"Parla Inglese?"

Amidst our busyness in trying to settle in, I have been thinking about everything that has happened since the children and I arrived in Rome 12 days ago. You know, I borrowed the title "Living in a Foreign Language" and it seems to speak volumes into our journey thus far. 


My first experience in trying to communicate with someone was while we were desperately searching for our puppies once we arrived at the airport in Rome. We flew out of Charlotte on US Air and the pups flew out of Atlanta on Delta in their climate controlled cargo. We were all scheduled to arrive within 2 hours of the other and as they say here, non c'e un problema. We knew that customs in Rome would close early because it was Saturday, so we were working within a small time frame. Important bit of info that we were not given was that the pups were dropped off across town in a separate cargo location, NOT where we were. I knew the word for dog was cane, and after a couple of attempts at "Parla inglese", we found an employee with a badge and walkie talkie who understood what I was asking. So, I have just arrived in Rome with 11 bags, 2 kids, and 2 missing puppies. Ok, the story has a happy ending...BUT, not before Jon had to take a shuttle to pick up the pups, leaving us to stay behind with the bags, AND leaving the paperwork he needed to receive the pups. He returns to the airport, grabs the paperwork, then off he travels again. Five long hours later, he arrives back at the airport with the pups who successfully passed through customs and the vet check...WHEW!


Throughout the past few days as we've become more familiar and comfortable with our new and unchartered waters, I have been on overload with the language, how fast the words seem to flow, how everyone around me doesn't have to try and decode every sound they hear, how I feel my brain is working overtime trying to fall in love with this foreign language and learn it's linguistics ALL at the same time...here are a few examples:


A very seemingly sweet elderly lady was peering out of her 3rd story window, at our new apartment, looking down on the pups and me as they were on a potty break. Well, she proceeded to speak to me in italian while looking at the pups. I told her non parlo l'italiano and she continued to speak to me as if I knew every word she was saying. I gently nod, smile, and pray that she is not swearing to me about the pups. I'd like to think that she was welcoming us to the neighborhood...HAH!


A couple of days ago while shopping at the market, I knew the Italian equivalent for turkey was tacchino. I was proud of myself as I meandered "with purpose" to the deli section of the store and found tacchino. Well, I never anticipated the wonderful, and I must add, patient lady waiting on me not to understand ANY inglese. After a lot of body language and communicating with our hands, she determined how I desired the meat cut and how much I needed. I felt as if I had just worked an 8 hour hospital shift.


Last example, although I could continue for hours. Graci and I decided that we must have boots, especially when every person walking the streets of Rome looked like they have just stepped out of a fashion magazine, seriously! Our first attempt landed us in a store where the very attractive young Italian girl spoke little inglese. She grabbed another very attractive Italian girl and asked her to help us, which surmounted to her then grabbing a very attractive young man that worked with them and asked him to help us, because she was "off" duty. HAH! After trying on several pairs of boots and Graci not seeing any she liked, we said grazie and dashed out thinking we must get a shopping translator. Albeit, I thought shopping included a universal code among us women!! We did end up landing some pretty cool boots and at least our feet look great.


I know with time "living in this foreign language" will start making sense and our Italian neighbors will be able to peer out their windows, smile while we play with the pups,  and not hear me ask, "Parla Inglese?"

Chaos to Calm?

If I am honest with myself, and those who have witnessed the past several weeks, can testify to the chaotic spirit that hovered and landed upon our lives and overtook our household. The enormity of this move to Rome snuck up on me like a preying lion. We had decided to wait until the purchase of Jon's office was approved and closed before embarking on the final stages of the transition abroad. Well I say final stages, actually it was more like the majority of all that physically needed to be done.
With the help of some special friends coming alongside during such an incredibly hectic and emotional time, we managed to salvage what nerves were hanging on by a thread and pushed forward and through to the bitter end.

As I sit here in Rome, writing the first of many experiences from this most ancient, historic, and amazing city, I am deeply moved by the outpouring of love that has been lavished upon the kids and me.....I cannot begin to express my gratitude....I love all of you!!! Most days leading up to the move were completed with little sleep and skipped meals, but wrapped with love and a lot of prayer from so many of you!!!

Now for the calm....
Although we are currently in a temporary dwelling that is still somewhat unsettled, there is a calm that is transcending all fear, anxiety, and the feeling of, well, a fish out of water! Our current landlord gave Graci some advice yesterday. She told her to write down and remember 5 words a day which will allow her to learn 30 new Italian words every week. She is on it my friends and is falling in love with the city. She told me just today that she feels like she has been here her entire life and loves it!!! We still have a lot of things to do which could continue to produce chaos, but the calm is waiting patiently to overshadow the chaos!!

I look forward in sharing our little corner with you and although in Rome, Carolina is never far away!!! Buona Notte!!

Bubble Wrap: Purpose or Pleasure?

Ok friends, by now most of you are aware of the tasks at hand and our upcoming flight across "the pond". Our items selected for the container "cut" are making their way to NYC, then hopefully across the sea to our new home in Roma, Italia! As previously mentioned, I have a few relocations under my belt, so to speak, and this move by far supersedes any previous experience or expectation for that matter. Boxes, packing tape, scissors, brown paper, sharpies, and BUBBLE WRAP have become permanent reminders of our eminent move.

This morning while packing some kitchen non-essentials that we can live without for the next 16 sleeps (thanks Freedom), I was contemplating my next blog...BUBBLE WRAP!!! Personally, I have never purchased bubble wrap, nor needed to, because newspaper was cheaper and served the same purpose for packing my most valuable possessions....actually now that I think back, I have lost a few fine crystal glasses along the way. Now that I am somewhat wiser to the arduous and delicate nature of packing those precious items, I have chosen bubble wrap to protect everything that may pose a threat of loss. 

Graci and Freedom however, have ascertained that bubble wrap is their recent, newly discovered pleasure and source of entertainment, while I continue to wrap. Freedom's scooter, skateboard and body have all destroyed "my" bubble wrap. Graci agrues that Freedom's body was the most effective...she enjoyed tossing him on top of the bubble wrap roll actually waiting for it's intended purpose!

If I can be honest, I actually enjoy sitting around with a piece of bubble wrap myself, squeezing them between my fingers and hearing "POP". Purpose or pleasure? BOTH!!!

COUNTDOWN

I cannot believe that our departure date is nearly upon us. Jon's initial 72 hours have been filled with a foreign language, meeting patients, unexpected cold temps, washing clothes in a bidet, hanging clothes on a drying rack, experiencing Rome traffic, skype, magic jack, grandor, FOOD, and the anticipation of "living life in a foreign language". 

I have to be honest. The past few weeks have not been easy, and the preparation of moving abroad long term has not come without a lot of prayer, hard work, sleepless nights, lots of take-out (I must feed the children), dear friends, and paperwork, paperwork, paperwork! Amidst the tasks at hand, the juggling, and overwhelming meltdown moments, there is a sense of calm in the storm.

Sorry for the breviary of this post, but I must complete my inventory list for the International movers, prepare to transport items to storage, invade my Mama's house with "more" boxes, vet, dentist, hair, and accounting appointments, and a lot of good-byes! I will blog once we are "living our foreign language" and will miss you all!!!

Packing "101" or "911"

Most of us have experienced moving at least once in our lives, and having a few to my credit, I consider myself somewhat organized and capable of handling all essential tasks. Stuffing a suitcase to its maximum potential while using brute force if necessary, bestows to me a "pat on the back" for a job well done. I have to tell ya, preparing for our annual trek north to the Jersey Shore could be a playbook for Packing "101". You see, if approached in a conclusive and methodical manner, packing doesn't become laborous or inflict duress upon us. It is merely the commencement of a well deserved vacation, a fresh start, a new beginning, or for some unfortunate souls, a mandated penance.

Approaching our move to Italy with all of the details involved has unleashed a side of me that, well if I were to be 100% honest, is NOT in "my" playbook! I know several of you who may be reading this blog that have taken a leap of faith and moved internationally, and lived to tell about it.....how in the world do I decide what to take, what to consign, what to store (my poor Mama), do you get the picture? Our pre-move survey is rapidly approaching and my decision of personal belongings, or beloved treasures,  "making the cut" is perpetually looming.

While attempting to sort various items one afternoon, Jon and the children strolled into the garage and casually asked if they could assist me. "Sure", I replied, this could be a family event with take out in my future, since "breaking" is not an option. BIG mistake.....I quickly discovered that MY FAMILY cannot discard anything. A stained, floppy ballcap from undergraduate school does not "make the cut", nor does an outdated Randall Cunningham Eagles Jersey. With everyone's best interests at heart, my decisions continue to vacillate...I am at an impasse...a "911" packing emergency...

Taking Risk or Seizing Opportunity

I have decided to become a blogger. I know what you may think, and I question myself as well. I want to chronicle being a Carolina girl living in a "foreign language" (I borrowed that one). I cannot believe that Jon and I, along with the children, are actually moving to Italy. Jon is following his passion and who am I to deny him his dream. Well I have given the idea due diligence, and I may not have been so agreeable if his passion led us to a remote jungle in east jabip...you get my point.

We, or should I say Jon, has always been a risk taker, a gambler, an adventure seeker. He enjoys scuba diving in the Virgin Islands and Hawaii, flying solo (yes actually flying), and playing blackjack. Now, I have never been to the Virgin Islands nor Hawaii, and I have actually flown with him...ONCE...and made him rent the biggest plane in the hanger. Now that was a scary ride. As far as blackjack, I always go shopping while he hangs out in the Casino and lands another win. It used to upset me when he would go to Atlantic City on a whim, but I quickly realized that I benefit from his game playing.

Taking risk or seizing opportunity....which brings me back to Italy. Living with a risk taker for over twenty years has taught me a few valuable lessons. Some have not come cheaply, but most have enriched my life and if nothing else, made me laugh out loud! When Jon first mentioned Italy, I was on board from the beginning. Sure I had a lot of questions, and moving meant leaving everything and everyone behind....starting over, giving up Jon's practice, uprooting our children, leaving my Mama! We have sought wise counsel and after many long nights down on our knees in prayer, we know Italy is where we belong.

As I sit outside with my cup of tea on such a beautiful morning in Carolina, I am going to miss everything about this place. There is still so much to do before we move and a lot of good-byes that will bring many tears. Although uncertain of MY readiness, I hold confidence in my "Risk Taker" and anticipate expanding my little corner of Carolina....join me!