La Dolce Vita

On the plane to Italy I saw a shooting star while we were jetting across the Atlantic Ocean.

The only wish I could think of quickly was to get me to Florence safely.

I figured I don’t need a star for all my dreams to come true in Italy.

I live on Via Dei Pepi….with Pepi. Yes, the street is named after my home’s family. The house is beautiful and is right next to Santa Croce where most of the weekend markets are located.

The bell rings noting each meal of the day. We always wake up before the “ding ding” though because of the clammer of pots and dishes in the kitchen preparing for la colazione. The food is cooked by scratch everyday which seems to be done with little effort and only takes about 30 minutes to prepare the best food

in Italy. We eat around a huge table and are served course after course of Italian goodness. We have roommates and visitors from all over the world that speak in every language imaginable and dinner is always a mixture of them all.

The walk to school everyday is a painters dream. The colors are never dull painted on the huge ancient buildings, even when the day is covered in rain. On sunny days the water glistens and twinkles mirroring all the colors of Ponte Vecchio and the cobblestone seems to beg you to take a different route to school everyday. We stop on the way for fresh fruit, mostly oranges, located on every corner each morning.

I study Italian wine three times a week with the most famous Italian wine family in Italy and I eat chocolate from the chocolate market outside my house on the weekends with friends around the building that holds Michelangelo, Machiavelli and Galileo’s bodies. I frolic on the same streets at night where the greatest

artists and philosophers in history walked everyday.

I am absolutely in love. I'm in love with this city, with the people, with my new friends.

Today was sunny outside, markets were everywhere, people had smiles and the smell of food throughout the piazza made everyone want to play outside. The sun’s refection on the water danced around t

he gondolas and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. We got lost on the way home which we were not surprised at all about seeing that we have not been on time or gone the right way once since we arrived, and the shops and boutiques seemed to scream at us to come inside, which

of course, we did.

We are regular customers of a lively il ristorante, Bar Salamanca, which is conveniently located about 100 steps from our house. When you walk in the smell of Spanish food and the sound of salsa music is permeating through the air. The walls are deep red with dark wood panels and candles light up the walls. Soccer is always on the big screen and the bartenders and waiters are quite possibly the cutest boys in the entire Italian peninsula. After too much sangria and fruit someone inevitably starts to move their hips and out comes the start of much dancing. If you go to Florence, go get some Spanish loving at Salamanca, you won’t be disappointed.

I’m not sure if I knew exactly how happy I would be here until I arrived. It was beyond what I imagined, above any expectations and no sign of unhappiness is creeping by. This place is heaven, perfect and the definition of la dolce vita.

We just booked our southern Italy trip for April. Capri, Sorrento, and Pompeii for a

three day weekend. I hope that I don’t “accidentally” miss the bus to go home…

"It often seems to me that the night is much more alive and richly colored than the day"

I get most of my ideas about life when I'm driving.

I keep about three blank notepads and at least four working black ballpoint pens in my left side door for my periodic moments of “eureka!” thoughts. They come frequently. Most of the time I can’t decipher my handwriting when I look back at my moments of glory, so I end up throwing away what could be Nobel prize winning ideas.

Inspiration comes from everywhere. Literally. But people who inspire you, are treasures. I have a best friend, “B” (I have a habit of calling people by the letter of their first name), who is the definition of inspiration. In the darkest of times or the worst of days, I am myself and the self that I love when I am around him, talking, listening. My favorite part of my personality, my best sense of humor and the loveliest optimist pours out like Niagara Falls. He, is one of the greatest human beings to roam the earth. Meet him.

I've come to understand that music changes your life. It electrifies your soul and cues all your pain. I have realized this through various music that spontaneously pops up in my iPod shuffle that seems to fit my mood exactly without me even realizing what mood I'm in. Music helps you realize the cornerstones in your life and the mountains you have overcome. Music that you have secretly taken off your computer or that you make sure is never turned up on the radio because of the attachment it has on your feelings. Then one day it comes on your shuffle mix and you realize you can listen to the whole thing and enjoy it because it has no attachment to the past anymore. It is a realization that you are getting over things, that you are finally moving on and that you are completely and utterly happy. It’s music that breaks your heart, throws you to the ground, yet sometimes is the only thing that can lift you back on your feet again. It has the potential to break you and put you back together at the same time. Powerful? Understatement.

I love long dresses when I’m listening to music. So long that when I stand on my tip toes when the best part of the song comes on, the dress still drags on the tops of my feet. So long that my legs get entwined in the fabric as the song plays and drags behind me when I turn slow circles in my room. Long dresses make music tangible. A couple more for breakfast, a little more for tea. Some songs should last forever.

I am quite possibly the luckiest person in the world. Vincent Van Gogh once said "the best way to know God is to love many things". I have the best friends anyone could ask for. I love them all and am known to be very forward and frequent in letting them know this. They are my family, my joy, my heart. They have showed me love and comfort and the simplest ways to be happy. I know an angel. She is quite possibly the closet person to God I have ever met. When she walks into a room you feel His presence. It's incredible.

The world is full of love. That’s it. And when there’s darkness, love is always creeping near. Love shown to strangers and humanity in itself brings tears to my eyes. The Liberty Mutual Insurance commercial of people helping each other, leading to a domino affect of kindness makes me cry every time. Life is too short for jobs we hate, for people we aren’t sure about and for opportunities missed.

I never know what I want. I think I do most times but end up changing my mind within minutes. I change my mind more in one day than the amount of babies born daily.

Have lovers. Have friends. Have sheer pleasure. Eat lots of honey mustard.

Perfume. Where memories are reborn and lost thoughts are recaptured, some wanted and others very much unwanted. Smell is the best and worst trigger of memories.

I don't think I believe in true love. I believe in success. Although, Death Cab for Cutie’s song Follow You Into the Dark doesn't help me keep this mentality. How life would be if you loved someone so deeply and they loved you even more, that when you died, the other's heart died too. We are the most hurtful to the ones we love the most. We feel that no matter the limit of pain, they will always be there. And distance, unfortunately, does not make the heart grow fonder.

My sister showed me a website, To Write Love On Her Arms, and I found the most beautiful quote from their art...

“Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom; tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home.”

Oh. And dream dictionaries are fact. They never lie. Next time you have a weird dream, look it up and see if it matches up to your life. It will. I promise.

Sí, por favor

A restaurant review:

Sí Tapas is a new addition to some of the finest restaurants in Richmond. I decided to kidnap my friend Brandon to try a new place in the city (he’s always up for new things). Located in the fan on Lombardy Street is a new, tiny, almost hidden fantastic restaurant that every young, chic Richmonder must try. The Spanish wooden doors stand out to the passerbyer on the street and screams to be opened to find out what tasty treats lie inside. You can smell the steamed seafood and freshly cooked vegetables all the way down the block. The small foyer is filled with low lights and mirrors and as you open the second door you are instantly surrounded by candles all over the walls with mirrors reflecting the light flicker they emit. The light colored wooden benches have detailed stitched pillows on every seat and the décor on the walls resembles a Spanish villa in Barcelona. There is a long over-sized wooden table in the middle that is perfect fora huge party and many bottles of wine. Located next to them is their floor to ceiling wine rack. There are tiny coves for romantic getaways and personal touches of Spanish detail coming from the curtains, the colors, even the patterned table tops. If you retreat upstairs you will be captivated by their lounge area complete with over-sized stuffed black leather couches, sometimes reserved for special parties. A large full bar takes over the other side of the room with another party size table sitting along the bright wall.

The cool atmosphere is complemented by the immaculate exotic flavored food and wine we were served. Tapas are small portions so you must order a lot of one thing or a lot of different things if you come extremely hungry, which I did. The prices were moderate, but if you come ready to eat, prepare your bank account. We started off by tasting some of the Spanish and Italian wines and decided on a bottle of Tempranillo to begin the night.

I will list what we ordered from "loved it” to "oh-my-God this is what heaven tastes like”. Brandon ordered Gazpacho which is served cold and bright yellow. It was lovely; served in a large bowl with extra-large spoons (which I always love). I ordered a salad because of the dressing it came with. Avocado lime-vinaigrette. Scrumptious.

The next thing on our long list of edibles were the sea scallops. They were unreal.

Huge thick, sautéed to perfection dipped in a semi-spicy sauce; these scallops were an instant favorite. We devoured each of them in one quick motion before we could even take another sip of red wine.

The next dish I will have to stay calm for. It was the rockfish. The rockfish was cooked so delicately, so freshly and with so much care that it was hard to take a bite without closing my eyes. It lay on top of a bed of corn that was tossed in a sauce that literally brought tears to my eyes. I ran to the kitchen and literally begged for the recipe. When the dish was done, Brandon and I looked at each other almost wondering if we should order another. We opted to try something else and went for the cheese fonduta. All I will say about this dish is that I was scrapping the bottom of the bowl with my face when we were done with it.

We were disappointed when we didn’t see any dessert until our waitress brought over the menu. I decided the reason why they put the dessert on a separate menu is because it is too good and they don’t want to make the other foods jealous. Brandon ordered custard which had a crisp caramelized cover that was so sweet it made my lips purse. I ordered the chocolate cake and ice-cream which was so pretty when it came out, I didn’t even want to eat it. When I took my first bite I thought that God was serving me my first meal in my room in heaven. It had a light as clouds ice-cream scoop on top of chocolate crumbles next to a piece of Venezuelan molten cake. Together, it was the definition of flawless.

The wait staff was quick and efficient. Sometimes the cooks would even come out and serve our food to tell us what was in it and how it was cooked which I thought was a nice personal touch. The manager was always around and everyone did everything they could to make us happy. They take reservations which are fantastic and if it's payday I would suggest taking all of your friends out for a night here, because it’s a fun, trendy, very classic restaurant that is a great asset to the Richmond scene.

Oh, one other thing. The bathroom was so beautiful that I contemplated on eating my dessert in it. Seriously.

My Biggest Fear Has Become A Reality

Jellyfish. I’m not sure when or where the paranoia began, but since I can remember jellyfish have been on my “biggest fear” list, always sitting in the number 1 spot. I am so terrified of jells (as they are commonly called by my entourage of childhood friends) that even while lounging on the deck of a boat and peering over to see a mound of red blooded jelly floating next to the huge protective boat will send me into panic mode that will only cease once safe on dry land. In the ocean you will not see me frantically making sure sharks are not biting my ankles, but instead I will be scanning the ocean and waves on top of someone’s back to make sure that the jellies are no where to be scene. Even walking along the beach, I have my keen eye locating all of the washed up (still stingable) jells waiting to penetrate their next victim.

Here’s the real kicker about my biggest fear: I have never been stung. Now, I have come so close to being tingled by their tentacles and brushed upon while I was casually sunbathing in the water, but not once have I felt the mark that the fish can leave. On numerous occasions and on one trip in particular to the river I have come close to drowning a friend, literally killing someone, in order to protect my precious skin from being wrapped around by the two foot long tentacles. My dear friend had his entire face and stomach slaughtered by the sting of the fish, but I sat on the jet ski gasping for breath as I almost had to be rushed to the hospital due to a panic attack while he was in the river being swallowing by a man-of-war. Now THAT is what you call a true friendship, (thanks Connor).

So for no good reason I am petrified of gelatin substances that float mindlessly through water secretly knowing who to sting and for how long (even though experts will disagree). Since jellyfish are apparently taking over the water (and soon the world) I can only warn beach and river goers to WATCH OUT for the jells that seem to be growing in size and number, flourishing in warm, polluted waters, and are coming after you. Jaws, eat your heart out.