A week in Italy

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Sometimes the strangest thing is that something strange seems normal. In this case, spending a week in Italy. On paper I was sure that spending a week in Pasta-land would seem foreign, but this time around it seemed, well, like visiting a neighbor: the "I'm in Italy!!!" awe was plainly missing. I am starting to feel French...!

Delphine and her family had spent a week hiking around Northern Italy, sleeping in refuges and generally rubbing in how athletic the family is and how lazy I am (I stayed in Lyon, spending my days working and restaurant going). I joined her family in Venice by plane on a Sunday, getting picked up at the airport and checking out a little town called Padova in the afternoon. The first thing that struck me about the city (after the beauty of the old buildings) was how completely empty it was. It seems like the tradition of siestas and August vacations is strong and well in Italy.

The week was quite lovely, despite pulling a muscle in my back on a shallow dive in the pool, leaving me bed ridden for a day and in pain for several. The highlight of the trip, to my surprise, was Venice. My last trip there I had a very negative impression; I referred to it as a "flooded disneyland" for years after. This time, though, the time was spent museum hopping (like bar hopping without the hangover) and picnic-ing by the canals. Quite nice!

We drove back to France last weekend and spent a night at Delphine's place in Grenoble, returning to Lyon the next day. After a week spent speaking almost exclusively French I have noticed that the French grammar has begun creeping into my English: "I offered her a gift" "I had fifteen years old" "I like Baguette, huhuhHUH". Crazy.

Now I have reached quite the crossroads in my life. Delphine is busy getting herself ready for a year of intense studying, having found an apartment to share with her best friend and has already started studying pretty hard. I, on the other hand, have absolutely no anchor to anything or anywhere (except of course Delphine, my family, and Lev-Co) which has left me with perma-angst. What should I do? Where should I live? What language should I speak?

This thinking led me to buy a one-way ticket to Dublin on Friday where I plan to spend the bulk of the month of September, putting off (but definitely not solving) the problem of "wtf to do with my life". The Irish Whiskey, I am sure, will help "put off" that issue as well. And so the travels continue and my future gets foggier...

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