Two Thousand and Eleven

2011 has been a great year.
A year of fun, accomplishments and achievements, a year of hellos, goodbyes and reunions. I left some good friends I had seen everyday for years, I saw some old friends I hadn't seen in years and I met some of the most amazing people of my life this year.
I played Carnival, played with dolphins and played in parks. I graduated high school, I was in a fashion show, I lived in Italy. I've been to ten different countries. I've learned so much this year. I've loved so much this year.

As 2011 is quickly drawing to an end I recollect my best memories, my greatest moments, my strengths and growth, my pride in myself for this year past. I also remember my low points, the times I cried myself to sleep, the times I walked through the city alone, the times I let my thoughts rule me and bring me down. And I remember how I overcame all that, and came out for the better. I know I am a better person today, this 31st of December than I was on the 31st of December 2010. I am one year older and one year stronger.
I've had more fun and been more continuously happy this past year than I have for as long as I can remember. I have so much to be thankful for, so much I am thankful for.
And it's only just begun.
I'm excited for 2012, eager to see what it will bring, ready to overcome whatever obstacles are thrown my way and happy that I am healthy enough to face this year head on. As everyone does at the end of a year I am beginning to plan my resolutions for next year. I do this every year and I have not kept a single New Years resolution in my life. Sometimes I write them down, sometimes I forget about them the next week, but this year I am sharing them with the world so I have no excuses. That being said…

1. Stop making excuses
I am so good at convincing myself why I shouldn't do something, focusing on the consequences or the discomfort, I often forget to think about all the good that can come out of taking a leap of faith and forcing myself to do something even if I'm trying to talk myself out of it.

2. Be better at long distance communication
For me Skype is pretty much reserved for my sister, and I have friends all over the world, from Australia to America to Holland to Trinidad to England, Scotland, Finland, Ireland, and so on and so forth. I need to stop closing myself off to the people I can't see everyday and make more of an effort to communicate with all of my wonderful friends.

3. Stop being so lazy
This is going to be the hardest by far.

4. Accomplish at least one thing on my bucket list.
http://memoirsofarat.blogspot.com/2011/12/my-bucket-list.html

5. Allow myself to get hurt
Because it probably means I took a chance, risked breaking out of my comfort zone and fell hard. But at least I would have hit something great on the way down.
(Unless I fall down the stairs, there's nothing great about falling down the stairs.)

I hope you all have had a great year, and that 2012 is good to you in more ways than you can even imagine right now.
Happy New Year!

"Today is a gift, that's why it's called the present"

Today is the 21st of December 2011. It's been four days since I left Florence. It is four days before Christmas day, and 10 days before a New Year. I should be writing my college application essays, and therefore anyone who knows me or has been reading this blog for a while will know that means it is time to procrastinate.

Today I slept late, my sister made me a yummy omelet for breakfast while I messaged my roommate and good friend from Florence, I made an entire playlist on my iPod devoted to how much I miss the tourist infested beautiful ancient little city. The first song on the playlist is called 'This City' and my favorite part of the lyrics say "This city is my city, And I love it, yeah I love it, I was born and raised here, I got it made here, And if I have my way, I'm gonna stay" I know I wasn't born in Florence, but I feel as though I came out of my experience there a new person, a better person, and I like to think a new me was born and matured in the small streets and cosy little apartment I shared with three amazing girls. Today has barely begun for me, though it is almost 3 o'clock in the afternoon. I do not know what I will eat for lunch, or what I will do this evening, or who I will see. I could finish all my college applications today (though I'll admit that is not likely), or I could simply watch the season finale of Doctor Who with my sister. Today is unknown, and at the same time it is familiar. Today is the present, and as I promised myself and my roommates I am living in the present. I can't help but reflect on the past, however, and I wanted to bring you on this time travel with me. (I've been watching way too much Doctor Who…)

Exactly one week ago was my last day of exams for the semester. I only had one exam, Italian, at 9am, and I think (I hope) I did quite well. It was my last day of classes, my last official day in Scuolo Lorenzo de Medici for the Fall 2011 semester, and the mark of the end of my time in Florence. It was a sad day for me, but also a reflection on the happiness I had experienced for the last three and a half months. It was a good day.

Exactly 6 months ago was four days after I graduated from high school. I hadn't spent a summer in Cyprus yet, I had never been to Florence yet, I hadn't learned what I know now, or seen what I've seen. I was excited, scared, anxious, and hopeful. I couldn't speak a word of Italian yet. High school feels like years ago now, not months. But six months ago I was saying goodbye to the people I had known and seen everyday for four years of my life. Six months ago I began my journey, and took the first steps towards the rest of my life.

One year ago I was sailing through the Grenadine islands with my family and the family of one of my best friends. I was opening myself up to the idea that maybe Christmas didn't have to be terribly sad to me, as it always had been in the past, maybe I could have fun this year, maybe I was luckier than I ever appreciated before, because I had that opportunity and I was with people I loved- then and now.

Two years ago my family changed once again. I was confused, upset, selfish, skeptical and young. Two short years ago I seemed so young. That was a very dark time in my history, not just that Christmas but that year was hard for me. I cannot remember exactly why now, though it seemed so important at the time. I was struggling and very unhappy. Two years ago I wish I had known I would be as happy as I am today, as lucky as I have come to appreciate, and as wise as I have become. Two years can be so short, yet see so much change. I'm glad to say that I am a different person from who I was two years ago. I like this version of myself much better.

Where were you one week, six months, one year, and two years ago? What were you thinking, feeling, seeing? I dare you to think back, look at a calendar and travel time. You don't need a TARDIS. I hope memory lane is as rewarding for you, and makes you appreciate who you are today, because today is the most precious day of your life. Live in the present.
In the wise words of Henry David Thoreau; “You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their islands of opportunity and look toward another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this.”

Firenze- Fall 2011.

Sono triste perché io bisogno partire. Non voglio dire addio a Firenze! Non voglio dire addio a miei amici! Non voglio partire. Ma, sono felice perché io sono vivuto a Firenze per tre mesi, e sono le più fortunata ragazza nel mondo. Sono innamorato con Firenze. Sono più felice qui.
Mi mancherà vivere in Firenze, mi mancherà parlare in italiano, e mi mancherà miei amici! Firenze é mio posto preferito nel mondo. Ho visto David di Michelangelo, sono salito del duomo di Brunelleschi, ho visitato di palazzo di mecidi famiglia e più e più.
Ho visitato molti posti. Ho visitato Capri, Sorrento e Pompeii, e ho visitato Munich per feste di Ottobre, e ho visitato Svizzera, e Milan e Cremona per il compleanno di mio nonno e ho visitato Perugia per il feste di cioccolato, e ho visitato Vienna, Bratislava, Budapest, Cracovia e Praha, e poi ho visitato miei amici a Londra. Ma, dopo di tutti, mio posti preferito é ancora Firenze.
Sono fortunata ho incontrato tutti bravi personi. Loro voglio bene tutti.
Sono felice io ho crescuto. Ho diventato una brava ragazza! Arrivederci Firenze, e arrivederci a miei amici.

(This is not a translation, simply a continuation of my thoughts and feelings about Florence:)
Climbing Brunelleschi's Duomo, walking past Ghiberti's golden doors of paradise, saying goodbye to Michelangelo's David… I am the luckiest girl in the world. Sitting behind Michelangelo's sculpture of David, staring at his perfectly curved rump and strong powerful hands I cannot help but get more than a little bit emotional. This perfect sculpture of the perfect man is the pride and joy, the symbol of Florence. My Florence. And therefore he is a symbol for me. He reminds me that I came here to find relationships and somewhere along the way I found myself. David shows me that I don't need anything more than a stone figure to make me happy, because just like him I can conquer anything I set my mind to. When I came to Florence I was young, I was eager and hopeful and terrified. I didn't know what life would throw at me for the next three months and that was hard for me. Now I don't want to leave. I want to stay here, in this place with these people for as long as I can. Not just because it's fun, and not just because I like it, but because I have never been so proud of myself, and never felt so good in my own skin. Florence brings out the best in me, as do the people I have shared my life with for the last three months. I feel more at home here, and happier here than I ever have in my life.. I'm going to miss David as much as any of my friends here. I'm going to miss Florence. I'm so fortunate, not only for my 3 months in Florence, but for my life up until this point, and for my family and friends, and for my appreciation of everything around me. I love Florence, I love my life. And this sadness that i feel now, this heavy heart I carry, is simply proof of how much joy and love I have been lucky enough to experience, only a side effect of my good fortune and my time here. Though I hate saying goodbye I'm glad to have to, because it means I had a hello in the first place, and a magnificent 3 and a half months in between those two fateful words.

My Bucket List

At the beginning of my semester in Florence my roommates and I climbed to the top of Piazzale Michelangelo together, drank a bottle of wine, and wrote out a Bucket List of things we hoped to achieve from our time here. We had just met, we were still new to each other and I for one was still new to Florence, but after that night I knew we were the four best possible people to live together. We share similar views, similar goals, similar outlooks on life but we are each still our own person with very different backgrounds and most probably very different futures. I am the luckiest person in the world to have had the privilege to live with these three amazing young women for the time that I did, but I digress…
We are quickly approaching the end of the semester and thus the end of my time in Florence. With final exams in one week and my history for overly exaggerated stress around exam time I know that these last two weeks will be a blur of stress, studying, and a lot of eating. My roommates and I plan to find sometime amidst all that to climb back up to Piazzale Michelangelo and check our progress on the Bucket List we made together. Ever since that first night, and increasingly so now that the time to re-vist the list is approaching, I have been thinking about my own Bucket List for life, everything I hope to accomplish before my time comes to an end.
Nothing is set in stone, some things I have thought about for years and some I am just making up as I go along, but I know that I hope to look back on my life fifty, sixty or seventy years from now and say I at least tried to complete each one of these things:

1. Go to Venice- not only for Carnivale (which is a must!) but to learn, to be inspired, and to write.
2. See the Northern lights
3. Go to Australia
4. Decorate my very own apartment
5. Celebrate each Carnival around the world
6. Ride the Orient Express train through Europe
7. Publish a best selling novel ;)
8. Live in an apartment with my sister
9. Get my British citizenship
10. Become fluent in a second language. And then become fluent in a third language.
11. Learn how to play an instrument
12. Meet my favourite author
13. Create one work of art of which I am proud (I should mention here that my artistic talent never really progressed beyond macaroni picture frames in kindergarden)
14. Do a night dive and a wreck dive
15. Travel in Space
16. Make a profit at a casino
17. Sleep under the stars (ignore the mosquitoes, the discomfort, and all the monsters obviously hiding in the shadows)
18. Go on a road trip
19. See my favourite musician perform live
20. Found a charitable organization
21. Travel to Antarctica and see the Penguins
22. Sponsor an endangered animal and travel to wherever it is in the world to meet it
23. Sing karaoke in front of a crowd and not be ashamed (alcohol will most probably be a necessity...)
24. Make a positive difference; in one person's life, in many peoples lives, in a town or a country or the world
25. Be remembered for something great

They are not in order of importance, each of these things is equally important to me (though some will be easier to accomplish than others). I admit that I did my research and borrowed some of these great ideas. There are many more things I cannot think to add to the list now, and many more I haven't even thought of yet, but for now, this very moment in time, this is my Bucket List.

What's yours?

Thanksgiving

To me, Thanksgiving is a truly brilliant American holiday. I do not entirely know the history behind it, but I think that the tradition has evolved; grown as the country has grown and matured, and today it is a celebration of family, food, and thankfulness. There are no presents, like Christmas, which at times can seem more materialistic than it should. It is not commercial, like Valentine's day, which is a holiday created by Hallmark and Hershey's to increase their revenue ten fold in one day. Thanksgiving is what it sounds like, a giving of thanks, an appreciation for things you often overlook in your day to day life, and a time to share with your family.

I know Thanksgiving isn't for another five days, and I know I'm not American and have only celebrated thanksgiving about three times in my entire life, but I have decided to break my two week blog absence with this post for two reasons: 1) My roommates (two of whom are American) are all going away next weekend and so we will not be together on actual Thanksgiving so we decided to celebrate together today so you can say I'm in the Thanksgiving mood, and 2) I think we should be thankful every minute of every day, whether we openly acknowledge it or not we should be thankful for what we have. So I'm not going to wait another five days to post what I am thankful for, because I am thankful for it today as much as I was yesterday and as much as I will be five days from now.

I am thankful for my family. We do not get to all be in the same place often, and recently both of my parents visited my sister in New York and as jealous as it made me that I couldn't be with them all it also made me realize how much I miss them all and how grateful I am to have such a great family that has been through so much and I can have a special relationship with each member, and especially my sister who is my best friend.

I am thankful for my friends. New friends that I have made in the last couple months and old friends that I have had for years. I am thankful for the new ones for sharing this amazing time in my life with me, and especially for my roommates for putting up with me each and every day. I am thankful for my old friends for being there for me whenever I need them, no matter how far apart we may be, and for sticking by me for so long and through so much.

I am thankful for Italy. I am so blessed to have the opportunity that I have, and the attitude that I do towards my year here. I don't want to waste a minute taking anything for granted, because I am luckier than most and happier than many. I will remember this time for the rest of my life, and I am so happy to say that all the memories, at least thus far, are good ones. I have learnt so much already, seen so many new things, and already love the people and the places.

I am thankful for my health. It may sound cliché but it is not something that should be taken for granted. I know seventeen year olds who have battled cancer, sixteen year olds who have passed away, and my dear young cousin who is struggling with brain cancer at the moment. I believe in her, I love her, I hope for her strength every day. I am thankful that I wake up healthy and go to sleep healthy.

I am thankful for so much, I can't possibly list it all here.
I am thankful for you, whoever you are, reading this. Thankful for my thoughts and my skill. I am thankful for music without which life would be very boring.
I am thankful.

What are you thankful for?

Ah, London

A newspaper rustles. Hip-hop music leaks from my neighbour's headphones. The tube rushes on so fast it clogs my ears.
Ah, London.
An Italian couple sit next to me (and I actually understand them!) Two Spanish girls sit opposite me, and there is an Indian family a couple seats down. A girl even stands in front of me with her laptop in her hands, still working after a long day.
Ah, London.
It is impossible to be a foreigner here. Impossible not to blend in to the crowd, not to fit right in amongst the mass of individuality. An oxymoron, I know.
Ah, London.
I feel at home in London, I always have. Though I never actually lived there I have always felt a sense of welcoming acceptance and familiarity from the moment I step off the plane. It feels like home to me.
Ah, London.
After traveling to so many new places, experiencing so many new things and meeting so many new people it's nice to go somewhere I know. The familiarity of London, the memories and feelings that it evokes, the melody of the British accent and the english language and the promise of familiar faces is just as exciting to me as discovering a completely new country. I long to see people I know and miss, to walk through a city I recognize, to make new memories where I already have some. For as much as I love to experience new things nothing and no one can replaces the ones I already know and love.
So I spent twenty minutes on my first day wandering around the same block and a half looking for a bus stop. So I had to stop and ask for directions at least six times. So I was completely on my own. I did it all with a smile on my face. There's something about being lost in a place that still looks familiar, something about the comfort of knowing that I can speak the language so I can always get help if I really need it, and something about being completely independent about it all that is exhilarating. I woke up to the company of my kind host, a friend I have had for only three months (though it feels like I must have known her for longer). I met up with my best friends from the past (who are still some of my best friends today) who I haven't seen in over three years. And I saw my godmother who I have known since I was about three years old.
I love London.

Hauntings from the Holocaust

Oscar Schindler's "Emalia" enamelware factory 26/10/11
From contemporary art to a blast from the past. Touring Oscar Schindler's 'Emalia' earthenware factor was like being in a time portal. I expected the museum to simply be a tour of the factory perfectly preserved, or even replicated and tourist friendly. What I experienced, however, was life in Krakow from 1939 to 1945. I walked through the town square, through a typical jewish house, through the ghetto and even through a small segment of Slaszow concentration camp. Yes, this entire experience was a very modern replica of a very barren part of human history, but I have a good imagination- and the sound effects helped. The most important thing to me, however, was that I was in the very factory where so many Polish jews worked, and so many were miraculously saved. I stood where they stood, I saw what they saw, I heard their stories.
Oscar Schindler was not a saint, he did not set out to be a hero, he was a greedy and corrupt businessman. But he was a saviour. I read a quote from one of the 1200 people that he saved that said: "If it weren't for him there would not be me, and there would not be my family either, nor our descendants."
Have you ever felt like you weren't good enough? Ever felt like you were just a face in a crowd, one in a million… useless? Think again.
Today I was overcome not by the immense sadness and brutality- that goes without saying- but by the good amongst the evil, the heroism in Oscar Schindler, a corrupt businessman. It just goes to show that there is good in everyone- immense good, inspiring amounts of good. It is just each person's personal choice if, and how, they express it.


Entrance to Auschwitz concentration camp

Auschwitz Concentration Camp 27/10/11
Auschwitz is beautiful. It's a strange fact, but it is a fact nonetheless. In any other place, under any other circumstance, the red bricks and changing colours of the leaves of the surrounding forestry scattering the earth would be considered picturesque. Peaceful even. Here, however, the beauty makes it that much more eerie, that much more sad.
I don't need to go into the details of how heart-wrenching it was to see the women's hair and the children's clothes preserved and put on display. I won't bother describing the atmosphere of inhumanity and death inside the barracks and the gas chambers alike. I couldn't possibly explain the experience no matter how hard I try. Even I know that there are some things words just cannot describe.
I will say that for three hours I was no longer important. I was no longer an eighteen year old, tanned skin, un-baptised girl from the Caribbean. I was no longer me. Though I can say with almost 100% certainty that if I was a victim of the Holocaust I would have been sent to the gas chambers instantaneously, along with the children under 14 and the adults over 40 as well as those deemed unhealthy or unfit for work. I never would have even seen the inside of the camps. But that is not important. I was not important. I was merely an observer, a fly on the wall, a silent spirit paying tribute to those before me, paying my respects to the spirits of the past.
I did not have flowers to lay at the "wall of death" or a candle to light at the entrance of Auschwitz II- Birkenau. I have never been so overwhelmed by the desire to pray, for those that died and those that survived, for those that lost loved ones and for all those who suffered as well as those suffering today.
The Holocaust may be over, but there is still brutal inhumanity today. So do not forget the horrors of the past, but neither should you overlook the horrors of the present. That is not to say, however, that the love and happiness of the present should be overlooked either. Just remember the next time you fight with a sibling or have a bad day at least you have that sibling to fight with and at least you are alive and healthy. At least you are free.
At the "death wall" my tour guide told me that the victims of the execution used to look their executioners in the eye and shout, loud enough for the other prisoners to hear: "Do not forget me! Remember my name!" So do just that. Remember.
Remember the victims of the Holocaust, remember the victims of the present day horrors, and remember those you love and see everyday. Do not forget to tell them you love them and appreciate them. Do not take them for granted.
And remember yourself. You are not just a number tattooed on your arm. You are not a victim. You are fortunate in more ways than you know. I know I am.


The "Death Wall"

Thoughts from Places- Part III

Wisdom from Wien (Vienna) 21/10/11
I've embarked on a ten day tour of Eastern Europe. From Florence, to Vienna, to Bratislava, to Budapest, to Krakow to Prague and then back home. It's going to be exciting, exhausting, and above all educational. We're on day two, driving out of Vienna now. I like the balance between imperial and modern. The architecture, the lifestyle, the people. Vienna holds a strong contrast between 'regal', like the extravagant and awe-inspiring Belvedere, and 'hip' like the equally beautiful grafiti art display along the river. I wish we had more than one day though, but I've already learnt on a fast-paced, action packed trip like this it's not so much what you do as who you do it with. Keep good company and an open mind and every new place can be a whole new world of discovery.

Strolling through Solvakia 21/10/11
Bratislava is exactly the opposite of what I expected. Watching 'Eurotrip' probably wasn't the best way to prime myself, but I still expected a harsh, gray, cold town. I thought I would find beauty in the cracks of the cobble stoned streets and the heat from a local pub. What I found, however, was a cute, quaint, friendly little town with pastel pink churches and mossy green monuments. I was pleasantly surprised. I found myself browsing the small market in the town square, looking through the jewelry displayed in little red shacks, missing my sister and my friends. I was overwhelmed by the desire for them to be there with me, sharing the experience. Nothing in particular triggered it, there was nothing familiar, no 'deja vu'. I just wanted to share the moment with the people I love.

Bad weather in Budapest 23/10/11
Rain rain go away, come again some other day. I wish I had more time in Budapest. I wish I could have explored more, seen more, learned more. One day is not enough time in Budapest! I did make the best of that one day, however. I learnt two very important lessons in my short time there. 1) I learnt to go with the flow. I can't always try to be in control of everything around me. Some people might not have the best sense of direction, or be aware of the historical aspects of their surroundings, but that's ok. I can read the map and direct the group, and as long as I know the importance of what's around me it doesn't bother me what the other's do or do not know. And 2) I learnt that not everyone who travels cares about the cultural experience. It's one thing to not brush up on your history, but many people unfortunately seem to travel just for the fun of getting drunk in five different countries in ten days. When you say with dead certainty that Budapest is a country maybe it's time to consider that you should spend less time traveling and more time in school. Is ignorance bliss? Or does ignorance cripple you? I sat on the bus and listened to these young women, older than myself, two years into their college degrees, saying that Krakow is the capital of Slovakia and giving the colour and cut of their hair more importance than the culture, the history, the geography of where they were in the world. I am glad I took this year before college to learn and experience culture first hand, rather than to get drunk as much as possible. I am glad that I have always made it a point to surround myself with intelligent, interesting people to call my friends. And I am glad to be me.

Contemporary art in Cracovia (Krakow) 24/10/11
I love history. I have always enjoyed studying the events that created the modern world. Everything from the Cave Man, to the Renaissance, to the Scientific Revolution, to WWII fascinates me. As much as I try to read the news, however, I never know as much about current events as I do about ancient ones. Recently I've decided to change that, and today my eyes were opened. In Krakow, Poland, in the midst of the university that Copernicus attended and the jewish quarters of WWII my roommate and I stumbled upon a contemporary art exhibit. The photo-journalism recollection of 2010 can still be considered 'history' but it is fresh, it is recent. The wounds are still healing. I re-witnesed everything from the devastating earthquake in Haiti, to the unlucky men trapped in the mine in Chile, to the epic journey Somali's take for their freedom, to moments of the world cup and more. It was humbling. I was surprised at how many of the photographs affected me personally in some way or another and recalled a feeling or a thought from my personal history. I still love history, I still value learning from the past, but I also appreciate that I live in the present, and that the present is just as epic, just as eventful if not more so, and should be much more important to me as an individual.

Regret.

I've had a bad week. One of those weeks where you have a bad day and go to bed upset, or stressed, or angry, and the negativity carries through into the next day, and then the next. And then it's Thursday and you don't know where the time has gone.

Most of the cause was stress from exams- I do not hide the fact that I hate exams. (I started this blog because I hate exams, read some older posts and you'll see.) I felt especially pressured this time around, though, because I am trying to make the best of my education here. High school is different. High school is a requirement, something you love to hate, something you complain about until it's over and you realize that if you had stopped complaining life would have been a lot better. Here, however, I am fortunate beyond belief and I try to remember it every day. I am taking classes I love, learning things I am interested in and trying to do every thing to the best of my ability. But when you have four exams in three days, three of them consisting of two or more essays, and most of them requiring very specific knowledge it can become quite overwhelming. Especially for someone like me who does not perform well under pressure yet has very, very high standards for herself.

The way I see it I am not very talented. I can't sing, I don't dance anymore, and my artwork looks like something that would be cute if I was 8 years old and made it in class for mother's day, but that doesn't quite cut it anymore. This is not a pity party, I am not fishing for compliments about my capabilities. I am simply realistic in my assessment of myself. I am not talented in those respects, but there are things I do well. I love to write, (hence the blog) and I am intelligent. I'm not the brightest bulb in the tanning bed but I work hard and, as I said before, I have very high standards for myself. Around exam week I find myself thinking "I'm not good at anything else, I'm not talented, so I HAVE to do well on my exams because my academics are all I have! If I can't even get an A what am I good for?" Pretty heavy stuff, I know, but who thinks happy thoughts 100% of the time?
I took a study break to go to yoga, thinking that there is no way I could stay stressed through an hour of yoga. Unfortunately, it almost made things worse, as it was one of those days where I just wasn't flexible enough and wasn't strong enough. For the entirety of our savasana meditation I found myself thinking 'This negativity is completely my own, I just have to release it and I will feel better. I just have to want to feel better and I will. I control my own happiness.' It's pretty much the thought process I live by. Yet it just wouldn't work, I couldn't release my negativity. I wanted to complain, I wanted to feel sorry for myself. I stressed myself out more as I studied for my last exam and only made matters worse. So I went to bed, and I couldn't sleep, I had a bad dream and I woke up feeling just as bad as when I went to bed.

A friend of mine told me that happiness is contagious. She said she understood I was stressed, and tired, and frustrated and so on and so forth, and she was sending positive thoughts my way. I thought to myself 'yeah, right' but then realized that while her positive thoughts might not impact on me, my negative ones sure weren't going to help. I took my exam, came home and took a nap, had another bad dream, and then something finally turned my mood around.

A friend of my sister's posted a video on Facebook made in Galway, Ireland (where I happen to have visited this summer and fell in love with). My curiosity got the better of me and I watched all eleven minutes and thirteen seconds of it. Those were the best eleven minutes and thirteen seconds of the last couple days. The video was an interview of fifty different people asking them the simple, but very difficult question "What is your biggest regret?" The subjects ranged from twenty years old to almost eighty years old, and the answers varied from positive to heart breaking. It made me realize that life is so much bigger than three days of exams, bigger than the education you receive in a classroom, bigger than the moments of negativity, bigger than me.

I regret feeling sorry for myself, I regret being in a bad mood for the past couple days, and I regret taking it out on my roommates because they certainly didn't deserve it. I regret letting my emotions get the better of me sometimes, I regret not being there for a friend when she needed me, I regret living so far away from my family (though I love the experience). I regret some things I've done, I regret some things I wasn't brave enough to do. I regret taking anything for granted. I regret regret.
I try to live my life without regret, and though it has been short for the most part I like to think I am successful, for this long list I just made is not my whole life, only small aspects of it that remind me to be better.

What is your biggest regret?
One of the answers on the video was "We regret the things we do not do". Find the truth in that statement and maybe you won't have any regrets either.

Lazy day poetry

I'm no Byron or Keates, but this was on my mind today:

when you wake up on the wrong side of the bed,
go back to bed.
if you're feeling light as lead
rest your weary head,

when things are left unsaid,
say what you should have said
it's only too late when you're already dead.
forget the past and look ahead,

when you're hanging on by a thread
cut the thread,
and weave something new
something stronger to hold you,

when you're feeling blue
and everything else seems blue,
find something worthwhile to pursue
something bright and warm to dive into,

when you don't know what to do
stop thinking- just do
for there is nothing in this life more true
than 'you control you'.

Being a foreigner

Immanuel Kant
Sitting in a classroom again. Once again I'm the new kid.
"I think, therefore I am" Io penso
I learnt this already in high school. It's like an alternate view of the past. I'm back in high school… but in Italy. I understand the topic. I understand the dynamics of this class; eighteen girls trying to impress the teacher and each other. I just don't understand the language. I can pick up words and phrases here and there. It's such a strange sensation, re-learning something you already know in a different setting at a different time in your life… in a different language.
You can only know the 'fisie' (physical) world, but can think about the 'metafisie' (metaphysical)
We are like lab rats. The class hamsters. The new kids; foreign, strange. I'm used to this, but at the same time it's different from any experience I've had before. They can learn as much from us as we can learn from them. And in this classroom we are all eager to learn. Just not about Immanuel Kant.
Knowledge is experience. It is a system of thought.
Eighteen pairs of eyes stare at us. Only two pairs, our foreign eyes, carefully observe the insegnante (teacher).
Everyone has the same capacity for knowledge. Knowledge is universal.
I never studied Kant this in-depth. My high school wasn't specialized. If you wanted speciality in my school, you had to be special. I covered the topic of philosophy briefly in my AP European History class. This class is dedicated to philosophy. This high school is specialized, focused on Psychology education. Every child here already knows that they are learning, in turn, to teach others. They made that decision already, they dedicated their education to this already. At seventeen years old.
The moral: everyone has to follow his "imperative ego" (imperativo categorico). Man is free to follow his moral duty, or to choose not to. The soul is immortal.
They say this teacher is hard. She does not give good grades easily. Some things are international. The desire to know things; about your classmates, about the new girls sitting in the corner, about the topic which you are studying. The desire to do well.
Moral is metaphysical. Experience is physical.
One girl seems to know everything. The other girls role their eyes as she boasts her knowledge. There's always one. My friend and I are diligently taking notes while passing notes to each other. High school. I like the way the Italian girls dress. Some are grunge-y, some are sporty and casual, some are 'preppy'. I had a uniform in high school. You can tell a lot about a person from the way they dress. The girl trying her best to be our translator for this philosophy lesson is wearing jeans and a cut off black T-shirt with a red skull on it and a smart black blazer. Everyone is wearing tight jeans.
Because the existence of God cannot be proven this in itself is evidence that he exists. This is metaphysical.
The bell rings, a sound understood in any language. Yet the girls do not move. In Italy you stay in one classroom all day with the same teacher and the same classmates and the same learning atmosphere.
We are learning about the evolution of education in Italy now. Learning about learning.
After WWII Italy went through a lot of changes: From a monarchy to a democracy. The emerging of the welfare state. Women were allowed to vote after 1946. And an economic boom in the 1960s.
They each take turns teaching us something about their home. They are both proud and embarrassed to practice their English with us. They've been studying English since primary school, but don't get the opportunity to use it often. I am impressed with their attitude towards another language. I envy their ability to combine foreign words to make foreign sentences in a foreign language so that they understand what they are telling us, and make us understand what they are trying to say. I say two sentences to them in Italian.
Write five sentences about George Orwell's Animal Farm from your 'point of you'.
A simple translation error. Mistaking point of view for point of you. We are in English class now. It is such a strange experience seeing my native language taught as a second language. I can't imagine writing something like that in Italian, or any other language. They make some mistakes, I can tell a few things got lost in translation, but I am proud to see the way they regard my language as a challenge worth tackling. I hope to one day write in Italian like I do in English. I hope to string together a random assortment of beautiful words to make a melodious, coherent sentence. And then another, and another, until I write something I can be proud of. I am proud of what I write, proud of my language and how I use it and proud of my attempt to learn another. I can only hope one day to be as proud of my Italian.

Thoughts from Places- Part II

Pondering Change in Cremona (07/10/2011)

It's amazing how the same place can be so different at different times in an individual's personal timeline. It's amazing how big the world seems when you're a child. My grandfather used to grow tomatoes on his property in the small town of Borgonovo, Italy. As a child I thought the tomato garden was never ending. Visiting him today however, the tomato plants now gone because he cannot maintain them with his bad back, I realize how small the space actually is. Funny, though, how the house he lives in seems bigger to me now. It must seem bigger to him too, now that he lives there all on his own.

A Frenzy in Florence (13/10/2011)
Woke up late. Turned off my alarm three times and woke up 20 minutes before I was supposed to meet an old teacher 30 mins away. I had already cancelled on him twice, so I decided to move at the speed of light and try to meet him anyway. I managed to get myself ready and to the bus station, almost getting hit by a car as I ran across the street to hop on my bus in time, only to find that the bus driver was on a break (that is to say, he was nowhere to be found). We left twenty minutes later. I waited patiently, still too tired and dazed to be upset by any of the morning's unfortunate occurrences thus far. The winding bus ride took me over the bridge and up the hills all the way to the Piazzale Michelangelo with a breathtaking view of the center of town. The duomo stood tall amongst the red brick roofs, the heart of this city, the organ around which everything is centered and without which nothing would quite be the same. And then I missed my stop. I couldn't help but be distracted by the view until I found out I should have gotten off the bus two stops before. So I waited for the next bus in the opposite direction, rode the two stops, and then proceeded to get lost. I wandered through the leaves falling from the trees in the changing of the season, got directions from a friendly old Italian man (and actually understood them!) and then eventually made my way up a rather large hill to finally arrive at my destination only an hour later than planned. My old teacher, a jolly old man with laugh lines as old as his white hair, bought me lunch in a small café in the piazza. We talked and ate and had a cappuccino and then he went back to teach and I caught the next bus back home.
Sometimes you have to make a bad day good. You may wake up late and rush and get lost but you may also find a beautiful view that makes everything worth while- and you you may even get a free lunch out of it! Sometimes getting lost, or venturing outside of your regular route, outside of your comfort zone, is the best thing you can do. How else would you ever experience something new?

Pretty Perugia (14/10/2011)
The small university town of Perugia is the only place that has made me reconsider my decision to study in Florence. I instantly fell in love with the hilly countryside and the authentic Italian atmosphere. I could picture myself living there, having a cappuccino in the small bakery then roaming the streets and hanging out at the steps of the duomo at night. I created an entire alternate life for myself in my head. Surprisingly the chocolate festival was not my favorite part. Surprisingly I didn't even eat a lot of chocolate. Surprisingly I was in a bad mood for most of the day, but nothing could make me love Perugia less. Sitting on a bench eating a sausage and pepper sandwich watching the sun set over the hills, clear skies over the Italian countryside, I could not help but wish Perugia was my new home.

Hi I'm Tara, have we met?

At the moment I'm reading 'Eat, Pray, Love'. Reading about another woman's personal journey really makes you think about yourself. In addition I am now studying 'Self' in my social psychology class. Suffice to say I've spent a lot of time recently pondering over what makes me… me. So this is my best attempt to define myself, to introduce myself honestly.

I am short. I am a small person. I have curly hair. I am a girl.
I am young. I am eighteen years old, but mature for my age (I like to think). I am an old soul I believe, or so my mother tells me. I feel older than I am, and look younger than I feel. I am wise beyond my years.
I am immature, too, at times. I am funny. I like to make people laugh, and to laugh myself. Sometimes at myself.

I am a good friend, and I have good friends. I put other's before myself (at times). I value my friend's happiness and love. I value my friends. I am selfish (at times). I believe that if I do not make myself happy I cannot make other's happy. I believe that if I do not love myself no one else can love me truly.

I am beautiful. I am no more beautiful than the 'fat girl with acne who doesn't shave her legs', or the woman begging on the streets who has no home. I am no less beautiful than the highest paid, skinniest model or even the girl with the nicer hair or the fancier clothes than me. Not every part of me is beautiful, but I am beautiful.

I am smart. There are some things that I know better than others, and many that other's know better than me. I can, and do, learn from those around me. And I can teach them, too.

I am compassionate and selfless and positive and loving and friendly and generous and helpful at times.
I am selfish and moody and arrogant and mean and loud and angry and negative at times.

I am the daughter of a failed (and then fixed) marriage. I am a sister. I am a good sister.

I am fortunate, and I know it and try to appreciate it every day. I am grateful.
I am silly and childish at times, serious and morbid at others.

I have struggled in my life. I was not always so positive or happy. I have overcome these obstacles.
I have more obstacles to over come, more barriers in my way. More tears to cry and fights to have. I have much to learn and much to try and discover.

I am young. I have infinity ahead of me.

I am completely myself. There is no one else in this world exactly like me and no one else I'd rather be.
My past does not define me as a person, but it has shaped who I am today. My future will not make me, but it will change me. My present is the best I have ever been.

Who are you?

Osservazioni.

The top of the Santa Maria Novella is glowing pink in the setting sun, the lower half of the church is already in shadow. It's a warm early Italian evening.

A young man walks home from the supermarket, groceries in hand. In Italian he would be called 'uno ragazzo' no longer a boy (uno bambino) yet not quite a man (un uomo).
A toddler wanders away from his grandmother, his small pants full in the back where they stretch over his diaper. He has no destination, only the desire to use his little legs which he has obviously only recently discovered.
A girl talks on her phone, clearly having an argument, shouting at her telefonino with such passion that it is easy to forget that the person who has upset her is not standing right there in front of her. Is it her mother? Or her lover? Her sister, or friend? And how will the argument be resolved?
A couple enjoy each other's company. Lying as much on each other as on the grass, something that is perfectly normal here in a country so open and encouraging of love and passion.
A woman wanders past trying to read a map. She looks frustrated, but maybe if she put down her map she would find where she was going. Or, possibly, something even more worth while.
An elderly couple stroll hand in hand, their matching silver hair more a testament of commitment than their golden wedding bands.
A group of men sit on a bench talking about everything and nothing.
A monk stands amongst all this, his white robes brushing softly against the public streets, his brown leather satchel hanging loosely on his waist... and he's talking on his cell phone.
My friend is lying on her back reading a good book on a good day. She'll go home soon to cook some dinner, or maybe she won't.
A discarded bottle of coca-cola sits alone in a browning patch of grass.
And I sit, now alone on this section of grass, with an apple in one hand and my pen in the other, my Italian homework spread out in front of me but instead I choose just to sit and observe.

It is easy sometimes to get so caught up in ourselves that we forget to notice the infinite, intricate, innocent and complicated life that is all around us and apart of us and apart from us. Maybe they are noticing me too, or maybe they are too busy noticing themselves (as we all are sometimes).

An ambulance rushes past and disrupts the still air with it's siren. And then it is gone, and we are all back in our own little worlds and in each other's world.

Thoughts from Places

As many of you may have noticed I have been doing a lot of travelling recently. In the last three weeks I have been to seven different places within Italy (Via Reggio, Pompeii, Sorrento, Capri, Lake Como, Bellagio and Tirano) as well as two places outside of Italy (Munich, Germany and St. Moritz, Switzerland). In the weeks to come I am also traveling to Milan, Perugia, Eastern Europe (6 countries in 10 days), and London. Amidst all this traveling I jot down a few thoughts here and there, not quite enough for a full blog post but just what's on my mind in that point in time. As I no longer have a camera and I can't draw I document these wonderful experiences in words, and then I share those words with you. I planned to compile these thoughts from all these different places I've travelled into one blog post, but when I realized I have a LOT more traveling coming my way I decided I would start off now, and post a Thoughts from Places part 2 in another few weeks.

Sunset in Sorrento: (17/09/2011)
Sitting on a two person patio overlooking the hard modern metropolitan train tracks cutting through a bustling little town, exhausted from a three hour walking tour of Pompeii, one of the oldest Roma towns with such well kept remains. Full of history and positivity from today's adventure. Admiring the sun setting behind the majestic hills of Sorrento. Not quite a big city buzz, but not calm and still like a small town either.
Feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

Reflections from Munich Oktoberfest: (26/09/2011)
The best way to enjoy a good weekend in Munich with friends and drunk Germans alike is to take everything in your stride and make the most of the moments that don't go your way.
The best way to recover from three straight days of drinking and camping along with a looming flu is to sit in the Florence sun reading Eat, Pray, Love (or a book of your choosing).

Taking Lake Como for granted, and cheering up in St Moritz Switzerland: (01/10/2011)
Waking up at 5am after little to no sleep because your roommate's music was a little too loud and her phone rang every 10 minutes sets the mood for the rest of the day. I stepped off a bus in a quaint little lake side town in Italy, albeit overly exaggerates as 'the most beautiful place in Italy' but still worth stopping to take some pictures. Maybe it was because I was still grumpy and tired, maybe I was hungry or maybe- dare I say it- I'm sick of traveling every weekend. Needless to say I was not blown away. I found myself thinking 'Capri was better' (Capri is a small island off the coast of Sorrento that I visited two weekends ago) and, even, 'maybe I should have stayed home this weekend'. I hate to say it but I was taking this wonderful little town in this wonderful country on a wonderful day for granted. Not even seeing the way the sunlight sparkled off the lake, or a rainbow forming in a fountain could cheer me up. I hate to take any moment of my lucky adventure here for granted, but we all have those days. Sharing a pizza with friends and chasing it with a big scoop of strawberry ice cream (una coppetta di fragola gelato) quickly lifted my spirits. I am so fortunate to be experiencing everything I am experiencing, and seeing all that I am seeing. I am the luckiest person in the world to be able to take such a beautiful place for granted. And then we went to Switzerland. It is impossible not to be in high spirits when drinking swiss hot chocolate with a splash of amaretto and gorging yourself on every flavor of swiss chocolate under the sun. I recommend dark chocolate with chili pepper, your taste buds will thank you.

A love letter... to the Duomo

My dearest beauty,
Each day I walk the streets reveling in your company. If I get lost at night I do not feel safe or secure until I can see you standing in front of me. Your magnificence and beauty strike me with awe each time I see you. I cannot thank your brilliant designer enough for gracing me with your company.
Just knowing that you exist motivates me through my day. You make any bad day better with just one glimpse of your beauty. Thinking of how much you have been through, how much you have had to face in all your years inspires me and gives me courage. I know, because of you, that great things never fade. For you will live forever, in my memory and in my heart.
My dearest I dread to think of the day we must part, when I must leave this city of magic and history and leave you behind. How many have come and left you before? The thought breaks my heart. You deserve the greatest adoration possible. You deserve to be flattered and spoiled and loved. I cannot think of the last time I will see you and how it will upset me. I know that I will be back to visit you, because I can never truly abandon such magnificence as you.
Thank you for each time you've made me smile, each time you've reminded me how lucky I am to be alive and to be here with you. Thank you for all you have done for me and all you will continue to do in our brief time together.
Forevers yours,
Tara

Sometimes...

Sometimes things just don't go our way. Sometimes we get the flu, or lose our camera. Sometimes we lose our wallet or get our credit card blocked. Sometimes our classmates make our lives difficult and all we want to do is give up. Sometimes we can't stand the people we are expected to live with for a year. Sometimes it's our fault and sometimes it isn't and sometimes it's easy to fix and sometimes it isn't. Either way we find ourselves stressed out and overwhelmed, which leads to an unwelcome mix of frustration, anger and just being downright upset. And no matter what we do or what other's say we just can't seem to shake that feeling. Like you have a raincloud over your head that just won't go away… and your umbrella has a hole in it.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with days, or even weeks like this. No one way in particular works or doesn't work. Personally I like to either escape from my troubles into a good book or a mind numbing tv show, or (more often than not) just eat my troubles away with an entire tub of ice cream. Whether this works for you or not it is important to find a way to get through those tough times. Find a light at the end of the tunnel and keep your eyes on it at all costs. It may be counting down the days until you can go home, or applying to a new school, or treating yourself to dinner or eating the whole tub of ice cream. Find something that makes you feel better and do it, and keep doing it until one day your troubles don't trouble you as much. That's not to say any big problems will disappear over night, but when you can find yourself in a place where the problem still exists but you don't have to be upset because of it then you can truly conquer that problem and come out of the whole experience for the better. It may take time, it may be hard, but it will be worth it in the end, even if just to say that you survived.
My advice to you when in one of these unfortunate moods is to focus on the positive. Small things make a big difference. Think of the last time you were happy and carefree, remember how it felt and why you felt that way then remind yourself how to feel that way again. A wise person once told me "If you look at yourself in the mirror when you're feeling down and smile you will instantly feel at least a little better." Sure, you might feel stupid and sure, it may not work the first time but if you let yourself you can and you will feel better. And then you can tackle your problems one rain drop at a time… or just go out and buy a new umbrella.

Beer, beer and then some more beer: Oktoberfest 2011!

What a weekend!
On Thursday night some of my friends and I took an 8 hour bus to Munich, Germany for none other than the Oktoberfest! We arrived early Friday morning, and naturally started drinking as soon as we got off the bus (the campsite we were staying at offered free beer and you cannot say no to free beer!)

The first day was spent exploring Munich before we braved the hustle and bustle and drunken crazy-ness of Oktoberfest as we weren't altogether sure we'd make it out alive :P We went for what was supposed to be a biking tour of the city, but the tour was over-booked so there were not enough bikes for the bike tour. It seemed silly, almost even annoying, but my roommate and I managed to score a tandem bicycle so we could still participate. Have you ever ridden a tandem bike? No? Well neither have I! That one and a half minutes of tandem biking was the hardest, most terrifying one and a half minutes of my life. After failing miserably at the challenge of tandem biking my roommate and I lost our group and ended up standing alone on an unfamiliar street in Munich tandem bike in hands. Needless to say we were off to a rocky start. But we were in Munich and we were still together so it wasn't all that bad. We knew enough of our surroundings to walk back to the head office of the bike tour and tell them our problem. They said sorry, they couldn't help us but if we wanted we could still meet the rest of our friends for lunch, we would just have to walk there. We ended up having a private tour from a friendly British man dressed in traditional lederhosen who knew little to nothing about Munich but did his utmost to tell us everything he could. It could have been three hours of nothing but lies but he was convincing and very nice to go out of his way to help us out. We met our friends for lunch, had our first beers in Munich that we actually had to pay for, and then walked back. On the way I stopped to buy my dirndl, a necessity for Oktoberfest. I managed to find the cheapest one in the country as I was told, and wore it proudly. Afterwards we met up with a group from our campsite, not the friends we had come with but they would do, and walked towards Oktoberfest. The tour guide had no idea where he was going but luckily I could read a map so together we lead 20 or 30 students eager for beer towards the biggest beer festival in the world.
And so it all began.
As soon as we got there my roommate and I got separated yet again, but by now we were used to wandering around by ourselves. We went on some rides and bought some food, not yet brave enough to splash out the 10 euro it costs for a beer. It was a good first evening at Oktoberfest, but we called it a night relatively early and headed back to the campsite for more free beer and drunken disorderliness. That first night was too crazy to even mention here (no, I did not get drunk- I don't like being drunk and to be honest I don't even really like beer so I wasn't in too much danger there) but believe me when I say it was crazy.

The next morning we got up bright and early to beat the crowds (unsuccessfully). Some friends and I tackled our way into the Spatenbrau tent, planning to spend an hour or two, and emerged five hours later. We ate, we drank, we danced on benches, we made friends with everyone who could understand at least two words of English as none of us spoke German, and we drank some more. We spent the rest of the day wandering around the surprisingly warm and sunny streets of Oktoberfest. We went on some rides, ate some more, drank some more and just generally enjoyed each other's company. Again, we called it quits relatively early, opting to take one of our excessively drunk friends back to the camp rather than trying to keep her conscious and coherent amongst the throng on thousands, if not millions of similarly drunk tourists and Germans alike. Back at the campsite we, as I'm sure you can guess, drank some more. There was a free meal, or rather inclusive meal as we did shed a pretty penny for the trip in it's entirety, and music and more free beer and more new friends to be made. That night was probably the most fun and the most ridiculously drunken nights I have experienced- again I was not drunk but everyone else around me was.
The last day was spent tiredly wandering through the festival once more, finding our way into a tent and buying souvenirs as gifts. We took it easy back at the campsite until we had to get back on the bus and sit through another 8 hours of traveling.

General summary of the weekend?
One small Dirndl: 38 euro
One liter of beer: 10 euro
most amazing hotdog I've ever had: 8 euro
present for my sister: 4 euro
Oktoberfest as a whole…. Absolutely priceless!!

Eat, Pray, Love.

For the past couple of days I have been in a funk. That's the best way I can describe it. I haven't been sad, I haven't been stressed or overworked. I just haven't been happy. Even today I slept in, stayed in my pajamas for half the day feeling uninspired for the paper I had to write for Psychology and frustrated by the mediocrity of my day.
How foolish is that? Sitting in my apartment in Florence in the middle of the day frustrated with mediocrity. Suffice to say I realized just how ridiculous I was being, got myself off the couch and into the shower and went outside.
I walked out of my house, not sure where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do, and ended up in a bookstore. I browsed through the Italian books, pretending to know what I was looking at, and eventually found my way to the English section of the store. As soon as I saw the book I knew I had to buy it and I knew my day was about to get better.

Walking out of the store 10 euro poorer but a million times happier I went straight to my favorite café, bought chocolate gelato (which I'm surprised I hadn't tried yet) and went to Santa Maria Novella. Sitting on the damp grass in the humid day I polished off my gelato and cracked open Eat, Pray, Love.
I had been meaning to read this book for a while. I made a point to see the movie before I came to Italy for obvious reasons. She spends a year in Italy, India and Indonesia. I'm spending my entire year in Italy, and maybe not for the same reasons but anyone who lives abroad has similar hopes and expectations. I hope to find myself, I hope to grow, I hope to learn and love and enjoy life. And so far, I am. I may not be in love, I do not pray, but I sure as hell eat!
I've read the first 6 chapters of the book, no great feat as each chapter is only about 2 pages, but so far I love it. I love her humor and her blunt honesty. And I love her courage. Not only to throw herself into the unknown, but to share that personal and frightening experience with the world through her words.
I am no longer in a slump. I'm happy to be sitting at the kitchen table with my roommates. I'm excited to be going to Munich tonight for the weekend. I'm eager to cook myself dinner, something I did not do enough while I was living with my father.
I'm learning, I'm loving and enjoying life, and above all I am happy.

Life is What You Make it.

I had an amazing weekend. I spent most of Saturday doing a walking tour of the ancient city of Pompeii, once a great Roman colony then destroyed by the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius (so named because they were unaware that it was a volcano) now a well preserved and fascinating time capsule. I was on a student trip offered through my study abroad program, and was lucky enough to meet quite a few amazing people. We then spent the night in a hotel in Sorrento and visited a fresh limoncello factory. Bright and early Sunday morning we took a ferry to the small beautiful island of Capri and spent the day swimming and exploring in the sun. Late that night we finally arrived home. Unfortunately during the course of the trip I lost my camera. I foolishly left it in the hotel room in Sorrento and when I called the hotel they said it was nowhere to be found. I woke up the next morning exhausted from the weekend's adventures, not having had much sleep. I went to my morning class and found it hard to concentrate as I felt a headache coming on, the kind you know will last all day.
Upset about my camera, frustrated by my aching head and still exhausted instead of sitting out in the sun to do my homework like I normally would I decided to take a nap before my next class. I don't like to waste time being so lazy when living in such an amazing city, but it was just shaping up to be one of those days. I awoke a couple hours later, expecting to feel refreshed, renewed and rejuvenated, but that proved to be high expectations because I felt the same, if not worse than before. Somehow in the period of my nap my mild headache had turned into a slight fever and a runny nose as well. I hate being sick, it happens to me quite a lot as my immune system was over worked when I was a child and I suppose it is just lazy now. I'm traveling again on Thursday and the last thing I wanted was to get sick a couple days before! I tried to deny it, telling myself that if I thought healthy thoughts I would feel healthy (I am a firm believer in mind over matter). Some things, however, are just not feasible.

It was around this time that I was flipping through a little notebook I keep with me that has everything from my grocery lists to my thoughts to my drafts for what I am going to post on this blog. I found a short entry that read simply 'Life is what you make it.' I remember writing that, I remember having listened to a girl on the trip with me talking at dinner in Sorrento about how much she disliked Florence and how she just wanted to go home to her boyfriend and I thought to myself Life is what you make it.
If I sit inside all day wallowing in self pity for having lost my camera and for being sick I will feel pitiful. If I go out to dinner with a friend instead, share a scrumptious pizza and a bottle of wine and walk home under the stars I may not be miraculously healthy all of a sudden but I will be a hell of a lot happier than sitting at home. If you expect life to be great you have to make it great, otherwise your expectations will not be met. I've been sitting at my computer for three days now trying to string together a positive blog post to share with the internet world and failing because I was not feeling very positive. I was waiting for the words to come to me but in truth I had to go out and find them. I forced myself to go outside to do my homework today, I still felt sick, I was still tired, and I was feeling lazy and bored but I put my mythology book into my bag and pushed myself out the door. I didn't end up going my homework, I didn't even end up sitting down. Instead I walked around this city that I call home, weaving in and out of tourists, bypassing a leather market and yes, I may have gone window shopping and yes that window shopping may have turned into actually purchasing two things (it's not retail therapy unless you actually buy something!) and yes I probably should have sat in the sun and done my homework instead. But at least I didn't sit inside and feel sorry for myself.
I'm still sick, but I feel better. Mind over matter. Thinking healthy may not make me healthy, but thinking happy makes me happy.

Happiness.

I've been thinking about happiness a lot lately. Not just the feeling but the word, the definition of it. According to the Oxford Dictionary happiness, [noun] is the state of being happy. But what does that mean? What does it mean to be happy?
I fear that often we give in to other's definition of happiness. Hollywood romance movies lead us to believe happiness is having a significant other, friends want us to believe happiness is the feeling we have when we are only with them, teachers trick us into thinking happiness is success and so on and so forth. Don't let anyone or anything define your happiness. Make your own meaning for the word!
I recently heard a very sad story. A sixteen year old boy, unable to define his own happiness, took his own life. I did not know him personally but I knew many people who did. Their sadness and confusion upset me greatly as I thought about how young he was and how much he still had to experience and learn. I will admit that I can relate to this sixteen year old boy, I think in some way most of us can. Teenage years today are hard, and confusing, and stressful and sometimes it's all we can do not to give up. But if you suffer through it long enough, and try hard enough, soon you will find you are not suffering at all. I only wish he had given himself enough time to see that. May he rest in peace.

I found my own happiness. Not in my new roommates that quickly became great friends, not in the boy that makes me smile, not in my sister and my parent's support and love, not even in the city that I am living in and loving every day- though they all contribute to it. I found happiness in myself. It was always there, I just didn't see it.
Recently the happiest I have felt is sitting by myself in a patch of grass with my homework spread around me and the sun shining on my face, surrounded by tourists and locals alike as we all share in the history and the comfort of the Santa Maria Novella.
Maybe you won't find your happiness if you look for it. Maybe happiness has to find you. But don't give up before it does. Every small moment of happiness is greater than a million moments of stress or doubt or anxiety. Every smile triumphs over tears.

'Ever since happiness heard your name, it has been running through the streets trying to find you.
- Hafiz of Persia'

I hope that quote makes you smile, as it did for me. And above all, I hope happiness finds you if it hasn't already.

Renaissance

One of the most interesting classes I am taking this semester is Renaissance Civilization and Culture. Aside from my love of history and passion for learning about events in the past that shaped the present I am in awe at how much of what I learn in the classroom is all around me in this beautiful, ancient city. Today my professor said he had a surprise for us. An hour into the class he said, in his merry Italian accent "Now we'll take a ten minute break, and then meet me downstairs." My class and I complied, meeting him at a small café outside of our building. He then took us on a walking tour of the Renaissance. One block away from where we were sitting in class taking notes we walked into a small, often overlooked but still occupied Church. The resting place of one of the bankers to the Medici family. We stood in between the tombs of him and his wife and listened as our teacher explained the significance of the beautiful frescos on the wall in front of us. Out the doors and across the street we stood at the entrance to the palace of a wealthy merchant family of Renaissance Florence. I can't describe the feeling of awe and privilege I felt standing amongst such history.
In my opinion you haven't lived until you have traveled, and you haven't learnt until you have walked through history.

Thoughts from a place; Santa Maria Novella

There's something about starting your day with a cappuccino with a smiley face drawn on top. Something about already being a regular at a little café around the corner from the little apartment I already call home. Something about the satisfaction of ordering in Italian. Has it only been two weeks? Not even; 12 days. And I have more to say of those twelve days than twelve years of my life. I found a new route to an already familiar building. I find new happiness in my familiar life. And I've found a place to call my own.
It's a place I share with hundreds of people yesterday, today, and tomorrow. A place with history and full of hope. I probably would not have come to appreciate this place if not for my roommate and friend, but now I call it mine. I find peace here, in simply sitting in the sun to do my homework, watching the world around me. It is not passing me by or leaving me behind. It is bustling and lively and vibrant and I am as much a part of it as the family passing by, or the tourists taking pictures, or the restaurant owners serving their customers or the children playing in the grass. This is my world now, and I am it's. Possession is not important in a place like this. I may be alone but I am not lonely. I am peaceful in my solidarity. I am content. More so now than I have been in the past when with friends. A place like this makes you appreciate yourself as an individual in this busy world as much as a vital piece of the puzzle, for I am both. This is the kind of place I can come to and sit alone reading and indulging in life, or come with a friend and have a great discussion, or come with a group of friends and share wine and make memories.
I challenge you to find a place like this, I highly recommend it.

Remembering 9/11

Imagine a young girl, only eight years old. Imagine seeing the world through her eyes. Full of promise, and possibilities, and dreams that could only come true. Imagine this little girl sitting home alone one morning, lying on her mother's bed watching cartoons. The phone rings. She answers to hear her mother's voice on the other end. "Turn on the news." the voice says. The innocent child complies.
Images of death and destruction, of devastation, of two planes flying into two towers and killing so many people flash before her eyes. And she sits silently watching. Now imagine all the thoughts going through her head. The sadness, the worry for her aunt and her cousin living in New York, and the sheer confusion at how human beings could do this to each other. This little girl didn't understand.
Imagine this same little girl ten years later, not quite grown up but more mature and more aware of the world around her. Living on her own for the first time, remembering that day lying on her mother's bed. That little girl is me, and I have grown so much in the ten short years since September 11th 2001. I have lived and learned and love my family and my friends. I have tried things and lost things and discovered things. And I sit here today thankful for the life I have lead this far, and thankful for the people in it. Most of all thankful that I did not lose anyone dear to me on that fateful day, but sympathetic for those who did. I understand now how the world can be such a brutal place, how death and destruction happen every day. How prejudice and racism are disgustingly apparent in day to day life, even now. Yet, I also understand that for each life lost that day there is an overwhelming amount of love. For each act of brutality there is one of kindness. For each tear shed there is a smile spread, and the world can be a beautiful place if you let it. The beauty and kindness may not be as well documented, or broadcasted on the media, but that does not mean it isn't there. I know where I was ten years ago today, I know exactly what I was doing and how I felt, and I'm sure everyone else in the world can say the same. But do we appreciate each day like we remember that one? Make the most of the life you are lucky enough to be living. Focus on the positive. Live for those who no longer do. Love enough for all. And share your happiness.

Diary of a world traveller

I know, I know, I've been gone for like.. forever! Sorry about that. I like to think it's because I have a life away from the computer, but that's a lie.
Truthfully I have just been feeling uninspired for the past couple months. Don't get me wrong, I haven't been sitting in my room looking out the window thinking 'Where has all the beauty gone?' I have not bought a new wardrobe of only black clothes and I'm not only listening to music that 'speaks to my soul' and expresses my angst. So do not fear ;) I have actually been surrounding myself with some truly amazing people. Musicians, artists, and just all round inspiring young men and women. I revel in their talent and passion. Not to say I have none of my own, it just takes a different form. In some ways I am still searching for my talent and passion, and in some ways I am just trying to find a way to express it. Which brings me to my second point, in a long-winded, not really making the connection sort of way.
I've moved. I no longer live on a small island with limited possibility and routine activity. I've packed my bags and found myself all the way in beautiful, timeless, inspiring Florence, Italy. I am studying here for a year, trying to decide what to do with my life afterwards, trying to find an equilibrium between learning and enjoying the bustling world around me. I hope to come away from this year not as a different person, but as a better version of the person I already am.
Everywhere I look is inspiring. From hearing the passersby on the small street outside the window of the apartment I share with three strangers that have already become good friends, to walking past the ancient and infamous dome built by Brunelleschi so very long ago. Such beauty, and history, and culture is hard to ignore and even harder to take for granted.
Yesterday I got locked out of my apartment. I was hot, and tired, and hungry and carrying a heavy book bag. When my land lord told me that no one could come to my assistance for another four hours I had to remind myself to take advantage of the situation. It wasn't under the best circumstances, but I could make myself enjoy the afternoon. I bought a lasagna in a bistro around the corner and sat on a bench in front of the Santa Maria Novella Church to enjoy my lunch. Yes, it was hot, and yes I did wish I could have at least dropped off my heavy book bag before getting stuck outside. But it was a beautiful afternoon in a beautiful city. I then bought some cantaloupe melon in a café to escape the sun for a while and did my Italian homework. I walked to my school, walked through a market, and walked to the foot of the Duomo (Brunelleschi's dome, nonetheless.) Looking up at that magnificent, intricate, ancient piece of architecture I could not be frustrated or moody. I could not wish my door was fixed and I was in my cool air conditioned room, I could not wish for anything but to be exactly where I was at exactly that point in time. Yes, I was surrounded by tourists, and yes as soon as my door was fixed I was happy to lie in my bed for a couple hours, but in that moment, standing by myself in that snippet of history, I felt more fortunate and more inspired than I can even describe. Life is wonderful when you make it.
So I'm writing again, I'm trying to explore my talent and express my passion. It may not make you laugh, I may not post regularly, but I have made myself a promise to document my experience here. And you, my dears, are the lucky recipients of this documentation. I hope you enjoy this as much as I plan to.

Productivity... or lack thereof

Just a regular day...

Exams are rapidly approaching and with each new day I feel increasingly more unprepared. It is terrifying.
I have always hated exams. Possibly because I do not perform well under pressure, when aware of the fact that one thing is ‘worth more’ or ‘harder’ or ‘more important’ than another I freeze up and freak out. And then I have a meltdown. Or it could be because I fear failure like an arachnophobe fears tap dancing spiders in top hats, and when an examination is looming I undoubtedly always convince myself that I am going to fail (in my high level of self inflicted pressure a C+ constitutes as failing…) And then I have a meltdown. It could be both.
Nevertheless, it is almost 10pm on a Friday night and I am sitting at home mentally preparing myself to study for AP World History. So far the closest I have come to this for the day is watching Pearl Harbour and attempting to play my ‘spot the historical inaccuracies’ game. The rules are if I can spot something that is historically inaccurate, I win. Simple ☺ However I got distracted by the steamy love triangle and Josh Hartnett’s sex appeal so I think I lost at my own game.
My next attempt was to down vitamin-C to keep me from falling asleep on myself and review what I was supposed to have done in class today. Instead I am writing this post.
Maybe the answer behind the great mystery of my exam phobia is my instinctive procrastination. Combined with my attention span to rival that of a severe ADHD sufferer I really have no hope of studying productively. So I will find fun/educational youtube videos by typing ‘AP World History’ in the search bar. Though, I admit, I have already tried this approach as well. I got distracted by the suggested viewing section to the right and ended up looking at video blogs by rather attractive entertaining 19 year old British folk.

At this point in time, however, I have come to the decision that it would be more advantageous to both my health and intelligence to stop fighting it and turn in for the night. I will resume the futile studying tomorrow.

Valentine's Day

Now, you have to understand that I am a firm disbeliever in the hallmark created holiday known as V-Day (see how much it sounds like D-Day. Look that up, the resemblance is uncanny.) Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those I-am-single-and-therefore-must-hate-any-reference-to-happy-couples-or-succesful-relationships types of people. Even when I have a ‘significant other’ the day does not induce the usual warm fuzzy feeling that I assume all ‘happy’ people get on that day in eager anticipation of flowers to show off to their friends and co-workers, or the thrill that they get from trying to decipher their lover’s cryptic actions that usually introduce some wonderfully romantic surprise. Likewise, I do not feel the need to go out and strangle small children and hurt fluffy animals. Fluffy animals are cute. So I guarantee you, if you are one of those fortunate enough to be in a good relationship on Valentine’s Day good for you, I am not here to rain on your parade.
Just to prove this to you I will tell you about my last V-Day, February 14th 2009. Consider it a prequel. I had spent the night at my friend’s house but left early because she had a piano lesson (I’m not kidding, her mom was all “I don’t care what day it is! Play, child play!!”). I went to the cinema with two of my other friends (girls, mind you) and walked around for a good four hours listening to the sappy music they were playing on the PA. We sat in the park, got some drinks, had some ice cream I believe, and chose a movie to go see (yes, I have a park and an ice cream parlour in my cinema, don’t you?) I feel the need to mention here the fact that in such a small crime ridden city the only thing to do really is go to the cinema, teenagers can’t really do much or go anywhere on their own. Later that day, still at the cinema, my boyfriend of that time came to meet me and whisk me away from my friends. But we went to see the same movie they did. I sat in the back with him, my friends sat in the front together, and we all (including the rest of the audience) watched the romantic comedy in polite silence (which in my place of abode means that only a few people felt the need to interact with the characters on the screen). And then it was over. He went home, and I went home and the day ended nice and simply. That was it. Maybe you are starting to understand why I have little appreciation for this exaggerated ‘holiday’.

As you can imagine this year, single and looking for a bit more excitement in life, I decided to do it better. “I WILL ONE UP YOU V-DAY!!” I declared to the day as I awoke to the sounds of birds chirping outside my window- no lie, they are actually insanely loud and annoying when they want to be, which is always (post on this to follow, I promise). The day started off quite well, I stayed home in front of the TV watching Lifetime movies and eating a home made cheese steak. Now, some of you might hear ‘cheese-steak’ and think, “oh, she was having a sandwich. How scrumptious.” Sandwich it was not; I grilled up a seasoned slab of meat and melted some cheese on top. Scrumptious it most certainly was. After polishing off that and my loaded baked potato I called my friend, one of the very same friends I had spent last year’s V-Day with, and inquired about the party we were both supposed to be going to that evening with none other than… our parents. I told you it was gonna be a good one!
As the sun set I donned my elegantly casual dress and heels and calmed my mother down as she flipped the fuck out about not knowing what to wear. Then we left. We arrived after my friend so I quickly ditched the ‘rents and found her amidst the throng of party goers (all three times our age, mind you.) We headed straight for the bar. After two or three Portugal mojitos- possibly the best drink ever made- we worked up enough courage stand flirtatiously close to a rather large group of young men that seemed to get more attractive as the night wore on. This is where things got interesting.
One of them came over and started talking to my friend immediately. This didn’t bother me; I downed another drink and waited patiently for one of his friends. Soon enough one ventured over. He was tall, well built and –for lack of a better description- white. He had a bit of a tan but there was no denying that he was white. This was made most evident by the shine of his big bald scalp that- I kid you not- I could see my reflection in when he turned around. As an added bonus he had huge, I mean Huge ears. He was a nice enough fellow and we had a nice chat, but I soon lost interest- I mean he was bald for christ’s sake!
The next candidate, picked out for me personally by my friend’s new suitor, was much better. He was also well built, not as tall, wore a deep green shirt (I think) that brought out the colour of his eyes (I think) and had a full head of dark brown hair (of this much I am sure). This one I took a liking to quite quickly. And then he opened his mouth. We talked for a couple minutes, in which he tried to get me to follow him back to that bar, which I politely declined on more than one occasion. It became very clear very quickly that he had had even more to drink than I had. His speech was slurred, his breath was thick, and his expressive nature seemed to be amplified tenfold. He seemed to feel the need to express all of his excitement simply by screaming Boom. Here are a couple examples:
Him: “Where are you from?”
Me: “Here.”
Him: “Boom!”
or
Him: “What school do you go to?”
Me: “I am going to Brown in the fall.” (I felt the need to deceive him only slightly at this point)
Him: “Boom!!”
Or, my personal favourite
Him: “Do you wanna go get another drink?”
Me: “No thanks, I’ve had enough. I don’t need to drink to have a good time.”
Him: “You’re pretty and responsible! BOOM!”
After a while my head started to hurt. He was so very loud and standing so very close to me. I am sorry to say but shortly after I lead him to the dance-floor under false pretences and (thanks to my slight figure and quick feet) managed to slip away.
Following this my parents declared that they were ready to leave that instant, and as my friend was coming home with me and we had no other ride (obviously not trusting this group of borderline paedophiliac highly intoxicated men) we had to go with them. My friend’s suitor was obviously not happy about this as he had, as of yet, got no rewards for the time and effort he had spent half his night on. Having taken a ‘bathroom break’ we had to quickly get our bearings and decide whether she should throw herself at him or make a quick escape. We chose escape. Weaving through the masses of very drunk old people we found our way to the exit and managed to flee just as he found her at the gate. The expression on his face made the whole night worth it.

It's official

I'm sorry I haven't really been posting anything new lately. It's for two main reasons:
1) I went to Boston! :D woohoo haha I just got back yesterday from Model United Nations in Boston Massachusetts. Coming from Trinidad and Tobago it was absolutely amazing to be in such a cold pretty city. I was swamped with MUN work before and during though, which would be why my blog has been son neglected.
2) I started a new project. It's official, I have a youtube channel. Guys, I'm a vlogger! :O :) If you enjoy this writen blog hopefully you'll like my youtube videos. Go check it out, I wanna be famous! Just kidding (but not really)

I haven't decided yet if I am converting completely or if I will try to maintain both my written and video blogs, but for the time being I'm still trying to figure out the whole youtube thing.

This is my channel:
http://www.youtube.com/user/tdot430?feature=mhum
I have three whole videos up.

I hope you like it as much as I like making it!

This is what I did today

http://www.youtube.com/user/tdot430?feature=mhum

The Evolution of Sleepovers

Last weekend was the first time in a long time that there was a big party that everyone was going to, and I didn’t go. In school on Monday everyone wanted to know why I never showed up and I told them the honest truth; I just wasn’t feeling to party. It got me thinking about how social highlights have changed for me as I’ve grown up. I remember when I was young the most eventful part of my weekend was having a sleepover.

I was a late bloomer. In more ways than one, but in this particular instance I was a late sleep over bloomer. I moved into my house when I was about six years old. My sister and I were very pleased to find that there were two boys living right next door that were just about our age. This was just after the ‘girls had cooties’ era and a little while before ‘boys are cuuuute’ faze, so the relationship the four of us blossomed was completely platonic. So platonic, in fact, that they would often invite us to spend the night at their house after a day of wrestling or mud sliding (my sister and I weren’t the most dainty of little girls…) We were even allowed to sleep in the same beds as them. Suffice it to say, I couldn’t do it. It got so bad that I would wake up at the same time every time I tried, and make their parents walk me home. (It was literally just across a tennis court, but it was dark and there were monsters… duh) Soon enough their parents got sick of walking me across a tennis court every night so I was told to just sleep with them. Yes, sleep with my neighbours’ parents. So I would climb into bed with them, and I had to sleep in the middle because I rolled a lot and I would fall off the bed. One night I got into bed with the parents and woke up to ask them to take me home, only to find that the sun was up and they were making breakfast. That was the first night I ever slept away from home.
After this sleepovers became, as I said, the highlight of my weekend. But I was still a little different from everybody else. I was that one little girl that would be saying “But guys, this is a SLEEP over! When are we going to go to SLEEP?!” Coming to think about it I’m surprised I ever got invited back. It was probably because once I did fall asleep I was easy to mess with and I often woke up with stuff drawn on my face…
Nowadays I still have sleepovers with my friends. I find they just make me feel old though. On a normal night one of two things will happen. If it is a Friday night I will get ridiculously tired ridiculously early and start to drift off as my friends and I are talking. It gets so bad that just to appease them I will keep talking in my sleep so that they won’t figure out that I’ve fallen asleep. I never make any sense though, so they always know. If that doesn’t happen I might end up being the last person asleep and I will find myself lying awake in the bed thinking ‘what do I do now’ as my friends are snoring next to me.

Come to think of it, maybe I should just stick to going to parties...

Back when a hamster was my only friend

When I was nine years old I lived in Bosnia with my mother and my sister for a year. Neither my sister or I spoke a word of the mother tongue nor did any of the local children speak English. We lived in a three building apartment complex that was almost completely un-touched by the war (I say almost because in that post-war state machine gun bullet holes in every wall was more or less ‘untouched’.) There were numerous families and a semi-functioning playground. The tower we lived in had a mini mart on the ground flower that sold eggs, ham and Kinder Bueno chocolates. Before my sister and I managed to breech the language barrier our only source of entertainment were the toys in the middle of the chocolates. We collected our own circus of toys. There were elephants and monkeys and aliens. It was magical. Sometimes our washing machine would burst open and flood the apartment and in those special moments my sister and I would seize the opportunity to let our toys swim! At some point she decided that her elephant toy was to have magical powers, but when I wanted my elephant to be magical too she shut me down. It broke my heart. Playing with the toys was never the same once her elephant was magical and mine was not.
After my mother realized that we no longer had the same awe for those little plastic toys as we had for the first couple of months of living there she decided to buy us a pet. One day she brought home a little sandy brown hamster. We named him Bobby McGee after my mother’s favourite Janis Joplin song. We used to feed him whole baby carrots and watch him stick them in his cheeks, it was so cute. My mum used to tell us storied about little Bobbie McGee riding out on a hamster-sized Harley Davidson when we were all asleep. I was in awe of the little creature.
Soon enough my sister made friends with some of the local girls. They brought over a Britney Spears poster and signed all their names on it. After that language didn’t matter, my sister and the fellow Britney Spears fans were fast friends. I didn’t quite fit in. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Britney Spears as much as the next crazed 90’s tween, but I still felt uncomfortable in the absence of English. Therefore I opted to stay home with Bobby McGee. Soon the little hamster was my nearest and dearest friend. He even trumped my sister because I was sure he would let both of our elephant toys have magical powers (I told her this once and she was rather un-impressed.)
Now I am happy to say I do have quite a few human friends, but I still remember the look in that little hamsters eyes when we were leaving Bosnia and had to give him away to a friend (my sister’s friend, not mine) and it breaks my heart all over again.