To volcanoes and beyond

I remember very well how excited I was in the fall to find vulcanologia as a course that I could perhaps take. At that point, it felt like a pipe dream but now I am so excited to be crawling into bed to wake up early to catch the train to Vesuvious and after, the Aeolian Islands. Just proof at how the time flies and how things just work out sometimes. With my batteries charged and memory cards blank, I am ready to go. After, I will be with mom and Whitney on a grand adventure to Rome, Naples and the Amalfi coast. It will be strange being away from Bologna for so long, but the summer is wrapping up for me here and there are still lots of things to fit in. Can I mention that sampling in Rome might actually happen now? This is getting overwhelming!

No one even asked to see my ID!

Sitting around the picnic table with the family in the garden, with candles lit, full bellies, and my favorite Bolognese cake topped with 21 candles, I knew that it really was a Happy Birthday. Even being away from so many family and friends, feeling at home here in Bologna made it beautiful and not at all sad. Besides the love, and cards and food and all that good stuff, it was a good day for so many reasons. The sky was clear and the air was that perfect temperature where you could feel the warmth of the sun without sweating. Not like I even felt the outside until almost noon, after waking up late and a plate of french toast. However, some of the best news of the day came from my trek over to the Geology department to meet with one of my assistant professors. With an idea in my head about starting a research project with some field work during our fieldtrip, I asked him about the possibilites. Just the fact that he was so receptive to the idea made me feel so much more comfortable. Along with a specific idea on how to make it work, he started me off with some material to look into, papers and such. The other assistant professor, as I was making copies, came in to talk to the first guy. When I returned to the office, he asked me about when I was leaving Italy. He mentioned that if I had the time, perhaps I could spend a week on Stromboli working at a research station that monitors the actions of the vulcano. This was something he had mentioned in class before, but I had assumed it was only for the Italian students and that the dates where for July. Yet as we were talking, he really seemed excited and optimistic for me to be able to make this work. In addition to being able to live on a vulcano and do great vulcanology stuff for a week, I would be able to expand my fieldwork to as much as I could fit in during that time, and not just a quick day with the class. Please excuse my nerdness, but having the opportunity to maybe actually get somewhere with a project is too exciting. What's more than that, is that it is on a vulcano. 'Nuff said. With that meeting behind me, and the seal of approval that my new trekking boots are vulcano-worthy, there was no way I could call it a bad day. Add to that a gelato, some good friends and a long night of dancing I would call it a winner (even if the kids call me old).

Just trying to take it all in

Lots of time and lots of events have passed since the last time I sat myself down to write. It isn't for lack of material, but because the quantity becomes overwhelming to sort through. In addition, it usually isn't too difficult to convince my lazy self that no one really reads this anyway. However, those are excuses. With blogging comes a certain frustration of trying to capture the sensations that make an event worth recapping. Some moments blow me away such that I have to ask, "how did I get here...could I ever forget this?" Then, hours, days or a month later, I sit with paralyzed fingers, unable to explain the unexplicable details of the landscape, the little jokes that were so funny (before I tried to tell them to someone else), my relationship with whomever I have shared the moment with, or the journey itself. There are things that only can be experienced. When I tell the stories of what happened, I want to relive them and I want the listener to be there so that they could really understand how grand it was. Then there are those moments that are not great. Perhaps awkward, uncomfortable or lonely. I am thankful that now those feelings don't pull me down as heavily as they did at the beginning of the semester, even though they are often caused by the same thing. I still don't understand Italian all the time. I don't get Italian jokes. I could be in a car of Italians and not catch a word. Although more resilient than four months ago, it still hurts a bit when I hear "lei non ha capito = she didn't understand", guess it is a plus that I learned what that meant.

To prevent this post from just being a rant, allow me to include some of the happenings of today.

Today was Letizia's first comunion and I was expected to attend. As (my) mother knows, I have not spent a whole lot of Sunday mornings in a church recently (or any other time of the week for that matter). Therefor, I was a tad nervous about sitting in on mass. Also, let's be honest, I remember quite well having difficulty staying awake during mass as a kid. Today, mass was in Italian so I was bound not to understand a bit (which always makes me a bit sleepy) and I crawled into bed the night before not long before the sun woke up. Fortunately, there was enough to keep my attention. Besides the mass, the whole day became a grand celebration. Extended family and all, we enjoyed, then later lamented full bellies of a complete Italian lunch. Indeed it was elegant, with four different glasses set at each plate and just as many forks and knives. Fortunately for me, the conversation wasn't necessarily as refined and I could casually enjoy the company of the family. Indeed I was able to talk politics, thanks to my Italian politics course - bad grade excluded - as well as more fun topics like backpack travel. The day really did remind me very much of my own first comunion; how I refused to smile in every photo, and how I wore my dress not more than 2 minutes after I returned home from the church in favor of shorts and a t-shirt. To be fair, Letizia seemed glad to exchange her white shoes for converse and dress for a t-shirt as well. Now, at least, I feel a bit more validated that maybe my 9 year old self wasn't so different after all.

I'll try not to wait a month next time :)