Out of Luck

Practically perfect in every way. She often believed that she could be, one day. After all, she is nannying. Who better to emulate than Mary Poppins? That was the story last week. The story this week is inverted. And so it begins.

She stared at the door, her fingers still lingering on the handle. Stupidly, she grabbed hold again and shook the door handle, as if it would unlock when the door just realized that she needed to get inside. “No way did that just happen.” Yes this was said audibly. Talking to yourself is completely acceptable whenever the unbelievable happens.

She had just stepped outside to sweep the porch. Megan knew that the door would lock if it shut so she gently pulled it and left a 1-inch gap. No gnome, ghoul, lawyer, dragon, physicist—well maybe a physicist—wizard, or any other creature in a world real or imagined could tell you how the door shut. But there it was just the same. A barrier that may as well had been as wide as the ocean between her and the reseources inside. Megan felt in her pockets. No cell phone. No car keys. Obviously no house key. And as every second passed, there would soon be no time.

With heavy locks and bars on every window breaking in was inconceivable (a word that means not capable of being imagined or grasped mentally; unbelievable in case you do not think it means what you think it means) as well as physically beyond our protagonist.

Of course there was praying. Of course there were fantasies of acrobatic miracles. But nothing would prevail against the fact that she had closed every window, locked every portal that could possibly allow her to enter. As it is in most cases, she was her own enemy at this point. So began a desperate search for a spare key.

After combing flowerpots, loose stepping stones, storage units, and even the grass a little bit (I said desperate) it was clear she was wasting time. She didn’t know what time it was now, she had no way of knowing, but she had been about to leave to pick up Gaia from school when the door . . .

She had one job today. Pick up Gaia from school. Drive two kilometers to the school and pick her up. Should that be difficult? No (if you don’t count the winding streets that spell death if you look from an aerial view). The time it would have taken her to accomplish the one task for the day would be astronomically smaller than the time she was now spending shoving rusty nails in the keyhole—imagining Neil Cafrey at work.

Megan is always evaluating her alternatives. She had tried everything she could think to do within the yard. Now she had to extend her possibilities to the Italian-speaking world beyond the gates. With one swoop of a leg she was half way over the gate when it popped open. Of course, she thought, the one thing that I was excited to do turned out to be unnecessary. And with that she climbed down and walked out of the gate.

The next 5 minutes were spent terrorizing the horrible neighboring dogs as she ran up and down the hill. Up then down. Stopping to ring every door on the way. No one answered. The fact that she was brave enough to try to explain to them in Italian her dilemma should have merited some sort of solution from the sky. Alas, she remained thwarted.

There was some growling and grrrrrring as she thought of her next alternative. Ultimately it was thus: 1. She could break down a door, theoretically, but she thought that wouldn’t earn her any points with the family. 2. She could wait until the mother got home in an hour—and wallow while the kids worried. She remembered being a teenager and being forgotten or left to wait. She remembered being furious no matter what logical and understandable reason her mother had for being late. 3. She could ask someone for help. Sigh. Number three it is. So she started running down in the direction of the school. There was a motorcyclist, but she thought the seat was a little small for four. Keep running.

A car full of women! They are always understanding. By the way in Italy all is legal on the road as long as the hazard lights are blinking. One could stop and do a few salutations to the sun if one so desired. So in her broken Italian Megan said to the hosts of the car stopped in the middle of the road with three cars waiting behind, “I don’t have a key to my house. The key to the car is in the house. The cell is in the house. The kids are at school.” How impressive!! Two weeks in Italy and this is exactly what she said, minus a pronoun or article here or there. And equally impressive, the woman answered her . . . in English.

“You need to pick up the kids? I just have to get my son, but please get in.” Well, let’s just say Megan has an eye for those she can trust in addition to a history of wise choices of who she enlists to save her tush. Adriana, Regina, Megan, and the other lady then proceeded to get the children in their lives.

All were safe, although unhappy. Megan tried to repair the damage she had done to Gaia. It was not easy, but she hopes all is forgotten. Yesterday she got lost in the city and made everyone late. It is so much harder to be talked about in angry Italian because one can only imagine what is being said, and most likely comes up with an exponentially worse version. Today she was late picking up Gaia in a stranger’s car, a task made possible by a stranger’s kindness. What will tomorrow bring? Hopefully nothing.

Megan, one who has a track record of weird experiences, knows that time will make these strange situations seem comical. Her wisdom will increase and the unfamiliarity of all that is around her will diminish completely until she is at one with the life she has chosen. Time will cure the loneliness. Time will cure the days spent at the house, reading the only English book in it (you know it would be Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows). Time will paint a map of the city in her mind and include the parking rules—which actually do exist although subtly. But, can Megan endure the time? Can Megan become a true Italian lover? Can she master the things she fears the most? Will she work beyond the expectations set for her? Will she leave a good name wherever she has gone, as stated on her bucket list? We come full circle and realize that only time will tell. Patience is a virtue.

I just don’t know where to begin. I wanted to blog about the view today, but the picture I wanted to get was unavailable because lovers were trysting at the best spot on the hill. So another time I will get an amazing panoramic view of the hills. So we begin:

This is a view from the garden.

This beautiful building on the right is the church of Pecetto, the little town where the family lives. These other pictures are over the hills of Torino that are covered in trees.

I wanted a picture of the straw bales because paintings always show them as round, but I never knew if it was true. Here is proof for any who care (I might be alone on this one)—in Italy the straw bales are cylindrical.

The church rings the bells and has that foggy sunshine that shows God is, at times, an Impressionist. It was in Italy that Monet first painted the sunrise that started the movement. But the greatest painter in the world can only reflect a fraction of what the Creator has already accomplished. The view is breathtaking.

I take walks straight up the hill from the house and the path eventually opens up into a meadow that makes me sing like Frauline Maria. (But today I touched some plant with my leg and now it stings and has bumps. Don’t worry, the swelling has dwindled jk—I just have to wear pants from now on.)

I have been to the city twice, but very briefly. Some time I will get pics there. It is incredible. I asked Gaia why she liked to live here for our English discussion and all she could say was “It is beautiful, no,” as if there is no need for another reason. I agree. It is fantastic. Except I can’t really look at it because I am too terrified driving.

It is so cliché to talk about driving in Italy BUT LET’S TALK ABOUT DRIVING IN ITALY. Every time I get in the car I say a prayer so that I can get to point B safely. It is insane. Do you see this road?

This road is what we drive on in the hills of Torino. It is approximately 6.5 feet across. The cars are probably 4 or five feet wide. I don’t know. These are estimations, but I feel like if I laid down in the street I would get hit from both ways. And notice I said HILLS. I did not say plains. First gear. This stupid red car is something I hate.

My first trip to the city was in this car. When a hill comes (from the 20 yard break of flat road) it won’t go faster than 16 kilometers an hour, which is under 10 mph. Everyone behind would rather go 40 kph. So I am driving so slow thinking any second we might start going backwards while the entire line behind me is plotting an assassination. Also, as you can imagine, the roads on the hills are quite curvy. So you have to honk every time you come to a curb so that someone coming the other way can think about slowing down. So getting there was really scary. Then of course in the city, the traffic was so weird. I don’t know who thought of this method. There are NO lanes. Everyone just kind of goes where they want to and then 100 cars will merge at once. Magically, it works. The stoplights are no bigger than a child’s fist. And they come out of nowhere. All the sudden Gaia is like “NO TIME NO TIME” meaning that I went through another red light.

And let’s talk about the finale. Getting out of the parking garage is like defying gravity. It was straight up. So I went and of course I have to stop right on the steepest part at the top. So I try to go when it is clear and WHAT HAPPENS—after I killed it 15 times (yes, to all who are going to suggest or ask, I know the parking break trick). The lady behind me was laughing and everyone behind her was honking. Finally a guy from the back comes and motions that “the hand brake needs pulled” so I say (with my hands) “you try it”. He does and tells everyone behind us “Morte”. It dies every time. So I say “We push it?”

“Si.” So the nice lady behind me starts rounding up everyone from behind. “Vene, vene, spingamo” “We push it.” So I got in the car and steered while they pushed me up the hill. The kids were laughing and I was shaking. I killed it again out of shock when I tried to pull out onto the street, but WE MADE IT OUT ALIVE. I was silent the whole way home trying not to get killed on the curves or other places. When we pulled up to the house Tommy jumped out and said “Earth. Earth!”. I was still shaken. But I was starting to laugh and now I can’t stop when I think about it. I walked in the house and met the grandparents. Nonno’s first question was “Are the Italians good?” And I thought of the honked horns and the hand gestures and the yelling and the near death experiences and then those pushing me up the hill and I said, “Molto Bene, they pushed me out of the parking garage!! Of course the Italian people are good!”

But always:

God Bless America from the mountains

To the prairies

To the oceans white with foam

God bless America my home sweet home—with its turning lanes and visible stoplights

Am I Me? I feel as if there are now two Megans

One in Rupert. One in Italy. Maybe even one in Boise. I think right now I am the one in Italy. So I can tell you this.

Rocks. Burdens of rocks. The gravity is different in Italy. I feel like heavy rocks are set all over my body. The good news is that it only affects me when I am waking up. Or sitting down. They are so heavy that even my eyelids are unable to open. I think there is a name for it: jet lag.
There was no way I could sleep on the plane so I watched a lot of movies. That was good. I hated dropping something because I had to do acrobatics to pick it back up. But I finally got here after what seemed like two years. I recognized the oldest son and said "Tommy! Are you looking for me?" He helped me take stuff to the car. The first day with the family was awesome. I think me and the kids will get along--even if Tommy has a huge flair for drama "Papi I HAVE to drink this with dinner or I will DIE and I can't do my homework!" -- talking about carbonated water. Me no like.

I have already eaten the best pasta I have ever tasted. The mom's father made it. I mean he made the noodles. She added the zucchini and sausage and other stuff that was delicious. And the pizza. Holy cow. Amazing. So much better than Flatbread in Boise (but it is the best you guys will get so . . . keep eating there. Never surrender Bown Crossing to pride). The arrival and the meal gave me some adrenaline for a little while so I wasn't as sleepy. I walked after, so I was occupied then. They showed me how to work the TV and then got caught up in a movie so we relaxed. This is when the first gravity flux came. I was sitting there and then all of a sudden my head almost crashed into Gaia. Then, a few minutes later, Tommy was the next almost victim. My eyeballs went fuzzy and everything was heavy. The time would be about 8 am in America so at this point I had been awake through our night.

We played basketball (Tommy is in love with LeBron James). But they don't have a hoop. Or cement. So we played with a soccer ball and a garbage can. Again, it kept me awake for a while. Then I unpacked and showered and ate and finally it was 9:00 p.m. BEDBEDBEDBEDBEDBEDBED. I woke up at 11 this morning and the rocks came again. They almost got me to close my eyes and just respirate there for another 3 hours, but I overcame them because I was filled with urgency to get this first post out and tell you guys all about the gravity in Italy.

Here is my luggage (45 lbs for all of those who shared my luggage thoughts with me on facebook)

I think it is pretty dashing luggage, don't you?

These are signs the kids made. The first one was Tommy's ("I fail art.")

In conclusion I am here, I am safe, and I am full. I slept like a rock, literally because of all of them being pushed on top of me. (I hope all of you understand this is totally metaphorical so I guess it is not literally.)

Right now my computer is dying. I don't know when I will get an adaptor, so I might not be able to post for a while, but the next one will have pics about the incredible view from the house and garden. Thanks to everyone who is praying for me, thinking of me, and happy for me. I am feeling 100% confident and 100% terrified. But that was mostly on the plane, the terrified has dwindled significantly. But 200% of emotions is a lot to take in so I will end here . . . for now. Love you,

m.jean

Goodbye USA, Buon giorno Italia

This is the last post (& first one I have done for a while--sorry) that I will be doing in the United States. I am prepping to leave the morning after Nicki's wedding. Ooo. I have so much to do before then, but I am happy/sad to be going. I realize now that I have never said goodbye & meant it for more than a few months. I grew up in Idaho, went to school in Idaho, and lived post-graduation in Idaho. Interesting. So it is good bye Idaho. I have been preparing to start this year for almost a year now! It feels weird to have it finally be something I am doing. I have waited my whole life to travel and now it is just a matter of days. It might take me a while to be brave enough to plug my computer into the adapter. And it might take a while for me to get fresh posts up and stuff like that. But keep in touch and if you keep reading I will keep it interesting.

Love,

m.jean