"Italy, and the spring and first love all together should suffice to make the gloomiest person happy." --Bertrand Russell

Ah, spring.
Birds chirping, sun shining, barefoot, park-filled days.
I think my soul waits all year for this time.

Italy has never failed to give a me a stellar spring experience.
Bertrand is right. No gloominess here.
This past weekend I think I managed to clock more hours outside than in my apartment.
Just as it should be.

Since it is almost May, my heart and head are full of "next step" thoughts.
So many decisions to make, so many goodbyes to say, so much change ahead.
I am equal parts deeply sad and anxiously excited.
Depending on the day (or the hour, really) I want to either crawl back in bed under the covers and turn my brain off and hide from the overwhelming-ness of America or I want to burst through my front door and embrace the glorious uncertainty of what lies ahead.
I am more of a rollercoaster emotionally than I want to admit.
I think I keep it fairly concealed, but my teammates might have a different opinion.

With the end of my time in Italy, I am inevitably thinking everyday what I will miss and what I can't wait to get away from.
These likes and dislikes fit in very well with my current schizophrenia.

Here's the lastest brutto/bella comparison that I experienced this weekend.

Bella

I already mentioned how happy spring time makes me.
But what really sends me over the edge is outdoor antique markets--in the spring.
I adore strolling aimlessly up and down aisles and aisles of junk/treasures.
I love the possiblities.
I love to look at something and think of what I could use it for, how I could change it, etc.
I love seeing things that we spend fortunes on in the US because it comes from "oooh Italy..." and seeing it here piled in with other junk for 5 euro.

Plus, I just really love beautiful things. I do.
When they are displayed in the sunlight with a light breeze blowing--it's just about perfect.
I can think of no better way to spend an afternoon.


Brutto


For the past two years I have tried to adapt to the culture here.
Mostly that means having to endure delicious food, long meals, weekend strolls, and coffee breaks three times a day.

But there are some cultural "rules" that are still so hard to get used to.
Italians obey the seasons.
Seasons dictate everything.
What you eat, what you wear, where you go.
Usually--no big deal. Each season has something in it to look forward to. I enjoy the change.

But one Spring time rule is that you don't dress for Summer when it is Spring.
Summer does not start until the end of May.
Even if it is 95 outside in April, you should still be wearing pants, closed toe shoes, and at least have a light jacket with you.

This past weekend I decided to rebel.
I wanted to sit in the park and prendere il sole (take the sun) and it was so hot.
So I wore a tank top and shorts with tennis shoes.
That's right--I went all the way.

I didn't care that everyone else was laying out in their jeans.
I felt comfortable and I fully enjoyed reading a good book on my blanket in the grass.
It was the way home that was strange.

I missed the bus and thought to myself that the 25 minute walk home would be enjoyable.
I was wrong.
You know that dream when you somehow accidentally go to school naked?
Yep, it was that bad.

It's like people had never seen shorts before. Or legs for that matter.
I felt so exposed.
I had to give myself a pep talk.
I kept telling myself that shorts are very normal, I am not scandalous, and that they are the crazy ones.

Non si fa.
It means, "one doesn't do."
I totally non si fa-ed.
I have never felt so uncomfortable.

I can't wait to wear flip-flops in December in Texas this year.

I will secretly enjoy the idea of how rebellious I am being.
And I will adore the fact that no one will be staring at my liberated toes.