Things I've learned
It's your wayward blogger here... aka, she-who-cannot-multitask-sufficiently-to-blog-from-the-road. Or, she-who-has-had-crappy-web-access in marginal hotels. That, plus the stories just aren't as interesting when I'm running from airport to airport. Really. You're not desperate enough to hear from me that you want to hear about cancelled flights, first class upgrades that did not come through, yet another bad meal in airport, getting stuck in the rain sans umbrella in the desert, and the whiny unfriendly airline counter girl. Are you?
I've missed you, missed writing, missed having this outlet for my thoughts. My head is foggy with them. I think about you all the time, blog-friends, and worry that you'll quit me for another more reliable blogger. One with predictable quantity over sporadic quality. I hope not.
Yes, blogland is a beast that needs feeding. And while it's not a nice juicy steak, here's a bone... Twelve things I've learned while on the road:
12) America is home to a lot of things, namely: the "kick-ass, top-shelf, perfectly shaken with ice chips floating in it, come in the water's fine, get-in-and-wiggle, who's your Daddy" Martini. Dirty. Extra Olives. yyyyyyyyyyyyyum.
11) Five weeks is STILL not enough time to get sick of eating all the foods I've missed: Red Robin cheeseburgers, Chipotle burritos, Sushi, Chopped Salad from CPK, buffalo wings, blackened salmon, REAL french fries, great Ribs, spicy chicken pad thai with no egg... (hey, is it time for dinner yet!?!)
10) There is an incredible magnetic force at work in the world, making people want to take me to Italian restaurants while in the US. I for the life of me cannot fathom this logic.
9) A cousin to that inexplicable force makes people believe that I can help them with their gardens.
8) It is presumed that I may have crossed paths with anyone's cousin, old boss or highschool sweetheart that lives now in Italy. And if I haven't, that perhaps I would want to drive hours upon hours to meet up with someone's 80 year old Aunt Carmella (or whomever).
7) It is similarly presumed that I don't have a fulltime job and am independently wealthy enough to be spending all my time in Italy sightseeing, traipsing up and down the coast and in and out of every private villa/castle/estate/garden in the country, because everyone, without fail, thinks I MUST have heard of the little place where they honeymooned...
6) Only very very occasionally, when the blind squirrel DOES get a nut and I have actually been to said spot... though the asker inevitably knows 1000 times more about it than I do or could ever hope to.
5) In general, Americans speak Italian reallllly realllllly badly. Witness Katie Couric's valiant yet painful attempts during the Torino coverage. I lost a little piece of my mind every time she opened her mouth.
4) At least one person a week has asked me the difference between Turin and Torino. I do not understand the passion our world has for changing the name of cities out of their native tongue.
3) Italian wine simply does not taste as good off its native soil. Something to do with preservatives, I think. (For the record, preservative is NOT "preservativo" in Italian. That's a condom. It's a mistake I've made only once.)
2) It's true that if you don't use it, you lose it: my hard-earned Italian skills are melting away now that I am speaking only English all the time: I can feel it in the slowness of my tongue, and it makes me desperately sad.
1) My friends are truly, truly, truly amazing people. The hospitality and warmth and love and welcome I have experienced in the last 5 weeks has been unparalleled, more than I ever could have imagined. Unassuming Princess and the SportsFan, Neighborhood Vigilante and the Old Soul, MaryAnn sans the Professor, Mr. Hospitality... you have all been amazing pads in which to perch while I've been on the road. Thank you for thinking, knowing, and doing... opening your home to a wayward traveler.
Love, She-who-will-try-to-be-better-in-March.
I've missed you, missed writing, missed having this outlet for my thoughts. My head is foggy with them. I think about you all the time, blog-friends, and worry that you'll quit me for another more reliable blogger. One with predictable quantity over sporadic quality. I hope not.
Yes, blogland is a beast that needs feeding. And while it's not a nice juicy steak, here's a bone... Twelve things I've learned while on the road:
12) America is home to a lot of things, namely: the "kick-ass, top-shelf, perfectly shaken with ice chips floating in it, come in the water's fine, get-in-and-wiggle, who's your Daddy" Martini. Dirty. Extra Olives. yyyyyyyyyyyyyum.
11) Five weeks is STILL not enough time to get sick of eating all the foods I've missed: Red Robin cheeseburgers, Chipotle burritos, Sushi, Chopped Salad from CPK, buffalo wings, blackened salmon, REAL french fries, great Ribs, spicy chicken pad thai with no egg... (hey, is it time for dinner yet!?!)
10) There is an incredible magnetic force at work in the world, making people want to take me to Italian restaurants while in the US. I for the life of me cannot fathom this logic.
9) A cousin to that inexplicable force makes people believe that I can help them with their gardens.
8) It is presumed that I may have crossed paths with anyone's cousin, old boss or highschool sweetheart that lives now in Italy. And if I haven't, that perhaps I would want to drive hours upon hours to meet up with someone's 80 year old Aunt Carmella (or whomever).
7) It is similarly presumed that I don't have a fulltime job and am independently wealthy enough to be spending all my time in Italy sightseeing, traipsing up and down the coast and in and out of every private villa/castle/estate/garden in the country, because everyone, without fail, thinks I MUST have heard of the little place where they honeymooned...
6) Only very very occasionally, when the blind squirrel DOES get a nut and I have actually been to said spot... though the asker inevitably knows 1000 times more about it than I do or could ever hope to.
5) In general, Americans speak Italian reallllly realllllly badly. Witness Katie Couric's valiant yet painful attempts during the Torino coverage. I lost a little piece of my mind every time she opened her mouth.
4) At least one person a week has asked me the difference between Turin and Torino. I do not understand the passion our world has for changing the name of cities out of their native tongue.
3) Italian wine simply does not taste as good off its native soil. Something to do with preservatives, I think. (For the record, preservative is NOT "preservativo" in Italian. That's a condom. It's a mistake I've made only once.)
2) It's true that if you don't use it, you lose it: my hard-earned Italian skills are melting away now that I am speaking only English all the time: I can feel it in the slowness of my tongue, and it makes me desperately sad.
1) My friends are truly, truly, truly amazing people. The hospitality and warmth and love and welcome I have experienced in the last 5 weeks has been unparalleled, more than I ever could have imagined. Unassuming Princess and the SportsFan, Neighborhood Vigilante and the Old Soul, MaryAnn sans the Professor, Mr. Hospitality... you have all been amazing pads in which to perch while I've been on the road. Thank you for thinking, knowing, and doing... opening your home to a wayward traveler.
Love, She-who-will-try-to-be-better-in-March.
posted by Viaggiatore | 3/07/2006
2 Comments:
Great list, I don't think that 5 weeks is enough to really get into all the foods I miss also.
Also I've been getting the Turin-Torino thing here too.
It's both I just answer, and depends on what language you are speaking or trying to speak. ha ha !
Won't quit you, Viagg!! I'm here in Turin Torino whaddevah you call it reading you now! Have a wonderful time with the sushi and mexican (5 weeks is my usual stint, too), and most of all with your wonderful friends, and safe travels!
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