Welcome back...really?

The damned dreaded day started poorly and with several hours remaining here I sit, back here stateside. Atlanta. Airport. "This" is "NOT" home. At home there are choices, ones that I, as an individual can contribute to. Here I sit in a terminal (doesn't that translate to mean the end?), listening to paid rabble-rousers on the large screen TV doing their rendition of Henny Penny..."the sky is falling,etc." 

Somewhere, someone made a decision to put this clap-trap drivel on all the screens at top sound levels. And, that self-righteous fool got paid and is most likely still being paid well while we, the tired, the grouchy, wait for flight announcements...that we can't hear. And then, some bright faced, smiling idiot asks exactly the perfect question, "Aren't you glad to be back?"

He only got a small portion of a wave, about a finger's worth!

Zombie Jamboree

The sky is pink on the horizon, but it is still dark as I head off to breakfast. Passing beneath the 34th street underpass I see a glint of light sparkling in front of me. It's a bicycle and it's followed by a horde of zombies! Actually they are the daily cast of characters stumbling, shambling and skittering their way from the methadone clinic to their bus stop on the opposite side of the street. As I brake to avoid them, I am wondering how anyone can be so totally impervious to their surroundings. Do they feel omnipotent?  Are they so totally withdrawn from reality that they neither sense nor feel anything? Maybe all the above.

Each and every one of these poor souls was at one time the glint in their Mother and Father's eyes...their pride, their joy. Now they are reduced to this semi-somnolent state. Yelling and screaming to be heard, but nothing to say. Instinctively herding together for safety and to be seen, but they have turned themselves into the invisible. They are not seen, nor heard. 

Do they still feel? I don't know. I am reminded of something said over a pulpit years ago..."do they not bleed?" No answer. I just wish to avoid harming one of them. However poor their chances are, however low their hopes, I do not want to be the one that removes that rapidly dimming chance to return to humanity.

This time the cat recognized me

Tomorrow it will be one week and I am not happy. I am here, not there and the six hour time lag has not changed yet. Is this a co-efficient of age? Is it simply Freudian? Or do I just love Rome that much? (C), all of the above.

Doesn't matter how I feel or think the prep work for my Idyll of the ages tour must begin. As strange as this seems, we are waiting for the correct parts to arrive in order to complete the installation of a new air conditioner. Death Valley is on my "bucket list" and going there without A/C or water is implausible. By the time I depart Texas it should be warming up nicely, as well. I need to get "my feet wet" before any long rides. So I will be going on a few overnight jaunts starting soon in order to see how the big box rides. 

This RV (caravan/camper) is big, but not big enough for all of you at once...or we become "Really Friendly!" So, please figure when you like to join me, for how long and let me know. Airlines and pick-up points will need to be co-ordinated, as will drop-off points. Hope to see everyone soon!

MAX-ims

A top ten quote...#1? From the world renowned philosopher, Popeye..."I yam what I yam and tha's all what I yam!

There is a huge fundamental difference between walking...and walking with someone!

Life is an amalgam of what you are taught, what you learn and how you apply it. The sum, should be, more than the total of the parts!

Mix words...mince meat...do not mince words!

Thinking allows your curiosity, knowledge and logic to steep in the same cauldron. Brewing something new.

What I like may affect you. What you like probably will affect me. And, what we like could affect many.

Says an awful lot when the number one reason to return to where you dwell is in your bathroom! That first shower with unlimited hot water, damn that's joy!

I didn't exchange my euros for dollars...think that's a subliminal plot thread?

It has been wonderful reading the beautiful things my friends said about me on Facebook. The best thing about it is that they aren't part of my eulogy!

Beliefs; no thought required.

She has no "off" button and the term "silence is golden" is equally meaningless, sounds like she suffers from Blitherer's Disease!

Quote; "Painting is silent poetry."  Plutarch

How old am I? So old that I remember singers wearing clothes!

Isn't the object of writing to convey your thoughts and express your "self" in the way that you truly feel about yourself?

"It", whatever "it" is...does it matter? Perhaps it isn't a "silver bullet", maybe it won't cure anything but, does it "harm" anything? Does it make you feel better?...then go for it!

Why expend energy on something of little or no import? Do you enjoy aggravation? Why care? Tilting at windmills has never been a successful enterprise. Reflect on the absurd, laugh, smile...the photos will look much better.

Let's return to, how old am I...did a survey here on Facebook to discern the difference between my actual age and my mental age. My daughter did it first and was about 11 years younger than her real age. I was almost fifty years younger...I had not met her Mother yet. There's a problem here...

Teenagers strive to be different and end up conforming to the current in vogue style. As they age they begin to rage about the things or people different than themselves. At best contradictory, but much more likely abjectly intolerant. Return to the youthful concept of acceptance. Anything is better than intolerance. Even a sham.

06:30 AM

I am sitting here because it it still too early to call my sister-in-law to come and get me. It's dark out and the sun won't rise for another 45 minutes, then it's back to short sleeve shirts again. The temperature is around 20..21 degrees C.

Yesterday was mind numbing. I needed to be in a terminal that I had never been too previously...driver didn't know either. A little walking and I stand in front of a pretty lady, ready to check in...Where is my passport? After 30 minutes and several frantic calls there it is, with my toothpaste! No, I don't remember that method of packing either. Many hours later, three airports later and two telephones later I am getting to bed here in Florida. An airport hotel until the morning and I can pick  up my car...being repaired. Basically a truly miserable day. I survived again. Already miss Rome, the Campo and all of my family. I didn't swap my euros yet...

The last two or three days just before I leave Rome are always horrible. There are many spectacular moments with each of you, but for the most part I find myself too choked up to talk. When multi-tasking involves tears I can't cope. So my hopes are that no one feels that I left without saying goodbye or without spending time with them. If it were possible I would not be here writing this, but there living it. 

Soon I will be starting out on a "long road trip", my "plan B." A huge change and one I will continue to share with all of you. If you want. There is always room for one more...just call out my name...I'll be there.

The Last Waltz

Feelings

Years ago this was the title of a song so saccharin, trite and banal that the only thing that could have made it worse, would have been Barry Manilow singing it. Now I am using it as a title for one of my posts, thus completely passing irony and moving directly to supreme ludicrousness!

Anni fa questo era il titolo di una canzone così melensa, trita e banale che l’unica cosa che avrebbe potuto essere peggiore, era se l’avesse cantata Barry Manilow.

Recently a friend asked the following question and I attempted to answer. How do you feel about your(this) trip? Interesting question and the type of thing that I love, but sometimes you need to sit back and think in order to give a true reply. Well, here it is, 4:00 am and I'm giving it a try.

Recentemente un amico mi ha posto la seguente domanda ed io ho tentato di rispondere. Come ti senti rispetto al tuo viaggio in Italia?

Questione interessante ed il tipo di cosa che amo. Ma talvolta si ha bisogno di sedersi e di pensare per poter dare una giusta risposta. Bene, eccola: 4:00 del mattino e sto per darla.

Rome is a perfect triangle to me. At the first point, arrival, there  is anticipation. Point two, being here, is accompanied by love and joy. Last, point three, departure, brings grief and tears. Love, joy and anticipation need no explanations. A quote I read about went; "So, it's true, when all is said and done grief  is the price you pay for love." An Italian said it and I see nothing wrong with the statement. For all that I get from this city, I will willingly pay the price.

Roma è un perfetto triangolo per me. Prima di tutto, l’arrivo, c’è una grande aspettativa. Secondo punto, essere qui significa essere accompagnato da amore e gioia. Terzo ed ultimo punto, la partenza, ovvero tristezza e lacrime. Amore, gioia ed aspettativa non necessitano alcuna spiegazione.

“Si, è vero, quando tutto è stato detto e fatto, la tristezza è il prezzo da pagare per l’amore”. Questo l’ha detto un Italiano ed io non ci vedo niente di errato. Per tutto ciò che ho da questa città, sarò felice di pagare un prezzo.

When I deplane here I am instantly at peace, with myself and all around me. I feel wanted, accepted, cared for...appreciated. The ride into Rome along a dreary highway has become an awakening for me. To me it is a acclimatization into the vibrant place that I wish was home. In truth it is, I may dwell elsewhere, but I do not LIVE there. There is no other city like it. Others may compete at some levels, including the vibrancy but, never on all levels. In short, if money is being spent on airfare, I'm on the way home.

Quando atterro qui mi sento istantaneamente in pace, con me stesso e con ciò che mi circonda. Sento che sono, desiderato, benvoluto, accettato,  ….apprezzato. Un giro a Roma lungo una cupa autostrada è diventato un risveglio per me. Per me è un acclimatamento allo splendido luogo che io vorrei fosse la mia casa.

In verità potrei dire che Roma lo è, io posso abitare altrove, ma questo non significa per ‘sentirmi a casa’.

Non c’è un’altra città come questa. Altre possono competere ad alcuni livelli, inclusa la vitalità, ma mai su altri livelli. In breve, se il mio denaro sarà speso per  un biglietto aereo, io tornerò qui, a casa.

Why Rome?

Because I am the one writing, I will not use the word typical...this was part of yesterday.

Perché Roma?

Perché io lo sto scrivendo, non userò il termine ‘tipico’……questo è parte di ieri.

Up, stumble around the apartment, make and drink coffee and all the rest. Off to the Campo, where Milu is alone...no help today. After coffee I help her get the heaters and chairs outside. Monica arrives, another coffee. The usual chatter, laughter, even some Facebook stuff. As she leaves Francesca arrives with Bricco and Amalia...one more coffee and she leaves to walk the dogs and do errands. I cross in front of Bruno, meet and greet Sonia, Lina, Abul and Marina. Talk with Abul about his wife and little girl, back in Bangla Desh, how hard it is, cost of living, cost of transportation, etc. Lina, Marina and I head back to Milu's for...another coffee. Actually hot chocolate this time, enough coffee, I'm awake. That was about one hours worth of the day.

Quando mi sveglio, giro per l’appartamento, preparo e bevo un caffè e tutto il resto. Esco e vado a Campo de’ Fiori, dove Milu’ è sola, non ha nessun aiuto oggi. Dopo il caffè la aiuto con il riscaldamento e le sedie all’esterno. Arriva Monica, un altro caffè. Le solite chiacchiere, risate, anche su Facebook. Come va via, arriva Francesca con Bricco e Amalia…..un altro caffè e va a far fare una passeggiata ai cani. Attraverso la piazza, al di là di Bruno, incontro e saluto Sonia, Lina, Abul e Marina.Parlo con Abul di sua moglie e di sua figlia che sono in Bangladesh, quanto è duro, il costo della vita, il costo dei trasporti etc. Con Lina e Marina torniamo da Milu’… per un altro caffè. In verità cioccolata calda questa volta, troppi caffè, sono fin troppo sveglio. Tutto questo in un’ora. 

I ended up spending much of the day with Francesca. We met in the Tor' Argentina where I took some photos. We then walked over to the ghetto for pranza (lunch). A nice meal and back to her shop to work on Facebook for her and also a new paper she is publishing. Me? Yep I provide "American" English language skills. I am looking forward to seeing this one in print. As we were ending Graziano arrived home from work and we all did some planning for what is now this evening. Dinner with more friends and the soccer game on the big screen. Time to leave, with one quick stop to see a friend in the Campo I head home for a nibble and the bed.

Vado Avanti trascorrendo parte del giorno con Francesca. Ci incontriamo a piazza Torre Argentina dove scatto alcune fotografie. Andiamo a pranzare al Ghetto. Un pasto gradevole e dopo al suo studio per lavorare su Facebook per lei ed anche per un nuovo articolo che sta per pubblicare. Io? Si, fornisco le mie competenze di lingua inglese ‘americana’. Non vedo l’ora di vederlo pubblicato. Quando stiamo per terminare arriva Graziano dal lavoro e tutti insieme facciamo i piani per questa sera. Una cena con molti amici e la partita di calcio su un grande schermo televisivo. E’ tempo di andare, con una sosta veloce per vedere un amico, lascio Campo de’Fiori e torno a casa  

amici a casa per uno spuntino e per riposarmi.

All days should be as enjoyable as this...perhaps less coffee!

Tutti I giorni dovrebbero essere così piacevoli…….forse con meno caffè!

Friends are the family that you would actually choose. Over the years I have accumulated a large adopted family of friends. Some are Italian, some are not. Most are younger than I, but not all. Some no longer with us. All sharing in the strange convoluted love-hate relationship of this glorious city. Work, play, eat, drink there is no place like home. A thought shared by so many of my friends whether Italian, Albanian, Bangle Deshi, Phillipino, Morroccan or Sri Lankan, a, cosmopolitan group that are all part of the City's fabric. Universal and cosmopolitan in it's best sense- where even the street cleaners wear designer outfits!

Gli amici sono la famiglia che tu realmente hai scelto. In questi anni ho accumulato una grande famiglia adottiva di amici. Alcuni sono italiani, altri no. Molti sono più giovani di me, ma non tutti. Alcuni non ci sono più. Tutti parte  di questo strano  e complicato rapporto di odio-amore di questa gloriosa città. Lavorare, giocare, bere, non c’è alcun posto come la ‘casa’. Un pensiero condiviso da tanti dei miei amici, italiani, albanesi bengalesi, filippini, marocchini, cingalesi, un gruppo cosmopolita che è parte della ‘fabbrica’ di questa città. Universale e cosmopolita nel suo significato migliore – dove anche gli spazzini indossano completi firmati!