Lebanese Blonde

Curtain Call is 8pm

2006-04-18T20:50:00.000+02:00

'Ti prendo alle 8, va bene? Vuoi mangiare pesce o carne? Moto o Macchina?'
'Yes, you can pick me up at 8. I prefer not to eat fish. And bring the bike.'

These were the three questions that my friend Marco asked and my responses when he called to make plans for our Tuesday evening out on the town.

In three simple questions it was all set, it was a date. Naturally I thought motorcyle i.e. casual restaurant, more than likely a trattoria than a true ristorante. Most people who know Blondi know that she usually dresses for the occasion or sometimes just the opposite but lets say she is never, never underdressed. My rule is it is always best to be outrageously overdressed than to be ever, ever underdressed. Maybe its the Italian blood that flows thru my veins. Or maybe it is when growing up attending the Lebanese church was like going to a weekly fashion show where the local female parishioners wore two-peice skirt suits, 3 inch stilettos and so much gold jewelry that it made my stylish Italian mother and I look like Swedish Minnesotans.

I planned for practical motorcycle clothes for an average trattoria kind of night out on the town. As I was rushing home in true Roman city living style with only a half hour to spare when I received a text message from Marco saying he was going to be at my palazzo at 7:50pm to pick me up. What?! He was going to be early. My comfortable thirty minutes turned into a rushed 20. I must say it was the first time anyone in Rome has ever made plans with me and been early let alone on time. You are just not on time in Rome. And if you are people think something is wrong with you. So like a true ragazza living in this city I always add 10 minutes to ever appointment I have because I know they will be late which really means 'on time' in Roma. But apparently not tonight. So upon getting the news via SMS, the Italian version of American texting, I run as fast as possible thru my courtyard in my 3 inch cork sandles to get to my 7th floor apartment. As I am riding in the very small 2 person elevator to the top floor of my new apartment building I send a SMS in return confirming he is bringing the bike so I know how to dress myself-trying to save time if possible. I quickly decide to dress for the bike and even if he has the car we aren't going anywhere fancy....non c'é problema. No problem.

I am almost finished with primping myself when I receive the SMS that he decided to bring the car and he is downstairs already. Yikes! Ok, well don't want to change. Actually, no time to change since I am still have to put my lipstick on and pack my purse for the evening. I send SMS in return saying I will be down in 5.

More like 10 minutes later, I am exiting my palazzo to find my date waiting for me on the street by his car. This is where my ride on the fashion rollercoaster begun. Marco knowing that he wasn't bringing his bike and having the knowledge of where we were eating tonight appropriately dressed for the evening i.e. leather trench, suit jacket, bottom down shirt, jeans, and great shoes. Most Italian men have the ability to buy & wear great looking shoes with hardly much effort at all. I on the other hand I have dressed myself in jeans, cowboy boots and a short black leather coat. I am always fashionably prepared, not this night kids.

The first thing out of Marco's Roman mouth is 'You dressed for the bike!'...I am completely mortified. I quickly try to recover from this fashion tragedy and say 'I received your message too late and was already dressed.' He does the typical Italian response 'Va bene, andiamo!'...It's okay, let's go! We get in the car, he tells me we are going to this trattoria, at least I was right about something, but first we are going to drive the car into town a little ways and then take a cab because the restaurant is too in the center of town and we can't drive there. I say that it sounds like a good plan to me the whole time trying to recover from the first 5 minutes of the evening and the dozen long stem peached color roses he just gave me.

Traffic in Rome can be real terrible especially driving around the historic center. But with hardly no hassle at all and no more than 20 minutes later I stepped out from our taxi onto the centurie's old cobblestones with my black boot leading the way. I recognized the area as being near the Pantheon since I take this street when I am leading my walking tours for work. As Mr. Rose payed for the cab I walked to the front door of the 'trattoria'. Looks like a nice & cozy place...wooden door, glowing light escaping onto the street from behind this screen, partition in the entrance. Marco joined me at the door and we walked inside together and that is when the show began!

All of a sudden, the Maitre D'ella trattoria appeared from behind the screen and promptly executed a slight bow and greeted Marco by Signore Ciarla, his last name. I thought 'Oh boy, this is going to be interesting. What the heck is behind this screen? What kind of restaurant am I at? Shit, I am so underdressed.' Well, I quickly found out that this 'motorcycle night out on the town' was turning into eating at a four star restaurant in the center of Rome blocks away from the Pantheon my favorite and best perserved ancient Roman monument! But the staff at this restaurant have no idea that I know that...they are probably wondering where this blondi fauhawk wearing obviously non-Italian chick came from!

La Signora leads us to the dining room around the corner where to my surprise everyone is male and is wearing a suit. Mannagia, damn, I am really going to shake some things up in this joint with my boots tonight. Then a small miracle happened and gave me hope...while the Maitre D' was assisted by two other waiters that kindly helped us get comfortable at our table, I was placed at the table so I was facing the opposite way towards the door, towards the partition. At that moment I saw a large table of Americans dressed in button down shirts and khakis. I was finally not alone in this nightmare of being underdressed...and it was the first time in my life that I was happy to see Americans in Rome.

Back to the excitement buzzing around Signore Ciarla and Blondi. There are waiters taking our coats to the guardaroba, the coat check room, and then another waiter comes and says he will take my purse so I am more comfortable. Where is going to take it to, put it where?! He proceedes to rig this hook on the table and places my small black Prada backpack on the hook. Really nice touch I must say...at least it wasn't a fake or else that might have been the thing that had thrown me over the edge. As my bag was slightly swinging from our impeccably linened table I thought, 'That purse was chosen because I was suppose to be on the back of a bike, eating pizza and drinking beer at a trattoria.' I also realized at that moment that my cell phone was in my leather jacket that had already been swept away and now I can't SMS my BFF in Milano...I knew at that moment I was on my own. Man, dating is SO hard.

I look across the table at Marco and ask myself is this where 10 generation Romans bring their dates? I know a 7 generation Romano and he owns a fabulous secret trattoria, it is actaully a cultural association in 'The Ghetto'. Maybe the longer your blood runs thru the history of Rome the more you love & cherish food and you become restaurant owners. Chi sa? Who knows?!

I am uncharacteristically quite when they bring us the menu. There are no prices. No problem. I cooly reach for my champagne flute of prosecco and proceed to discuss what we should order and I silently thank God that my brother-in-law Derek is an amazing chef and because of this I have the palate and capacity to understand this type of menu and trattoria. I gently remind you I am channeling rocker fauhawk blondi not New Yorkese eating at 4 star restaurant blondi. Oh well, anything goes in Rome.

Marco orders for us because I must admit even though I can certainly order in Italian I was quite speechless at that moment. He also orders an amazing bottle of white wine, I prefer white. The sommelier brings the wine to the table for Marco's approval and then pours our glasses and quickly ushers the bottle to the ice bucket on the table behind me in the corner. Well, that didn't last very long. It only took us 'til the first course to start breaking the rules. As we were sipping our wine and nibbling off our bread basket I asked Marco why did he choose to take me to this place tonight...our first date. He smiled in a devilish way and replied 'I wanted to take you to 'the theatre' so you would be entertained and I knew you would appreciate the food.' Il Teatro, eh...I replied 'My friend once said to me Annie, you dress like you are going to the theatre when you are going to the disco and you look like you are going to the disco when you are going to the theatre. So the next time we go out and have pizza I will dress for the theatre.' Done. Fashion nightmare no more. I was at the theatre, I wasn't at a four star restaurant in downtown Roma.

Over the next few hours I was completely entertained by the characters of the theatre I mean ristorante. Only the sommelier poured the wine, the Maitre D' asked for our order, one waiter served the courses, another cleared the plates, one served dessert, etc, etc, etc. We enjoyed every moment of it and we broke all the rules. We asked for the wine to be placed at the table, we asked for more olive oil on our sushi crudo, we asked for pepper-which is a never because everything is already seasoned just right. It was fantastic to see their reactions and expressions on their faces everytime we asked for something that brought them out of their comfort zone.

Yeah, comfort zone.
I would say for the first time in a long time I was unexpectedly taken out of my comfort zone and ushered to a wonderful 'teatro' where I met a new cast of characters not far from my favorite piazza in the world.

Ahhh, bella roma.

Allora...

2006-03-28T15:21:00.000+02:00

Italians say this word when they are about to intiate something. Where do I begin? I think the only way to catch up with this blog, which I think is impossible because there are too many stories to tell from the last month, is with a list of what has been defining my life in Roma. No, this will not be my most thrilling entry but I am pressed for time and I keep getting emails saying 'where are you? what are you doing? i keep checking your blog but...' so here it goes:

1.) Yeah, I ran that 1/2 marathon,,,the whole way! Like my Mom said, I ran the farthest any Ojile has ever run-now that is impressive! The first thing that pops into my head, what did I learn? I learned that even when your head and more importantly your heart really desire something your body can step in and say 'hey, i am in charge.' I ran it but it certainly wasn't my fastest and most enjoyable run. Sometimes if i don't stretch enough and use this thing I refer to as 'the blue tube'...a pilates stretching device-i can't run nearly as far or as good as I want. Well, at about kilometer 13 my legs started talking to me in a mean way and stopping was just not an option. I ran that sucker and did not stop and that was my goal from the beginning of this whole 'i am going to run the 1/2 marathon in Roma!' thing. I started with CW by my side and Astral Weeks on the IPOD and oddly enough that is how it ended when I crossed that finish line. And what did I think to myself? I can't wait to run another one, and run faster. I am hooked folks. Who would have ever imagined that?!

2.) I moved. Yes, I moved last Friday to a new apartment. I could write about 10 blogs about this experience of finding a new place to call home in Rome but I don't think I will ever take you there. I can sum it up by saying I thought it was hard, understatement, to find a place in NYC until I moved to Roma. Imagine looking for an apartment in a foreign country not to mention foreign language, by yourself(of course I had unbelievable friends such as Jules, Joel, Marta and CW supporting me along the way) with relatively similiar prices to Gotham City but, not the same earning potential for me as I once had, a new Tour Director. In the end, the move is exactly what I needed. I would send pictures but my new digital camera was stolen while I was working in Torino...i ladri-the thieves in Italy can sometimes be the closest people to you. But once again, that is a different blog and I won't take you there.

3.) My first tour. I wouldn't be lying if I said I write a blog everyday...in my mind. The chances of it getting out of my head and onto the computer are most of the time difficult to make happen. That is why I need to start audio blogging. Allora, back to the tour. Roma-Siena-Firenze-Roma was my first tour with EF my new employer. Oddly enough, my first tour wasn't a typical tour for EF. My tour was a college break tour compared to the usual high school tour. I had 23 pax, passengers, and they were all adults. The rules were a little different, kind of like there were no rules and no chaperones. I can honestly say I was blessed with the most amazing group of kids and the tour went fantastically well! The levels of stress I experienced thru the 8 day itinerary varied. All I can say is imagine yourself leading a group of 23 people and literally being only one step ahead of them because they think you have been a Tour Director for years and in reality it is your very first tour. Needless to say, I did not give out my blog address to anyone on the tour, or else my lies would be exposed. Coming from a girl that cannot lie...try to imagine how I felt everyday when I was answering questions that I had no idea what the answer was, or that I knew the answer but had to fib because there is no way that they could know that, once again, this was my first tour. And the kicker for me was...the bus driver. I must say I could keep up the illusion that I had done this before for only so long before Franco figured out I was new at this job. But in the end he never knew it was my first tour. Talk about the stress. The job is hard enough anyway and then I have to think up all these stories and ask questions in a way that doesn't expose my inexperience. God might not have made me a good liar but, he certainly blessed me with the gift of bull shitting. The student evaluations of yours truly were outstanding and I immediately received another tour. Get this, an UK tour with 39 pax from a Catholic High school over Easter. Roma-Pompeii-Sorrento, etc-Roma. The good thing is I know Roma really well, the interesting thing is-I have never been to the other cities on my tour. First time for everything I guess.

Here I go again...one step ahead.

ROMA - OSTIA

2006-03-04T20:19:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow is la mezza maratona, the 1/2 marathon, in Rome.
We start in the center of Rome and run to the sea.
21.097 kilometri.

If you want to track blondi during the race go to:

www.romaostia.it

my number is:
F829

I realize most of you will be sleeping because of the time difference but the gun will go off at 0930 Roman time. It might be the only time this year that 8,000 people will be punctual for an appointment in Roma.

I am off to eat a big bowl of carbs.
Shouldn't be hard to find in this country.

a presto...blondi

growing pains

2006-03-01T14:01:00.000+01:00

today is march 1st. i have lived in roma for over 4 months. i am being stretched in many ways that surpass the difficulties of learning a foreign language and how to live in a different culture.
what i want to write about instead is that i ran 10 miles yesterday. Unbelievable for this blondi who started running at the beginning of last november.

i wasn't alone on this adventure. i had CW, my shuffle and the streets of roma. usually i arrive by subway or CW's car to the park but yesterday we ran to the park. italians don't run on the streets of the city only in parks or designated areas. while i was in torino for work i decided to say 'i don't care, i am going to run on the streets.' i would run to the river pò and then run alongside it with all the other italians following 'the rules' about running in the city. hey, why not? it is a lot quicker if you just run to the place you want to end up at and while you are getting there you get to see the fantastic city along the way.

last week i had two great runs in roma with my running partner CW. sometimes the phrase partner sounds so lame, just wrong. he is more like my coach definitely a friend and at times like a big brother who knows how to push my buttons and get me all 'fired-up' as my real brother billy always says.

we haven't been having bello tempo, beautiful weather here in roma. instead of the park, we decided to hit the streets of roma, once again why not? less mud,the city sights will distract us and now with the invention of google earth we can actually see how far we are running. let's just hope it is accurate. i guess we will see this sunday.

i won't take you thru every step which at times can be painful for blondi. There are moments with every run that i think 'when will the first 20 minutes get easier? will i be able to run 21 kilometri?'. somehow i get thru it and am the happiest girl from minnesota at the end of each run. how can i not be when i get to run to circo massimo the first and largest circus in ancient rome that dates back to 600 bc. it is a huge oblong area in the center of roma nestled between two of the most famous roman hills, the palantino and the aventino. roma is a city that was built on seven hills. in ancient times roma rulers distracted their public, the people, by entertaining them. they built theatres such as the colosseum and the teatro marcello and they built circo massimo to hold the chariot races. this outdoor 'stadium' at different times over the years could hold 150,000 to 385,000 spectators. what i love about this place is that the italians left it as is. they didn't change it at all and they don't charge an admission fee to walk on the ancient ground. now it is basically a public park where grass grows and runners such as CW & blondi pilgrimage to. the only thing that seems modern to me is that they have named a metro stop after it and you see dazed tourists walking around it with maps and tour guide book explanations. i will never forget the first time i ran to circo massimo. i was at the point in the run which is always hardest for me. but once i hoped over the small marble wall of the circus i decided i couldn't complain because i am so lucky to have the option, the choice, and the right to run in this place. as i huffed and puffed my way around the 'track' and searched for energy in my running playlist of my shuffle strapped to my arm, i wished that this place could tell me just one of the many stories of the chariot races that were so famously held here.

i ran 8 miles that day and yesterday we did 10. we took a different route but ended up at our old friend the aqueduct park. maybe that park is really our coach. it is always consistent; we know if we make one loop, the famous one loop, it is 3.75 miles. Consistent in that the ruins have been standing there for over a thousand years, there is always tons of mud after it has rained, there are always a handful of scary dogs roaming around in a threatening way and you think 'where are their owners?' and then there are the sheep. not to mention the cool old italian sheep herders, owners of the farm whatever you call them with their big white dogs. but for me it is consistent more like a friend because i can count on it and i let it push me to be a better runner.

yesterday i was at the 5 mile mark and i took a digger as my nephews say. ate dirt as CW eloquently describes. at least i am consistent. last time i fell i was at the same park and almost at the same spot in the loop. the other consistent factor was i was wearing orange workout pants both times and proceeded to rip a hole in the knee where i not so gracefully landed on the earth. but least i have balance now. last time i fell, ripped and bled on my right knee. yesterday i took care of the left one. now i am not a clumsy gal even though this tale describes a different kind of blondi. sure it stung but what hurt more was the thought of not being able to run 10 miles yesterday. so with the help and hand of CW i picked myself, rolled up my pants over my knee and started to run again.

oddly enough i am actually glad i fell. if i can run 5 miles, totally wipe out, pick myself up and run 5 more than i know that i can get thru these 'growing pains' that i am experiencing outside of my running shoes. i have had them many times in my life before but here in roma i am going thru a different kind. answers to questions such as 'what will my career look like?', 'how do i find fellowship in my faith?', 'who is annie to my new friends i.e. sudo-family which at times have huge expectations that cannot be met?'...answers to these questions, which i might not enjoy at first, will shape my life and experience here. and yes, at times it will sting and be painful.

i have decided to keep on stretching similar to my running because if i wanted easy i wouldn't be in roma. i need to stretch, learn, fall, pick myself up, and go thru the pain of the journey to relish in the joy of the finish.

Straphangers

2006-02-17T15:59:00.000+01:00

‘C’è molto traffico a Roma, sempre.’..There is a lot of traffic in Rome, always. I tend to choose metropoli such as New York City, Roma…and Minneapolis (I guess it is a little one though) where there is a certain amount of sacrifice with the city living. Or should I say compromise.

I never drove once in all the years lived and times visited in NYC. I relied, depended on & ran for the subway, buses, and taxis. Sometimes daily I chose to arrive on foot while I rarely hitched a ride and yet frequently took trains that carried me off the island. When I moved to Rome I brought with me the sensibility of how to live in a big city without having a vehicle of my own. I actually prefer it. Romans and ex-pats have a list of similar complaints about the less than efficient Rome and Italy in general. At the top of the list is how Roman transportation is incredibly insufficient for the 4 million people that call this metropolis their home. Other statements to describe i mezzi…the different ways to navigate the city let it be the metro, bus or tram, are ‘it sucks’, ‘un casino’…a mess, ‘unless your final destination is near a subway stop, or you have a car or Vespa be prepared to wait, and wait, and it will take some time.’ No wonder why the Romans are always late. I think my Italian heritage must have some Romano blood in it because I was born a day late and a dollar short. I fit right into this town.

I fortunately live a 5 minute walk from the subway stop called Re di Roma. When I discovered that I was to live in this area of town I was extremely relieved. The key to surviving the lacking and inept public transport without access to a car or motorino is to live near a metro stop. Once I knew that I had Linea A a short walk from my front door I was ready to take on the challenge of navigating around my new ‘polis.

The first day I arrived to Rome I worked off the jet lag by acquainting myself with my new home a piedi…on foot with my friend Joel who happens to be an avider walker and tries to avoid the metro and buses if possible. My first night in town Joel invited me over to dinner, he only lives three subway stops from me-perfetto! Walked to subway, bought my one euro ticket, three stops and 20 minutes later I was at his door. While I was enjoying my first dinner in Joel’s tiny a la NYC apartment I came to discover that construction on my metro line was to begin tomorrow and there would be no service after 9pm every night. Caspita!!! This Blondi did not panic. As an experienced New Yorker I calmly asked “For how long would it be under construction?” I naively thought ‘probably 3 months that is usually what it is in NYC’. Oh how quickly did I learn my first lesson in Roman transport and Italian ingenuity. No Annie, not three months…three years! Right. Come to find out they have begun construction on Linea C soon to be the third metro line. What am I writing…soon?! They are saying 10 years until it is completed with expected delays due to the fact that when they dig they discover ruins under the semi-modern streets of Rome. Let’s seriously pray it is not like The Big Dig…have they even finished that yet?! I decided that since the metro doesn’t even run after 1230pm it wasn’t that big of a loss. In the following months I began the habit of walking about 5 miles a day and would come to have a love-hate relationship with the bus system.

In the meantime we have our 2 lines; Linea A, the red line and Linea B, the blue line. The subway in Rome was originally built to carry commuters to and from the center of the city not 4 million habitants and millions of tourists. Unfortunately the two lines only intersect at one point, Termini Station, which happens to be the main train station as well. So in true Italian fashion sometimes you have to go backwards to go forwards. It is a busy juncture where the daily grind intersects with travelers carrying luggage which soaks up much coveted standing room only space on the metro. To add to this the subways during rush hour are crammed like the number 6 train in NYC. The difference is that in NYC you have about 10 lines and at times can avoid taking the 6 if you are near the 4 or 5. Just last week I needed to get a centro…to the center of town by 0830, it wasn’t going to happen. I waited for 40 minutes and several trains came and left but with only a few poor souls being able to literally smush themselves onto the already jam packed train. Non mi interessa…it doesn’t interest me even if I am going to miss my appointment to get my hair dyed. Yes, the secret is out…sono una bionda finta…I am a fake blondi. I kept thinking how do these people do this at least 5 days a week, they must be exhausted before they even get to their offices to start their day. The concept of the two hour lunch is starting to make more sense now. Is it possible the lack of sufficient transport in Italian society has shaped their lives in more ways than being an extreme annoyance? They are notoriously late; they take long afternoon breaks…hhhhmmmm.

I wrote this entry on the way to Torino over two weeks ago with my beloved Roma behind me and the 2006 Winter Olympic host city approaching me. There are many stories to tell about my experience working in this famous northern industrial city but let’s continue the conversation about traffic.

Certo there is traffic in Torino on the average Italian day but you can imagine how this city felt when the all the production crews, fans and Olympians from all over the world arrived to capture, witness and participate in these famous games.

My first observation since I am a sudo Romana is that there are hardly any Vespas and motorcycles in Torino. The first morning after I arrived I was walking under the famous porticoes in this once aristocratic town and I realized something was missing. Le moto!!! Not only did I not see them…I did not hear them. At that moment I realized how attached I am to my new home in the south. People ask me often, “Why Rome?’…there is an energy that I just love, unmatchable. The beauty of the city, the zest for life the Romans possess, it’s the door to the south. This energy is fueled by the thousands of motorcycles buzzing thru the cobblestone streets and…Torino doesn’t have that.

Torino seems to be a very organized town with i mezzi. I quickly learned the bus system and I was on my way. As the days became closer to the 10th of February and the opening ceremony the city became more congested as one could imagine. There are bus & taxi lanes, tram tracks, and what remains of the street is fair game. During the Olympics they created ‘The Olympic Lane’ which is the bus & taxi lane but you can drive in it if you have an Olympic pass for your car which can be yours for a mere $3,000 dollars or euros I can’t remember. But does it matter…it is insane! The project I was working on we didn’t need the Olympic pass instead my ever so clever producer rented IO GUIDO CAR SHARING. It is brilliant! It is a car sharing company that exists in Italy that offers the service of renting cars with special privileges. You pay a monthly or yearly fee and you can rent cars all over Italy at special prices, get great deals on gas and when you have IO GUIDO you are allowed to drive in the bus & taxi lanes, you can park in areas that are usually restricted and you get to park for free in the other normal areas. Once again it is brilliant and the perfect vehicle for production! SO you can keep your Olympic pass Torino we have car sharing.

I am on the train heading south to bella Roma and I can not wait to arrive at Termini. I am fortunate to have a friend with a car that will meet me at the train station to help me with my bags and drive me to my palazzo on Via Terni. Tomorrow I will go for a run at my aqueduct park, take the subway or possibly wait for the 85 bus and certainly walk on the streets of Rome. And I will do it all with a smile and spring in my step.

Don’t need the ruby slippers to say there is no place like home.

My first blog

2006-01-19T15:01:00.000+01:00

It’s my first Monday evening since I returned to Italia last week. I was somewhere over ‘the pond’ this time last week. A few moments ago I sat down at my dining room table with my computer and a glass of vino bianco with Maria Callas’ lovely voice accompanying me. I am certain that I sound like a cheesy Americana living abroad minus the notebook I am writing on…Italians aren’t big on technology.

I have been really enjoying my time since my return to Italian soil. My first few days were spent outside Roma at the sea in a little Etruscan town called Santa Severa . This was the setting where I spent my two Tour Director training days. Friday I went running for the first time since New Year’s Eve day and boy was it a challenge. I had my new IPOD shuffle, Coach CW and the forever comforting aqueduct park to help me run thru the pain. Friday night I went to, in my opinion, one of the best places for Napoletana pizza in Rome, Da Magari. Upon our arrival, my friends and I were surprised, to say the least, to find the standard fantastic pizza and the ever so cute waiters were also appreciated by….ROBERTO BENIGNI! The Italian actor that won the hearts of many, including Americans, when Life is Beautiful was released years ago. My friend Alan was walking in front of me while we were being lead to our table when he quickly spun around and said “That is Roberto Benigni sitting at the table in front of us.” I quickly absorbed the fact, adjusted my excitement and passed his table as I looked straight into his eyes and gave him a calm Minnesotan smile. As I was collecting myself I forgot to do the same as Alan and turn to my roommate Gianni and give him the much appreciated ‘heads up’. What happened next just makes me chuckle and smile, a lot. Once my roomie realized who this pizza lover actual was he let a loud exclamation with true Italian gusto “ROBERTO BENIGNI!!!” I must say it was absolutely priceless. Everyone in the restaurant turned to look at Gianni whom at times seems more like a child than a 42 year old man. He immediately recovered, excused himself and wished them a pleasant dinner. This was my first celebrity sighting in Italy. Being a former New Yorker, I was use to seeing ‘stars’ living their daily life in NYC. It was great fun to be in my local pizzeria and see a great Italian film star and Roman enjoying some yummy pizza with his wife(who plays his wife in all his films) on a Friday night.

I originally started this entry as an intro to the story below. Like my friend just wrote me in response to my Tour Director update email, “There is one thing I am certain of…you will never be at loss for words.” Thanks Paul. I will fill you in on what happened on Saturday, Sunday night and Monday morning a different day.

With that being said, 3 paragraphs of writing before I had just found my first blog about my first few hours in Rome last September. At that time, I thought I would call my blog Via Terni....name of my street. I think Lebanese Blondi is a better fit.

I forgot that I wrote it. Instead I ended up writing about Jack regarding my first few hours in Rome. Well here it goes…

Benvenuto – 09/20/05

Benvenuto-Welcome!!! The day I have been waiting for how many years? I would say eight…it was 8 years ago that I lived in Milano. I look back at those six months and when I think of who I was…I think a little girl. Who had no idea about credit cards, thank goodness, but more importantly was learning, speaking and dreaming in Italian, ogni giorno, everyday!

So here I am in Roma, eight years later and what some days seems like a lifetime when I talk about my past. I know I am only thirty but those years of 26, 27, 28 can be real tough ones, really good ones but tough at the same. Actually there are SO good because of the hard stuff you learn to live thru. I like to call them my years of my second adolescence.

I arrived at the Rome airport and breezed thru customs with no problems…I was prepared with my story that I was coming to Italia for a three month vacation, no work, just vacanza. To my surprise they didn’t ask one question, didn’t bat an eye. I think it was harder getting to Guatemala and back then moving to Italia.

My friend Joel, an American living in Italia for the last 7 years, met me at the airport. It was great to see him. I had met him thru a producer I once worked for in Minneapolis. Last December when I was traveling in Italia I met up with Joel and we have been great friends ever since, I love when this happens. I think it is easy to bond with people when they have similar passions as you. Let it be work, faith or living the ex-patriot life in Italy.

We rolled my three bags to the train terminal to take the most economic way into the center of Roma. 2 bags was the luggage limit but I decided to pay some extra money to bring a third. How else was I going to get all of my fabulous heels acr0ss the pond??? All my Guate friends remember the meeting when Dustin said “OK, so you will have one bag for shoes and another bag for the rest of your stuff.” I sat there quietly thinking, this is my kind of trip…an entire bag devoted to shoes! But that can’t be right…so I leaned over to Anna and she explained the bag of shoes would be the ones we would collect for the kids down in San Juan. Right, this is a short-term mission trip.

We hopped on the train and headed towards my new house. In Italia when you buy your ticket for train travel you have to stamp it in a machine on a platform before you enter the train, if not you will get a big MULTA, ticket. But of course we stamped ours…Joel didn’t on the way to get me hoping he could use his ticket twice but he got caught and escaped the fine by acting the part of the dumb Americano and they let him off the hook. I was thankful to hear that or else that would have been a 25 euro train ride which normally costs 5 euro.

When we arrived to my new home, my roommate Gianni Leonardi was still at work so we had made plans to see his mother, whom conveniently lives across the hall from her only child, a son. Now sons are golden here in Italia, similar to the Asian culture. They can do no wrong and tend to live with their parents until they get married…which could take years into their late thirties and sometimes never happens. Modern Italian women are getting smart and not marrying these Italian men…that is one of the reasons the birthrate is increasingly low in Italia.

La Madre di Gianni, the mother of Gianni is named Franca. She is a smart, beautiful woman with a strong personality. She is a very classy 65 year old lady. At this point I have no idea where the Father is, and I have not asked. She welcomes me into her home which is quite amazing. You rarely have a house in Italia, unless you own a whole palazzo, building, in the city and of course you would have to have much Euro to be able to do that. Her apartment is furnished with family antiques and art-real ART! We sit in the living room; she offers us something to drink…which turns out to be a Campari, one of my favorite Italian liquors. Granted it is only 11:30am at this point and I have been up all night…but hey when in Rome! How many times do you think I will say that….so we spend 20 minutes getting to know one another, Joel is thankfully there with me as I struggle with my unused Italian. At the right time, she brings me across the hallway to my apartment. I knew the second I walked in that it would be a place that I could call home. It is quite large and has been updated in the last 10 years I would say. It turns out that Gianni won the Italian lottery once, the equivalent to $25,000 so he put the money back into the apartment. It is much bigger compared to my apartments in St. Paul, NYC & Milano.

Can you hear me?

2006-01-14T16:33:00.000+01:00

Without the 'now' I would be referring to what you say before you start talking on the mic on the coach, the tour bus.

Si, si, I made it back to Roma on Tuesday safe and sound. Well, really quite tired but that is how it goes sometimes. I had to take a very expensive and LONG flight to make it back to Italia for my tour director 'Audition' on the 11th & 12th of January. I made it back indeed with a warm welcome from friends and the locals in my hood. With the help of much espresso and ambition, I stayed up nearly the whole night before the first day of the training session with some serious jet lag and the wonderful help & expertise of my British Tour Director friend Alan.

Many people who don't know anything at all about production ask me why don't I become an actress and be in front of the camera. I say, OH NO, that is for my very talented and beautiful sister who was born an actress. I work best behind the camera helping things hurry along the way.

Well, 'My Audition' went unexpectedly well. I have been referring to the third step of becoming a Tour Director as an audition because I hate the stress of competition. I am not a very competitive person by nature. I am extremely competitive with myself, with goals I set for my career, etc. But absolutely not with other people. Look at the sports I do, don't laugh. Growing up there was and still is Archery. When I lived in Boulder...Yoga, hiking and rock climbing. Now in Rome, running. Besides cheerleading, marching band and kickball I have never been a group orientated competitive person.

Not only is my Italian rusty since I have been back to Rome, my blogging is too.
I will continue with the infamous 'audition'.

In somma, in conclusion, I worked thru the jet lag, stress and pulled it off. I think I was born to talk on that mic on the coach, l'autobus, the pullman, the bus. Of course, I was chosen to do my commentary first. I was fine with it. Hey, English is my mother language. I don't have as much to worry about compared to my fellow candidates(100), mostly all Italian. It is suprisingly very calming to sit at the front of the bus and face out the rather large window and look upon the streets & countryside of Italy and have a captive audience. I think I have found my calling, a group of people that ACTUALLY want to hear me ramble on about the true love of my life, Italia. Get this, they pay for it. Brilliant!

I will find out in two weeks if I will become a Tour Director. Which is kind of funny because I will know the results of this crazy experience days or moments before I head north to Turin for the 2006 Winter Olympics. I will be working in Production there, my 'normal' career.

A friend said to me while I was home in MN 'It is amazing how God is opening up all these doors for you in Italy?".

Now I just have to find the courage to keep walking thru them.

Mini pretzels...

2005-12-19T17:07:00.000+01:00

if I am eating them, I must be on my way back to the States. How many days has it been since I have been on American soil?! I said Arrivederci to St. Paul on September 19th and today is the 15th of December….that would be 88 days. Through my experiences, I have realized that it is much easier to be one the doing ‘the leaving’ then being the one ‘left behind’. I have already left MN for a new home in Roma. Now, I am leaving Roma to return to the place I will always call home no matter what my zip code is in this big, big world.

I wasn’t lucky enough to get a new NWA airplane with the passenger TV screens with 15 movies to choose from so instead I am going to write about one of the Italian’s favorite pastimes. Actually, I don’t think it can be called that. A “Favorite Pastime” is American Baseball. Each and every Italian is born with the art of drinking coffee in their soul.

Chiccio is the Italian word for coffee bean and also happens to be the name of my roommate’s mother’s cat, who is the prince of the family just like every Italian son. The art and culture of the perfect caffé is unmatched. I am talking about Italian espresso, not the excessiveness of the ‘litro’ of coffee you get at Starbucks or Caribou. Always the precise amount, no matter where ‘you take a coffee’, in Italian you say…”Prendo un caffé”…it is always the same amount. About half of the espresso cup, ‘more is less’ rings true with this sometimes thrice-daily ritual. The Italians stand and drink their coffee, and drink it fast. Maybe this is the reason for the small amount OR that it is all we need to get the day off to the right start. You have your neighborhood Bar or perhaps you stop at a café on the way to work. I usually get my espresso or cappuccino at the PRIMOBAR in front of my house. If I am going to a meeting or interview in the center of town I make time to ‘take’ my caffé at a beautiful and almost swanky bar called CASTRONI. There are 5 locations strategically placed throughout downtown Rome.

Everyone who knows Annie knows that she is hopelessly addicted and in love with all things Italian and this is one of the reasons why. You pay at the ‘cassa’ before you go to the bar to get your breakfast. Your choice of coffee and a ‘cornetto’…croissant, is what they call breakfast in Italy. At your local Bar, you don’t pay first. They start making your morning vice before the last sound of the request parts your mouth. As it should be, it’s your local Bar. They know your life; they begin it with you everyday. ‘Faccio colazione’ literally means I make breakfast and translated it means I have breakfast. Now, I don’t know about you but, if a yummy cup of heaven and any croissant you could possibly dream up is the ‘average’ BREAK FAST…not to mention for less than 2 Euro, then I have found my home. I have a cappuccino usually if it is before 10 am that is my rule. Sometimes I opt for the café normale if I am in a hurry, which is often. I say gracefully like a true roman, ‘Buongiorno, prendo un cappuccino e cornetto per favore.’ A Croissant is called ‘Cornetto’ in Rome. ‘Brioche’ in Milan. You pay a couple Euro, usually less, and grab your little receipt and walk to the Bar counter.

Now during ‘rush hour’ the crowds at a place like CASTRONI could be 3 lines deep. This is when it comes in handy if you know the ‘Barista’…the coffee man. Another tip I have picked up is to TIP. You never tip in the food industry in Italy but there are times when it comes in handy. The way you get your breakfast is to put your receipt in front of you at the bar and wait for them to come ask you what you are drinking and eating that day. When there is a crowd it is a little more difficult to get their attention. So this is when a little 10 or 20-cent piece and some dedicated eye contact help you be the next one on their list. You place the coin on the receipt in front of you. It can also work in getting you a glass of water. At CASTRONI, a glass of water is 30 cents if you order it at the cassa but if you ask for it at the bar and leave a little tip you can get away with it. I have often stood at CASTRONI sipping my capp and munching on my chocolate croissant and thought this would be a perfect place to meet a gorgeous man dressed in an Italian suit. Listen kids, it never happens. Instead, I enjoy these finer things in life and listen to the Italian morning chitchat around me and pretend I am not American.

Even though CASTRONI has a few locations in Rome, it is NOT a chain like Starbucks. With that being said, there are two single location cafés that are the most famous in Roma. About 1 month after I transplanted myself onto the Italian soil my friend, who is ‘romano romano’, very Roman, took me to one of these famous cafés. I compare being ‘romano’ to being a native New Yorker. I often call myself a New Yorker at heart because I have done my time on that island called Manhattan. I am not quite a Romana yet BUT I like to think I am 'in the know' since I call Rome my home and not just a stop along the Italian bus tour. The place is called SANT’EUSTACHIO…and the real romans go to this café tucked only a block away from the Pantheon. I have never heard another English speaking person in this café, unless they were my guest at my side. What makes SANT’EUSTACHIO famous is the sugar they put in their espresso. Caffé normale is usually straight up espresso and it’s your choice if you want sugar or not. I am a two sugar kind of gal, natural sugar-the brown stuff, ‘cana’. At EUSTACHIO they put the sugar in it for you and it creates this lovely, light fluffy foam to your espresso without having a ‘macchiato’, espresso with a little milk. For me it’s divine. Usually it takes me more time to stir in my sugar at PRIMOBAR then it does to drink it….one sip, two, three and it is gone.

Up until two weeks ago, I hadn’t been to the OTHER famous café in Rome, Tazza d’Oro…The Cup of Gold. Now, that same week I met a Signore from Sicilia while I was seeking shelter from the rain. We had a lengthy conversation about which caffé was better…SANT’EUSTACHIO vs. TAZZA d’ORO. I realized I could not defend my precious sugared espresso because I had not ‘taken’ a cup of gold…yet. It took a fellow Porcher to visit his ‘home’ of Rome to bring me to the other side of the Pantheon to the rival café. Tony and I went to TAZZA one late morning after we had gone to the church of Sant’Agnese outside the Roman walls. Now, just the day before we were talking about where to drink a goooooooood caffé. I mentioned EUSTACHIO…he said, oh no. The best is Tazza d’Oro. Oh, right. This is the same conversation I had with Signore Sicilia. Okay, the time has come when this romana in training finds out for herself once and for all what this ‘Cup of Gold’ is all about. So we went, and as I walked in I realized this place kind of looked like a CASTRONI. Was it the original inspiration of my beautiful and classy downtown café? Even though it wasn’t exactly the same and I think CASTRONI has more to offer, it almost felt like a true lesson in ‘getting it’. Whatever that means, it was one of those ‘ah ha’ moments. They have all the famous chocolates by the kilo, the beautiful curved espresso bar counter, and the warm tinted ‘gold’ lighting. Then there was Jimmy. He IS the coffee bean man. He knows all things about Chiccio. Tony made friends with Jimmy from India the day before when they were bonding over Tony’s hi-tech Italian espresso machine. I have a caffeteria, espresso coffee-pot. Jimmy appreciated Tony’s love for a true café and sold him the ‘special’ beans from the back. The ones THEY use to make their own espresso at the Bar. They usually don’t sell these to the customers but Tony got the hook up. Our mutual friend said that Tony and I are two peas in a pod. I must say she is right. We both talk incredibly confident, which some people call loud. We both are hopelessly in love with Rome. And sometimes most importantly, we know how to make friends in really interesting places.

Now it was time for the true test. Tony ordered us both a cappuccino. Wait…hold on, it’s after 10am; I would be breaking my rule. I was surprised but I went along with ‘how they do things over here at Tazza’ and we went to the lovely bar. It felt a little Art Deco to me with the curve and lighting. I drank it, I enjoyed it but it didn’t blow me away. I concluded that the best part of Tazza d’Oro was that they sold really amazing coffee and they had Jimmy. The Tuesday before I came home to MN I did my Christmas shopping all over downtown Rome. One of the many stops I made that day was to Tony’s café. I returned to see Jimmy and buy a Kilo of espresso beans. Jimmy was there and all I had to say was ‘I am Annie, a friend of Tony…’ and his eyes lit up with recognition and before I knew it he was going to the back to get the ‘special beans’ for my lucky friends in MN that would soon receive them as gifts. Jimmy split the Kilo in half and even wrapped each bag in the traditional Tazza d’Oro burlap sack. We exchanged our ‘Happy Holidays’ and I tucked a little message from Jimmy to Tony into my mind and headed to the cassa to pay for my beans. And that is all I did. I said my goodbyes and then quickly crossed the ‘Piazza della Rontonda’…the Pantheon’s square and headed over to EUSTACHIO. I bought some other beans there…chocolate covered ones. I took my perfect little caffé and the whole transaction was over and done with in five roman minutes.

The fauhawk has taken you thru the café tour of Rome as seen thru her eyes. Usually, I am buzzing around my little neighborhood of San Giovanni and saying 'Ciao, ciao…' and running out the door, hurrying down ‘Jack’s’ street to catch the 85 autobus. The classic production phrase of ‘Hurry up and wait’ holds OH so true with roman transportation. At least I have my colazione in my belly to remind my senses why I am in love with this place I call home across the pond. In frustrating times such as these I realize that I have to take the bad, more like the inconvenient, with the all SO good…the history, the ruins, the passion and the CAFFÉ.

'The Road to Rome'

2005-12-09T18:28:00.000+01:00

Upon my arrival to ‘mio palazzo’ on Via Terni almost three months ago, we named him Jack.

I was thrilled to walk into my new apartment and surprised to see how large and quite modern it was, and my bedroom is lovely. I have two very Italian single beds, an armoire, and a desk that sits in front of a large window that opens up to a great view of my neighborhood ‘San Giovanni’…God, I am lucky. As I was peering out over the roof tops and admiring the gardens that belong to the tiny villas right next to my apartment building, I looked down upon the street and saw a homeless man who had made his ‘home’ on the streets of Rome. Certainly this wasn’t my first encounter with a homeless person but, I hadn’t seen one in Rome in a neighborhood such as this. I asked my friend Joel and my new roommate Gianni ‘What is his name?’ and Gianni responded immediately ‘Jack’. Joel and I exchanged glances and agreed silently that his name would be Jack. I think looking back at that moment I subconsciously knew that my time in Rome would be an odd marriage of modern day issues catching up with this ancient city.

One month after I arrived in Roma, I began filming a project for an international organization that helps refugees in Africa, Asia, Europe and soon to be here in my backyard of Rome. I connected with the folks from ITEAMS through a friend at the Porch. I will never forget the moment I spoke with Simon Meyer last June in the Pagitt’s kitchen while we were preparing a Wednesday night dinner at their home. Doug had mentioned I should talk to Simon about working abroad and when Simon said his boss Tom Albinson was in Rome for ITEAMS I almost fell over into the sausage and peppers I was preparing as ‘Back-up meat’ just in case we ran out of the main meats (As Steve Schirber said that night, ‘Thank you God for the back-up meats’…it is in these moments that I find myself so happy that I am NOT a vegetarian any longer.)

I was naïve to think that the social problems in Italy were limited to the corrupt government and mafia induced crime. What began in that kitchen months ago has given me so much meaning here in my new life in Rome. As many of you know, we shot a video about the refugees here in Roma. More importantly, I met amazing people and friends along the refugee highway and I will be changed by it forever. I speak names such as Hasan, Daniel, Desi, Sorah, Abdullah, Besim, Stefanio and little Moses when I speak about the friends I have made along the way. They have touched my heart in a way that it has never been. I think one of the most important things that ITEAMS does is talk to these people. We know their names, and their stories. Each and every one of them has a courageous, unbelievable story to share. All they want at the end of the day is to be heard. I do not promise them anything. I buy them a coffee, a blanket or give them a smoke. I don’t promise that the video will help. I pray that IT will help ITEAMS accomplish their dreams, build awareness and help establish a team here in Rome. I can give them friendship and hope to be a person that really listens to them.

I remember when I returned to the Post Office, this is where some of them sleep near the train station in central Rome, to visit our new friends and to my surprise, a few were not there. I had bought bananas for Stefano because he told me that in Romania where he is from there are so many apples but, hardly ever bananas. It was our last day together as a team in Rome and when we arrived I scanned the group of our new friends and quickly realized they were gone, Besim and Stefano had moved along the road, the highway. My heart sunk and broke a little which I did not expect. I thought ‘No, wait! We have to say goodbye and I will give you my email address so you can let me know that you are okay…’ I will probably never see them again expect when I edit this video. Tom gave me some gentle advice spoken by a man that has met many refugees along the way and parted with many friends. He said, ‘You did what you could. You gave them your friendship and now they are onto the next part of their journey.’

About three weeks after shooting the video, I went with Hasan, my amazing Somali friend & sometimes Shepherd, to see our Ethiopian friends living on the streets not far from my neighborhood. We bought some candy to bring to little Moses, at the time I met him he was around my neice’s age…15 months old. His mother was 5 months pregnant with him when she made the very long and difficult journey to Italia from Ethiopia. When we rounded the corner of Via Sannio, no make shift houses made of colorful tarps appeared in the distance and my heart sunk with sadness. Hasan encouraged me to check the street sign again, again, and again to make sure we were in the right spot. We were at the corner where I had captured so many heart wrenching stories I was sure of it but, we were too late and they had moved on. My heart broke more this time because I felt like I had waited too long, I should have returned sooner. We confirmed with the mechanic shop across the street that our Ethiopian friends had packed up and left only one week earlier…I think that made it even worse for me. I missed them by a week…I wrote to Tom heart broken and he echoed his words from ‘La Posta’ in an email,
'By definition, refugees are people in motion. In a context like Rome, one of the main challenges for people will be overcoming all of the hellos and goodbyes…often not getting a chance to even say goodbye as people come and disappear.'

And so there is Jack. I have told many about him over the last three months and last week when I walked down the side street of Via Foligno to come home after a busy day pursuing a career…Jack was no where to be found. He too had moved along the road. I stood in disbelief in front of the spot on the sidewalk where Jack had built his ‘home’. It wasn’t a pretty home but, it was his. What remained was the abandoned door and a stoop made of three little steps…Jack’s former bed. The sidewalk is stained leaving the memory of what Jack could find on the streets and in the trash to keep him going. Jack slept most of the time but occasionally he would rise up, sit on his stoop and open his eyes to the world around him. Did this world help him? Or did it ignore him…did it ever ask him his story? I never knew Jack’s real story, unlike the refugees I never asked Jack his story. For the last three months, I walked on Via Foligno practically every day and walked past Jack. I would look to see if he was there under bed made of trash and smile at him if he happened to be awake.

Moses, Jack and I are on different journies in Rome. One of us is from Africa, another is Italian and myself a fortunate American taking a chance at 'making it' across the pond. Like Moses, I am a foreigner without permission to stay but Moses unlike me doesn’t have a warm and safe place to call home off the streets. Jack is in his ‘home’ of Italia but, has nothing real to call home except a 5ft x 5ft piece of concrete in San Giovanni. He no longer occupies this piece of San Giovanni but, he is like all my other friends I have met along ‘The Road to Rome’. They will always have a place in my heart and be part of my journey.

A Moroccan refugee penned these lyrics into Tom’s notebook while he was here:

“Is how many must man walk down before we call him a man”
-Bod Dylan

Yes, how many roads.

Via dei Condotti...

2005-12-03T23:07:00.000+01:00

Is the famous street in front of the Spanish Steps, La Piazza di Spagna, where all the 'Alta Moda', the high fashion in Roma is found. I hiked over there after I left Tony and Jim at the Internet Cafè yesterday afternoon. As I was on my way, I was trying to pump myself up to walk into these amazing stores and try to sell myself in a foreign language that I am still learning. With my OK Italian, my Curriculum and my New Yorkese fashion mojo I arrived on the Via. I decided to procrastinate a little and walk the strip to see what my competition was, I had 10 CV's. I decided to begin this particular adventure with PRADA, one of my first splurges in NYC...the PRADA back pack.

I have one word...HUMBLING. This process of finding work in Roma has been very humbling, yet rewarding, to say the very least. I am an educated woman with two successful careers to my name and I find myself at times, sometimes daily, giving myself pep talks so I can muster up the courage to walk into PRADA and say, 'Posso lasciare mio curriculum con lei per favore?'. A simple statement such as, 'May I leave my resume with you please?' can be frightening when spoken in a foreign language, knowing you need to find someone that believes in you enough to give you that one break, that chance that can change your humbling experience to a potential foot in the door.

It turns out all these stores such as Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, Burberry, etc. would like a photo attached to your resume. I did not falter when asked for mine at the first store. With my luck, I just so happened to have 5 passport photos in my purse left over from my Tour Guide interview on Monday. I responded confidently, 'Certo, c'è una photo.' Of course, I have a photo. When I ran out of photos, it didn't stop me. I kept walking thru the doors with the intention of returning with more photos on a different day.

In Italy, there are no laws that say you can't ask if a person is married or single, their age, and many job ad's ask to attach photos. The rules are a little different here. Sometimes there are no rules, as you can imagine. My colleague said to me last night, that his friend who has lived in Italy for 20 years thinks Italy is just one step above a third world country. Some people say it's like a 2.5.

Maybe they will call, maybe they won't.
My CV might be stashed in the drawers of these oh so famous stores for months but, at least I gave it my best shot.

L'anno scorso...

2005-12-02T15:37:00.000+01:00

One year ago today I left MN to come to Italy for a month vacation. Now I am here living in Roma. I know time flies when you are having fun...and this Blondi usually has fun BUT on a more serious level my heart is happy because less than a year of taking my big trip to Italy I am living here....in Rome.

I am actually sitting in a Internet cafe near the Campo di Fiori. First time for this ragazza, I am usually at the 'internet point' across from my house and paying 3 euro an hour. But today it is a little different, I am here with a friend from the Porch...Tony Jones. Tony is visiting Roma with his friend Jim. It is so great to see a familiar face from home, from the Porch. Even though I have not found a church to call home here in Rome, I have found other fellowship in this ancient city with my work on the refugee video. 'The Road to Rome' story is for a different day....

Just a quick note on this Friday December 2nd...I am off to find a job, maybe in fashion today. I just finished my Fashion Curriculum in Italian with the great help of my friend Sergio. He is my new friend that owns the printing store in my neighborhood. It is called BETTIE PAGE. He printed my business cards and 'thank you' cards for me for an amazing price. My talented friend Courtney designed my business logo at least a year ago and she re-designed it for my adventures here in Italy. I must say they look fantastic!

Alla prossima...'til the next time!

NYC wants to be London…

2005-11-29T19:22:00.000+01:00

Time is flying by here in Roma….and there is so much to write, to say and to tell. My days are few before I return to the States for Christmas on 12/15. I have been busy pursuing work and as I wrote in a card to my friend this morning, I am committed to starting my career here in Italia. I have four industries that I am focusing on…Production, Tour Director, Fashion & Teaching English. I told my Mom last week that I miss working. But let me tell you networking, researching, interviewing, meeting potential employers and nurturing contacts is a lot of work and can be tiring. I have been blessed to have highlights along this journey such as getting interviews at the last minute, meeting a crazy production connection thru a friend, or even getting the phone call about a potential production job working at the Olympics in Turin next January/February. With this all being said, I am marching forward not knowing what I will end up calling work in the next few months. I had an all day selection meeting for an American Tour Guide company called EF. I sat on a stool at Solomon’s Porch the Sunday before I crossed the pond and said “I will most likely work in Video & Film Production but, I really want to be a tour guide.” Well, after I handed in my application for the Tour Director position this Fall I received a phone call asking me to attend the selection day on November 28th….they day after I got back from London.

Londra, as they say in Italian was fab, as Annie says. I am so naïve, upon my arrival I realized that London is the original New York. I won’t go into detail because I am sure most of you already know this BUT I was shocked! For all the years I lived in the big apple and have called myself a “New Yorker at Heart” I should have been calling myself a wanna-be Londoner. The city is great. The tube blows my mind and surely kicks Roma’s metro to the cobble stone with it’s two simply lines which are not nearly enough in this 3 milllion person European city. Rome’s problem is that they want to build more metro lines, as they are currently working on, but as they dig they keep finding more ruins and historical treasures. They have to stop the construction and excavate them. It is going to be a long process my friends. Summing up London…I met my BFF on Thanksgiving Day and found that the hotel she booked was a perfect location with a perfect staff, conveniently in the center of town. We at a pub and drank a pint for Turkey Day, knowing that I will have others with the traditional dinners that I have come accustomed to in my sister’s apartment in Queens. We saw ALL the sights, froze our butts off, drank lots of tea, had proper English breakfast, little shopping at Harrod’s, enjoyed Saturday Afternoon Tea at Harrod’s, ate prawn crisps, fell in love with Boots Chemist stores, and much more. Didn’t fall in love with witty English bloke and didn’t go out that much, the pound is not that great. It’s horrible in fact.

My interview with EF yesterday was interesting. I was certain that there would be many Americans ‘auditioning’ for the same role of Tour Director. I was mistaken, by a lot. I arrived Monday morning to find that I was the ONLY American candidate present. We had a great, intense, tiring day speaking and answering questions in English which is the official language of the company. How did it go you ask? I think it went well. Has it been a life long passion to talk on a mic at the front of a coach and take care of 40 13-16 year old students their first time abroad…no. But I think I would be good at it so we will see if I get invited to the training weekend in January. And if I do, I will find myself returning to Italia sooner than I expected.

This week is going to be crucial, pivotal, a big one for ATO. My colleague from CA is arriving tomorrow for an International History Producers Conference here in Roma. With my serendipitous luck, I met this contact while I was shooting in Sturgis. A few short months later we are networking in the same town. I see my next few weeks all about Production and connecting with people that might want to collaborate with yours truly. This is the business that makes me tick and I have proven that I am good at it.

As I write, I am listening to Ludovico Enuadi I GIORNI. He is an Italian Pianist and absolutely amazing. I never have been attached to an album in such a way before in my life. My good friend gave me two of his CD’s the second day I was in Roma, the other album is called UNA MATTINA. For the rest of my life when I hear this album I will think of my sweet adventures in Roma. There is happiness, sadness, frustration, success, and beauty in the melodies, they reflect my emotions living in an ancient city during such modern times. If there was a soundtrack to my time in Italia…it would be this album.

B&B,
ATO

Everthing is Brilliant in Leeds

2005-11-15T17:35:00.000+01:00

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it, I’ve never been this far away from home!”
is what Helen of York sang on the stage tonight. With that being said you wouldn’t think I was referencing to the Kaiser Chiefs concert I just left in Roma. Actually right in my neighborhood is a very cool, underground, punk, indie rock venue called…Circolo degli Artisti. My Brit friend Alan told me about the show and we decided to go over and check it out. When I arrived there early, which is rare these days because I am becoming more Romana by the minute, a long line was already forming. The bouncers started to announce that unless you have a ticket chances are...you’re not getting in. No one seemed to care and held on to their spot in the cue. Once Alan arrived I told him the situation and we decided to hang out a little more and see if they were going to let any of us rockers thru the door. Rockers demographic included Italians, Brits and Anglophiles…"wanna be Brits" as Alan explained to me. Where does that leave this Blondi Fauhawk…well certainly not waiting in line for too much longer. I decided to test out the gold ol’ NYC technique of skipping the line part and going straight to the front of the cue and work my magic with the doorman. Now granted I am usually speaking New Yorkese in front of the velvet rope but, let’s just say I did fine in my new lingua Italiana. So I got thru the door and sms’d (Italian text messaging, that is a whole other blog entry to come) Alan telling him to come to the front of the line. Once we were in we did have to wait until they released the remaining available tickets but we got them and were in the doors before the Kaiser Chiefs started their one and only set.

Never been to a rock, punk, jazz, any kind of concert in Italy. Just the Opera. As I sipped my beer, I know I don’t drink beer but champagne really didn’t seem right, the music started to play but it wasn’t the band. Instead it was a recording of Sting singing with Dire Straits “I want my MTV”…and I thought this is gonna be good…all the Brits freaked out a little. The band took the stage and I sipped some more. Not knowing the music at all I started scoping out the crowd and felt sorry for all the shorty Italians that had no chance whatsoever in being able to see over the person in front of them. I am kind of tall in Italy, especially when I have the three inchers on. I finished the beer luckily by the end of the first song because it would have spilled all over my faux fur if I hadn’t. When they started playing the next song Every day I love you less and less the crowd went wild and started jumping up and down, all of them, and I had no other choice then to join in with my fellow Romans. Now I wouldn’t have really called it mashing, don’t even know how to spell the word. It must have been a indie punk rocker dance thing. Now I pretend I know rock & roll, punk, etc. but, I am just a poser rocker. I like more the fashion/idea of it. Soon to change because once I joined the crowd I realized it was kick ass to play the human Tetris game on the dance floor. Meaning everyone is jumping and these little pockets of space become available and some how you slide into them without being killed. It’s like that stupid Tetris game of the ‘90s. Well it also gave us a lot of movement forward closer to the stage which was ideal.

What happened next has everything to do with Helen. The lead singer, don’t even know his name, said he had lost his voice and wanted to know if anyone new the chorus to “Oh my God.” and then continued to ask if anyone new the verses. I thought some lucky fan is going to get up on that stage…and sure enough it was Helen, a food technologist from York, England. Talk about being put on the spot, the grand daddy of all karaokes. What was ironic to me was that she was singing “Oh my God…” and I was thinking SHE must being thinking “Oh my God, holy shit, I am up on the stage singing with the Kaiser Chiefs.” Actually SHE was the lead singer. The main dude went down in the audience while she sang the entire song, quite brilliantly I must say. After Helen’s debut, a cover of I Heard it through the Grapevine and the final song that including crowd surfing by main singer dude. I thought if he falls on my fauhawk I could call myself officially a punker. He didn’t and then they were done. Not a very long set, 50 minutes. I was a little confused until my friend Alan told me they only have one album. I love going to concerts not knowing anything about the group I am seeing. Talk about no expectations, and no let downs. It was a killer show. After it cleared out a little we went up to Helen (she was signing autographs) and I told her she did fantastic. And then I totally nerded out and said I am going to write about you on my blog tonight. I have turned into a 2005 something or another. But she did ask for the address later. So if you are out there Helen I hope the show is amazing in Milano. Whenever I hear the Kaiser Chiefs I will think of you and tell the story about how one night in Roma I went to Circolo degli Artisti.

Tomorrow night is Architecture in Helskini…now if I could only beam over my fabulous rocker friend Jill Wing, it would be absolutely Brilliant.

Cheers & Buona notte

LA Chiesa o IL Bar

2005-11-07T16:54:00.000+01:00

In Lebanon the church is at the center of the community and the daily life. Ironically here in Roma/Italy the epicenter of Catholic faith, I think it is the Bar. When I say Bar...I don't mean the typical American bar where you go to on the weekends and are RARELY seen at during the day with the few expections such as Sunday morning Bloody Mary's.

The Bar in Italy is the place where you go and drink the best cappucino for 85 cents, meet a friend for a quick espresso, un caffè, or partake in a before/after dinner drink such as a Campari, Mirto, or Sambuca. More importantly, the Bar is where you can go in your neighborhood to see your friends. And I have the neighborhood Bar right in front of my Palazzo, my apartment building, and I absolutely love it! Two brothers from the Basilicata region are the newly proud owners of this bar called PRIMO BAR. I met Michele and Vicenzo 5 days after I arrived in Roma. Why did it take me until Saturday to walk into the bar? I had being drinking my caffè at other bars out of my neighborhood, what was I thinking?! The second I met Michele and Vicenzo I knew I would never go astray again. The first day I met them, Guido an older gentleman that frequents the bar often, was there as well. We struck up a conversation and before I knew it he was trying to marry me off to Michele so I could get my visa and therefore I could work. We laughed while I tried to skirt the issue of not wanting to marry an Italian. In the end, he bought me my first cappucino at the PRIMO BAR.

I have become good friends with the brothers and Vicenzo's girlfriend Rubina. They speak Italian with a crazy accent and at times I feel like I am on Mars due to their Southern dialect and wicked hard to understand accent. The Bar has also been an excellent networking opportnity for me. I have met a great friend named Gerardo, but I call him Jerry. He is a freelance writer for Italian TV and shortly after I met him he was bringing me around town to introduce me to his clients, connections and agent. I have made some excellent connections thru him and best of all I have met a very cool friend....from Palermo. Now if the PRIMO BAR brothers weren't already hard enough to understand, you throw Jerry into the mix with his Palermo accent and I start doubting if I can speak Italian and have a degree in the stinking language. Most days I persevere, I ask questions, drink my caffè and laugh so hard that I want to cry becuase I feel so lucky to be living in Roma. Their are countless others I have met at the Bar including the folks that work in the local businesses on the street. The Sisters from the Internet Point, which I go to every day and spend way to much Euro for high-speed internet, Franco from the Salumeria who always wears a grey three piece suit with a white lab coat, which makes him look like a doctor not a butcher.

There is nothing better then when you are walking home and unexpectedly you hear shouted from across the street "Ciao Bella!"...and it is Franco taking a smoke break in front of the bar. You look up and realize it is Franco and then you see there is also Jerry outside chatting with Michele while Vicenzo is serving the usual folks in the Bar. You stop, you chat, talk about how you started running today, they call you crazy, someone buys you a drink, you talk some more and then say Ciao without hesitation because you know you will see them tomorrow or possibly later that day. I am the only American living in my neighborhood and I don't feel home sick. The PRIMO BAR is perfect....because everybody knows your name!

1 more mile to go...

2005-11-04T19:54:00.000+01:00

I did it!!! I ran today. I know that sounds like a normal activity like walking, but not for this ragazza(girl)!!! My friend Curt called me up today and said are you ready to go the Aquaduct(sp? i am losing my English and not gaining Italian at a quick enough rate, mama mia!) Park. A little history about this...I was inspired to run because I saw these amazing, beautiful photos of this park and I thought, hey maybe I could run in Italia because it so beautiful here...that is how I found myself at the running shoe store yesterday evening running around in a blue dress looking like a total dork. As my sister Gina said "Only in Italy would they have you run around the store and film you doing it!". So I ran and boy did I have problems. They analyzed how I ran, which I must admit, I looked very girly. My friends from kickball once gave me a ton of crap for running funny, I kick my legs up to high towards my bum and I look like I am trying out for danceline. Anyway, I ran and they told me I....hhmmm what's the word. Suppli...blah! I can't Rememeber. There is pronate when your feet curve in...my little pretties roll out. SO I found a perfect pair with a great price, they gave me a little discount to boot. The great part of the story, which I usually find myself in these situations...that is why Serendipity is my favorite word. The owner's brother is a marathon runner and is in NYC right now running the marathon. The New Yorker in me was excited to hear that because my apt. in NY is on the marathon route, goes right pass my apt. Last year I went to NYC with Best Buy to shoot a video about the BBY people running in the marathon. I went with my good colleague/friend Kristina Jantz. So it was fun to think of her and our time together shooting that crazy video amidst all those millions of people! Also, it was interesting to find myself living in Roma one year later and hearing about my home in NY/US. I must admit...It feels great to think less than 1 year ago I hadn't even taken my month long trip to Italia in December and now I am living here. Yeah for me!

Right, back to footing...I mean running! So went this morning with my new sneakers. Didn't have a lick of make-up on but the fauhawk is always present. Learned a few stretches and then we were off! This park is so gorgeous and I prayed the scenery could help me make it thru 6 blocks of running...well I did. I even asked my friend Curt...have I run more than 6 blocks? He said yes you have run more than 6. Right there I had accomplished my first goal. I thought before that this smoking, high heel wearing, out-of-shape ragazza could only run 6 blocks. Well, I kept on running, granted at a slow pace. Curt went ahead and I went a different course...got lost, kept running, walked for a minute, started running again, walked a little later, ran some more and made it back to where we started! Not sure what happened with my lungs and my heart but if I kept running in some ways the easier it got. Of course I was tired in a good way when I finished but I felt unexpectedly fantastic! Is this the runner's high people always talk about it?! Now...there is always tomorrow when I wake up and can't walk. I am hoping that I can but I have no doubts that I will be sore. So how much did I run you ask? Well, Curt told me almost 4 miles...now if I was a savvy American living abroad I could switch that to Kilometers but haven't got to that yet. But I think it is around 8 kilometri. Not too shabby I must say. Now there is a chance that he just told me that to make me feel like I had accomplished a lot....but who cares! It felt far to me:) After... I went home quickly, freshened up, put on the rainbow brite sun dress, the pink heels and met a friend for lunch! It felt great because I realized that I can be athletic one moment and still fabulous another. Still the same old Annie, just living in Roma.
Baci( kisses) & Blessings. B&B.

A note from the British Council

2005-11-03T16:18:00.000+01:00

So it only took me 6 weeks to get the blog up and running! Yes, I arrived in Roma 6 weeks ago this Tuesday. Thanks to my American friend Curt who helped me set it up. Now I am at the British Council with my Brit friend Alan using the internet for FREE! Not having internet at home would be my only complaint about living in Italia. But I am going to remedy that hopefully with in the month.

After I am done here I am going to go buy a pair of running shoes...I know, I know, Annie doesn't run BUT I am going to start. I always say, "I don't run unless someone is chasing me." But I have met some runners since I have been in this city and I think that maybe the scenery will distract me enough to get thru the pain of running. AND maybe one day it will help me to quite smoking. In the meantime, I am just going to start. So in a little while I am going to this store in my neighborhood that has you try on the shoes & run around in the store and they anaylize how you run and reccomend the right kind of shoes for you. S0 I will help you imagine what this is going to look like. I am wearing my blue sundress, my fauhawk and star earrings with tennis shoes. I probably will get so winded that they won't even sell me the damn shoes!

Okay...more later. This blog thing is a little weird but I am just going to picture that I am writing you all an email or else it is going to be too weird.

Blessings from Roma...Ciao!
A

ME.

2005-11-03T12:27:00.000+01:00