Look! There's Something!

Motivation is pretty hard to come by if you are..say, me. Due to my penchant for languishing in bed and making sure none of my Facebook friends are having too much fun, I haven't gone out much since I've been down here. The little excursions to the local grocery store and newly joined gym (which are ironically/conveniently) located next to each other have been an every day event to keep my sanity and, as I had previously mentioned, the library is my new best friend (not one, but two branches!!)

Today, mostly to procrastinate looking for a job that doesn't exist, I decided to make my way to Downtown St. Augustine, the old historical part. I have been enjoying driving around and getting more comfortable behind the wheel. In doing so I have come to the conclusion that Floridians are terrible drivers. I've been seeing ads and hearing about how there is a big Crystal Meth problem in Florida so I just assume they're all on drugs. It's not that turning signals are optional here, they just don't seem to exist. Not to say that I am an expert driver by any means, but I'm still a little anxious behind the wheel and people whipping between lanes hither and thither doesn't really relax the nerves. I've also done a wonderful tour of incorrect parking lots and close-but-not-quite-right shopping centers. It's amazing the places you wind up when you keep finding yourself in the turn-only lane too late to switch and have to go very circuitous routes. But since I don't have much else to do with my time, I'm not too bothered by it all.


So, after many wrong turns, being cut off by SUV carrying a boat, and being stuck on a draw bridge, I finally found a place to park semi-near the center of the old town and began my journey. This journey lasted about 30 minutes. It's not that exciting walking through touristy shops by yourself with no money or knowledge of your surroundings. Here are some pictures I took along the way:

Entrance to the Main Street of the Old Part of Town...Probably not what it's called...

 

 

Sweet Little Loving Children or Terrifying Goblins?

Bridge I had gotten stuck on and pretty, yet smelly, water

Castillo de Something or Other

 It was a nice little walkabout and but it started getting hot (see previous blog if you'd like to know my thoughts about that) so I got in my car, took a few more wrong turns, followed a beat-up truck that was most definitely being driven by a drug-addict and eventually made my way home. It was nice to see the sights but even more comforting to be welcomed by my cat, doing what she does best.

Home, Sweet Home

Whoops!

People who know me would say that, besides being one of the most amazing people they've ever met, I can be a bit impulsive. I get really excited about the IDEA of the things and then jump into them without really thinking about them too much. I used to think this spontaneity kept me young but, as I just turned 30, it does not seem to be working.

If I might use the past few weeks as an example... I decided to quit my steady job at a fancy hotel where I hobnobbed with (i.e. handed room keys to) multitudes of celebrities, say goodbye to my group of good friends who I love dearly, move out of my apartment where I have been living with my best friend of 12 years, pack all of my belongings, stick them in a car and drive down to Florida to start a new life. On paper it seemed like a good idea. I could live in a pretty, historic city, on the water, live relatively rent free, the sun would be shining, fresh air... A nice breather after a pretty horrible winter in New York.

Before

After a week of living down here the reality has sunken in.. Not to be negative, after all it has only been a week and I am still getting adjusted, but there are a few things that are taking getting used to. For instance, the amount of time I am spending with M & B after having lived on my own, more or less, for many years. They are on a pretty set schedule (up at 6am, 2 hour walk on beach, lunch at 12pm, B takes a nap, M takes me around town to get my bearings and comfortable driving after 6 years of not, dinner at 6, M & B are usually in bed by 8 or 9pm) and I just weave in and out of it trying not to step on any toes. As a self-proclaimed social butterfly, retiring to my room by 7pm to spend the rest of the night surfing the net and watching movies is getting a little old. But since the only two people I know here are over the age of 60 ("Isn't that all of Florida," you're probably thinking) I have become quite familiar with the city's library DVD collection.

After

Also the job search is a little..whats the word? Bleak? Depressing? Humbling? Yes, all of these. It seems I will be making, if I am hired, around $8 less an hour for the same amount of work I did in NYC. True, the cost of living here is less but again, $8 less for the same amount of work...And, interestingly enough, me being from New York almost seems like a negative down here, like I have to prove myself even more to them. Don't they know we are a superior race? ;) (JK if there are any prospective employers reading this...)

But above all, and what prompted me to write this post, are two very big "Doh!" moments that I've had while being down here.

1. I don't like being hot. Actually, I loathe being hot. It makes me incredibly irritable, and and an overall unpleasant person to be around. And I get hot easily. And not in the 80s, the 70s! High 60s even!!! I actually recoil in fear at the thought of the temperature ever getting to the 80s. Also, the fact that I sweat like a water buffalo if the temperature jumps above 60 degrees does not bode well for me living in Florida. Yesterday it was 73 degrees in February. February!  I perish the thought of what temperatures June will have in store for me. What was I thinking?

A typical face when I am hot...

2. Sorry, maybe this is a little gross and I was having creepy dreams about it last night so I woke up feeling like a Cootie Queen, but I am actually allergic to the sun. Yes, I am allergic to that giant yellow heat ball of gas and flames that seems to be resting upon my roof down here. And maybe it would be comforting to know that there is medicine I could take to prevent it or heck, an actual name for it (impossible to find) but no. There's nothing. So if I am out in the sun for too long (we're talking 30 minutes, not 12 hours) I get tiny little red itchy dots on my arms, legs, chest, basically anywhere the sun touches. And, mind you, this never happened to me in New York or even the beaches of Italy. In fact, the only two places it has ever happened to me in my 30 years are Belize and FLORIDA!!! Who is allergic to the sun and moves to the Sunshine State? So, after having dreamt of a much more creepy version of it last night, I awoke to begin research to see if I could find a way to prevent it. And this is what I found. Finally! Now I no longer have to worry about looking like a creep!!!

"When going out in the sun, wear full sleeved clothes and pants, a wide brimmed hat and sunglasses. Women can tie a big scarf around the head to protect the head and neck."

Oh yeah, this is gonna be great....
 

My Trip Through a Lemur's Eyes..

A couple of years ago, I traveled to Italy and knew I would be taking some of the same pictures I had taken on my previous trip there. To make them more interesting, I inserted a lemur stuffed-animal in them so even duplicate shots would be more exciting then standard landscapes. He came with me on my adventure to Florida as well...

The Adventure Begins...

On the Road...with friend

Delaware

Stuck in Traffic in Virginia...a Very Large State

South Carolina

Georgia

                             

Time to Get Out of the Car

FINALLY!!!

Aaaaand...We're Off!

Highlights of Traveling with M & B or A Review of America's McDonald's

The other day, after packing up the car and getting to our standard 1-2 hour-behind-schedule-start we set sail, or..engine, for Florida. M, cat in a box, and I in one car, B and pooch in the other. We exhausted ourselves after about 15 minutes of driving and stopped at our first McDonald's of the day where M & B had an in-depth debate as to whether there was any "value" in their value meal or if they would've been better off buying their items individually next time. Pretty exciting stuff.

We headed on our way and I tried not to think ahead, just focus on the moment..otherwise I'd start to get antsy at the thought of the 2 day,10 hour each, drive ahead of us and nervous with the threat of having to eventually get behind the wheel. I had been slowly building up the nerve to drive, "heck yeah I can do it. Just like riding a bike." But then the battalion of Mack trucks hovering around and B, whose car we were following, endlessly weaving in and out of the lanes as if attempting to shake us.(..come to think of it...) started to get to me.

I busied myself by being self-appointed Master of Ceremonies, DJ Not-Much-To-Work-With (given the CD collection I had brushed the dust off of to bring on the trip. Apparently 2004 was the last time I had purchased a CD). It went well- The Kinks , The Cure, Blondie (Moby, alas, only lasted 1 song before I noticed my M starting to twitch) and I was overall very impressed with my selection and variety. 
Later, we discussed Marvin Gaye while listening to his greatest hits. M reflected on his life.."What kind of father did he have? First he names him Marvin, then he shoots him? What a bitter man..."

M & B, having made this trip around 1 million times (that was the approximate amount M gave me when I asked for a ballpark number) have it down to a science and so soon enough we stopped to take the dog for a walk and I was informed that shortly we would be stopping for lunch at....McDonald's.."He loves McDonald's" M said when I questioned our choice to go to the same restaurant that had wronged them so terribly at breakfast. Lets just say at lunch when M  removed the buns from her two hamburgers and was left with 2 small discs of meat to munch on, she wasn't too pleased.

The rest of the day went on without much action. As the hours dragged on, we busied ourselves reading the catchy license plates Virginians had customized such as "SHOPPING" (great purchase) and "YUO FAIL" (ahh, clever) and I amused myself by snickering at the town names (Backlick) and store signs (I almost lost it at BJ's GAS).

At one point M spilled coffee all over herself and as she struggled to steer while wiping herself off with a tissue, I asked, "Can I help you" "No," she said. "It's just a birth defect."

We stopped at a motel for the night and dinner, well, I think it's better left unmentioned but it consisted of a pile of anonymous seafood divvied up by 3. I forced it down, shoved in some earplugs and hurried to fall asleep before B started his epic snoring....

I awoke with M whispering, that there was a McDonald's breakfast waiting for me. Oh Joy. A piece of meat and cheese product on an english muffin. We took off for day 2 and this time we were on smaller roads, driving through North Carolina M pointed out the small town we passed and said, "You know, people in this part of the country have been marrying their cousins for generations."

Half way through the day I took over driving for a bit, fists grasped tightly around the steering wheel, eyes wide with fear with each approaching car sending me into a fit of panic. We stopped for lunch at McDonald's where M was more satisfied with her lunch than the day before. "This one's not so bad". She took over after a couple of hours and then the stir craziness set in. We were left with the less desirable musically and highly scratched, cracked and overall neglected and abused CDs. When we finally arrived to the house in Florida we were all pooped and ready to get out of the car...

As we sat around the dinner table that night we were left with these final thoughts by M, "You know, since McDonald's seems to be raising their prices and lowering their quality, I don't think I want to eat there anymore." Silence from B...

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Flah-rida

I decided recently to uproot my life and move from the center of the universe, NYC, to the center of...St Johns County, Florida, SAINT AUGUSTINE. I know, I know. Try to contain your jealousy. What was meant to be a 3 month stint in NYC, after returning empty-pocketed from my expat days in Italy, had turned into 4 years of fancy-free fun...and little else to show for myself. So I'm packing my bags and driving down to the orange state (?), state filled with oranges (?), ...anyway, they have orange juice and sun and...my parents have a house there so...right.

The plan is to find work either continuing in hotels, or a prestigious restaurant like Applebee's or nanny work. Something to make money so I can continue having adventures...eventually.

There are a few points I am hesistant about with the big move.

1. I have to drive down, albeit with mama, to Florida. That's about a 17-21 hour drive that we will be sharing. I did the calculations and I realized that I have not driven since before I moved to Italy. That was in 2006. With my further calculations (subtraction) that means that I have not driven for the past 5 years. Ouch. I also got my drivers license in 2004 which means that in my 30 years I have only driven for 2 of them. I also got into 2 car accidents in those 2 years. Needless to say, I am less than enthused for the big migration southward. My mother, however, is unwaveringly optimistic. Poor woman.

2. Florida in general is a challenge for me. Not the state, the word. As a New Englander I pronounce some of my words a little funny. While, or so I hear, Florida should be pronounced Floor-ida I say Flah-rida. Much like I say Faahr-head (forehead) and Ahh-range (orange). I have been practicing the "correct" pronunciation but it doesn't come easy. It goes like this "yeahsoI'vedecidedI'mdonewithNewYorkandI'mmovingto Floooooooorrrrrrr-ida." Not a natural flow. I'm sure I'll blow my cover within minutes of setting foot on their territory.

3. Finding work. I have been toying with the idea of moving to Florida for months and so I have been searching multiple sites to see what is available down there. Not much it seems. There is this one hotel there that my parents go on and on about. It's super-luxurious and fancy and that's where they see me working (obviously because I am both of those things as well?)  I go on this particular hotel's website frequently and see if they have anything available. Recently they had an open Hostess position available at their restaurant. Not really what I'm interested in but I decided to check it out. As I read "Essential Duties and Responsibilities" section I was overwhelmed. Not particularly challenging work but they seem like a very uptight and conservative establishment. "Not for me," I thought, but I kept perusing the pages and pages of duties. They were not leaving anything out....then I glanced at the "Qualifications" section. These are taken directly from the website:

LANGUAGE SKILLS:
Ability to read a limited number of two- and three-syllable words and to recognize similarities and differences between words and between series of numbers. Ability to print and speak simple sentences.

Um..I don't mean to toot my own horn but...seriously?

Read on... 

PHYSICAL DEMANDS:
While performing the duties of this job, the employee is frequently required to use hands to finger, handle, or feel and reach with hands and arms. The employee is occasionally required to stand and taste or smell.

Maybe I don't have anything to worry about. I think me and Flooooorrrrrida are going to get along just fine ;)

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Too Soon?

I want to start this next post with a disclaimer. This is about an event that occurred in my life.The participating party is still a friend of mine and someone that has always, with the exception of this story, been sane and kind and so I don't want it to seem like I'm making fun of him. This is, however, a funny story and he knows it.

Let us begin....

I, not so long ago, went on my first official date. Now I've had boyfriends before, albeit few and far between, but I've never been on one of those awkward-drinks-stifled-conversation happenings I've seen on shows like Friends. So when this boy I would see around asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink sometime, after blowing him off for a couple of weeks out of sheer anxiety and nervousness, I said yes. "Great!," he said. "It's a date." Ugh. No pressure. But the reason I agreed to it was that he seemed very sweet and shy and I thought he was cute so, at the age of 29, why not go on my first date?

Anyway, the next day I put on a pretty pink dress, did my hair and makeup and took a shot of tequila as I prepared to meet Mr. Mexico.We met after work and decided to go to one of my favorite bars that has a great happy hour and somewhere I would feel comfortable (a suggestion from my friends). The conversation on the way over was a little awkward. I asked most of the questions and he gave short answers, but we both admitted to being nervous and both had had a little to drink to ease our nerves.

When we got to the bar we put our things down on a table in the corner, away from anyone so we'd have privacy, and went to the bar to get our drinks. While ordering, a group came and set up camp next to our table. "Great," I said. "Company". He asked if I wanted him to make them leave. Now this was the first thing I thought was a little weird but I let it go. It was this kind of macho way of saying it that caught me off guard. We went and sat at another table out of the way, sat across from each other and began our date. As we were chatting we were drinking frozen margaritas. Now, to be fair, these drinks at this particular bar are very strong but I drink them often and have been going there for years so I'm sure my tolerance is up. They are not for the faint of heart.

This is actually something I nicknamed the "Roofie Coolata" but it's from the same bar and similar to the Frozen Margarita

Here's where things started to get a little...interesting. Our date basically consisted of me asking him a lot of questions about himself to learn more about him. I was feeling more open as the drinks were a-flowin' so I was filling in any blanks in the conversation with bad jokes and charming anecdotes. Here are some things I learned about him during our conversation:

-He had been in a gang (had been later turned out to be is currently in)
-He owned guns (2, and he was quite proud)
-He had gone to Riker's island for a year for gun possession (actually gun possession while selling drugs)
-He had 6 tattoos (including a pot leaf with gang letters intertwined, a Mexican flag, a scorpion, an angel and a devil- actually later it turned out to be 7 tattoos. He also had a heart with his first girlfriend's name on it from when he was 16 that he originally hid from me)
-He dropped out of high school (I am not one to judge, and to each his own, but when I later asked if he had ever been to another country besides Mexico, he said only North Carolina :/)

Now I am actually more drawn to people with different backgrounds from my own so I don't want to sound like a snob but 1 of these facts above could pass, maybe 2 or 3 even but with all 5 points I began to wonder if Mr. Mexico was Mr. Right.

And the night continued....

Mr. Mexico and I drank more and he kept up with me, drink for drink. The conversation got a little weird. He was getting a little moody, saying things like he wanted me to take care of him and support him. He told me he'd take me to Mexico where, in his words, the men would try to kidnap me but he'd beat them up so I'd be safe (any girl's dream vacation). He told me he loved me (Date #1 might I remind you) and that I was his girl, and I belonged to him. And then things got even more interesting.....

I went outside to smoke a cigarette and he joined me. He thought it would be a good idea to smoke weed. Bad idea. We went back to the bar and I went to the bathroom. When I opened the door, there he was. He pushed me inside and tried to kiss me. "What are you doing?" I said. "Let's get out of here." And that's when he did it. Yes, ladies and gents, next thing I know he was lifting his shirt, pointing down to his crotch, saying "this is for you, this is yours". When I looked down, there it was. He had whipped it out in all of its glory. Horrified, I pushed passed him, and went back to our table, where some friends had joined us. Dear God, help me!

He came back up the stairs and I went outside to smoke another cigarette (and to figure out what the next plan of action was). He joined me. I tried to convince him that he should go home but he was getting pissy. He didn't want to go. I saw my friend leaving so I quickly waved goodbye to Mr. Mexico and ran to my friend. We went around the corner where I told him what had just happened. As we were talking, I saw Mexico go inside the bar so I ran for it. I walked as fast as I could to my friend's house (oh, might I add that my phone had been turned off so I had no way of sending an SOS).

I hustled for a couple of blocks until I had this feeling that I should turn around...and when I did BAM! Mr. Mexico had been following me the whole time! He then, while I desperately tried to get him to take a taxi, kept asking me to get a hotel room with him. I said "listen, buddy. I'm not that kind of girl." Do you know what he said?? "Oh. Well I didn't know" Haaaa.

Anyway, after he walked me most of the way to my friends house I finally called him a cab and pushed him into it. He tried to grab my arm and pull me in but I got loose and shut the door, running up to my friend's apartment. He later told me he had thrown a $20 at the driver gotten out and went looking for me. He didn't find me.

Oh, and when I later asked him why he had thought it a good idea to whip out his junk he said, "well, it just seemed right at the time." Priceless.

Wait til I tell you about our second date ;)

This Picture Gets Its Own Post

Once upon a time my sister and I went to Six Flags in L.A. We waited in line for about 2 hours to go on the most horrific ride of our lives. On those two minutes on that ride we went through just about every emotion you can think of. I laughed nervously, cried, and was on the brink of passing out when it ended. As we disembarked, shaking, we tried to console each other, at least we'd never have to relive that experience....

until we saw this picture of us.....

Add caption

You're welcome :)

One of My Faves

I often find myself in strange and unusual situations, particularly as an American living in Italy. When you take someone with little knowledge of a complex language (Me vs Italian) pair that with a New Yorker in a Machoismo society (Me vs Italians) and add alchohol (Me vs The World) hilarity ensues. One of my favorite stories involves me, two girlfriends, 2 gents, a language barrier, and a fateful text message. We'll call this one IN CINQUE....

I had been living in Genova, a decent sized port city on the Northwest coast of Italy, when my two Finnish girlfriends, E & M, and I decided to take a weekend trip to one of my very favorite cities about an hour away. We had developed a tradition that seemed to make the ride go a bit faster. This involved smuggling a couple bottles of supermarket prosecco (for the always affordable 2 euros a pop) and drinking them along the way. Not a complex idea but one that worked. Feel free to use it.

We arrived in Rio, a tiny, one street fishing village that had stolen my heart on my first visit, and like a glutton for punishment, I'd kept coming back. (more on the endless Rio shenanigans later).

We checked into our hostel, got ourselves gussied up and heading to the local hotspot (basically the only bar open til 1am) There we were, minding our own business, when we were joined by GL and J. GL was what I liked to call my on-again off-again headache, an Italian fireman who was the bane of my existence (but who I was also simultaneously semi-obsessed with..ahhh the complexities of the female mind...)

Side note- when we first met, GL asked how old I was. I was 25. He said "me too". When I ran into him two months later it was his birthday. He said he was turning 25. The next year he turned 24. His friends visited me in NYC two years later, they said they were 24, the same age as GL. To this day I have no idea how old he actually is. Probably around 8.

J was his half English, half Italian friend who seemed to be his own biggest fan. They joined us and we chatted for a bit before us girls headed to dinner. Here's the language breakdown: My friends E and M spoke Italian very well, mine was mediocre but far from fluent, J spoke both English and Italian fluently, and GL spoke next to no English.

While we ate I received a text from GL that would forever alter the course of the evening. "Facciamo qualcosa in cinque". The girls and I read the text and agreed on a correct translation. To us, it read "Let's do something together, the five of us" or since we were in an area called Cinque Terre, "Let's all do something in Cinque Terre". So you can see, there's room for error. I'll give you the correct translation at the end, as a punchline. We replied with yes, of  course, and returned to the bar where the boys eagerly awaited our arrival.

After a bit the boys suggested we go back to J's place in the next town over. ahh the poor unsuspecting girls. They seduced us with promises of Wii tennis. How could we resist? We acted like fools on the car ride over, dancing around to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," stopping at a local bar to pick up some more wine, until we finally got to J's.

We gathered in the living room and drank some wine. GL kissed me and put an ice cube in my mouth with his. "Whatinthe?" I thought as I spit it out the window. Nows when things get hairy. GL went to the bedroom and called for me.  I went in and he asked for a massage. "Sure". So i gave him a short, perfectly normal massage, his friend J came in, in a pissed off mood and said the girls had fallen asleep, and lay on the bed. GL then asked me to give J a massage. "Um...sure..ok" (Think more of like in a ditzy blonde voice because I'm obviously an idiot) While I was giving J a massage, GL came from behind and tried get fresh with me. "What are you doing?," I said and made him stop. I could tell he was trying to get me into some threesome type business and I was not having it.  He then seemed pissed off so I left the room to join my friends. I was upset and they were consoling me but now we were stuck at some strangers house with no way back to our hostel. GL came storming in and said he was taking us home. When we got home the three of us replayed the events over and over in our head, so confused as to why things had ended up so weird, with the guys getting so annoyed with us.

It wasn't until the next morning, when we read the original text from GL for the 1000th time that we finally understood what had gone wrong.

And let this be a lesson to you...

"Facciamo qualcosa in cinque", the literal translation is....WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE A FIVESOME!!!

The whole time, these boys had thought that we had agreed to have an orgy. When we naively said we would go back to J's, while dancing around to Cyndi Lauper, when GL had tried to play that pass the ice with your mouth game, when GL had finally had given up on my two sleeping friends and trued to make a go of it as a threesome with me, him, and J. These poor boys thought they were going to have the night of their lives and we were just looking to have a little (emphasis on the word little) fun.

The moral of the story is.. if someone ever sends you a text in a different language and you are not 100% sure what it means, have a native speaker translate it for you or you just may end up walking funny the next day ;)