Wow- I just found the original 'Leftovers for dinner' so it's going online

I have a half hour or so before William gets home from school AND the pork roast is ready for dinner so I thought that I'd just sit and write a bit.

Today was gorgeous and I had all the windows in the house open to let it the light and fresh air. February can be so lovely here. I have vivid (preWilliam) memories of hiking and fishing with Fabio on beautiful February days. I need to start making some new lovely February memories! I will start on Tuesday.

It's a funny thing to be a dual citizen. Half my life has been spent in Texas, half of my life created in Italy. There also were a couple of intermediate years- transition years spent around Europe; lots of London, a bit of Madrid, some Greece, Germany and France- that don't count too much.

So why did I land in Italy and, more interestingly, why in Monterosso? simply because of a train strike, curiosity, my hard head and probably a bit of laziness and rebeliousness. It seemed like an interesting thing to do at the time and Kate Little, at 19, was always up for the most interesting (and never the most logical) thing. I was working in London at the time I embarked on the journey that would change my life. I was an editor for the German Wine Bureau. No wonder I left.

Monterosso al Mare (Cinque Terre), in 1989, had been visited by exactly 4 Americans at that time: Rick Steves, my best pal Laura Ash, our travelling partner Edie Tsong and me . Thanks Rick for giving us the heads up. His book had been out for a couple of years but apparently no one (except us) had read it yet. Monterosso was a small, unique haven of small town, unique people. People that were completely unlike any other people I had ever met before.

When met with a challenge, I tend to face it head on. Especially if this challenge is weird, like integrating myself with this new species of people. I didn't speak the language, I knew next to nothing abut Italy and I fashioned myself a kind of alternative cosmopolite, in a way almost above these rough and tumble folk. In my diary I wrote 'this will be my experiment in idealism'. I fancied myself a sort of anthropolgist.

The longer I remained in Monterosso, the more I learned. Of course I learned the language- that only took about 6 months- but more than that I learned a way of life.

The people that were generous enough to host me offered me a top bunk in the son's bedroom. The mother, an unschooled unhappy housewife, loved me for what I was. She could have cared less that I had been student council president or honor society or had won awards or whatever. When I read books she automatically assumed that I was studying (and what did studying serve?). She taught me to look at the birds outside the window and realize that they have nothing yet want nothing. What they need is provided for them.

The family provided for me- I helped them out the best I could as well. I fished, I babysat, I sold roasted chestnuts. I tried ate everything on my plate and tried to be as gracious as possible. I worked 12 hour days during the summer at Midi Bar and left cash in the cabinet- cash would not be accepted if I offered.

I learned nothing that I thought I would and everything that I had not expected to. I learned dialect instead of Italian, I learned how to fish rather than how to paint frescos. Most of all I learned the beauty of just being myself and not having to prove anything to anyone OR having to fill certain requisites to advance on 'my path'. I was commended for my line-tying skills and praised for my ability to climb olive trees. I'm strong and I don't complain much and every task that was a burden for them was an adventure for me. Also, as a southerner- or rather, a Texan- I was (and am, I hope) extremely polite, courteous and well-mannered. I was well-accepted generally.

Most importantly I learned to respect people for the right reasons.

Back to the dialect... Italy is full of dialects. The country wasn't unified until 1860 so each little region was under the control of a different regional lord or even country. The 5 terre towns were so isolated that their language was a bastardized version of the Genoese dialect- Genoa is a port town that has picked up a unique vocabuary from its many visitors. I guess that the closest you can come to Monterossino is portuguese. Anyway, from Genoa south til La Spezia, the dialects are very similar but still unique.

I lived in a house with people who only spoke dialect. Their spoken Italian was shaky and their written Italian was downright bad. I, never having studied Italian, had no idea that they weren't speaking Italian and therefore communicated with them in the language that they used. This did create some confusion with my dictionary. I couldn't find what they were saying so I stuck to my ad-hoc translations and spoke the way that they spoke.

The way that I found out that I was speaking dialect was fairly humiliating.

I arrived in Monterosso in June 1989. In order to appease my parents' wishes that I'make myself productive', I signed up for a 40 hour a week intensive Italian class in Siena in October 1989. When I showed up for the placement exams, all pompous and proud that I could 'speak Italian' the professor couldn't understand what I was saying and stuck me in with the beginners. I then found out from my teacher that I was speaking Monterossino rather than Italian. Well, everyone could understand me back home! i then studied as hard as I could- beginning a love for the study of Italian everything (language, food, culture, wine, mushrooms (noone believes this but I am really pretty informed regarding Italian mushrooms- there ain't much to do in a Monterossino winter), everything except politics) which hasn't ended yet. I know that if I would have stayed in the states I would have become one of those eternal students. I'm really good at nothing except for knowing random and odd facts and being able to accomplish strange tasks that others find difficult. I am also pretty diplomatic but without other skills that doesn't help much.

Now I've lost my train of thought...

Oh yes, the dual cit.

I feel as if I have 2 lives. Not that my US and my Italian are each isolated- obviously that's not the case if I'm BLOGGING in English- but that my life before 1989 and my life after 1989 are

completely and totally distinct in every possible way.

I often told Fabio that I have had 2 childhoods- what else is a childhood than a carefree period where you are shaped and educated. That I have definitely gone through twice. No doubt about it. In fact i considered writing a book 'Growing up twice' then I read that it had already been written.

William is due to be home any minute now so I will dedicate myself to hime. Not much cooking going on today but a lot of info that I have shared with few.

May you eat dinner with someone you love!