Out With A Bang
When I was a little girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, my family would spend the Jewish holidays with a large group of my parents' friends and their children. Since I was the youngest of the group by 3 years (at least), I was always afraid of these days. I hated Passover because I was supposed to be read the Four Questions - something every kid who has been to a seder has done at least once in their life. Being only half-Jewish, not knowing any Hebrew, and not entirely blending in with my blonde hair, blue eyes, and sailor dresses, I loathed these gatherings. But every year my mother would remind me, 'Alexandra, remember how much you were dreading Passover last year? And then how much fun you had?' I had temporary amnesia when she said this, but as I got older I noticed a pattern. No matter how shy or nervous or uncomfortable I was when the festivities began, by the end of the night I was having a blast. I distinctly remember being in the Gold's (or was it the Anstey's?) basement, my older sister and her older friends sitting on the floor in front of me, while I performed my rendition of Steve Martin's 'Wild and Crazy Guys' routine. The kids would be laughing hyetsrically when my parents came downstairs after coffee talk and I wouldn't want to leave.
This took on another form when I entered my (very social) teenage years. My dear, patient, best friends (you know who you are) would drag me to an upperclassmen kegger. Okay, I wasn't exactly kicking and screaming, but I had this bizarre fear that I would be that girl in the corner, not talking to anyone and not being approached, while the rest of the group cavorted around drunk and gay. This never happened. Instead, every Saturday night without fail, my girlfriends would be waiting for me, beeping their horns, while I was finishing up conversations with some of the most popular (and often many esoteric) characters. This is still a joke among us today - Allie is afraid to go to party. Allie whips party into shape. Friends see Allie at the beginning of the night and at the end. Never in between.
My mother says I have been like this my whole life. The great analogy we use is 'testing the water.' No matter how hot I was or how excited I was to jump in that pool, I always dipped my toe in first. I've always needed to test the waters before throwing myself into anything full stop.
And so it is, of course, wholly ironic that less than 48 hours before my return to the states I find myself in my element here in Rome. I lucked out these last three weeks, having the best classmates and instructor a girl could ask for. My afternoons have been spent getting lunch with my friends, chugging down much-needed coffee and toasted tramezzini during our mid-morning 'pausa,' shopping in Trastevere.
This week the class (about 9 girls and one very attractive, very young male Swede) went out for caffe lattes and said our goodbyes. Mine was more like a 'see you later,' since I still have dinner plans with this crew tonight. But our friend Roxanna (Persian, raised in Brazil, educated in Ohio, and living in D.C.) was leaving first thing Friday morning. The class bought us cookbooks to commemorate our time together - hers, an Italian one. Mine, a Kosher one(it became a class joke that I was the only quasi-Jew in almost the entire school). They all signed messages as though they were yearbooks.
The rest of the afternoon a friend and I went to an Andy Warhol exhibit inside a 16th century church (which was amazing and much needed - I miss modern art desperately). We ended up standing in front of his 'Birth Of Venus' and discussing the greater meaning of life for half an hour. Once outside, we sat on the church steps all alone in this tiny, peaceful piazza and discussed the meaning of everything else. I'm sad to say goodbye to her, since she is someone with whom I could see myself becoming good friends. In her words, though, it's not goodbye. It's just 'al dopo.' See you later.
Thursday night was meant to be our last hurrah as one cohesive group, with our friend Roxanna determined to stay up until she left for the airport at 5am. We didn't disappoint. We started off at a small, Swedish style lounge for drinks. No cars were allowed in the piazza and swarms of smart, young professionals mingled in the open air behind the Pantheon. We then went to SupperClub (mentioned in this blog before) and proceeded to dance until they kicked us out. When I stepped out of the group and took a glance, I realized I had my very own R-rated, cracked-out version of 'It's A Small World After All.' A Swede, Norwegian, German, Russian, Mexican Brazilian, and me. I haven't had that much fun in a long, long time.
Good times also mean not-so-good mornings. I was woken not by my alarm but by my ringing cell phone. One new text message. 'I just woke up! Are you going to go to class?' Class began at 9am. It was 10. We decided to go for the second half and only 5 kids made it in. Whoops. But we said farewell to our lovely teacher and then gorged on much needed pasta and coffee.
My good friends Karlyn and Doug were here last night and we sampled goods (that would be wine) from their Tuscan road trip before heading out and having a lazy dinner. We ended the evening with a gelato and an after dinner drink in Campo dei Fiori before coming home for the night. I filled them up with cappuccino and cornetti before sending them on their way. I have to admit, for all of the fun I am having, I wish I was on the plane with them right now.
No matter how good my current situation is or has the potential to become, I still have no second thoughts on returning. I can't do this forever. It's been a lovely (and expensive) extended vacation but I can only stay away from the hectic city life for so long. I'm itching to get back in the rat race.
Since dinner tonight is with a group of wild Scandos, I decided to get in the last of my sightseeing today, assuming tomorrow will be spent packing, recuperating, and reminiscing. I strode up the shallow steps to the Campidoglio and marveled at the Michelangelo-designed piazza. I went around back and stared at the ruins of one of Rome's many ancient forums. I stood there, blocking other views but not caring, for nearly 10 minutes. The tourists looked so small meandering through the massive remnants of columns and archways. It was just what I needed - a little perspective.
The day couldn't have ended, of course, without two marriage proposals. Well, one proposal and one proposition for coffee, but I turned them both down. Sometimes - and this is I've learned while being on my own in this incredible city - it's better just to be alone.
This took on another form when I entered my (very social) teenage years. My dear, patient, best friends (you know who you are) would drag me to an upperclassmen kegger. Okay, I wasn't exactly kicking and screaming, but I had this bizarre fear that I would be that girl in the corner, not talking to anyone and not being approached, while the rest of the group cavorted around drunk and gay. This never happened. Instead, every Saturday night without fail, my girlfriends would be waiting for me, beeping their horns, while I was finishing up conversations with some of the most popular (and often many esoteric) characters. This is still a joke among us today - Allie is afraid to go to party. Allie whips party into shape. Friends see Allie at the beginning of the night and at the end. Never in between.
My mother says I have been like this my whole life. The great analogy we use is 'testing the water.' No matter how hot I was or how excited I was to jump in that pool, I always dipped my toe in first. I've always needed to test the waters before throwing myself into anything full stop.
And so it is, of course, wholly ironic that less than 48 hours before my return to the states I find myself in my element here in Rome. I lucked out these last three weeks, having the best classmates and instructor a girl could ask for. My afternoons have been spent getting lunch with my friends, chugging down much-needed coffee and toasted tramezzini during our mid-morning 'pausa,' shopping in Trastevere.
This week the class (about 9 girls and one very attractive, very young male Swede) went out for caffe lattes and said our goodbyes. Mine was more like a 'see you later,' since I still have dinner plans with this crew tonight. But our friend Roxanna (Persian, raised in Brazil, educated in Ohio, and living in D.C.) was leaving first thing Friday morning. The class bought us cookbooks to commemorate our time together - hers, an Italian one. Mine, a Kosher one(it became a class joke that I was the only quasi-Jew in almost the entire school). They all signed messages as though they were yearbooks.
The rest of the afternoon a friend and I went to an Andy Warhol exhibit inside a 16th century church (which was amazing and much needed - I miss modern art desperately). We ended up standing in front of his 'Birth Of Venus' and discussing the greater meaning of life for half an hour. Once outside, we sat on the church steps all alone in this tiny, peaceful piazza and discussed the meaning of everything else. I'm sad to say goodbye to her, since she is someone with whom I could see myself becoming good friends. In her words, though, it's not goodbye. It's just 'al dopo.' See you later.
Thursday night was meant to be our last hurrah as one cohesive group, with our friend Roxanna determined to stay up until she left for the airport at 5am. We didn't disappoint. We started off at a small, Swedish style lounge for drinks. No cars were allowed in the piazza and swarms of smart, young professionals mingled in the open air behind the Pantheon. We then went to SupperClub (mentioned in this blog before) and proceeded to dance until they kicked us out. When I stepped out of the group and took a glance, I realized I had my very own R-rated, cracked-out version of 'It's A Small World After All.' A Swede, Norwegian, German, Russian, Mexican Brazilian, and me. I haven't had that much fun in a long, long time.
Good times also mean not-so-good mornings. I was woken not by my alarm but by my ringing cell phone. One new text message. 'I just woke up! Are you going to go to class?' Class began at 9am. It was 10. We decided to go for the second half and only 5 kids made it in. Whoops. But we said farewell to our lovely teacher and then gorged on much needed pasta and coffee.
My good friends Karlyn and Doug were here last night and we sampled goods (that would be wine) from their Tuscan road trip before heading out and having a lazy dinner. We ended the evening with a gelato and an after dinner drink in Campo dei Fiori before coming home for the night. I filled them up with cappuccino and cornetti before sending them on their way. I have to admit, for all of the fun I am having, I wish I was on the plane with them right now.
No matter how good my current situation is or has the potential to become, I still have no second thoughts on returning. I can't do this forever. It's been a lovely (and expensive) extended vacation but I can only stay away from the hectic city life for so long. I'm itching to get back in the rat race.
Since dinner tonight is with a group of wild Scandos, I decided to get in the last of my sightseeing today, assuming tomorrow will be spent packing, recuperating, and reminiscing. I strode up the shallow steps to the Campidoglio and marveled at the Michelangelo-designed piazza. I went around back and stared at the ruins of one of Rome's many ancient forums. I stood there, blocking other views but not caring, for nearly 10 minutes. The tourists looked so small meandering through the massive remnants of columns and archways. It was just what I needed - a little perspective.
The day couldn't have ended, of course, without two marriage proposals. Well, one proposal and one proposition for coffee, but I turned them both down. Sometimes - and this is I've learned while being on my own in this incredible city - it's better just to be alone.
posted by Chaden at 4:47 PM
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