Forgive me, dear readers, for not updating you on my Italian adventure in well over a month. I believe I have been neglecting my blogging duties not because I’m forgetful but because Italy (and Verona in particular) has become more of a home than a strange, foreign land that I’m visiting. Don’t get me wrong. I miss my family and friends stateside more than words can describe and the craving I have for a starbucks chai tea is unsurpassed. However, I have formed a routine here and I have become comfortable. Not lazy, but comfortable. I have nestled into my niche. Yet I still awe at the underestimated beauty of this place. I’ve taken to running along the Adige River every other day and I can’t help but think how lucky I am to be running not on a treadmill at a boring old gym but in a medieval city, where people bustle through their busy lives and slightly crumbling towers shoot up into the sky. Who gets to climb up a hill, among ancient ruins, and look across at a convent that has been nestled in the mountains for hundreds of years? Who gets to walk along streets, although cracked by years of wear, that are laid in marble? Who gets to walk through frescoed piazzas in order to buy something as simple as groceries? I do.
This past Sunday was Easter. I usually spend the day eating mounds upon mounds of my father’s glorious food, drinking champagne and homemade wine, hiding eggs so that my sisters and friends (though in high school and college) can relive their childhoods and go on an egg hunt, and spending an all around good time with my family. Unlike many other of the international students here, I did not get to go back home. So in order to prevent any form of homesickness of setting in, I decided to host my own Easter dinner, for those of us still in the area. At first my guest list was a total of three people. Then the number grew to six, then eight and increased by two until it hit twelve at which point I had to put a cap on it. Well, dear readers, I went all out. I went to the local “euro store” and bought plastic tablecloths, decorations and candles. I boiled and dyed eggs. I even had some pastel colored M&M’s for the occasion. Turns out that I wasn’t the only one who was used to celebrating Easter in a big way with lots of family around. My friends that attended appreciated the togetherness even more than I did…and I’m notoriously touchy-feely, lovey-dovey. Without even knowing it, our mis-matched, motley crew of international students had turned into a family. And holey moley am I going to miss them when I leave on that Alitalia jet plane.
Pace, Amore e Famiglia Internationale,
Geni
