In the beginning....

So I suspect the best place to start when describing my summer is at the beginning. I would say that June through the end of August was when I had to adjust myself to how different my next year was going to be….but not boot camp style but easing into my new life like how you ease into a Jacuzzi at a resort getaway spa.
When I first arrived in Italy by train I expected to feel internally different. I expected to there to be a tangible difference between how I felt in America and how I was going to feel living in Italy. A feeling I expected to be present and wrapped in like a thermal blanket of sorts. I expected that every time the wind blew I would smell Italy in the air. Smell the bouquet of the wine vineyards, the intoxicating aroma of real Italian pomodoro sauce, or the fragrance of rosemary that grows like wildfire everywhere in Italy. But there was no difference. Maybe my expectations where too high that my senses could not register what was in actuality right in front of me. Maybe all those things were present in an unobtrusive way, but I did not notice them, no matter how hard I tried. Italy is something that sneaks up on you and takes hold of you when you stop wanting it (which I would discover a few months later). However my first understanding of this ancient historic country was bland and unappealing. I thought to myself, “Well, I am here. Let’s make the best of it.”
Monica was the first face I saw when I stepped off the train at Milano Centrale. A seven hour train ride from Paris with nothing but my iPod and my thoughts to keep me company. She had a contagious smile on her face and gave me a “welcome home” sort of hug. She helped me with my luggage through the station, her wearing a Dolce and Gabbana stylish sweat suit and me: un-showered, wholly Abercrombie jeans, my favorite button up man’s dress shirt (un-ironed) and of course my Rainbow leather flip-flops. Yes, the American has arrived.
Now, the town I live in is maybe 20 minutes north of Milan. Milan is your normal metropolitan type city just as important and diverse as New York City but because I live so near I never really think of it the way I will always think of NYC. The major difference between the two cities is that New York is very easy to navigate. It is divided in squares and blocks and you really have to have zero sense of direction to get lost. Milan is the most complicated city I have ever been to. There is no structure, no organization. You can walk to point A to point B faster than if you tried to drive there. No lie. And the parking, forget about it.
In any case, Monica and I drove to Gallarate. A town she has lived in her entire life and a town she had chosen to raise her children in. I had tried to Google Gallarate before I flew over, but searched in vain because the only images it retrieved was of the same historic church in the center of town in various seasons. I figured that if the rest of Gallarate looked the way this church did I would have been in luck and I would have found the cute little Italian village I had been dreaming of. One where I could ride a vintage bicycle into the center to buy bread and flowers, wave to all the cute grumpy elderly Italian men, and relax under the shade of an aged Italian Cypress tree and study the Italian language. Ignoring the fact that I could not ride a bicycle at that time.
My first images of Gallarate were a McDonalds and orange tape everywhere indicating the whole town was under construction. OH GOD, what have I gotten myself into! The most shocking thing about Italy that no one will tell you is that there is graffiti everywhere. (My mother can confirm this, it shocked her as well.) It covers beautiful historic architecture, houses, and schools. Speaking of schools, that is where Monica and I were headed, to pick Bebe and Marta up from school. The school was a large 1960s type structure. Under all the graffiti it was yellow and orange and about 6 stories high. It wasn’t what I imagined their school to look like but at that point I was kinda like, “whatever.” We walked to the front of the school where all the parents wait for the flood gates to open unleashing pre-teens onto the world. And they were all dressed quite stylishly in Prada, Gucci, or whatever other Italian designer that made no difference to me…. I think the best analogy I have for this is when some one back home would use the expression, “Getting all dressed up to go to Wal-mart.” Haha I laughed to myself then also. All these once party going aged Italians with their colorful neck scarves and oversized sunglasses smoking so many cigarettes that when put together as one unit there is literally a cloud of smoke incasing them. And then there was me, the obvious outsider in my blue jeans and flip flops. (I had actually felt pretty confident about my choice in outfit before leaving Paris, but in Italy, they are on a whole other level that made me feel very insecure about my sense of style….or lack there of, obviously.) Then my day brightened when I saw Bebe’s face. She recognized me and ran and gave me the warmest sisterly hug, I was blown away by how happy it made me to see how happy she was that I was finally there. Her new big sister. Looking back, this should have foreshadowed our relationship, but I was reluctant and thought that it was too good to be true.
I don’t remember much of the rest of that first day, possibly due to a major rush of adrenaline and then jet lag kicking in. I remember that I was not homesick and I was not afraid of this new family that I had instantly become the newest member. I never looked back and that is the truth.
Also the next few weeks after that are mostly a blur as well. Possibly due to jet leg, new routine, and anticipation for the beginning of June when we would go to Sardinia for the entire month. Finally, I could spend quality vacation time with the kids and to top it off with an amazing Italian tan.

A lot has happened in the past few months that it feels impossible to record every event, every sensation and every thought about the said event. I will do my best, but please note that I tend to get side tracked when I am writing…thus making me a terrible writer. I ask you to be patient, I guess. I will try to outline what I plan to write on in the next few entries:
· My summer in Sardinia and the “friends” I made there.
· The beauty and intellect of the Italian Language-this might take me a few tries to explain this the way I want to.
· My plans and inspirations for my future when I get back to the states.
· Courmayeur: My frosted Heaven on Earth
· Trip around Italia with Mom and Ivey- this also may take me awhile
· The De Lucchi Family: Making me realize who I want to be and who I do not want to be.
· Love in general

Okay, so it looks like a short list but try to remember that within each bullet there are a million feelings and thoughts, so again be patient with me. And maybe it will depend on what day I write the entry that will make it interesting or not. But be assured I have simplified the list immensely and hope that you keep checking back. Thanks for keeping track. Warm Thoughts to all of you, even though I do not know who “all of you” includes. When ever one of you sends me and email saying that you are reading my blog it makes me feel that maybe I am close to being on the right path for my life. I can only hope that what you take away from my blog is a sense of adventure, self discovery and the knowledge that you can do what ever you set your mind to. All of you are in my heart and I wish you all Happy Holidays! Tanti Auguri!
xxxx
Sarah

Also, my blog is completely out of order... and I have not tried to fix it because I am afraid I will screw it up even worse.

and one more thing: I have debated writing a blog on a recent loss of a friend. I am not good with death or the sensitivity that should automatically sprout when death occurs. I feel deep unreachable pain for her family and close friends. They are in my thoughts and I can not imagine their grief, especially so close to Christmas. I emailed her best friend to send my regards and she said that she felt comforted by the fact that she knew Lauren is in a better place. And even though I am not religious I also feel that we will all see Lauren again up there, somewhere. I will always remember her smile the most, I think. She could light up a room with her smile. RIP.