do they do this? Well self interest, of course. Why else? 

So why do humans not admit total defeat and continue to hope, or dare even strive, for change? I think its because just as much as short-sightedness, greed and egocentrism are ingrained in our genetic make-up, so too is the believe that we have the power to change our destiny (perhaps that goes back to the egocentrism?). But, those who have the passion for change for the better, must also learn to deal with disappointment when they ultimately fail at the task. How sad, but they will learn and stop trying eventually. And, to those shaking their heads in disgust at my pessimism as they read this, just know that in high school and college and even through all of my twenties, I was full of optimism about the future and my ability to influence the world for the better. It is only through the passing of time that one sees patterns of human behavior re-emerge time and time again. And, therefore one begins to feel the futility of his own actions in this great big world. It pains me to see these words in black and white and even more to believe it to my core. But, I have witnessed the same old political speeches made through new mouths and watched the same war unfold in a new time zone. What’s the definition of insanity? To expect a different world through the same actions.

And, through these years, I have learned that many humans will do what is best for themselves, and not what's good for humanity as a whole. This is the essence of all human corruption, our inability to acknowledge we are part of something greater. And, therefore for the success of the greater good, we each must sacrifice. But, humans greatest quality of individuality and manifest destiny is also, alas, our worst quality because it prevents us from acting for the greater-good unless  it is also self-serving. 

So, where does this leave us? I am sure that Italians will continue to avoid paying taxes even if it means all school children will suffer from decrepit classrooms and a flat out lack of text books. I am also sure that Americans will continue to buy big houses with big yards that waste a disgusting amount of electricity and water, even though it means they accelerate global warming and depletes the earth’s resources. I am also sure that Israelis will continue to breach their previously made borders and build in the West Bank, even if it means fellow Israelis will suffer terrorist attacks in direct response to these settlements. Mormons will continue to have more children per capita than is healthy for the planet. Japanese will continue to kill off entire shark species in order to sell  fin soup for $75 a bowl. I could go on and on, but we all get the picture. And that is what’s so sad. We all know that we are acting in our own best interest at the expense of others but we shove down any feelings of duty: to human kind, to earth; to our progeny; to anything but the here and now. And we let the greedy, self-indulgent feelings manifest instead. In order to rid ourselves of any guilt about this glaringly obvious myopia, we use our intellect to rationalize our pitiful actions with argument X and argument Y. If you can’t be bothered to think up your own rational reasons for your damaging actions, have no fear; one can be spoon-fed an excuse by the media or their chosen preachers and politicians. And, because there is strength in numbers we seek out others who participate in the same errant behavior to encase us in our lifestyles in a mutual promise to never hold a mirror up for the other. Isn’t it a shame that we couldn’t use these analytic skills and ingenuity to actually go towards making a better future rather than to make an elaborate excuse as to why we cannot? 

If we stopped defending our positions, we could all easily agree violence is bad, consuming too much is killing our planet, and religions’ purpose is to preach love and tolerance. We all would agree that our way of life is not sustainable. But making such admissions - out loud - forces us to change our behavior or feel guilt and shame for continuing the same bad behavior.  And, that is never going to happen because we are greedy self-interested bastards who want to feel good about ourselves even when we are doing bad selfish things. So, I say crank up that air conditioning, invite over your mirror image friends, ask your underpaid house-help to whip up some shark fin soup as you talk trash about your neighbor who worships differently than you, while your kids play out back in your million-gallon heated pool before eating their hamburgers grown in a slash-burned rainforest that used to be the home of a thousand year old indigenous tribe and for Christ’s sake, enjoy it because God knows your grandkids won’t be alive to!

Postscript: In case you failed to detect it because you were too busy automatically thinking of defenses for the way we live, this article is filled with irony. Its ironic that I write this message with the hope that it will cause maybe even just one reader to change just one of his or her errant ways. Its ironic that I once couldn’t stand to be around those who did not strive for change and now I completely sympathize with why they don’t bother. Its ironic that religions were intended to make lives better and yet they are the cause of so many people's suffering. And that wars are sometimes necessary for peace, and that starving people grow food for the fat. And that we hold the key to change yet we will kill off humanity before we even think of opening the door. 

The Art of Celebration

Through the years I have learned that its the little things that matter. And, what better way to honor our personal milestones than to throw a little celebration in order to break up the monotony. Most of our modern day lives, however exciting we may wish them to be, are full of laborious duties: cleaning house, bathing and feeding kids, grocery shopping, paying bills and working - day in- and day out, year in-and year out.

Yes, we do have the weekends, but again they are mostly filled with chores and routine. And, yes we do have holidays to look forward to, but those are days filled by routine as well. Thanksgiving - eat turkey with extended family; Christmas - open presents and bake sweets; Fourth of July - barbecue, drink beer and watch fireworks, etc. In the end we are all doing pretty much the same thing, which adds to the feeling that our lives are monotonous and homogenized. Human psyches do not like this, as we each have a need to feel special and unique (whether we actually are unique is a whole different blog for a whole different day).

Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to break out of the constant reruns of the day before by celebrating such things as half birthdays, finishing a long project at work or winning a $10 lotto ticket. In order to make these things celebrations you need only to set the mood by being excited, perhaps having some cocktails before dinner or putting on some music and dancing in the living room with a family member.

Our family has also added some random things to celebrate along the way, such as backwards day where you eat breakfast at night and wear pajamas at day (not recommended if a work day). Not only are the unique days important but the way in which a person chooses to celebrate them should also be one-of-a-kind. We have all been to a kids birthday party with pizza and a bounce house. And, we have all received parfum or a tie for Christmas. Why not stir it up for the sake of everybody involved. Take the kids on a day-hike and celebrate a half-birthday at the top of a mountain, celebrate receipt of your tax refund by going to Vegas and betting it all, spend your birthday cooking at a homeless shelter, or stay at home for a black and white movie marathon.

A lifestyle that is rich in diverse experiences where one is always challenging his own routines is a very rewarding lifestyle. I think we all know this but we struggle to make it happen. It doest take effort, but the reward is well worth it. Personally, I am trying to apply this "celebration" theme to my daily life as well by writing, taking piano lessons and maybe even trying my hand at actually mastering photography on this damn expensive camera that's been on auto-mode for more than two years.

Now go forth and party like its a random Tuesday night!

To My Friends Of Old....

Neil Young said it best, "One of these days I'm going to sit down and write a long letter to all the good friends I've known. And, I'm going to try to thank them all for the good times together, though so apart we've grown. . . .And I never tried to burn any bridges, but I know I've let some good things go. . . . From down in LA all the way to nashville to nyc to my canadian prairie home. My friends are scattered like leaves from an old maple. Some are weak, some are strong." 

So, on this Thanksgiving Day, and in fact on many other days, I do think of YOU, the people that have touched my life whether it was two years ago or twenty years ago. I remember you and appreciate the time that we spent together. And, occasionally while I am in the midst of my monotonous daily tasks, a passer by will see a big grin spread wide across my face. What they don't know is that I'm smiling because something has prompted me to a certain memory of you. Some may think its strange that something so distant in time and space can make me happy, but it does.

In a perfect world, we would still have time to sit around and laugh or cry together like we did in the days before, but like old Neil I've moved around a lot and so have many of you. We are distant not just in space, but we have found ourselves in different sectors of life: kids, job, hobbies, single, family, and so on.

It's been such a pleasure watching so many people grow up and become the amazing people I imagined they would be. The one redeeming factor of Facebook is allowing me to be a small part of your lives, if only through the internet.

Just know this, I consider myself lucky. I have had a great life thus far and mostly that is attributable to my friends and family.  So today I simply write - thank you for the good times we've had. They are not forgotten. Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Desperately Seeking Susan

Today I was thinking about how drastically the world has changed in the last couple of decades. We owe these social changes to a global geo-economic-political world, vast advances in technology, and the transition of women out of the house and into the work place. This Brave New World has allowed us to stay in constant contact and dedicate numerous hours to work of all kinds. It has brought us cheap goods and a million things to do with our time. However, our society is suffering some major side effects from these advancements, not the least of which is a lack of human connection.

We spend so much time distracted, like kids in a candy store, and then we ask ourselves why we feel alone and isolated? Humans are social creatures who chose to live in villages, create matrimony, and share stories around the campfire. So why is it that our generation has managed to moved farther and farther from their home towns, opting instead to go it alone? Why is it that we have not called or spent time with our best friends for weeks or months? We all have our various on-hand excuses, most of which are legitimate.

But now, through these social mediums on the internet, you see people trying to reach out and connect with one another in cyberspace, even if its just to connect on a very superficial level. Remember that random trend of "planking" that spread through the world on the internet. It was something so simple, yet people all around the world - rich, poor, young, old, drunk or sober - posted pictures of themselves planking on the site? Wasn't it simply to reach out and say, "I am here too". "I am a participant."

Or, what about Facebook? There are hundreds of people who search out classmates from better years just to tell them that they had a great time at the zoo with their kids or that they are feeling frustrated. The bottom line is that all of us are basically the same (or at least 99% of us ;). So the question is whether the cyber connections that people have these days are filling the void that so many people are obviously feeling. And, if not then I would argue that you can't expect 296 "friends" to care that you went to the zoo, unless you have invested some of your energy connecting to them. That is what sets apart friends from strangers.

I do believe that these cyber interactions are better than nothing, but it certainly doesn't feel as good as getting together with those you love for a brunch or a couple of cocktails....on a regular basis rather than once a year. The answer, you ask? In order to feel connected, loved, understood, we would need to identify "our people" and share openly and honestly with them....regularly. In turn, we would also need to "be there" for them. This would probably mean giving up the many acquaintances we have collected over the years and opt for fewer, deeper relationships. In a world of distraction, this may prove difficult as I believe many of us have lost the ability to concentrate on anything, even if it is something we so desperately need. 

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Supermarket Schooling

I can't say that I have fully adjusted to small town living. However, there are definitely some things I find endearing about living in a community, such as the spontaneous conversations that take place between strangers in any place at any time. If this happened back in L.A. I would slowly back away, convinced that the conversationalist sporting a smile and a piece of free advise is only using friendliness as an angle to hit me up for something....or worse.

But, here in Roseto degli Abruzzi, even strangers will chime in on a conversation if they overhear a topic of interest. And, since we have so many pensioners and "self-employed" residents, there are a lot of people with time to jump in and school you on the topic of the day. Today, I was schooled on foods to avoid when breastfeeding as I picked out my green beans and tomatoes at the vegetable market. In the past, I have also received unsolicited advise on recipes, how to chose a melon and child-rearing.

Sometimes, instead of offering advise, people start a conversation by asking me a highly personal question, like what building I live in or what school my daughter attends. Like I said, in L.A. these would be huge red flags, but here it's par for the course. Somehow we are all one big family because we are part of the same small community. It is not only this town, but I think this friendly vibe is a part of Italian culture. I commonly see circles of people discussing the economy in a doctor's waiting room or a conversation between the butcher and his client regarding traffic problems in the city (as all other customers wait patiently, or join in if they feel so inclined).

These spontaneous schoolings are a phenomenon that I imagine was a part of people's daily routine during our grandparent's era. And, it likely created a sense of community, which in turn provided roots in a town for an entire lifetime. But, I am sad to say that the willingness to interconnect has completed died out in my generation. We seem to seek independence and freedom of movement more than a feeling of being rooted. Admittedly, I am still hesitant to even say Good Morning to someone passing by because my attitude is "why would I?". I am slowly starting to change, but it took a lifetime to raise my guard and it may take a lifetime to tear it down. Even as a fiercely independent person who doesn't like the weight of other people, I can also see the comfort that the social interaction provides me during monotonous tasks. So to all those who have shared a recipe or a quick piece of knowledge with me along the way, I want to say thank you. I appreciate the unsolicited info; but more than that I appreciate you making me feel like a part of a community, even if we are complete strangers.

Is Love Overrated?

Many times over I have heard cliches about love: "Love is patient, love is kind....";"Its better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all";"Distance makes the heart grow fonder";"and my favorite crock of sh#t, "Love conquers all".

But, do people ever stop and evaluate those statements because I am not sure if they are actually true. Sure, love is great when its fresh and new or when it isn't accompanied by people's selfishness, insecurities, self-loathing, infidelity, and, well you get the point. More plainly stated, when you love somebody you can really be made to suffer in a variety of ways. So, is the high of love really worth the lows caused by the actions and inactions of your partner? Or, is it worth the guilt that comes with being the cause of someone else's lows? I suppose its all relative based on how high are the highs and how bad things get. But, can't it be more simply analyzed as follows: If you are "in love" then you are bound to a lifetime of uncertainty. One can't even predict how often or how steep those hills and valleys are going to be. Those in a relationship just have to be willing to go on a wild roller coaster ride if they are coupled with another human and not some kind of a cyborg.

Some people don't fare well with change. Some people aren't willing or able to put in the extra work when things are at a low point, regardless of who put them there. Some people may do great with the chaos of love. Maybe these are questions we should ask ourselves before we take the leap into a traditional love-based relationship. We should know whether we are compatible with love or maybe better served by a stable relationship with friends and already existing family. Think Sex in the City or Stand By Me.

Or, perhaps its okay to love someone deeply but love them from afar. Do we really need to be married or interdependent just because we have these feelings? Maybe its more lasting and healthy to interact less frequently with those we love? Whoever made up the rule that once you find love, you are inextricably bound to the object of that affection for the rest of your life? They could want different things in life,  or have problems that you are ill-prepared to deal with, live on opposite sides of the planet, or pose any other number of insurmountable challenges to being together....on a permanent basis. But, they could be ideal for talking on the phone when you really need someone or meeting up for an annual vacation. Are you getting the idea? I know it seems quite foreign and my bet is that I'll get a number of comments discrediting this theory as overly-cold or practical. I'll bet that those people either are on a high point in their relationship and have a short-term memory or maybe they are one of the lucky few that have found an ideal match in all ways, not just in love....or most likely, they are deluding themselves into thinking they are happier than they really are.

See, I cannot help the leakage of my cynical views from time to time. I have argued for a long time that a life-long monogamous relationship is extremely outdated and unrealistic. Divorce rates, infidelity and the sheer number of people on antidepressants are proof that this structure is not functioning, regardless of what religions' tend to dictate. That said, I am certain that true love exists; maybe even love at first sight. My argument is that, for most people, being with that person forever is not a realistic goal. I argue that our ever-changing lives are not conducive to a single monogamous life-long relationship. However, the jury is still out on whether partnering with the one you love - rather than opting for being single or shacking up with a more practical match - is the right way to go. Both avenues seem to have their downside so every individual must choose the avenue that provide them with what they need most not what society brainwashes them to do from the day they are born. And depending on whether each person's foremost goal is passion, stability, family, career, travel, money, etc. the answer to which kind of relationship(s) are best will change.

Good Luck!

Giving Birth In Italia - A Cautionary Tale

On August 21, 2011 I gave birth to my darling daughter Addison in Chieti, Italy......the beauty of the experience both starts and ends with her. While I am no fan of the profit-driven health care system established in the United States, I have no shame in selling out my socialist tendencies to tell the truth about the horrible conditions under which an Italian woman is expected to give birth. I cannot say whether this lack of basic comforts says something about this society's view of women or if its just a general absence of accommodations for all hospital stays due to the lack of public funds in the system.

I will have to taper my complaints down to just the extreme lowlights for the sake of my time and yours. First off, it is impossible to get an epidural at the state hospitals, even if you offer to pay for it. Labor sans epidural - deadly painful. Suffice it to say had there been a knife near me, I'd have slit my throat in order to avoid another contraction. Yes, it was that bad. And, I had to BEG for Tylenol the next day and had to be very clear it was only for my stitches. Com'on. Its Tylenol! 

I know some women go for a totally medication free birth in the US, but its their choice at least. Here, every woman not having a C-Section is having a natural birth (Caveat: there are some private clinics which offer epidurals, but they are few and far between and very expensive). I will say that the staff was very hands-on during the labor period, providing a birthing ball, hot water for my back, and other supposedly soothing methods. While I totally appreciate their gesture since I see it as beyond the job description, for me, none of these things seemed to work (possibly because I had an induced labor). 

Now let me get to the really bad part, because this hospital is supposedly the best in the area (after all, I had to drive 45 minutes to this hospital as the others do not have a neonatal ward). There are three women AND their babies to one room.......did I mention that the room has no shower or bath and you are required to stay for a minimum of 48 hours, more likely 60-80 hours. Visiting hours were posted but in reality people came and went from 7 in the morning to 10 at night.  You could find a score of excited relatives visiting your neighbor to the left at any time of the day. This annoyingly upbeat crowd was only worsened by the fact that there was no AC in the rooms and mother's are not allowed to take the baby into the hallway to escape the claustrophobic quarters.  In my room, the other women refused to open the windows because they said the mosquitos would come in or they would catch a draft. Psycho! You cannot catch a draft when it is 80 percent humidity and 90 degrees outside. I was sweating the entire time I was there. Frankly, the treatment was inhumane especially considering the extra weight and hormones coursing through a woman's body immediately following birth. I thought of calling Human Rights Watch or Amnesty International, but of course there was no phone at my disposal. 

Now the part that really gets me. I got a hot four course meal for lunch and dinner every day, which was at least three star, if not four.....some things just can't be skimped on in Italy. But, ironically I had to bring my own fork and knife and napkin to the hospital to eat the fresh hot meal. I am not kidding. And....no, I am not making this part up for dramatic effect.....I had to bring my own soap, toilet paper, maxi-pads, towel, etc. I am not sure why I needed the soap and towel since there was no shower in my room. Oh wait, there was an open tub at the end of the hall for about 40+ women and their guests to use. The last thing I'd do is sit in a bathtub that is available to hundreds of other people per day, even if I am desperate. It must be said that my shower on a remote Thai island using a bucket of water and a hole in a kind stranger's backyard was much more sanitary than the very public bathtub in the Chieti hospital. I now know the true value of a "push present"; something I never really gave much credence to when I had my daughter in a cushy orange county hospital with a private room and ample drugs at my disposal. They even had soap next to the sink in all of the bathrooms and a refrigerator for my Champaign. 

So, that sums up the lovely experience of giving birth in Italy where the government takes a ton of your money for healthcare. But, given what we get in return I am starting to think that those funds were likely redirected to pay for Moroccan hookers. I will admit that the staff were great - but Mother Theresa herself would not have made up for the harsh surroundings. That, my friends, is why you should think very carefully about having unprotected sex in Italy. The EU has a completely open border policy, so if you should find yourself extremely pregnant in Italy, please immediately begin to drive north. Soon you will be safely in one of the countries doing the lending and not the borrowing these days; a much better bet if you ask me. Who knows, maybe they will even have toilet paper for you to use during your stay.....a girl's gotta dream. 

Chaos on the Streets

One quickly discovers that Europeans really don't work in August. In Italy this "season" of vacation is called Ferragoto. Most people seem to have the two weeks off leading up to August 15, as a bare minimum but there are variations.

Being in Roseto degli Abruzzi, which is by all definitions "a beach town", this city is transformed into a thriving mecca for vacationers in the months of July and August. Our tourists are mostly Italians from other areas, but there is also a fair share of French, Germans and a few Dutch. Here is the problem, this city is already poorly organized and badly equipped during the winter months, so you double or even triple the population in the summer and it turns into a logistic nightmare. It is IMPOSSIBLE to drive given that there is really only one main street. It is dangerous to ride your bike because there are no bike lanes and there is barely room for a car to drive on the main street.  Until you have barely eked by a moving 18 wheeler truck and a parked car to your right with a matter of two inches of space, you truly don't know how scary a proposition that is. Then repeat this process about a thousand times for your ten minute bike ride, and you have the oh so relaxed feeling of riding your bike in Roseto.

Walking is really the only practical solution here, but did I mention there are very few sidewalks off the main road, so you end up walking next to the cars in the street. Again, not the most tranquil of strolls when you are worried about your purse getting caught on the passing car's rear-view mirror. In any case, it is too damn hot to walk on most summer days here.

To make matters worse, there are zero efforts on the part of the city or region to make this a more livable, better-flowing city. For example, streets could be labeled as one-way rather than having people park on both sides of the street so that when a car comes the opposite direction, you have to literally reverse hundreds of feet in a space that is less than eight feet wide because there is no way to fit both cars. Am I being too demanding you ask? Isn't that the European way, to squeeze into tight spaces with grace? I think a German, or Dutch visitor would say NO! This reversing craziness literally happens 10-15 times a day, every day all throughout the summer. And, I only drive about 20 minutes a day maximum. It is a serious pain in the ass and a waste of time. It could be fixed so easily with a simple sign that says no parking or one-way. But days, weeks, years go by and Rosetani have to live with this chaos. 

Then of course there is the utterly ridiculous ritual of finding a parking spot. Heaven forbid the construction of a parking structure because that would be too easy. Parking illegally is how most people handle it. People see no problem parking on an angle which leaves it impossible to make a right-hand turn because the streets are so narrow. Parking in a cross-walk is free game and so is parking in loading, handicapped, and motorcycle designated areas. Seriously!?! Do you know how annoying it is to make a 7 point turn just because you need to make a right? And the best part is it just goes on in continuation because the city rarely, if ever, gives people tickets for this illegal behavior.

Furthermore, given that so many people in our town use a bike as their principal form of transportation, a bike lane (or dare I say even a well-appointed bike path) would be greatly appreciated. However, there is only one strip that runs about 1 kilometer in front of the ocean. Very pretty, but not very helpful when you are going about your daily business in the center of town.

Then, lets talk about the little babies that are riding on the front of their parents bikes within inches of car traffic zooming by........WITH NO HELMETS. Its dangerous enough as it is, but do people not realize that a 9 month old baby would probably die if it hit the ground without a helmet???? For every 100 kids, I see maybe one with a helmet on. Its all fun and games until your kid is dead!

If I were in charge of a tourist town which desperately depends on tourist dollars, I would want to make things as comfortable as possible for those tourists, and of course for my year-round tax paying constituents. However, here it does not even seem to be a discussion as to make the flow of the city better. How can something so basic be ignored? How can the people live with this chaos day in and day out for years on end and not realize that most of these things can easily be improved upon. I am crying out for four simple things, and I never imagined they would be things I would have to ask for.

Please Mr. Mayor I would like:

Sidewalks

One Way Streets

Bike Lanes

Parking Structure

Even in a time of austerity, I think these basics should be provided for.....but I appear to be the only big dreamer in this city. 

Dear Italy....

Before I moved here, I thought this was information everybody had. But.... apparently not. As a good samaritan I feel duty-bound to share these truisms with my Abruzzesse brethren. Perhaps they were on vacation or sleeping when the news came in.


1- Sidewalks are a great little invention that provide a SEPARATE path for pedestrians. They are really handy when walking with strollers or for 90 year old ladies totting huge grocery bags between meals. You should really insist that the government put some in and stop using cars to control population explosions.

2 - 4 years old is too old for a bottle. They are not babies, they are children. Stop coddling!

3 - They will not kick your child out of school if she/he is not wearing Gucci or Burberry....even if that was a rule, they wouldn't enforce it because they are Italian.

4 "Mother" is not synonymous with the word "slave". After a certain point, say 25, she should not be cooking for you, cleaning your room and doing your laundry on a daily basis.....all the while she is watching your children!

5- You have to elect one activity: driving or parking. They cannot be done in the same place. It does not work.

6- Neither cookies nor Nutella are a nutritional breakfast.

7- Yes, Italian food is wonderful. But, and I know this may come as a surprise, they have food in other countries too. Try it sometime. (This goes for language, wine, clothing designers, and other cultural events).

8- Sometimes, and I can't believe I am saying this, rules are good. They are what help a 5 minute process, not turn into a 5 hour process. Now I know why you all drink so much coffee!

9- The internet works. Maybe we can use it to order food from other countries (see No. 7)

10 - Your children will not die if they are out in the cold for 30 seconds. This is Roseto, not Siberia.

11- Hours worked in a day is calculated by time actually producing, not drinking coffee, going home for a three hour lunch, napping, or talking with your friends in front of your store.

12- Olive oil is not a food group.

These are only the basics. But, we have to start somewhere.

Readers who have been here, done that, please feel free to add more lessons learned.

A Thanksgiving Murder

As any good American, this Thursday I will be putting on a big Thanksgiving dinner, or Giorno di Graziamento, as they call it in Italy. But, since turkeys are seldom, if ever bought whole, I put my order in early. However, now I am fraught with guilt because it turns out that this bird, located by my butcher on a nearby farm, is living and breathing happily as we speak. He will be murdered at my behest on Wednesday. I feel horrible that my little 8 kilo taquino (turkey) will be lifeless on my kitchen counter just 4 short days from now. I am even more petrified that this little guy won't fit in my tiny european oven and I'll have murdered my little feathered friend all for naught. I actually went so far as to request that he be put on a diet for his last week of his life. The butcher agreed, so I am now not only killing him but I am also starving him in his last week of life.  My brownie points are just racking up in heaven, aren't they.

I must admit that I am extactic that my little guy will be organic and fresh, not some frozen mass-farmed slab of flesh that we have come to expect in the US. No need to thaw this guy for 5 days. Luckily that will give me time to hunt down all the crazy American ingredients for our feast. To my surprise, I have already located sweet potatoes which was no easy feat in the land of "if its not Italian, its not edible". But, I am still on the lookout for cranberries and marshmallows. How do I even translate those to ask??? I have already resigned myself to making the marshmallows from scratch so I can make the sweet potato casserole, and I may just have to improvise and use other berries (Lampone) that come from Sweden instead of cranberries. They look and feel a lot different than American cranberries but they are very bitter and red, so they should be a decent counterfeit. And, I have all but given up in locating graham crackers, and  have decided that those little "digestive" crackers and some butter will have to do. "When in Rome", as the saying goes....

So, this Thanksgiving will be a lot of blood (literally) sweat and tears, all for the sake of cultural survival. After all, lets face the fact that Americans don't have too many things that are uniquely theirs. Although a couple other countries do celebrate a day of "thanksgiving" none do it quite like us. We not only reflect on the things for which we are thankful, but we recall our history and how we began life here in the U.S.....(before all the indigenous murders started) and we do what we do best...pig out, drink, and watch football. Yeah! And, hopefully in the midst of all the mass-calorie consumption I can expose my daughter to her American roots.

Breaking for Booze

There is one beautiful thing about living here in Italy that I just can't get over. I am the first to criticize that you can't get a stiff drink here and a pre-dinner cocktail is non-existant. But, I love that one could just be cruising around town and decide to stop for a glass of prosecco (italian version of Champagne). Its always in stock at any bar/cafe and there is always a bottle open and ready to serve you a glass. In the states, even though we drink a lot heavier than Italians, we are frowned upon if we take time out of our day - whether we are running errands, picking up kids, in transport from one appointment to the next - if we stop and have a drink by ourselves. (With the noted exception of hotel and airport lobbies). It would be a sign of an alcoholic according to our standards. But here, to opt for a glass of wine or champaign or a coffee with a little sambuca in it is not anything strange, even at 11 AM. Plus the best part of it is that you get free snacks whenever you order a non-coffee drink. So, my 3 Euro glass of wine really is great bang for your buck considering the procuitto, olive tapanade, cheese slices, etc. that comes with it. And, as if a solitary glass of prosecco in the broad day light wasn't enough, if you are lucky enough to have time for a second glass, they never bring out the same snacks twice. Its very systematic. You always get a different mix of snacks (which are put together daily) with a new drink. These are truly the makings of a great country. Now if only I could figure out when these people get any work done? 

But, and there always is a but isn't there.....what's the deal with never being allowed to get drunk, or even a buzz for that matter. I am sure most British, Irish, Australians Canadian, American, and many drinking cultures around the world would agree that from time to time you just need to have a few.....and sometimes a few more! Always having food shoved down your face makes it impossible to refuse, especially when its prepared by an italian its placed right in front of you for free. And, people don't just hang out in bars and get their drink on. A huge meal is never more than an hour away or an hour behind you making it impossible to fill your belly with truth serum. I SOOOOO miss those days of meeting my girlfriends for happy hour at a place that does NOT allow children or strollers. I miss heading out for brunch on a Sunday and not returning till 7 PM, buzzed! Yes folks, a whole day revolved around drinking, eating and then drinking some more. Am I wrong for wanting to abuse my liver from time to time? Don't people know that my sanity depends on those breaks. 

Cheers! 

Fall Foliage on All-Saints Day

Today I am driving through Molise, which is a region of Italy about an hour south of Rome, Its capital is Campobasso, a town of about 65,000 inhabitants. Much like Abruzzo this is not one of the most populous regions; rather it is sprinkled with many small towns nestled on cliffs thousands of feet above the Autostrada. As I drive down a curvy two lane road, I am reminded how much natural beauty covers this country. Almost instantaneously we slipped from summer into a breathtaking fall season. Being from California, I have seldom experienced such a distinct passage of the seasons and I say with conviction that transitioning from summer into fall is the most drastic, both emotionally and environmentally. I use the word emotionally because it is a palatable feeling how the bustle of summer fades quietly into the solitude of winter. No more backyard BBQs, crowded beaches, chaotic day-long playdates with screaming kids, or traffic-jammed summer road trips. And, although October is still a ways from Christmas, I am already thinking about passing the dark hours indoors with my family or a good book. This time of year the meals I prepare are more elaborate and calorie rich, and the converations I have are with dear friends about issues that need time. The house constantly smells of cider, or hot chocolate and I only tolerate the softest clothes to warm my body from the cold air lurking outside. In short, my state of mind changes and I am a different person in November than I was in August. 

Like me, the land around me is in transformation. Just last week my drive to Teramo did not reveal a glimpse of snow on the peaks of Gran Sasso National Park, our local mountain range. And now the mountains appear to be full of snow, taunting me to shape up and hit the slopes. It was only a matter of days ago that the trees were full and green, now they turn golden before my eyes. The leaves give way with the smallest hint of a breeze and they are beginning to scuttle along the sidewalks keeping my company as I do my grocery shopping. Much to my surprise, even the grapevines turn yellow, orange and red - all simultaneously. 

In Molise, the trees are more akin to the East Coast of the U.S., with a lot of Oaks and other trees that are familiar to me. The peaks of the hills are exposed rock and steep, much different than the rolling green hills that make up Abruzzo. I surmise that the climate here is less humid than Abruzzo and therefore there is much less agriculture breaking up the natural landscape. I will say that the terrain reminds me more of the U.S. than Abruzzo, but its still a far cry from California. 

Today, All-Saints Day in Italy, is a day reserved for remembering and visiting the dead. In fact, the cemeteries are full and every tomb, even those dating back to the 1800s seem to have fresh flowers placed on them. It was a perfect day to get out of the ordinary routine and go out simply to observe and reflect. This season is one that naturally lends itself to that and I am thankful that I can ponder life and death in such a beautiful setting. 

An Insightful Rant By A Scorned Patient. What's Wrong With The Medical System in Abruzzo?

Usually I try to keep my writings positive, but some things just need to be aired. Lets chat about the utter lack in efficiency in some italian public service sectors. I am infuriated by the joke of a medical system here in Abruzzo, ASL. This article is not meant to attack the socialized aspects of the medical system,  which is something I vigorously applaud. But, its rather a look at the logistical nightmare that is medical care in Italy. 

Here, we have a nationalized medical system which is, in theory, inter-connected not just with all of Italy but all of Europe. But each region runs its own medical program starting with each municipality dividing its residents up amongst a list of general practitioner doctors ("GP") in their respective municipalities. Its relatively easy to get in touch with your GP; and like America's HMO's the GP is your gateway doctor. If you want the medical system to cover your test costs - and I use the term cover very loosely - you have to start with your GP and get a paper prescription for a specialist, test, or prescription. Here's where the nightmare begins. When you go to the next step you hit major roadblocks and confusion. For the sake of time and clarity I will list the major issues:

1) You must carry your own medical records from one appointment to the next. They have NO centralized or electronic medical sharing here. NONE!

2) Depending on the urgency, you could wait months or more to get into a simple test appointment.  In September, they wanted to book my appointment for February 2011! And, I have heard worse stories. 

3) Even if you want to stay in the nationalized system, you still have to pay an admission ticket at the hospital every time you do a test or see a specialist. So, in fact you pay twice. First through a boatload of taxes, then again for your individual care. 

4) You pay even more if you want to avoid the confusion and go "private" which basically means you pay a pubic doctor for his private time. 

Now, I will say that their private payments are nothing compared to what a U.S. uninsured person would pay. And, I love the fact that I can pop into virtually any specialist and pay 80 Euro for a consultation. But, I have had to undergo comprehensive allergy testing and it has taken approximately 3 months so far, and I am not done yet. Its always "go to this hospital, do a consult, go to another hospital take 2 test, but then another location and take a blood test on yet a different day." Its not uncommon to get misinformation at one appointment so you are unprepared for the next. There seems to be little to no dialogue between offices or even between the hospitals administration and the practitioners.

During this process that has become not a bad chapter in my week, but a bad chapter in my year because it takes so long, I have had to play russian roulette every time I eat something during this five month long period. And, don't forget I am lugging my records from one place to the next because they don't transfer them internally. I can only imagine what it it takes for someone who is really sick. I will admit that if you have a grave emergency things go on the fast track, but how many people have tumors growing inside them as they wait for stupid little screening tests to be completed before they realize its something more serious. 

For me it almost always comes back to efficiency; what is the damage to the Italian economy for such inefficiencies? When people have jobs, and need to miss work 11 times over 6 months just for testing, there has got to be a large economic cost to their employer in the way of lost productivity. Then, you consider the lost productivity of someone not feeling well during that entire diagnosis period. Even if they are jobless, they are surely not hunting down a job when they are in this long drawn out holding position. And, the same goes for a lot of things. We end up waiting at the post office for 20 minutes only to get useless information at the front of the line and have to return another day. Or, I am constantly told to come back another day at a store or service point because they are too busy or about to close, etc. What is the deal with never wanting to push through and complete a transaction? 

If you want further information on the economic impact of this (please note how totally ecstatic I am that I actually have time to look up stuff like this solely because I want to!) Italy ranks higher than most in GDP per person working, but still lower than the US. They did, however outrank UK and Germany in this respect, which was a personal shock to me. (See pages 35-36 for some country-by-country statistics on GDP and productivity. (http://www.bls.gov/opub/mlr/1999/07/art3full.pdf). or see Eurostat website, an EU agency that tracks European statistics on a country and regional basis. (http://epp.eurostat.ec.europa.eu/portal/page/portal/statistics/themes) 

Someone asked me the other day if the experiences I am having are unique to my region, as in maybe I am living in the Italian equivalent to Mississippi, which by all accounts is not the crown jewel of our United States. When I go on the attack, I must remind myself that I am living in one town, in one of twenty regions in a relatively large country of 60 million people. After doing some of the statistical research on Italy, as referenced above, I have to conclude this inefficiency or lack of desire to complete a transaction must be a regional issue and is not the plight of the entire country. The statistics do not lend themselves to a conclusion that Italians as a whole are not productive. 

And, as I am often reminded by those in my Italian family, Italy is a very young republic which explains the difference in the regions and the lack of logistical co-ordination of so-called national services. Italy, as a constitutional republic has only been around since 1946. Before that it was comprised of several nation-states that were unified between 1815-1870, still much later than the United States unification with the original colonies. 

No matter whether this is a regional problem or a national problem, I am demanding change. Italian, like most Europeans, pay a ton of taxes, approximately 50% of their earnings and 20% sales tax. Supposedly, this is to pay for the medical services, schools, and other essential public services. However, we end up paying point-of-service for medical as well. And, according to those I have talked to its not cheap. Tests run anywhere from 100E to 200E, plus patients pay an admission tickets, drug costs, and for specialist visits. It seems a little bit like double taxation since its all going to the government. Same goes for the toll roads or "autostrada" and other supposedly socialized services. And, the schools, while they may provide a great education, are hosted in decrepit outdated buildings which are not up to par with technology or even a designated parking lot.  I am 100% in support of pooling our tax money to provide services, but I must ask where is this money going in our area? Italy is ranked the 18th most developed country in the world, but it seems a long cry from my home in California. 

I am told that in the north things are a lot faster, cleaner, and modernized. Of course, they also have more stress so there is always a trade-off. But, I must admit that I am at the end of my wits the way things move so slowly here. Why can't I sign the inscription form and pay when my daughter starts her first ballet lesson. Why do shop owners repeatedly offer to call when something comes in, and I have yet to receive one call when that happens. Why is it always pushed off for a later time? And, when it comes to something as important as medical care, there is no room to be lazy or disorganized. We must start demanding better and take nothing less. In the end, only the squeaky wheel gets the grease. 

"I think I'm turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese, I really think so!"

What's the worst possible place to be in the entire world if you are allergic to wheat? We'll let me tell you - ITS ITALY!!!

I'm totally relieved to figure out why I have looked pregnant for the last year ( I always knew I was secretly svelte under my protective layers!) but to be gluten intolerant in the land of waiving wheat is practically a life crisis. I live across the street from a wheat field for Christ's sake!

Not only is it difficult to avoid bread products in the land of pasta, but people for the most part, have no clue what gluten intolerance is. At dinner the other night I told the waiter I had a gluten allergy so I couldn't eat pasta. He suggested a pizza in response. Hello????

When I go for breakfast in the morning I now eat air because the only breakfast option here is a croissant. Of course they have a variety of fillings, but there is no fruit, no yogurt, and certainly no gluten free bagels to speak of in any local cafes.  Truth be told, I have been so desperate to order a chocolate croissant and lick out the filling....breakfast of champions.

Seriously, it turns out that being gluten intolerant is doable, but you have to make some major adjustments. I even brought a rice "pizza" dough to a pizza party the other night so I wouldn't be left out of the festivities. I am accepting the reality that I will be one of those eccentric food-totaling people for the rest of my life.  Gucci cooler anyone...

I have tried a variety of gluten -free pastas and the corn flour pasta is not that bad. But, for the most part, I am getting in touch with my inner-asian since most gluten-free products are rice based. There are some great chocolate rice cookies and rice crackers, too. Mostly, I have turned to more whole foods like legumes, veggies, meat and fruit. So, maybe this is what they call "a blessing in disguise". I want to use this diagnosis as an excuse to eat reduce the empty calories and increase nutrient rich foods. Is anyone out there buying this?

So far its been about 6 weeks of a gluten-free diet and I feel a whole lot better. More energy, less fatigue, no nausea and less, em, "private problems". I wonder how many people feel just generally physically crappy but not bad enough to be bugging the doctor for a reason. I would venture there are a lot of us out there who just don't know that their diet is making them sick. Maybe this article can help you.

But, what does it all mean Basil?

Why has human consciousness evolved enough to search for meaning and purpose in their life, but not enough to figure out that purpose?

Anybody who has ever passed the book store's self-help section knows that the struggle for meaning in this life is a challenge suffered en masse. Its a realization that sometimes hits like a ton of bricks, perhaps after becoming a parent, or after college, or - like in my case - watching someone die prematurely. Others may drift into malaise slowly and steadily once the buzz of youth wears out - probably sometime in their thirties, just as the reality of mortgage payments and the repetitious responsibilities of parenthood come their way. At some point, I am convinced, that most of us find ourselves asking WHY? WHAT IS THIS ALL FOR?

Here's what I know: we are animals, but we have evolved. We made fire, built fences and farms, which has allowed us the freedom to think. I'm starting to think this is where we went wrong. Now we have attained enough consciousness to wonder why but not enough sense to provide an answer to that burning question. Is it better not to wonder at all, and to live without the thought of future and past? I would venture that it is certainly less-overwhelming to live that way, but having no direction may result in feeling empty and helpless. And, at the end of the day I imagine our minds are incapable of achieving the stillness of living wholly in the present.

Are we just here until we die like all other animals and plants on this world? If its so easy for us to accept for all "lower" life on this earth, then why do we think our lives are that much more purpose-driven? Are we over-thinking it? Maybe it's a bit depressing to believe we are just another body taking up oxygen, but it could also be liberating. Taking on this believe means embracing the idea of seizing the day since today may be all we have. In that case, maybe the answer to fulfillment is simple: more volunteer work, compassion for those less fortunate? It is called the Golden Rule for a reason, right?

If humans went back to struggling with daily tasks of survival, we would ask less questions and concentrate on the basics: food, water, shelter. Such may also be the case if we lived in a time of death (war, famine, or disease) and we accepted that this moment is all we have. So, it seems that in order to attain "zen" and live in the present, which is a more advanced mind-set, we must regress to a less-developed state where we are only concentrating on our survival. I know true nirvana takes that stillness of mind within our surroundings, but is that a realistic expectation in today's world? And, Buddhist monks don't count since they are sheltered from the real world and rely on others to work hard to support their spiritual journey.

Here's where I am: I want purpose and a direction, but do not look to religion for it. I am still open to finding a greater-meaning, but am not hopeful. I will not trick my mind into believing something that is not there solely to be consoled. I, instead, try to live moment by moment, acknowledging that most moments are filled with the mundane. But, there are these all-consuming moments of joy that overtake me every now and again which make my life worth living. They fill my heart up so full that it is replenished. The most spectacular thing is that almost all of these moments consist of such basic events, that I wonder if simple living is the best way to have more of them. Swimming alone in the calm Adriatic with my daughter as the sun sets and a warm breeze catches my face. Listening to a great song while jumping on my bed. Having a laugh with an old friend until our faces turn red. These are the tiny fleeting moments that keep me going. They are so simple, but are they my purpose? Maybe abandoning the search for purpose is the way to have more joyous moments?

Clearly I am full of more questions than answers. But, without pondering these issues, aren't we doomed to just slog through life, never knowing? Every person must come to their own conclusion and form a life that suits their desires and goals. Unfortunately, for me I expect it will take a lifetime, or more to figure out.

How Olive Oil Is Made

Last night, on our way to dinner we stopped by at an olive oil manufacturer and asked for a tour and a fresh bottle. The owner happily agreed, which is the reaction most italians have when they get a chance to showcase their culture and traditions. Although it was 8:30 p.m.. it's machines, tractors and employees were all buzzing around. In all, the whole operation only took about 12 employees in a room no larger than 900 sq. feet. but they had a steady stream of oil coming out of the spigot. I learned a lot about the liquid gold of Italy while I was there and thought I'd share for all you other fans out there. (We go through practically a bottle a week in our house. Yikes!)

Olives are harvested only about two weeks out of the year so these factories run for 24 hours a day during that time. Around here most landowners have at least 10-20 olive trees on their land so you will see the entire extended family outside harvesting the olives by hand since such the size of their harvest doesn't justify hiring help. I think they mostly use the olive oil for personal use I am told that many true italians never "buy" oil from a store because someone in their inner circle grows and presses their own olives.

Once the olives are harvested - some green, some black depending on where they are on the tree and how much sun they got - they are de-stemmed. The olives, pit and all, are then poured into an ancient looking vat which has 3 giant stone grinders that roll over the olives turning them into a paste which looks similar to tapenade.

Then, this paste gets spread out about an inch thick on a thatch-wooden disk. This process is repeated, one disk on top of another, at the rate of about 10 disks a minute. After there are about 75 disks stacked up, they are moved between two metal disks that are pressurized. Functioning much like an elevator on hydraulics the bottom piece raises out of the ground and squeezes the stack. A watery brown liquid squirts out the sides and drains to a basin on the bottom. Maybe not the best analogy, but it looks like the juices coming out of gyro meat when it is being cut. This squeezing process only takes an hour and a half.

In the olden days (or modern day personal producers) the liquid would then sit for a day to allow the oil to rise to the top and the water (which is the brown part) settle on the bottom. The oil would simply be scooped up and bottled. Now the commercial producers use a really small machine that spins and separates the oil from the water. It then has a faucet that pours out a greenish yellow olive oil. This is the cold pressed, first pressed olive oil. The best of the best.

We bought a litre from the factory for 7Euro and the owner bottled ours right from the spigot. It was almost opaque once bottled; and the color of water after cooking an artichoke, which is to say a little more dingy than algae but indisputably green, not yellow. I am told the color will mellow as the months go on, but surely our bottle will never live to see that day.

So, how does it taste? Well, we cracked open the bottle at the restaurant to give it a try. It was excellent. It was fruity and pungent and creamy. No wonder italians don't bother with salad dressings. Sometimes less really is more.

Madrid Rocks!

Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away called my youth, I lived in this amazing city called Madrid, Espana. It has been so long since I have visited that I feared my good memories were actually fantasies. But, alas, they are not and the city looks and feels even better than I remembered it. Madrid is officially my favorite city in the whole world, although New York is a close second.

Why does Madrid rock, you ask. Well, first of all, the people here are friendly and fun! The weather is almost always sunny, although they do have winter here. The architecture is stunning, the food is good, the nightlife is so amazing it even spills over to the mornings and evenings. Traffic and the city are easy to navigate and my favorite thing of all is that it is a city has room for families.

Someone asked me today why it wasn't enough to visit the city periodically. The best part about this city is not the tourist destinations or shopping, but the pulse and rhythm of the people, which is not something you can tap into unless you are a member. It is their attitude, culture, and lifestyle that is such a draw here. I am a city girl at heart although I love the outdoors too. But, I never even dream about city life with a young child.....enter Madrid and I begin to re-evaluate my whole city-banning proclamation. Now all I need to do is find a job, $2 million euros to buy an apartment and remember how to speak Castilliano. Details, details.

NATURES BOUNTY - living off of the land

I am so impressed by the way that people here really take to heart the theory of "locally grown" or what they call "nostrano" which simply means "ours". Stores always label plants and animals as nostrano when they come from the immediate region so people can elect to 1) support their local economy, 2) be healthier, or 3) save money. But, it definitely goes further than that. People here sort of practice what I'll coin as "free gardening", which means plant anything that will grow, wherever. Then, anybody is free to take what they need when it is in season.

In the garden in front of the building where I was staying the first couple of months in Roseto there are several plants that can be eaten or used for cooking. There are two blackberry trees (I was pretty sure these grew on bushes but I guess this kind grows on trees). If you want to make jam for a crostata or to add to your breakfast, you just shake the tree and pick up the ripe berries that fall off. Additionally, the entire garden is spotted with tiny little chamomile flowers. They can be picked and dried to make tea.

We also have rosemary, laurel (bay leaf) and lemons growing right outside our door. But, there is also the sea where many people go when they want a free meal. On any given low tide morning people walk in ankle deep water grabbing little clams out of the sand. There are also black muscles which are the best I ever tasted. A little bit harder to find are tiny tasty crabs that can get added to pasta and if you are willing to go out on a little fishing boat there is a whole lot more. If you feel like going in the hills you can forage for wild asparagus or a green vegetable they call cicoria, which grows abundantly and I imagine has a ton of iron. Each of these plants has a fairly small window of time where it grows naturally so there are many people who go out hunting when the time is right. For older people in particular it is a popular past time. I think it is awesome that on any given day you can make almost an entire meal of of foods that were foraged within 5 minutes of your own house. In 2010 that is a rare accomplishment, at least in the land of to-go cups and bags, where I come from.

So the next time you polish off an apple or orange, try throwing it into the dirt and see what comes about. You may be pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to "free garden".

Buon Apetito!

EXPOSED!

Who needs coffee in the morning when the view does plenty to jump start your heart. Now that summer is in full force, the shoreline has two lanes of people walking up and down the coast every morning, some at a crawl and others at a hustle. The view is so consuming one rarely abandons people watching to glance at the breathtaking, glass-like Adriatic.

People probably think I am out of my mind crazy since I cannot help but to break out into full-blown laughter at the sight of some very original characters. Today, my favorite was a man who had hit the middle-aged benchmark a couple years back. He was jogging steadily down the coast, wearing those puffy black socks that I thought they discontinued selling to teenage girls in 1988, solid black tennis shoes, a sleeveless white tee (is there an American Apparel store here?), and to bottom it all out, black speedos that seemed a little loose on the bottom. I had to wonder what the hell was this man thinking when he geared up in the morning. Doesn't he have a wife that plays interference before he leaves the house like that? And, who the hell jogs in speedos unless you are running in a triathlon.

There were several runners up in today's contest of whose exposure was least appropriate, but the circus's Mr. Stromboli won by a slim margin. This man was all out buff, the kind of man who has huge square shoulders and pecks and has an upside-down triangle shape with a little tightly packed backside. He was blanketed in curly black hair, and was sporting one finger speedos on his ultra-tanned body, or maybe the hair just made him seem really dark? The kicker was that he was out on the beach chasing after two pink-clad girly toddlers. It just didn't seem to fit the bill. When I thought of the reaction my friends would have if they were on this walk with me, I couldn't help but smile a big smile.

Of course for every nightmare I pass, I see several beauties on their morning strolls, usually opting for bathing suits rather than work out clothes. In case you didn't know, Italians are obsessed with getting tan, and they will strip their clothes at the slightest sun bathing opportunity.

It makes me proud that I live in a place where people of all walks of life, rich, poor, ugly, fat, families, searching singles, all alike can hit the beach and feel at ease strutting their stuff down the coast without reprisal.....well, maybe just a little from a foreign american girl who chuckles under her breath every once in a while when things that should be left to mystery are exposed for the early morning crowd to take in. I still say bikinis are reserved for people under 60 and speedos should be left for triathletes and strippers, but I guess that's why I am the foreigner here.