and it's only now, Thursday, that I feel 100%. Whew. Venice was, however, as beautiful as ever. In one of his emails Keith remarked, "How many people get to say they're going BACK to Venice?" and I had to stop to be grateful once again for all the decisions I've made that led me here. As hard as everything is in terms of the boys trying my patience and draining me of all my energy, I keep it in perspective when I realize how truly fortunate I am to be employed by a family of such means, creativity, generosity, and desire to travel.After a five hour train ride during which we picked more and more people up from Padova, Milan, and other places along the way, we arrived in Venice. It was so hot! We each had one small bag/backpack and one piece of luggage, and this we all loaded onto a private boat that was waiting when we got out of the train station. We stayed on a nearby islet called San Servolo, a tiny tiny place that was once a monastery, then a psychiatric hospital, and now hosts student programs (such as "Duke in Venice") and private groups (like the one I was with). We were altogether about 25 people, parents and children and nannies, who ate in the cafeteria, slept in the IKEA catalogue dorms, and played all day in the garden.
Well, the children played while the nannies watched and the parents convened for some meetings... I'm still unsure about what they were about, but it sounded like lectures and then small-group discussions about work psychology. Interesting. Anyway, when I wasn't in bed or on the floor of the bathroom, I was out with the children, watching them play soccer and catch, getting the ball out of the tree, spraying them with mosquito repellant (the humidity in Venice brought out the worst bug bites! I have many still), and speaking with the other nannies. In Italian it's tata, so plurale = tate. Le tate dei bambini. There were many children ranging in age from 10 months to 13 years, with most falling in the middle, and they got along just fine as long as we were around to break up the occasional squabble and reapply the spray. I met two Filipinas (one from Ilocos! Holla!), and we spent some time together on the last day listening to music on Irene's mp3: I told her I liked "Bebot" by the Black Eyed Peas (bebot is Tagalog slang for a cute girl), and she had it, so we listened to it, and she played for me another song by the Filipino guy in the group... I'll have to look it up, it's a rap about his life and how he came to be in the world famous group.Anyway, then we took the train for 6 hours home from Venice, saying goodbye to various people along the way. I finished reading Henry James' "Washington Square" and wrote a few postcards, napped, talked with my father/employer about why they prefer an American au pair over something else. He said they considered one from South Africa, and another from the UK, but that I sounded like the best fit. They want the boys to learn English, and I think they thought this was the best way, maybe a clearer accent or something? I've been told again and again that my English is so clear for the Italian ear; I think it's a combination of the Californian accent (not so complicated as deep New York or Chicago, or the South), my snobby English major annunciation, and years of speaking slowly with Grandma and Grandpa Aczon.
More later, of course. We've begun to discuss the Big Questions, like my holiday in August - what to do, then? - and when I might visit Christa - after we go to Lampedusa/Sicily in July - and whether or not I will come home for Christmas. This is a big decision, but I think when I come home I want to stay home... a short visit in the middle might make it more difficult to come back. Or maybe easier. I will consult the experts: Alana and Christine, both of whom stayed abroad for one year, but one of whom came and home for winter vacation and the other stayed in Europe. I have some time before I absolutely have to decide. Comments welcome. :-)
Ciao for now! I love you.
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