self service

Up in the hills of Valdobbiadene is an old stone house, nestled in the middle of a vineyard, that serves as an osteria (place that serves wine and simple food). However, other than basics like ingredients and tools for making your own coffee and simple outdoor furniture, there is no person managing or working at the osteria.

Parking at Osteria senz'Oste is ad hoc between the vines. My friend (crushing grapes), who has made annual excursions to Valdobbia-dene for harvesting took us there simply for the amazing views. However, he has always missed the signs leading to the prosecco vending machines. While he knew they existed, as one is located in the vineyards near the parking area, which doubles as parking for a wine tasting room, not affiliated with the osteria, he never loitered long enough to realize that people brought and/or bought items for a beautiful day in the sun and vineyards for a long and lazy aperitivo.

Following the signs takes one through paths up the hill, meandering through the vineyards until one gets to the top of the hill where there are larger vending machines to purchase bottles of different types of prosecco. Another vending machine provides water bottles and simple food that usually is provided with aperitivo. Plastic cups hang from the sides of the vending machines.

While there are picnic tables and benches at the top of the hill near the vending machines, the more intimate setting is below next to the vineyards at the side of the hill with pergolas covered with trailing vines and overhanging bunches of grapes.

We ended up spending an entire afternoon, sharing over seven bottles of prosecco between five people enjoying the company and beautiful atmosphere. We made a number of new friends with many groups sharing snacks, desserts and other bottles of wine, some of which were in unmarked bottles brought from home (moonshine). With overlapping languages with not all speaking any particular language, it became easier to understand each other being under the influence.

After harvesting that day from her family's vineyards, a woman who manages the inventory in the vending machines stopped by to check the stock, and coordinate with my friend on harvesting with her family the rest of the week. In her curiosity on how such a hodgepodge of different people had congregated together, she soon discovered that we represented U.S. (New York, Connecticut, Texas, and California), Vietnam, Japan, France, Switzerland and Italy (Meolo and Venice), with many just meeting each other that day. While some had left a bit earlier, she felt it was worthy of a Facebook post on the osteria's page. These moments with locals and new friends are some of the most amazing  and cherished memories from my travels.

* * * * *

In the land of love, vending machines with various prophylactic sheaths are visible sporadically near town centers. They are even installed in schools in Rome. Safe sex is available 24/7 and most likely attributes to one of the lowest birth rates in Europe. The machines offer many options for every fancy.

Perhaps I am used to the American men who make any excuse to not use protection as it impacts their sensitivity, it was great that Italian men seemed always prepared, even if it was to ask friends for any spares. Rather than take the additional risk of potential breakage with ultra-thins on the market today, I also noticed that there was a tendency to use the thicker latex options.

In some cases, perhaps it was to prolong the experience with his partner. For others, it does cause some challenge in climaxing in the usual way, and other methods are used to finish. One man even joked that it is great for protection from any residual feces during anal. As Monty Python croons 'always look on the bright side of life'.

what's in a name?

Although most young people in Italy have taken more than 10 years of English as a second language course, many do not have the luxury of putting it into practice, so while many may understand parts of what I say, they tend to not feel confident to speak it. However, sometimes we take words for granted and while foreigners try to learn the meaning of words, oftentimes, there is no rhyme or reason to the grammatical rules or the etymology of the English language. Why is 'i before e except after c'?

Over dinner last night, an Italian man had asked me to confirm location of bridges. He had gotten Brooklyn Bridge confused with the Golden Gate Bridge. He grew up loving Brooklyn gum; however, I had never heard of that brand before. Brooklyn Gum is made in Lainate, Italy; was the first chewing gum produced in Italy in the mid-1950s; and is only sold in Italy. It comes in two flavors: spearmint and chlorophyll. Despite the flavor, chlorophyll does not taste green, if green were to have a taste. His favorite was spearmint so of course, I had to give it a taste test, which turned out to be like any other Wrigley spearmint gum. While I did find it on Amazon, it comes with the cost of importing it from Italy.

His girlfriend, on the other hand, asked why fellatio is called 'blowjob', when it generally involves sucking. While the origin of the slang is up for debate ranging from slang for prostitute as 'blowsy' to the climatic result of an orgasm being referred to as 'blow', it would seem to be a bit ironic to call it such. Some of the Italians with bellies that night started to joke that they got a lot of 'blowjobs' which explained the size of their gut sticking out while drawing attention to the one Italian-American who was on the slimmer side and whom therefore, did not benefit from blowjobs based on that logic. The reality hitting a bit close to home, causing a bit of unwanted tension carrying over from reclaiming the cunt (part 8).

On the flip side, Italians also have slang that may not be so intuitive. Limone, which is the word for lemon, is also slang for French kissing (kissing with tongue). The verb version is limonare. Similar to blowjob, there is a bit of debate on its origin, ranging from the kitchen utensil used to squeeze lemons resembling a tongue to fruit vendors in Lombardia selling lemons in pairs.

Scopare could either mean to sweep or to fuck. While usually a tree is masculine ('o' ending) and its fruit is feminine ('a' ending) (e.g., melo for apple tree and mela for apple), fico represents both the fig tree and its fruit, as fica is slang for cunt (also spelt figa, with sfiga meaning bad luck). Quite the tongue twister, making it easy to get one's tongue tied.

thelma & louise (part 1)

Over the weekend, I met Thelma, a hybrid of the Siberian Husky breed. Her mistress is named Louise, although her mistress' boyfriend was in charge of her for that weekend. She appeared gentle as she went from bar to bar, oftentimes just planting herself in the middle of the crowd and establishing herself as the center of attention. She seemed to ignore other dogs, especially the loud ones much smaller than her, and minded her own business, or rather having a mind of her own.

The next day, Paola and Valentina drove four hours to join us in Valdobbiadene. The two met more than 15 years before, and Paola is older than Valentina's mother. Yet, proving that soulmates come in all shapes, sizes and age, the two ladies have traveled together for years and have the most amazing stories of crashing private parties and meeting the rich and famous as if they belonged. One is a Virgo Sun and Libra Ascending while the other is a Libra Sun with Virgo Ascending. Paola is a designer and is the epitome of the Italian fashionista while Valentina is a singer who galavants and entertains throughout Europe.

Both document their lives via Instagram. Yet unlike others who create their lives via social media, they truly have a natural zest for life while living in the moment and following their dreams, engaging with anyone and everyone around them. They were both more about giving than receiving, including creating memorable moments for their loved ones. Their energy is contagious and even in the simplicity of wardrobe changes and taking pictures with them, it was more about having fun rather than looking for perfection.

for whom the bell tolls

In trying to find some personal works of a new friend (reclaiming the cunt (part 8)) that he had noted was online, I chanced upon his rendition of the crash of TWA 843 when he was 11.  Like UA 93, its flight plan was from NYC to San Francisco. On the eve of 9/11, it seemed too similar to be completely coincidental, especially after he told me how he had to change his flight for a business trip to Hong Kong from Sunday to Tuesday. It then hit me that Tuesday would be 9/11. The terrorism that plagued the Twin Towers in 2001 was also on a Tuesday.

In May, I decided that it was finally time to visit Freedom Tower and the 9/11 Memorial and Museum. For years I had avoided the area every time I visited NYC but after full circle (part 7), I felt mentally ready. Had I not been there with some foreign friends, I probably would have spent a longer time to process everything, but it was for the best that I did not as it was time to move forward from the moment. 

While there was much controversy during the last decade on the entire rebuilding and memorial that caused it to be delayed, I think they did as best as they could to make it a touching and respectful tribute to the lives lost. This includes putting a white rose next to a victim's name on his/her birthday, as well as a wall with a quote from Virgil that separates the museum from the vault where they have placed the remains of nearly 8,000 unidentified human remains. The quote is not without controversy itself as some questioned it in the context of its original intent vs. the meaning that the museum's creators wanted to relay. In its original context, it would apply more to the terrorists than the victims. 

At the time, one of the most haunting visions for me was a photo of an unknown person who jumped from the building to escape the burning heat of the fire from the planes. Many of my coworkers who were at the office that day have nightmares from seeing people dropping from the sky in person. It was not a surprise to see that there was an alcove with a video tribute to these bold men and women who made such a difficult decision in how to die, especially since it is said that burning to death is the most painful way to die. It was the only place in the museum that had a big box of tissues at the end with a trashcan full of used tissues.

To think that there are children, including those who are a year away from adulthood, who were not  even alive then. However, the death toll and aftermath of the event continues. Experts estimate that by the end of this year, there will be more deaths from the health issues of the first responders and those who lived near Ground Zero than there were from the initial terror act itself. One of my close friends has been approved to receive 9/11 funds for health issues. While she was on her honeymoon in Italy on 9/11, she and her husband lived across the street from the Twin Towers.

While they were frustrated that they could not access their apartment for months, they have now regretted moving back as soon as the government cleared people to do so. They are convinced that they lost their first child because of the toxins in the air. Doctors could not pinpoint why they had to make a very difficult decision to terminate the pregnancy; however, the autopsy, while inconclusive, showed evidence of holes in lungs and other deformities that confirmed the necessity to do so.

Now, she is left with respiratory, sinus and joint problems that has her going to numerous specialists without an end in sight. The museum had a section at the end dedicated to the first responders and the voluminous health issues plaguing the first responders afterwards. Perhaps because it is so close to home for me and impacting a love one so significantly, I felt that the tribute was insufficient. The creators of the museum could take a page out of the museum in Hiroshima (boom of the 'shrooms) dedicated to the victims of the atomic bombs in its coverage of the continuing effects of such human tragedy.

reclaiming the cunt (part 8)

Sometimes when I travel, I will turn on Tinder and/or OKCupid to pass time and for 'shits & giggles'. I have connected with a few on these apps during their or my travels with whom I continue to stay in touch. However, my social calendar in Italy seems to have kept itself full either with some of my travel companions (with new templates...the party continues) or with locals and new friends that I have met so the apps became moot.

In search for my bliss, my intention is connections with authentic people and letting relationships grow organically, whether for a short or long period in our lives. While a number of my travel companions have pushed to go to places and events in hopes of meeting attractive locals, they seem to lack the realization that the challenges that they may encounter at 'home' in the dating arena have been brought with them to another country. It seems easy to point the finger at others rather than challenging and working through our behaviors and old templates.

They confidently fantasized about some relationship that did not exist, even referring to such persons as their local boyfriend or girlfriend back at the villa. Yet, when the opportunities presented themselves, old templates kicked in. My connecting with new people and exchanging contact information became fodder for everyone as well with their pushing and projecting behaviors that they have fear of doing themselves onto me. In some ways, people tend to live vicariously through me for some reason. More than once, I was told that 'one of us better get laid tonight', when in reality the other person only fantasized about flirting with their 'crush'.

However, the other reality is that they did not mean that person to be me, especially since most of the time, they are busy projecting their behaviors onto me that they do not realize that I treat people with the same level of respect and engagement rather than specifically targeting any particular person to prioritize. Somehow this caused confusion and surprise on their parts when from their perspective, 'things seemed to just be easy for me' rather than it being about 'glass half full, glass half empty' and challenging their own approaches in life.

Negative and judgmental thoughts and comments were released during alcohol induced states with one situation being a group situation where one woman blamed me specifically for her not having sex for many years in the same breath that she stated she doesn't believe in 'meaningless sex'. Unbeknownst to me, prior comments had been made in such a way that two of her close friends became upset with her and another woman and defended me. Both of those close friends also took me aside to apologize for everyone's behaviors, and later after they had sober discussions with each other, the woman did reach out to me to apologize.

Perhaps that experience or perhaps it was a friendship of many years that made me pause in another 'carpe diem' situation when a friend 'sulked' and in his alcohol induced state made what he thought were 'supportive' statements but was laced with bitterness, judgment and negativity.  Like the close friends of the woman who called her out on her negative behavior, I did the same with him.

However, he mistakenly viewed my decision as caring about judgmental people as he projected his life decisions of living his life based on fear of judgment onto me. As I had told the others who apologized to me and was afraid I felt hurt by the comments, I told him that I no longer allow judgmental people to phase me. I understand their hurt and projections. I also know me and am happy and proud of who I am, as well as my actions. I address such negativity not from a place of hurt but from a place of hopefully helping others to grow and love themselves.

For a brief moment the next day, I did wonder if my decision had taken me down a path of not getting to have a more intimate connection with someone that intrigued me as his reservedness at a group lunch gave me pause. As we were driving away to head back to the vineyards though and watching him turn around and wave, I smiled as I realized that the connection and intrigue I felt the night before was that in many ways, I see me in him. My behavior that cause confusion and surprise from others was that same reserve he had earlier, in that we both like to keep our intimate moments private, even if that is in getting to know someone from a place of vulnerability.