Una Giornata (One Day)

June 29th, 2008.

We went for a lovely little "giornata," or day journey, in the mountains today with the family and P--'s sister, to a little rustic cottage for a picnic lunch and hike. Woke up late (it's Sunday, two weeks since I arrived), ate breakfast in front of the TV with the boys, and then we packed a picnic and drove an hour out of the city. The walk was gorgeous, not too steep, and in the green, green mountains. I picked a lot of bright little wildflowers to put in my book to dry. We arrived at the 'shelter' - a picnic site - around 2.30, spread out the blankets and made little sandwiches from our various components: a huge sweet tomato, block of exquisite cheese, three kinds of prosciutto, multigrain bread, finocchio (fennel), and then apples, pears, and various cookies. We also brought a liter of fizzy water and one liter of normal water. Our packs were much lighter on the way down.

Yesterday afternoon I went out with an Italian guy who was friends with the previous au pair. He's a very sweet, slightly balding 29-year-old employee of Martini Rossi who lives with his parents and learned most of his English from watching American movies. We went to the Museo al Cinema, housed in a beautiful old building that was originally intended to be a Jewish synagogue, then out for aperitivo in the city center, and then for a walk and a drink along the River Po. We have a tentative plan to go running in the park together sometime after I return from the vacation in Lampedusa, and my visit to see Christa in Madrid.

It's so funny that everything is the same here in terms of family life. Of course, why would it be different? This week I was privy to two very important moments, the first being a dinner table discussion with the 5-yr-old about the existence of Santa Claus (Babo Natale, in Italiano), and the second taking place with the 10-yr-old in the "family planning" aisle of the supermarket...

We are all the same family!

Once I pulled back from my immediate situation and reminded myself that one year, in the Grand Scheme of Things, isn't actually that long, I found this all very exciting, and a little romantic. I'm an expatriate! Haha, my good friend John and I are planning to spend the holidays together in Croatia, so as not to celebrate Christmas and New Year's alone, or with strangers. I picture something very pathetic and hilarious like one sickly pine branch stuck in an empty bottle with some tinsel, and each of us nursing a carton of red wine with fingerless gloves on... wait, we're not homeless 20th century bohemians. Wrong visual. Anyway, I think it'll be nice to spend a couple of weeks with him in the middle of my year to tide me over until the spring.

Tomorrow begins my first real regular week, with the hours of 9am-4pm largely free for me to do what I want. I have plans to take my new book, Ian McEwan's "Saturday," to the local pool and spend a couple of hours alternating between swimming and tanning; to take advantage of the three-day guest pass to Patrizia's fitness gym, where her personal trainer, Mr. Rock, is waiting to meet me; and I have two dinner dates, one at the house with the young(er) woman who lives upstairs in the attic, I think she's 26?, and the other out at a restaurant with P--'s sister and some of her friends. Little by little, things are falling into place.