London calling?

Weekends here are difficult, I'm running out of things to do. I'm used to being isolated but always with LA right around the corner. I need options, and here I don't have any. My aunt is giving away more and more of the family story without realizing it, talking on the phone with my father. There are things there I would have preferred not to know, but it also makes me understand him better. In a way he grows as a man, in another he gets smaller. He both had and lacked courage, but he made his choices and I don't think I can blame him anymore.

I talked to Avy yesterday, it felt good. She suggested I should go to London to visit her friend, I want to do it but I don't know her well enough. What's a girl to do?

La vita degli altri

Early night outside of Firenze, the whole family is at a bar watching Inter - Roma so I'm all alone. Still gathering the strength I need to return to what used to be my home, my other life in America. Seeing the images from 9-11 made me feel as if I need to go back soon, as if I need to protect and honor the country that raised me.

The other day my aunt took me to a Vasari exhibition at the Uffizi.  Walking around the hallways and rooms made me think of all those lost lives, all those people on whose shoulders we are still standing but that are long gone now. It makes me sad, reminding me how everything eventually comes to an end. As we perish only the memories remain, and they will soon be forgotten too.

The strangest thing is that my darling Avy seems to have been thinking the very same thing at almost the same time at a totally different place in the world. I miss her.

Blood and water

Time passes in the Tuscan countryside, slowly, the way I like it. Drifting further away from the thought of returning, further away from the hurtful memories. It happened here, but strangely enough it's easier to deal with it when I'm away from home. Everything back there is tainted with the poison of lies and fairytales, here the truth seems so much more obvious.

Dad wants to talk to me but I keep pretending I'm not in when he calls. My aunt forwards my words because she thinks I'm on her side whem I'm really standing in the middle. She should understand why he's afraid to come back, but somewhere she must have forgotten, and she just blames him for being so far away. I guess they love each other more than they dare admit.

Alive

Yes, I'm still alive. I haven't posted in a month but there's a reason for that. I went to Italy to get away from everything, and as soon as I go to the computer I'm back home again, mentally. I've needed this time to process my thoughts so I hope you don't mind too much.

My aunt and my father keep fighting over the phone, I hear everything but keep from asking questions. Over the past week I've learned things I never knew about my family and its history. It's not a pretty picture. I'll tell you more about it later, but now it's lunch in the garden.

Un bacio.

S.

Un italiano vero

Another lazy day, I'm slowly adjusting to a new way of life. Sitting in the shade, reading Vogue Italia, taking care of myself.

I hear my aunt talking to dad on the phone, she's upset. She talks to him in a 200 mph Italian, gesturing with her entire body. I pretend not to listen but I already know what they are saying, I've heard it all before. Dad is not a "real" Italian since he gave up and moved to America. He should never have abandoned such a big part of his family, and for something so cheap and superficial!

The only thing I can't figure out is if my aunt really wanted to go too, if she feels left behind or just let down. The way she talks about California and Los Angeles - contemptuously - doesn't quite cover the little traces of envy in her voice.

From Toscana with love

Sorry for the lack of pictures in my last post, I forgot my camera as I was going out. It won't happen again :)