An Australian in Florence, Italy - from G'day Mate to Ciao

Buon Natale!

2009-12-17T21:06:00.000-08:00

This Christmas is going to be extra special for us. The arrival of Lucas and also his dad turning 30 on Boxing Day means we have plenty to celebrate about.
In the last 6 weeks our lives have been completely turned around and apart from the sleepless nights and some days of sheer exhaustion, it is completely wonderful.

The other day I decided to take Lucas out for the first time. Having a ceaserean means you can't drive for 6 weeks so I had to wait until now. Oh the stress of it! And if you are not a first time Mum I really understand how petty this sounds. I would have thought so too. Pre-baby I remember standing in front of 300 people presenting an award at my old job. I barely raised a sweat and quite looked forward to it. But the morning of my scheduled day out to meet a girlfriend for coffee at 10am turned into a sweating, anxious morning. Did I bring enough things, will I need more than one bottle of milk, will he overheat in our 44 degree summer, will I be able to strap him into his car seat and how do I work this pram again?
So after starting to get ready at 6.30am I made it on time for my 10am coffee date particularly proud of myself apart from wearing a dress that is not wind-proof. You try setting up a pram, getting a floppy kid out of a 4wd and trying to hold down your dress. However we made it.

After my coffee date, I went to do some grocery shopping (yes I have an angel that slept through it all) and passed a mirror. Somewhere beyond the stack of tomatoes was a woman pushing a pram. After I got over the bags under her eyes (are you tired lady?) I realised that mummy was me. It is still a shock sometimes to see myself as a mother. I used to look at other women in the shopping centre and think 'oh that's a nice dress she's wearing'. Now I look at the mothers with babies and we give each other that smile that only mothers can exchange. That one that says 'your baby is so cute and you are doing the hardest but most rewarding job in the world'.

I decided last week that I wasn't superwoman. Actually my tired, worn out, haven't slept more than 3 hours in one block body decided I was not superwoman. I decided to come to the realisation that a little dog hair on the floor was not going to mean the end of the world. Or that my husband would have to eat a sandwich for dinner from time to time. Husband looked at me one day and saw a youthful fresh motherly face...ok that's a lie, he saw a tired hormonal sleep deprived person. So, being the wonderful husband he is he hired a cleaner and a dog walker. (oh yeah along with all the mother guilt you inherit I also had dog guilt as she wasn't getting walked enough). If you think your husband won't get you a cleaner, can i recommend a ceaserean section and just watch what he does when the doctor tells him HE is the one that has to vacuum and mop for a few months...

Yesterday I was thinking back to this time last year. We were getting ready to spend Christmas in Austria, a short (short by Australian standards!) 6 hour drive from our home in Florence. We got there and experienced -20 degrees and for me, the first time I'd seen real snow. This year it is 44 degrees and we are on a cyclone watch.
It was in Austria that husband and I decided we would start trying for a baby (you know because EVERYONE says it will take us at least a year, hmmm ok one month later!). Who knew that all that talking (well that and something else!) would end up with a completely different Christmas this year with our beautiful son Lucas.
Merry Christmas everyone, hope you have had a blessed year. From Italy to Australia, and from singlehood to motherhood - it's certainly being an experience for us this year which ended in the biggest blessing of all.

Introducing Mr. Page

2009-11-18T15:36:00.000-08:00

Our long awaited arrival decided to come early on 5th November. And now, we can't imagine our lives without him. He is an absolute angel (apart from coming early on mummy's designated day spa day, but don't worry I'll remind him of that when he is older) and only cries when wanting to be fed. Is this the calm before the storm!?
So here is our little man, Lucas Justin Page. He was 3.48 kilo's and 51cm.

He is basically a mini version of his daddy including spiky black hair that I can't stop stroking. And he is a kicker and a mover - but he was like that when in my belly too so we are not surprised.

I never thought my life would be so fulfilled. All the cliches about 'best thing to ever happen' and 'your life will never be the same' and 'best thing we ever did' now make 100% complete and utter sense to me. Even at 2am in the morning through groggy sleepy eyes.

It is also amazing to see my husband as a father and the love and bond he has for his son. This is my favourite picture so far of them together.

This is us leaving the hospital which was really more like a hotel and we did not want to leave. Or at least, we wanted to take all the midwives home with us (and the chef! My husband complained about putting on wieght in the hospital as he stayed everynight in our double bed and was served 5 meals a day - he knows he won't be getting that at home!).

I never imagined this happiness...so now, with our dog Sophie in tow, our family feels complete. It's funny as it felt complete before and I didn't think life could get any better. But it just did.

Becoming a madre

2009-11-04T02:59:00.000-08:00

It is really hard to believe that until a few months ago we were living in Florence. And now we live in the Australian outback - what a change. Even harder to believe is that our Italian made creation will be coming into life this Friday at 10am. Thanks everyone for the suggestions of names from Luigi to Fabio...I assure you it's not one of those!

This 9 months has really flown by and I can still remember walking through the streets of Florence holding my belly protectively in fear of an older Italian lady bumping into me (they never move out of the way for a straniera even if there are three of them and one of you!) or an American tourist busily rushing to language school or a bike rider on his way to work oblivious to the beautiful statue he is passing by that millions around the world dream to see one day.

Then once I started showing even slightly, everyone moved aside for me and gave me smiles and most of all advice on what to eat and how to avoid getting fat (hmmm if anyone works out that formula while pregnant, let me know!).

This is me two days ago...I can only imagine the reaction I would have gotten in Italy with THIS BELLY!

Now as I am two nights away from giving birth, it's still hard to believe I will be a mother. So much has happened in our lives this year but of course nothing can top this. I'm looking forward to holding our son in our arms this Friday. I'm looking forward to becoming a mother and seeing Jason becoming a father. And I'm looking forward to being able to eat proscuitto and tiramisu again too! Stay tuned for baby news.

Whales, crocs, Skippy and hotel check-outs.

2009-10-09T17:08:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's been a month since I've blogged.
So, what have I been doing all month? Okay here's some things on my list:

- Regular doctors visits to the hospital to be told we have a beautiful healthy bambino boy growing (high point)

- Getting kicked in the ribs to the point where I squeal in pain and wondering if I'll ever get into my skinny jeans again (low point)

- Booking our appointment for this long term resident to check out on 10th November (high and low point). High as we finally get to meet our creation but low as I am now thinking AM I READY TO BE A MOTHER IN JUST 4 WEEKS!!!!? YES THANK YOU, I KNOW MY NURSERY IS GORGEOUS BUT WHAT DID YOU SAY OUR CREDIT CARD BILL WAS THIS MONTH? AND WHAT IF HE PLANS TO CHECK OUT EARLY OR WHAT IF HE DECIDES HE'D LIKE TO BE BORN MID-FLIGHT OR WHAT IF WHAT IF WHAT. Ok deep breathing now, thinking of calm, sandy beaches, rowing a boat in crisp blue water. Paper bag.

- Training the new puppy who amazes us as just how smart she is and getting lots of cuddles from what is undoubtedly the most affectionate dog in the world (high point)

- Coming home and finding yet another massive land mine dug in our lovely lawn and my new thongs chewed through again (low point). By the way, US readers, thongs here are shoes, not what you are thinking. Strangely enough at this point in my life there is no underwear on the lawn.

Here is a pic of the destructor of our reticulation system and the spunk that repairs it every weekend. Do not be fooled by those puppy dog eyes .... he is a mean mean man. Ha ha.

- Sunbaking at 7am in the morning. It is 30 degrees plus every day here and I try to sound sympathetic and make sure the suntan lotion bottle doesn't make a noise when my friends ring from Perth and tell me that it's raining again.
WARNING: PICTURE OF FAT PREGNANT WOMAN SUNBAKING COMING UP............
JUST KIDDING!! Everyone keeps telling me you can hang your dignity up at the hospital entrance door when you go in for labour...but I still have it today and am hanging on to it for dear life.

- Going to the beach. A couple of weekends ago, we decided to take a trip to what used to be my favourite beach around Karratha. You might remember we lived here 2 years ago before Florence. Well this sign was not here then! Apparently the resident has been removed but it still makes me think 'where's his mamma?'. By the way, not many people heeded to the caution of not swimming as the beach was full of swimmers. I guess you pick your risks in life. Going down to a croc is not how I want to go so we didn't swim.

This is a friendly local at the park next to the beach.

Do check out our beautiful water though and the whale that we spotted. Oh hang on, that's me at 33 weeks pregnant. (We do get whales in the water so it was an easy mistake).

The reason I have not slept for three nights....

2009-09-02T17:01:00.000-07:00

When I became pregnant, everyone's big tip was 'get as much sleep as you can now'.

But oh, not me. See I thought I would prepare nice and early for cleaning up poops, getting up at 2am then 4am to the sounds of crying and generally getting in the mood for having no free time at all anymore!

And this is the reason for it! Isn't she the sweetest reason you've ever seen!

In just 3 days, Sophie has just about mastered toilet training which usually takes weeks in puppies and she already knows how to sit on command. Good girl Sophie. Life is sweeter golden :) Or it will be once I can get a full night sleep again!

Being back down under

2009-08-19T16:52:00.000-07:00

Well it has been well over a month since I posted and so much has happened.
I guess the blog should be re-named from Ciao to G'day Mate now as we have finally arrived back in Australia! Mate!

We left Florence on the 12th July and had three weeks holiday in Perth and then headed back up to the small-town-in-the-outback Karratha to start our new life here.
When we left I would still call this town a country town. However with the amount of construction and industry that has developed in the last few years this is just a booming booming town which is literally bursting at the seams with people coming here to work from all parts of the world. Single women note: there are about 8 guys to every one girl here! When we left two years ago there was about 4 flights a day and that was it. When I was there last week it was resembling more like London Heathrow ;)

Here are a couple of pictures taken from our car of the typical landscape of the Pilbara - the region where Karratha is located in Australia. The cows are very much to be avoided as you can easily kill yourself when one of these strolls onto the road and collides with the car. And we saw a lot of dead ones on the side of the road along with loads of dead kangaroo's. They seem to be attracted to the sides of the road. Not good for them and not good for drivers.

Husband started his new role (an extension of his job in Florence) and I laugh when I think of him wearing his best collared shirts to work as now he is back to his bright orange and blue uniform (safety colours on the construction site). One thing I don't laugh at is his waking up every day at 4.30am, the time usually when Italians have only been asleep a couple of hours from the previous nights' late dinner or apperitivo's.

We are lucky enough to have a brand spanking new house provided with Jason's job. (Hey there has to be some perks living in one of Australia's remotest towns). Admittedly I can't walk three metres to get a cappuccino or walk five minutes to see the Statue of David. But the house is so beautiful, BIG and the backyard is amazing. We foresee lots of Aussie bbq's ahead and yes, there will be shrimps on the barbie even though we call them prawns here. By the way, so far we have not had one urge for pasta!

After living in this house for just two weeks so far, we have realised just how much we missed having space when we were in Italy. I know it's such a luxury to have so many bedrooms and bathrooms and space for just the two of us, but it's a luxury we REALLY appreciate now having lived in Europe where space is at a premium.

The first time we moved to Karratha back in 2003, I cried for a month. I had no friends, I knew no-one, Jason was at work all day long and I just felt so remote. Although of course we are still so remote (the nearest town is Port Hedland 260 km's away) and still in the heart of the outback. But all our friends are still here and it really feels like we have returned home. I have not had one day yet where I haven't lunched or coffee'd with old friends and it is an amazing feeling to reconnect with people.

Onto baby news now! Bambino is growing steady and he is a kicker. Like I mean A KICKER and PUNCHER and a BOXER. It is so strange to see my stomach bulging out when he is having a good old dance in there. We have 13 weeks to go until our new arrival so it is going to be exciting times ahead and a journey we can't wait to start.

When I was in Perth I had my baby shower. I don't think I've ever been that spoilt in my life. The guys wisely left for the day while 18 girls streamed in with massive presents in their arms. I was shocked as I have never been to a baby shower and I honestly expected a couple of socks and bibs here and there and that is it. When I piled all the presents in the car, it looked like I had just robbed a luxury baby store. I was very touched at how much effort my friends had gone to spoil me that day. Here is a picture of the cupcakes my very talented sister-in-law made for the day:

And here is a belly pic of me at 6 months. This photo is with my best friend Gina who is Italian...Gina, along with my mother in law put on my baby shower. What do you get when you combine an Italian and a Filipino? LOTS of food.

And onto our last bit of news. Before bambino arrives, we are also expecting the stork to bring another addition to our family next week - but this time a furry four legged fur-baby. We can't wait to have a puppy running around again and I have 13 weeks to train it military style so it's a good doggy for when the baby comes!

Now that I'm finally settled, I am looking forward to reading all my blogs that I used to read every week - I need to catch up!
So from Australia - g'day and it feels great to be blogging again! I've missed all my blogger friends!

Arrivederci Italia!

2009-07-09T12:32:00.001-07:00

I've been very slack in blogging lately. Well that's if you call moving apartments, organising things to be sent back to Australia, signing a million customs and tax forms and buying a car over the internet! Not to mention the little bambino doctors appointments.
And if I'm being honest, I've tried to sit down and write but I honestly don't know what to write for what will be my last blog written in Italy as we leave this Saturday morning. So here are a few of my random musings and thoughts as we countdown our move back to Australia:

i) Everyone keeps asking me, no actually make that everyone keeps TELLING me, that I will miss Italy and how sad I must be to be going back to Australia. I have to be honest and say that we are SO excited to be going back home. I know that living in Italy is a lot of people's dreams and we were blessed enough to experience living it. But it wasn't MY dream and really was a job assignment for my husband that brought us here. What I'm trying to say is that while we are SO grateful for this opportunity and seeing what we have seen, lived what he have lived through and ATE WHAT WE ATE (!), living overseas has made us appreciate our own country even more. Big family homes being the norm, backyards, organised streets, little bureacracy and the cleanliness of my country. Italy will ALWAYS be dear in our hearts, after all we are even bringing back a living Italian souvenir, but it was never a permanent stay for us and we are so happy to be going home sweet home.

ii) I have been so touched by the people I've met in the last two years of living abroad. Random people in coffee shops, people that I've met from online blogs, people I met at Italian school and especially the couple of dear friends that I have become so close to. Having friends overseas is a hard situation. You know you are leaving, they know you are leaving. Sometimes it's hard for both you and them to make an effort to be friends as it really is just a temporary friendship. If I'm being honest, some of my friends here that I had coffee with will maybe write and email occassionally or I'll facebook them. But realistically they were just a friend for a season. That is awful to write and probably sounds awful to read. In saying that, I have made one dear friend in Florence that I know will be a friend for life. We met in January but I feel like I've known her all my life and I know we will be friends for years to come. I'm grateful for all my friendships here in Florence. I love meeting people from all walks of life and even if we met once and didn't become 'best friends' I still valued this time meeting new people and finding out what brought them to Florence or where they were heading to next.

iii) Italy has taught me a lot of things. Don't necessarily stop at a stop sign. Never order a cappucino after mid morning. Do not expect an Italian to eat by 8pm. But on a serious note, Italians really have it right when I look at how much they enjoy life. They don't pride themselves on having a big house (with a big mortgage) and flash cars. They pride themselves on living life. Enjoying food with their families on a Sunday. They love children. They don't put their jobs before everything else.

We leave Florence on Saturday morning to head back home. It is both with happiness and sadness that I leave the place that has been home to us for nearly 18 months. Even though we have both loved and disliked different things about living here, the most important thing is that we have learnt so much from this experience. For that we will always be grateful. One day we will return to this beautiful city with our son (yes we found out it's a boy!) and show him this amazing chapter in our lives. We'll walk past the apartment where we lived, the pizzeria that treated us like family when we went there each week, our favourite landmarks and favourite gelateria. Years down the track, Italy will all be a distant memory so I am so grateful for having kept this blog to look back on all our experiences. And I'm so grateful to my readers for some of the wonderful friends I've made this year have been online friends that I've never actually met in person.

I'm still planning to keep this blog up when we move back to our small town of Karratha. Although I'm yet to see what I will write about being that nothing much ever happens there and it certainly doesn't hold the same allure as Florence. We'll see if I continue to have readers I guess!
I'll be on holidays for about a month while we holiday in Perth so I won't be blogging. But I'll see you all very soon. Except I won't be strutting the latest fashion in stiletto's just to get some milk at the shop Italian style. I'll be back to flip-flops and 4wd's and fishing in the country. Hope you can join me.

The countdown is on!

2009-06-18T04:22:00.001-07:00

I finally felt the bambino kick as of two days ago. Three more days to go whether we find out if it is a Luigi or Francesca or Salvatore or Louisa! Actually we have non-Italian names picked out but we are keeping those a secret. Either way he or she will be a boxer or karate expert if it keeps up this punching and kicking!

Interested in pregnancy? Read about being

10 weeks pregnant, 20 weeks pregnant,

30 weeks pregnant and 40 weeks pregnant.

Auguri!

2009-06-10T10:26:00.000-07:00

I've been a bad blogger lately. I have no-one to blame but myself. Well actually that's not true...this baby is the reason I am so darn tired! I can't complain as I don't have many other nasty symptoms that I have read about but I can honestly say I have never been this exhausted in my life. Not when I worked three jobs and went to uni full-time. Not when I partied until 4am and then started my job at the airport at 4.30am (oops). Not ever. And the more I sleep and rest the more tired I become! But the baby is baking now at 18 weeks so I am happy to take whatever comes my way.

I had read in an article before that Italy has one of the lowest birth rates in Europe and that pregnant women are treated like queens in Italy. And according to a friend, apparently you become even more of a rock star if you are pushing a pram.

In the last two or so weeks, I've actually gone from the 'I have eaten way too much pizza' look to the 'do you think anyone knows I'm pregnant or do they just see a chubby girl' look to what is now the 'pregnant signora' look.

What is funny is the reaction that I get from Italian people. I have never been pregnant in Australia but I really can't imagine that strangers including men in their 20's who run our local pizzeria would take such an interest in my pregnancy. As soon as anyone finds out I'm pregnant (usually by overhearing the coffee shop girls asking me how my pancia is today) the first thing they excitedly say is 'Auguri!!' (sort of like best wishes) and they are so genuine it always brings a smile to my face.

Another example is when husband and I went to a trattoria for dinner a couple of weeks ago. The waiter was one of those very stuffy types that was not smiling but not rude either. I ordered a pork dish but asked him to make sure the meat was well cooked as I was pregnant. Well, he became our best friend there and then and suddenly a big smile appeared and he patted husband on the shoulder. Husband ordered a spicy salami pasta and I put my fork into his plate to try some of the pasta. The waiter ran over and said 'Signora, the baby will not like spicy food, please don't eat this'. I didn't have the heart to tell him I had eaten two curries the previous week and so far had no written complaints from the inhabitant.

Last week I went to my local fruit and vegetable market. I went to buy some proscuitto for husband but my usual shop where I buy from made me firstly PROMISE that I would not eat it. It's not good for the baby. Then the cheese man nearby came out of his stall and inspected my belly and said 'yes it's quite small, you must be very early on'. Speculation on whether it's an ItalianO or an ItalianA followed.

And there are so many more examples. Everyone (not just Italians) wants to know how I'm feeling, if we want a boy or girl, do we know the sex, do we need them to recommend a good doctor that Luigi's cousin's aunty's daughter used. The Italian interest in pregnancy really reminds me just how much they value family and children. I don't think all Italians are overly friendly on first meeting but with this belly sticking out, it seems I have risen to a new status level than just a blonde straniera (foreigner) who is probably living in Florence for a month. However, Italians always seem disappointed when I tell them the father is not Italian and the baby is on it's way to Australia in a month's time. Oh well, they say. At least it's made in Italy.

European Road Trip

2009-05-12T10:39:00.000-07:00

Last week we got back from a road trip around Italy, Germany and Holland. Although I do not recommend everyone doing this in their first trimester (!), we had a wonderful time and one of my dreams came true, to see tulip season in Holland.

Firstly we drove to Milan and spent one night with our friends Payman and his wife Veronica. Payman is also an engineer (like husband) and used to work with Jason in the Karratha gas plant so we had plenty to reminisce about. I had been off fish for a long time and Veronica cooked salmon for dinner....well it was the best salmon I had tasted and it was delicious. My fish appetite has returned.

The next day we set off through the Swiss Alps (that were still covered in snow and were as beautiful as always) for our ten hour drive to Cologne, Germany. It amazed me how different driving in Europe is where there are road stops every 50 kms. When we used to drive from Karratha to Perth (in Australia) sometimes the next road stop with fuel was 200 km's away.

Lots of singing and eating lollies later on a speed limt free autostrada (very scary), we arrived in Cologne. It was wonderful to catch up with family in Germany and also to do some relaxing. We weren't interested in sight seeing as we had been there numerous times before, however Jay could not resist taking night photos of the Cologne Dom - we think it's the most beautiful cathedral in all of Europe.

The rest of our time in Germany was spent visiting more family, sleep ins in the hotel and ordering breakfast in bed. On mornings when we weren't completely lazy we would get up and go to my beloved Starbucks.

Next on our road trip was Holland. Husband had been to Amsterdam before for work but I had never been and was very curious. Our friends Ryan and Elize live in Amsterdam and we stayed with them. Ryan, an engineer, also used to work in Karratha with Jason. In fact he was our neighbour and is one of our dearest friends.

Ryan and Elize live in a gorgeous apartment overlooking one of the canals and about 50 metres from Anne Frank's house. This didn't mean that much to us until we visited Anne Frank's house and that is when reality hit home. On that very street, just years ago, Nazi's were storming the streets and bombing homes and terrorising Jews, amongst others. It was an eye opening museum which I really recommend (just like I recommend Auschwitz in Poland for everyone to see).

Amsterdam made a funny impression on me. I found it very beautiful with it's canals, gorgeous buildings and cosmopolitan atmosphere. But you could be in a gorgeous street, then seemingly walk two streets ahead and like we did, stumble into the red light district. We stumbled across it during the day so I wasn't as saddened by it as I thought I would be. (I know it's stupid but I get very sad when I see young girls forced (debatable I know) into selling themselves in windows. It was funny in a sense that these girls were there but there was normal looking families just walking past and carrying on with their daily activities of getting from place A to B. After being offered coccaine on the street twice (ummm I wouldn't even know what to do with it, put it in my herbal tea perhaps?) we decided we had seen enough. We walked past all the people smoking marijuana in coffee shops (that is everywhere not just in the red light district) and returned back a couple of streets to the posh side of town again. Very strange, but interesting.

One of my favourite things about Amsterdam was of course to do with food - Dutch apple pancakes!We had pancakes 5 times in Amsterdam and we were there only four days, go figure!

Apart from seeing our friends, the highlight of Amsterdam was driving to a town called Lisse which is famous for it's tulips. Look at what we saw on a random road we drove by!!

One our way home, we stopped in to visit our friends Peggy and Mike in Lake Como. They had kindly offered us a room in their apartment. Peggy and Mike are just a gorgeous couple that I had met in my Italian class in Florence but they had since moved on to Lake Como. When we arrived we soon realised their 'apartment' was in fact a stunning villa overlooking the whole of Lake Como. It was just beautiful and Peggy and Mike (and their two daughters Elizabeta and Nicole) were perfect hosts and we had a wonderful time with them.
Another highlight of the trip: Peggy's dinner that she cooked for us and we ate on the balcony overlooking the view. I couldn't believe how good the food was and Peggy admitted she had been taking private lessons from a chef in town that has cooked for Oprah. So if it's good enough for Oprah, it was good enough for us!

I think we would have had a wonderful road trip anyway, but spending it with friends, both new and old made this trip just even better. It is our last big trip in Europe before we go home and we certainly won't be forgetting it in a hurry.

Bambino's/The search for the best tiramisu is over

2009-05-06T11:22:00.001-07:00

Ok, so what is your definition of torture?

Here is mine:

Living in Italy and not being able to eat tiramisu, salami, cheeses or the famous Florentine Bistecca, a massive hunk of meat served very rare (sorry my vegetarian readers especially Erin).

But I'm happy to report that the feelings of torture go away as soon as I think about why I have stopped eating all this glorious Italian fare. No, my jeans didn't finally give way....

I'm three months pregnant!!!!!

So on November 15th we will have a Fabio, Luigi or Francesca making his/her debut back home in Australia. Hmmmm well actually if it is a Fabio or Francesca I may have a lot of explaining to do to my Australian husband.....

Today we had our three month ultrasound. It was the most amazing thing we've ever seen. We could see the arms and legs and even the nose bone. One of the arms was curled up in a fighting position - perhaps he/she will be a boxer?? Or it really IS an Italian bred baby and is starting to use arm gestures already to communicate.

You'll know by my year of blogging that Florence has been both wonderful and challenging for us. However for all the butt kicking we received, Italy will now be forever engrained into our hearts as the place we grew our family. It's going to make me look at tags that read 'Made in Italy' very differently!

ps Next week, I promise I will write about our two week road trip around Europe which we returned from on Sunday. We saw the most amazing scenery ever, stay tuned.

Going home in twelve weeks...

2009-04-16T08:35:00.000-07:00

It's just 12 weeks until we leave Italy to go back home to Australia. 12 weeks!!!
We are both so excited to go back home. Italy has been a wonderful adventure but it was never home for us. I've been thinking about things that I'll miss about Italy and things that I am looking forward to when we get back.

For now, here are the things I'm looking forward to:

Meeting our new nephew and seeing our family and friends
Cadbury's plain milk chocolate
Fish and chips on the beach
Getting a new dog
Cadbury's Roast Almond chocolate
Normal white bread that does not go hard by the end of the day
Flyscreens on windows
A garage at home so I don't have to walk to get my car
Cadbury's plain milk chocolate and Cadbury's Roast Almond chocolate
Having a house with an oven so I can bake again (watch out thighs and butt!)
Fresh fish caught by dear husband
Having a large house with a backyard again
Cadbury's Roses chocolates

And things I will miss:

My favourite coffee shop in the world and the friends I've made there
Tiramisu. Oh the sweet love of my life.
Living opposite a pizzeria. That does the best tiramisu. Enough said.
The Cinque Terre
Fresh tomatoes in the shop that smell as if they were picked just moments ago
My local markets with the best salami's ever
Church bells ringing on a Sunday morning
Being able to fly to the opposite side of Europe. In two hours. For fifty euro's.
Chianti wine that does not give a guaranteed headache the next morning

A week in the UK

2009-03-19T09:12:00.000-07:00

This week husband had to go to the UK for a week of work. Me being his loyal wife insisted he needed someone to iron his shirts/wake him up/provide daily foot massages whilst in the hotel. Just in case the hotel didn’t provide any of these services.

Husband’s office is in Reading which is about a 40 minute train ride from London. I love going back because I get to stock up on food that I can’t buy easily in Florence like curry pastes and good porridge. Even my English doctor gave me a request for some Horlics (some strange malt drink that I’d never heard of). Every time we come to the UK, I promise husband I’ll buy just a couple of things but in the end my suitcase looks like we are going back to a country that clearly has just had a war and is not stocking food on shelves anytime soon. If the plane coming home crashes aka Lost style, I will be an instant millionaire selling food on the island.

I know it is a sin to say this, but I don’t like Italian coffee. It’s too strong even when I ask them to make it weak. And here’s another confession: Hi my name is Monika and I’m an alcoholic...um I mean a STARBUCKS-aholic. I love the milky flavoured coffee topped with cream. And I love that I can ask for a skinny de-caff weak latte with extra chocolate on top without hearing a mamma mia under the barista’s breath.

Whilst I was sitting at my favourite Starbucks (there are four within a block of each other in the centre, who says they are taking over the world?), I saw a group of young girls giggling over their coffees. I had an overwhelming feeling of sadness. I remembered to just over a year ago when I had first arrived in Reading. I flew in on a Monday and husband left for a work trip to the US the very next day. I remember I sat at that very Starbucks every day to have my breakfast and felt the loneliest I had ever felt in my life. I didn’t know anyone, my husband was away constantly and the days were so slow. Then once I got used to Reading, four months later I had to do it all over again in a new city and country – Florence, Italy.

I also remember that one of the reasons I felt so lonely was that I couldn’t tell anyone (apart from a couple of my close friends, you know who you are) how I was feeling. I tried, but was soon met with the usual responses ‘what are you complaining about? You live in Europe, I would love to go to Europe, you don’t have to work, you have a perfect life’. Sheesh these people probably also think I wake up in the morning with perfectly styled hair and a flawless face of make-up...

The truth of the matter is, I don’t blame people for thinking it’s a perfect life because until you’ve made such a big change in your life, you really don’t know what culture shock is and how much adjusting you need to do. I certainly didn’t think that I, a strong woman and extremely extroverted, would feel lonely.

And that is not to say that we were ungrateful for the opportunity we were given (we thank God every day for what we have) but it still can be a hard time in your life. Yes, you can visit Buckingham Palace or go see the Statue of David but those things were not important to me. My friends and family is what I missed. I would rather have had a good coffee with a friend anyday. Preferrably at Starbucks, but I would have taken whatever was going.

Now our time overseas is drawing to an end and we should be back home in Australia by mid- year. This experience has been the best thing that has ever happened to us. We have seen more countries than I thought I would see in a lifetime. We have made lots of friends and acquaintances and a couple of close friends that will be dear to us for a very long time. Jason has enjoyed his work so much albeit being a lot of hard work. I have had a chance to catch up with my family who live scattered throughout Europe. We could not have hoped for a better time in our lives.

Anniversary in Florence

2009-03-01T07:22:00.000-08:00

Today is our six year anniversary.
Six years seems like such a long time in some ways, but for me our time together has literally flown by. I guess I am with the right person. Actually I KNOW I am with the right person. I can't imagine my life without my amazing husband, Jason. Happy Anniversary husband!

In our six years of marriage, I also didn't imagine that we would also spend over a year living in Florence or four years living in the desert in Australia.

It is also exactly a year since we arrived in Florence. A time of excitement, new experiences and happiness. Mixed in with some stress while we were adjusting and trying to start a new life in a country that really has very complex bureacracy.

Last year for our anniversary we attended a pasta making and wine appreciation course in Tuscany. For our anniversary this year, we drove to Genoa yesterday. We had a wonderful day walking around the port which is gorgeous.

One thing I love about Italians is that they are huge dog lovers. But this was really taken up a notch in Genoa. I think we were the only people not to be walking a dog yesterday. Doggies, big and small, everywhere!

It's very common to walk into a cafe or clothes store in Florence and see a very well behaved doggie patiently waiting for its owner to finish their lunch. I remember back to Australia where we would occassionally take our golden retriever to lunch (back home, there is really only a very small handful of places that allow dogs on their property and you have to sit outside). As well behaved as she was, she would NEVER sit patiently waiting for us. She did every trick under the sun to remind us she too was hungry and inevitably half my lunch was given to 'hungry eyes' under the table.

Please don't report me. It was water in the cup, not Coke.

Unlike Australia, in Italy doggies are welcome almost anywhere. Apart from the Genoa Acquarium (the largest acquarium in Europe). However, look at what service they offer:

There is a lot of shady and dodgy goings on in Italy. At any time you can walk onto the street and buy a fake Louis Vuitton or some new sneakers. However, this perhaps takes the McCake?

Tonight it's our anniversary dinner at our favourite Florence restaurant, Osteria di Giovanni's. I have been dreaming of their specialty pigeon dish for the last week.

Here's wishing happiness and love to all my blog readers today! Hope your week is as blessed as I am feeling right now!

Shoes, oil and a fly swatter

2009-02-12T10:51:00.000-08:00

So it's another end to a beautiful relationship...

No, husband hasn't left me for one of these beautiful Italian women who have an ability to ride a scooter with six inch stilleto's with wind-defying hair.

No, it's possibly my last time that I will smile and flirt with ....the gorgeous signs in town that read SALDI. Florence is famous for the start-of-year sales and it did not disappoint me again this year.

This has been my best purchase so far:
Reduced from 100 euro's to 20 euro's people!

You put high heels on and you change. -Manolo Blahnik

Hey I didn't say it was a practical purchase. Or one that is good for my back. Or one that will function on cobblestone Italian roads...ok ok so it was a completly impractical impulse buy...but they are carina (cute) don't you think?

On the other hand husband, who prides himself on never impulse shopping and only buying necessary items, bought this for the same price. What is it you ask?

It's a fly swatter gun....in the shape of a hand with a bulls-eye target drawn on it.

As predicted by me, it still has not been used once because we are yet to see a fly in Italy. But if an unfortunate fly happens to appear, Mr. Miyagi will be ready.

The other thing we bought was this cute bottle stopper for our Olive Oil. I remember back in Australia we ate butter or margarine every day. On toast, on bread or on a muffin. Here in Florence, I can't remember the last time I even bought butter. We now have bread drizzled with this olive oil. It is DELICIOUS and so much better for you.

Whenever we go to a new town we try their local olive oils and red wines. We bought this olive oil in Montalcino and so far we can not find anything that even remotely matches the amazing taste this has. Montalcino in Tuscany, is famous for being the region where the Brunello red wine is made. We also bought a bottle of that and were so excited to drink it the other day. Guess what! It was corked and smelled like vinegar. And it cost more than my shoes....so the motto of the story is. Buy the shoes. Or if you don't like shoes, you can always go for the fly swatter instead.

An Italian agriturismo

2009-02-01T05:58:00.000-08:00

I have been wanting to go to an authentic Italian agriturismo for dinner since we got to Italy. And on Friday night I finally had my chance. My Italian friend Viviana from my local coffee shop organised a group of us to visit her friend's property, Villa Cristina, for dinner 60 km's north of Florence. I can't seem to find a direct translation of agriturismo into English, but basically it's like a homestay property and usually in an old style Italian villa.

As soon as we got there and I saw the table, I knew I should not have worn my jeans and opted for tracksuit pants instead. Or a loose skirt. I suddenly had the urge to un-do my jeans button in preparation of what was to come.

We started off with antipasto of crostini with porcini mushroom, fresh proscuitto, fried bread dough, pate crostini and blue cheese tart. If I know I am dying and have to have one more meal before I die I will request Cristina's porcini mushroom crostini. And until I tasted her secret recipe, my last meal was always going to be a Polish meal. Yes, that's how much I love food. I have already planned my last meal, although with some good luck and health my last meal will hopefully be when I'm 90 and will have to be puree'd pumpkin soup.

I was too busy stuffing my face with the primi (first course) to take a photo of it. It was a wild boar pasta that again was delizioso. Then followed the main dish which after much debate and translation was determined to be wild deer. Again it was amazing and was a perfect combination to the red wine.

Over dinner we all compared stories of our lives which is my most favourite thing to do when meeting new people. Here are some of the ladies in our group...I have no idea why my husband looks so happy in this photo?

We were from all parts of the world including Italy, Australia, Poland, Austria, Albania, Romania, Germany and India. All of us were invited by the staff that work at the Golden View Bar - the coffee shop I go to every morning for my breakfast. All of us have been going to the Golden View Bar for coffee every day for some time and without doubt, we have been there at the same time. So now, we will have an excuse to share our coffee and breakfasts together and remember what a great night we had on Friday.

Who would have thought that going to the same coffee shop every morning would end up in me tasting my most delicous meal in Italy to date. Not to mention that it also ended up in us making some wonderful new friends.

25 Random things about me

2009-01-21T08:14:00.000-08:00

Last week I finally started Italian language school. It has been so long since I've actually written pages of notes with that old fashioned gadget - the pen - that my hand was in silent protest.
We've got such a great bunch in our class with students from Brazil, Iraq, India, Japan and the US. Oh and there is an amazing, wonderful, gorgeous and humble student from Australia....Joking!

I've made some new friends at the school so instead of coming home and studying (or blogging, or cleaning or ironing) I go out for lunch or coffee. This is all too familiar territory when I think back to my days of studying at university.

I also realised how different it is studying as an adult. As an 18 year old uni student my most important thought of the day was 'what parties are on tonight on campus?' whereas now I look forward to the class and am truly sad when our two hours is up.

When I got home from class today, I logged into facebook and saw that a friend had tagged me in this exercise: 25 Random things about me. So here it is:

1. I thank God every day for my life and especially my husband.
2. I love dogs and miss our golden retriever every day.
3. I was in a car accident where everyone died but me, so I believe in never taking a single day for granted.
4. I love singing (just ask the neighbours)
5. I have the cutest nephew in the world.
6. I love writing and reading.
7. I have a great family. I know it's rare but I also love my in-laws.
8. I thought this list was going to be easier to write than this.
9. I speak Polish & English (duh), am learning Italian and used to speak fluent Japanese.
10. I rarely drink but I love Baileys on ice.
11. I have only a couple of friends that I share my secrets with but I cherish their friendship so much (you know who you are!).
12. I am terrible at maths and science. Luckily I married someone that is brilliant at it.
13. I was born in Poland and came to Australia when I was five. Now I live in Italy.
14. I feel very privileged to be a godmother to two beautiful children.
15. I met my husband in a nightclub, we didn't exchange numbers and kept running into each other for the next week.
16. I have a love/hate relationship with aerobics and exercise.
17. I love watching re-runs of daggy shows like 'Will & Grace' & 'The Nanny'. In my pyjamas.
18. I don't believe in holding a grudge.
19. We never fall asleep angry at each other. Ever.
20. I believe that everyone should sponsor at least one child overseas or contribute to someone else less fortunate (if you can).
21. I had a snake under my desk at work in Karratha.
22. I miss my friends and family back at home and can't imagine life without email or dare I say it, facebook.
23. I hope to be a mother one day.
24. I eat chocolate every single day. Without fail. I would die for it. It is the reason for point number 16.
25. I love cooking and baking. My first thought of the day is usually 'what am I cooking for dinner tonight?'

A White Christmas in Austria.

2009-01-01T07:05:00.000-08:00

We just got back from a five night trip to Salzburg in Austria. It was by far, the best holiday we've ever had. EVER.

As soon as we drove into the Austrian alps, we gasped in awe of the beauty we could see (and I know that sounds corny but we really were speechless).

The highlight of our trip was taking a 2km cable car up to Untersberg Mountain for Jason's 29th birthday. It was -20 degrees celcius and I gave up after half an hour outside and retreated into the pub for a hot chocolate. Two hours later, he returned from hiking with a blue face and blue lips. He was as excited as a little kid on Christmas day but couldn't smile properly as his lips were so numb.
He didn't care though as this is what he saw up there:

And this. I love this photo he took and almost wished I had gone with him...but the hot chocolates were REALLY good.

We also took a side day trip to Munich and went for lunch at the original home of the Oktoberfest - the Hofrabrahaus. Before we even had a chance to say 'supersize me' the waiter ran over with our one litre beer.

But back to Salzburg. I mentioned one of the trip highlights was climbing the mountain (well some of us climbed, some people climbed, some people who remain nameless stayed inside and kept warm). But of course my personal highlight is always to do with food. We found Demel's chocolatiers on the first night. They had the most gorgeous selection of cakes I've ever seen. In 6 days, we visited there 7 times. It was so cold that you could only stay out for an hour or so and then had to retreat in for hot coffee. And we all know what goes well with coffee:

Growing up in Australia, Christmas Day meant 40 degree temperatures, wearing singlets and shorts around the pool and going to the beach. My father used to always say 'it doesn't feel like Christmas without snow and feeling cold'. I didn't know what he meant until now. When we walked out of our hotel on Christmas Day and headed out (probably to Demel's) snow flakes started falling on us. Real Christmas trees (not the plastic Australian K-mart ones) were all around us. Street side sellers were selling roasted chestnuts. An ice-skating rink was set up in the middle of the square with kids squealing in excitement as daggy 80's music played. And in the background were the Austrian alps glistening with gorgeous snow. Everything that I had seen in picture books when I was a child and then on the travel channel growing up.

We missed being back at home this year for the holiday season, but we could have not hoped for more of a perfect time than we had this week in Austria. A belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year everyone!

Bah Humbug

2008-12-11T08:56:00.000-08:00

For some reason I haven't had any urge to blog lately. Or to cook. Very unlike me. Or to clean the house due to living in the dustiest city in the world (yes even compared to living in Karratha desert with red dirt surrounding us). I haven't even had the urge to shop (ok that's not entirely true, some things never change). Or to even get out of my pyjama's before noon which unfortunately the Italia Post man can attest to whilst delivering a package to our house.

Usually this time of year back at home, I get so excited about Christmas and husband's birthday which is on Boxing Day.

There's usually Christmas parties at my work, then at husband's work and usually by now I've put up our Christmas tree and made and frozen the traditional Polish dumplings we eat for Christmas Eve. I'm usually catching up with all my friends for Christmas lunches and drinks and this year of course, this hasn't happened as we are so far away from each other. Watching CNN every day and watching hundreds of people lose their jobs just before Christmas has also put me into a really down mood and I feel almost guilty at being able to go out and buy presents and not have to worry where our mortgage payment is going to come from.

So this year it has taken me a little while to get into Christmas spirit. I'm not all 'bah humbug' as I still love Christmas but for some reason I am feeling a little homesick this year. And I'm missing our dog who I remember was alive last Christmas. She is probably happy to be in doggy heaven as this year she won't have to adorn tinsel necklaces and flashing dog tags that read 'doggy Christmas'.

One thing I am looking forward to this year is my Christmas gift from husband. Every year for the last nine Christmases we have spent together I have told him exactly what I want. Boring I know, but that's me.

But this year because we don't have family presents to open I told husband I want him to pick something. By the way, the reason we don't have family presents is not due to an uncaring family, it's due to me requesting no presents due to our lovely issues with Italia Post in the past.

So as you can imagine, this whole present buying has stressed him out considerably. He left the house for three whole hours and came back with a few shopping bags which I have been so tempted to look at (which defeats my whole asking him to surprise me I know!). What probably happened is he bought something in the first half hour and the other two and a half hours were spent looking in windows at camera's - his latest hobby.

It's hard to believe that just over a year has passed since we left Australia. And it's even harder to believe that in just a few days time it will be Christmas and we'll be going to Salzburg in Austria for a White Christmas - something I've always dreamed of experiencing. I know I know - what have I got to be all bah humbug about? But it's my blog and I'll cry if I want to! I know all the ex-pats that read this blog know exactly what I'm talking about.

I promise I'll be more cheery for my next blog and I'll even post some photos of around Florence which has turned into a beautiful city of lights and Christmas trees.

Australian visitors

2008-11-23T05:46:00.000-08:00

Last week I collapsed from exhaustion. On the couch. And I refused to get off it for one hour. Well that was until I saw the laundry basket. So my collapse was short lived all because I can't learn to relax when something needs to be done.

I was trying to work out why I was so exhausted since I haven't done an honest day's work for a year now. Then I remembered. My in-laws and I had visited 12 different cities in the last three weeks.

This was their first visit to Italy and I was so excited to show them around my new home town and show them the beauty of Tuscany. We did day trips driving to Verona, Montelpuciano, Montalcino, Siena, San Gimignano, Pisa, Lucca, Perugia, Assisi, Cinque Terre, Lake Garda and Lake Trasimeno. And of course lots of touring around Florence. Please don't ask me to name my favourite place as they are all so beautiful.

It was wonderful having our in-laws visit us and we'll miss seeing the excitement on their faces whenever they saw a tower or a church or the Tuscan countryside with trees bursting with olives that were ready to be picked.

Living daily life in Florence means you sometimes takes things for granted. It's not everyday you get to walk past the Duomo and hear the bells ringing or see the Statue of David. It's great to see the excitement that visitors have when seeing this country and it reminded us of how fortunate we are to live in one of the world's most beautiful cities.

From Florence to Australia

2008-10-31T09:05:00.000-07:00

I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself. Maya Angelou 1928.

One thing I've noticed about Italians is that they tend to become friendlier once they get to know you. The first time I entered my favourite local bar for breakfast, the staff were very polite, but of course not overly friendly. I ordered a latte and received hot milk with no coffee in it as the word latte means plain milk and not a not a weak coffee like we say in Australia. I may as well have worn a TOURIST sticker on my forehead.

After visiting my local cafe, Golden View, almost daily for my caffe latte and chocolate pastry, they have become more like friends. Sometimes when I haven't come in at my usual time and there is only one chocolate pastry left, I notice they try to 'hide' it so no one else buys it as they know I love them. If husband and I don't come in for a couple of days they ask us 'Where have you been? ' with concerned expressions.

Any hopes of me practising my Italian on the staff have been dashed as they all want to speak English with me. One of the girls is particularly keen to practise her English so we have started engaging in a language tandem. We get together and speak half in Italian and half in English.

The staff are always so interested to hear about our home town in Australia. So, recently I took in some pictures of the place we have lived in for the last four years before coming to Europe for Jason's work assignment.

I had to explain that the animals in the photos were not in parks, they are actually wild. I'm not sure they believed me.

So today, I thought I would post a few pictures from the last town we lived in, Karratha in Northwest Western Australia. A place that is literally in the middle of nowhere with the nearest town about 250 kilometres away and our home for four years due to husband's work assignment. A place I hated at first, but grew to love.

When you look at these photos, bear in mind that we lived in the real outback of Australia. Don't expect these kind of sights if you go to Sydney or Melbourne. This here is like Crocodile Dundee/Steve Irwin territory. Think flying cockroaches, snakes, goanna's and dead kangaroo's lining the roads (killed by passing vehicles). I don't know many people who can say they had a poisonous snake under their desk at work , but unfortunately I can. And it took me a long time to put my feet down from my chair after that day!

It's hard to believe that it's been twelve months since we left Australia. And it's even harder to believe that in just seven months we'll be back there and Florence will be but a memory. A sweet memory. I wonder how many caffe latte's and chocolate pastries I can fit into the next seven months? My thighs shudder at the thought.

Here is husband with his number one love...um... not me his humble wife. His number one love is fishing and a romantic date with me is just never going to be as good as a day out fishing with his dad or his friends. I've accepted that and we move on. One of the reasons I have accepted it is that he always comes home with these beautiful red emperor. These are probably the most delicious fish you can catch and to buy them in a city is very expensive. Karratha is famous for it's fishing so we are lucky enough to have a freezer full of these delicacies.

Here is a relaxed kangaroo quite happy for me to pose with her. You can't see it very well in this photo but she actually had a joey in her pouch. There is a programme in Karratha where you can take on injured joey's into your home to nurse them back to health.

I haven't seen one of these signs in Italy! This was taken in Broome which is 800 km's from Karratha and one of Australia's premium tourist spots. To Europeans, 800 km's is a long way but in fact, I used to travel to Broome for work. I would drive on a Monday, do a presentation on Tuesday and drive back on a Wednesday.

Broome is famous for it's beautiful beach, Cable Beach. Unfortunately there are dangerous salt water crocodiles in it. It doesn't stop people swimming in there but I refuse to go in it. I can't imagine many worse ways to go!

Husband stops the car to say hi to a friendly local. This is probably a bit closer than you should get to an emu. But what can I say? We like to live dangerously.

Aaah crabbing season in Karratha. These beauties were made into a delicious Nigella Lawson Crab Pasta recipe. But they are most delicious simply boiled and served with a cocktail sauce. Not a good food for a first date since you end up being covered in shell and meat. But we are boring, old and married so we are allowed.

The one thing husband and I will always fight about is his love of diving. See when you are pulling up fish like this, it means one thing and one thing only: Jaws is out there. Please don't tempt him with your tasty body.

Too old for night clubs

2008-10-19T03:55:00.000-07:00

When I was much younger, my friend Simone and I used to club hop between the best night clubs in Perth on Friday and Saturday nights. Oh ok, if I'm being honest we even did it on a Tuesday and Wednesday and slept through the next day's university lectures. Armed with our Illusion Midori cocktails, we would dance all night long in stilletto's and skirts so short that I would now consider them a belt.

Times have changed, wrinkles have appeared and I can't imagine that my poor old feet would hold up a night of clubbing any longer.

So what's a 30 year old to do when she can't go club hopping any longer? She goes terrace hopping.

On a beautiful warm sunny day, husband and I decided to visit the best terraces in Florence and admire the view. And as for those Midori cocktails? Well we substituted them for herbal peppermint tea and complained about what the youth are doing these days and how in our time we had to walk to school in bare feet through the snow.

So here's a couple of pictures of the view we took of the gorgeous Duomo from one of our favourite terraces at the Rinacentre cafe. The Rinacentre is a multi level shopping centre with this terrace on top. In the right weather, it is stunning.

Then we went on to the beautiful Continentale Hotel right on the Ponte Vecchio. You pay three times the price for a drink on this terrace but look what you get to see...

Finally we went on to the ultimate outdoor terrace in Florence - Piazza Michelangelo. We pass here on our nightly power walks and let me tell you, whether it's day or night you can not get sick of the view from this terrace.

Driving in Italy - not for the faint hearted.

2008-10-02T12:20:00.000-07:00

Driving in Italy. Nearly every guide book warns against it. Until recently, I heeded their advice and was not prepared to have any part in driving in a country where having five cars crammed into two lanes is nothing unusual.

But I missed driving. I've loved the feel of a car and driving ever since I first got my license thirteen years ago (this doesn't add up since I'm still only twenty two wink wink). I also hated that I was scared of something I was so used to at home and something that I enjoyed so much.

So, with great fear and nervousness I attempted it. Ok so I put it off for three months (nah too tired today to drive, too lazy, too cold, too hot), but when I finally decided to start driving, there was no stopping me. I woke up one morning and announced 'This is it. Today's the day. I'm going to drive on these crazy roads, yay girl power, power to all women'. Husband opened his eyes, yawned and went back to sleep.

But sure enough I did it and now, I love driving in Italy. I never EVER thought I would say that. And a lot of my readers will be saying 'you are driving. So what?'. But you my friends have not driven in the craziness that is Italy and it's something that has to be experienced to be appreciated.

The first time I drove here in Florence, I was petrified. My knees were actually shaking when I got out of the car. Husband was ready to file for divorce as I was apparently 'not keen for advice and direction'. Read between the lines to mean we argued as I hit the side of the kerb twice and nearly ran a red light. I put it down to the crazy traffic and my nerves, but it was also that I had not driven a manual for three years, the steering wheel was on the wrong side of the car and I was driving on the wrong side of the road! (remember in Australia we drive CORRECTLY on the left!).

As much as I love driving in Italy, I really hope that husband and I do not take back any of our new driving habits to Australia. If we do, I can guarantee we'll lose our license within a week. Make that a day.

So for those that have not driven on the road in Italy, these are some of the things you can expect as the norm:

- Cars double parked everywhere.
There is so little parking in Florence that if you see a spot, go for it. Feel free to park in front of cars with your hazard lights on, on top of zebra crossings or one metre from the traffic lights. Or you can do a combination of these like the police car I saw recently. He was double parked on a zebra crossing two metres away from a roundabout while he went in to a coffee shop for a cappucino.

For us, parking is a really big hassle. We live in central Florence but we don't have a resident permit which allows you to park in the street. Mind you, even with one of those you are never guaranteed a spot as it's so crowded. So, we have to park the car in a garage which is fifteen minutes away by foot. And very expensive. I know walking fifteen minutes doesn't sound so bad but it is a pain when you have just done your grocery shopping or it's raining or you have just spent the whole day out walking in the Tuscan countryside and you just want to get home (ok, I'll shut up now).

Look at how the cars are parked in the garage. You need to be very skinny to get out of the car. (joking people, they push the cars in manually like that).

- Men and women on scooters who do not hold any fear for their life.
It is very nerve wracking but not unusual to be overtaken by three scooters at any one time on either side of you. Or on a roundabout. On a side note, the men and women are very entertaining to watch on the scooters. The women wear stilleto heels and gorgeous skirts while I have seen the men stop at the lights and fix up their hair in the side mirror or admire themselves in a nearby shop window.

- Cars not stopping at stop signs.
Supposedly a stop sign in Italy means 'slow down'. I have stopped at certain stop signs before and straight away I get three cars beeping at me and overtaking me with waving hand gestures.

The biggest rule in Italy (according to the locals we speak to) is to look ahead and never look in your rear view mirror. You need to pay attention to the cars in front and to the side of you. If there is a space in front of you, it is your duty to fill it or someone else will. Never mind that there is a double line and a two centimetre gap between you and the new Mercedes next to you. The new Mercedes will be full of scratches anyway from when he tries to parallel park in a spot and physically pushes the bumper of the car in front of him to get in (I've seen this countless times).

After you finally get confidence to tackle driving, you need to worry about the camera in the ZTL zones and the bus lanes. The ZTL areas are zones within the city that you can not enter during certain times of the day for example between 7am and 7.30pm. We have a special pass attached to our windscreen that allows us to enter two certain zones in the city. Imagine our surprise when we found out that in March our pass was not working all month and we were the recipients of eighteen, yes eighteen, traffic infringements of ninety euro's apeice. That's a lot of Italian hand made leather shoes! Husband drove through the same offending camera eighteen times on the way to work each morning. We are still trying to work this out now. Here is a picture of the nasty camera (with me striking a strange pose under it blissfully unaware I'm sharing a picture with the enemy).

So, if you can get past all of the above, you are ready to drive and see the true Italy. Just be sure to have a strong coffee and a lot of patience before you get in the car. Oh, and don't forget to wear your best stiletto's and use your horn a lot. It will make you feel like a true Italian.

La Dolce Vita

2008-09-22T07:11:00.000-07:00

When my friends and family from Australia ring me and ask 'what did you do today?' I sometimes get the feeling they are very bored with my answer which goes a little like this: 'ummm I woke up, brushed my teeth, checked my e-mail, did a load of washing, vacuumed and then went out and did some errands'. I think what they are hoping for is this: I got up and opened my curtains to let the Tuscan sun come in through the wooden shutters. Then my Italian lover woke me up. We went out to the Chianti countryside and had a picnic where I sat sipping brunello while my Italian lover fed me morsel size bits of mouth-watering bruschetta and olives that are from his family's olive farm.

So, this one's for you my dreamer friends. On Sunday we had a romantic, gorgeous, fairy tale Italian day.

So you are not disappointed, my disclaimer is that no Italian lover features in this blog nor any of my other blogs, but my spunky Aussie/Filipino Italian looking husband does, so you'll have to make do with that.

So, said husband and I got up early and went to our favourite coffee shop, the Open View Bar which overlooks the Arno river. We had a caffe latte and a chocolate pastry. Very Italian. No bacon and eggs in sight.

We then hopped in our car (I wish I could say Italian scooter to make this story even more Italian, but I value my life and refuse to get onto on of those) and drove two hours to Lago Trasimeno which is a large lake in Umbria. This is such a beautiful spot and we plan on returning when it is a little warmer and a lot less cloudy.

On the way home, we saw a sign for the town of Cortona. I had started reading the autobiography 'Under the Tuscan Sun' some time ago and remembered that it was the setting for the book. I'm possibly the only person in the world that thought it was one of the most boring books I've read and I couldn't even finish it, but I remembered the author's description of the town and thought it was worth a look. We quickly flicked through our Frommer's Guide book but it didn't even have a listing for Cortona so we weren't expecting much.

But when we got there we instantly fell in love with this gorgeous town. And clearly a lot of tourists were also in love with it as there was more Americans than Italians around that day. Sitting atop a hill and overlooking the most beautiful scenery, we ate some panini with proscuitto and finished off our lunch with some of the best gelato we've tasted.

We also stopped in at a bakery to sample their local pastries. Cortona's specialty seemed to be these giant meringues as all the shopfronts were filled with them. They kept chanting at me 'eat me, I taste gooood and I have no calories'. So I had to go in and see for myself.

On the way home, we stopped to admire these gorgeous grapes growing by the side of the road. Someday someone will enjoy these beauties in their glass of red.

In keeping with the Italian-themed day, we got home and husband cooked up a beautiful Italian meal of pasta marinara with prawns, fish, octopus, mussels and clams. We had bought also bought some Brunello wine and some local oil from Cortona. Needless to say, we had a feast.

Unfortunately Monday came around too quickly and reality set back in. Husband went to work while I waited patiently for the fairies to come and start the housework. By ten am, I realised I was on my own and started the washing and ironing.

I can't wait for next weekend to come around again where the weekly chores and routine stops and we get to experience another town that some people only dream of visiting. Yes, life is really dolce (sweet) sometimes. Not always, but for now, it's very very dolce.

My ex-pat interview

2008-09-18T04:17:00.000-07:00

Here's the link to my ex-pat interview. I love reading about other expats' lives so I was really happy when this website asked me to answer some questions and in turn, contemplate our last seven months here in Florence.
Hope you enjoy it :)

Sorry for some reason it won't let me add an actual link onto this page, so you can just copy and paste the text.

http://www.expatinterviews.com/italy/monika.html

Skinny jeans and Italian food - not a perfect match.

2008-09-12T06:34:00.000-07:00

I don't mind the word skinny. And I don't mind the word jeans. But when those two words are put together 'skinny jeans' my palms start to sweat and my stomach involuntary pushes out in protest that it may be soon be unwillingly shoved into a pair of them.

See, here's the thing. I'm 30 and I love food. Especially tiramisu. Oh ok, and bread smeared with olive oil too. So whilst I don't consider myself overweight and I exercise every day, unfortunately I have thighs and hips with little flabby bits on the side that when pushed into a pair of small skinny jeans, they have nowhere to go but attractively spill out of the sides. When we eventually want to have children, I'm presuming those child bearing hips will come in handy, but for now, they are just a nuisance.

So, it was with a sense of dread that I went out looking for a new pair of jeans today. I went into the first store in Florence, a Levi's shop. The gorgeous Florentine lady that looks like she has never eaten a risotto in her life hands me a pair of...wait for it...skinny jeans. I tell her my dilemma and my request for some standard jeans that are not low cut. She replies with 'You have a great body and you MUST try these on'. Uneasily fooled after having been in sales for 5 years myself I sighed and headed for the change room as her size 0 body followed me. I take a deep breath and surprisingly they fit. But unfortunately for me, I am the kind of girl that likes to eat dinner when we go out to a restaurant (strange I know) and I know I would soon be uncomfortable.

Next stop, the Rinacentre, a department store in town. Again they recommend the Italian favourite, the skinny jeans. I tried not to think of the chocolate pastry I ate that morning as I tried on another pair.

My last fashion attempt was at Diesel. I was skeptical but I love going into that store because it is by far the friendliest store in Florence. And that is saying a lot as most of the girls who work in the stores here are far from friendly. And that is a very big understatement.

I have to also mention that I was wearing high heels and was dressed up. So what, you say? Well I have tried shopping in Florence in my sneakers and shorts and I have tried shopping in nice jeans and stiletto's (what can I say, I love shopping) and I can tell you now that you will not get any service wearing sneakers and most times they will not even help you if you ask. Plus, we all know that a pair of stilleto's makes your butt looks ten times better and you can worry about your bad back and blisters later on.

I decided to be honest with the Diesel guy that served me. And yes, foreign female readers, he looked like he stepped out of Men's Vogue, but after living in Florence for 9 months, you kind of get over them looking so good and you just want them to help you find something that fits.

I said to the Antonio Banderas in his prime look-alike 'I'm 30, I love tiramisu and am not prepared to stop eating it, can you help?' He laughed so hard and said 'I love you Australians, and I will help you'. And help he did. For the first time in my life, I couldn't choose between three pairs of jeans that all fitted me perfectly. Yes his exclaims of 'yes, that is beautiful on you' probably meant that he was just being a salesperson and yes he is an Italian male, but when I put on that perfect pair of jeans, I felt so happy and the only person I wanted to think they look beautiful is my husband. Now only a female can understand that perfect feeling of the right pair of jeans. And I'm hoping husband will be just as understanding when he sees the visa bill.

A Polish wedding

2008-09-03T06:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we returned home from a week long holiday in the country I was born, Poland.

Whilst there we ate, we visited beautiful Krakow, we ate loads of Polish delicacies, we visited my relatives and did I mention we ate a lot? The Polish clearly think that I do not feed my husband or perhaps that there is a food shortage in Italy because it seemed we were eating full hot meals every half hour.

On Saturday we attended my cousin's wedding. When we got the invitation in the mail some months ago, I thought they had either made a mistake or were having a very short wedding. It read that the wedding started at 4pm and ended at 6. I didn't realise that 6 meant 6AM! As I rsvp'd yes, I wasn't sure whether my body would hold up all night!

The wedding was held in a town called Wadowice which is famous as the late Pope John Paul II was born there. I was surprised to find out that my dad was confirmed in the town church by Pope John Paul when he was a bishop. Apparently one day the late Pope said that his favourite Polish cake kremowka was sold in one of the local cafe's. So now, every single bakery in Wadowice sells the famous cake which consists of vanilla custard filling in between pastry. The Pope was clearly onto a good thing there!

The wedding started with the groom's family and friends going to the groom's family home where he would be blessed by his parents in front of us all. While the blessing was happening, a large ochestra played Polish music and hymns. Then all of us, including the orchestra, drove to the bride's house and another blessing with her parents was made and the groom went into the home to find his bride.

Then we all got in our cars to drive to the church. However we were stopped by a woman posing as a gypsy who 'demanded' a bottle of vodka or she would not let the cars pass on her road. This was a very old tradition and was very funny to watch. She also read out some poems and encouraged them to have children.

After the church ceremony, coins were thrown at the bride and groom. They had to pick them up to ensure thier financial success in their new future together. We all lined up to congratulate the new couple and we had to present the bride with a bouquet of flowers. I wondered what the bride would do with the 140 bouquets of flowers but she later told me that they give half of them to the church and half go to the local cemeteries. For me the wedding ceremony was extra special as I was asked to be a witness.

We got to the hall and after we all toasted the couple, the bride smashed two wedding glasses. The the groom had to sweep them up. I didn't catch the meaning of this tradition, but hey if she can start training him this early to clean the house, it can only be a good thing.

Then the festivities really started. The next 12 hours were pretty much non-stop eating and dancing. The orchestra would play five songs, then we would all eat a full hot meal with a lot of shots of vodka. Then we'd get up and dance, then eat another hot meal. Dance, eat, vodka, dance eat, vodka....repeat about 20 times. I don't like dancing but nobody listened to my pleas and I danced with nearly every man in the room.

We were the first couple to leave at 4am (I knew I wouldn't make it until 6!). But in that time, I counted that we had at least ten full meals. I was soon regretting wearing a tight black dress. I should have picked a tent if I knew that my poor stomach was about to go into defense mode. And don't even think I could say no! As soon as I said those words that every Polish person thinks are a sin "I'm full and can't eat another thing" the whole table basically starts spoon-feeding you and looking at you with offended eyes. So you eat again. And drink more vodka.

Because I was so pre-occupied with eating everything, I forgot to take more photos of the food. But I got this one which was a traditional Polish entree of cold jelly with chicken and vegetables. Sounds gross, but really good.

My Australian husband was a hit with everyone and after all those vodka's nobody seemed to notice that he didn't talk Polish and they didn't talk English. I guess vodka is the universal language. This isn't the best picture but here is my uncle with a basket full of vodka. His main job that night was to walk around with the basket and make sure there were full bottles of vodka on each table. Because you know what would happen otherwise...a riot would start. And those are never good at a wedding.

When we were leaving, the bride and groom handed us two vodka bottles (I presume it was for the drive home in case we got thirsty), four big slabs of cake (in case we were still hungry) and a bottle of wine. My aunty quickly came and gave me a tin of hand picked dried mushrooms from their forest on their property. I am yet to meet a more hospitable race of people than the Polish.

One of the reasons I love living in Italy is that I'm much closer to my family and it doesn't cost the earth to visit them like it does from Australia. But, as with every trip I make to Poland, I am always left with a feeling of sorrow when I am leaving. I feel sad at leaving my family whom I share a blood connection with but not a real relationship with because of the distance between us. I emigrated from Poland to Australia when I was five years old and consider myself an Australian at heart although I still cook Polish food three times a week and speak the language fluently. I sometimes wonder how different my life would have been had I stayed in Poland. One thing is for sure, I would be a lot fatter.

Ferragosto Vacation to Prague

2008-08-21T09:53:00.001-07:00

Last week we visited the most beautiful city in Europe, Prague. Yes, I know that's a big call, but in my opinion there is no nicer city that I've seen. And I could only say that statement after I swallowed my pride and sang ten rounds of the Polish national anthem as penance. Then I sang 'Advance Australia Fair' and after that I was confused about my nationality and exhausted so I had to drink a small-ish glass of Czech beer that was bigger than the size of my head.

Apart from the gorgeous architecture, the best thing about Prague was undoubtedly the food. Oh, the food. The fatty, hearty, homemade food with not a hint of fresh vegetable on the side. Here is one of their traditional dishes, the pork piglet with saurkraut and Czech dumplings. Try eating that with apple strudel for dessert four nights in a row...I did and let me tell you I didn't feel good on the fourth night.

Ok, if you are not that excited about food that will potentially knock ten years of the life span of your heart, Prague also has some amazing statues with some especially beautiful ones on the famous Charles Bridge.

The Charles Bridge also had some buskers. This was one of the weirder ones we saw...look closely as to what is on the poor dog who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else and is clearly not impressed.

We stayed at the Crowne Plaza Prague Castle hotel and on the last morning we decided to have a mocktail before we were due to go to the airport. I said MOCKTAIL not cocktail - it was only ten am after all!

The strangest thing happened. We could see outside our hotel on the street there was a film shoot of some kind going on. Cars were screeching around a corner and there were actors yelling whilst acting out a scene. We sat down with our mocktails at the hotel outside tables to relax and see what was going on. We later found out it was a Russian James Bond type of movie, according to the hotel.

Ok, that's strange but not as strange as what happened next. The action moved from the side of the hotel and moved right next to us. The table to our left that was about five centimetres from ours was empty and all of a sudden ten girls run up and start setting it up with props, actors and voila, filming has begun.

I looked over at husband and said 'we are clearly going to appear in these scenes' to which I hear the bellowing Russian director yell out 'tell the actor to stop looking up and talking' to which the Czech director yelled out just as aggressively 'she's not an actor, she is staying here so I can't ask her to do anything'. Polish, Russian and Czech are very similar so I could understand it all and decided to keep my head down.

Then all of a sudden I felt uncomfortable and said to husband 'I'm going inside'. We both got up and the director came over and said in English 'please just stay for a few more minutes until we get the take'. What the? I looked around and realised there was a few put-out looking extra's that clearly would have liked to be in the scene. It was very random and if anyone watches a Russian James Bond film where the actor yells out in a thick Russian accent 'Hurry up, there's no time to eat (actor grabs other actor's massive mug of beer and slams it on the table). The Russians are coming!', then look for us and we are the people looking very confused next to them. They did about ten takes of this one line and so the same line was running through my head all day. When we were having lunch at the airport, I annoyed husband by saying ' Hurry up, there's no time to eat, the Russians are coming!' Ok, so it was like the tenth I had said it in the last hour, but I don't know why he got annoyed.

Russian directors yelling at us aside, we had the most wonderful holiday in Prague. I recommend everyone to go to this beautiful city. Try the Czech beer, make an opinion whether the Czech women deserve the title of being the most beautiful in the world (debatable!) and visit the Communism museum to see how much this country has gone through. I know I sound like a tourist book, but honestly WE LOVE PRAGUE! Next stop in our series of mini-breaks is Switzerland so we'll see if one bite of real Swiss chocolate will change my mind as to which is the best city in Europe. Yep that's all it takes to change my mind, one block of good chocolate.

August holidays in Florence

2008-08-09T23:40:00.000-07:00

If you are an environmental activist and urge others to switch off electricity and save power, do not read on!

See, I am addicted to air conditioning. My body doesn't function without it and I become a grumpy, mean and complaining wife when it is not on - well, so I've been told but I don't believe it.

Even in the cold European winter we sleep with the airconditioning on all night. Husband has to wear a tracksuit and beanie to bed while I am in my summer pyjama's. And those living in Florence right now know it's DAMN hot and humid here right now. Coming from Karratha where 45 degrees celcius on the thermometer is really not that big a deal, I never thought that Florence summer would be extreme. But the humidity here is honestly stifling and is all that everyone talks about.

So, it was not a happy day on Thursday when the airconditioner started leaking and we could not use it. Both our landlord and I rang around to find someone who could come fix it - IMMEDIATELY, like in an hour's time or as I predicted, 'I'll die of heat exhaustion.' But in August, every Italian person, including those that fix air conditioners is away on ferragosto (the mid August holidays). If you think I'm exaggerating, just take a walk around Florence and see all the doors with the sign chuiso per ferie posted on them. I've come to the conclusion that if you want to become a quick millionaire in Florence, become a tradesman and work in August.

The Italians that are not on vacation already, were all driving on holidays yesterday. We drove from Florence, through Bologna and on to Maranello to visit the Galleria Ferrari. (Ferrari museum). What should have been an hour and a half trip turned into three hours as our maximum speed on the autostrada was about 50kms per hour as traffic was nearly at a complete standstill. Husband complained bitterly as he loathes traffic, while I sat happily with the car air conditioning blasting away at maximum capacity.

Every car on the road was completely full with kids in the back, bikes attached to bike racks and roof racks full of suitcases. Most people in Italy drive small cars compared to Australia and going on holiday is very different to packing a 4WD and still having room for the dog to sit in the back. For some reason, nearly every person was on their mobile phone. I presume it was to tell whoever they were meeting at their holiday vacation that they were going to be about ten hours late due to the traffic.

Everyone who is anyone was on the road yesterday including this man who also takes his birds on holidays. There were two birds flying around in this cage.

When we finally got there, the Ferrari museum was really great and it was fun to watch my husband with a dreamy grin staring at all the cars, even though he is not really a 'car person'. Mind you, his grin was shared by every other man in the museum. The car pictured below was a custom made wedding gift from a husband to his bride which begged the question of why it was in the museum. Perhaps the colour didn't suit her or she just didn't have room for another one of these in the garage.

One the way home, we stopped at our favourite clothes factory outlet, Barberino. Husband bought some new clothes including a pair of jeans that are slightly too long. If he didn't look so damn good in them, I would insist he not buy them as they are slightly too long. And me, being the only Polish woman that does not know how to sew means that I'm going to have to fare l'impossibile (do the impossible) - find a tailor ... in Florence ... in August!!

My Italian replacement

2008-08-04T08:54:00.000-07:00

This weekend my husband lost all interest in his me.

No, I didn't suddenly stop shaving my legs or stop showering.
And no, he hasn't riden off into the Tuscan countryside with a beautiful Italian woman that wears Louis Vuitton stilleto's while riding a scooter.

See, I try my best. After nine years together I still try to beautify myself with some makeup before he comes home. I cook dinner each night and I always let him have the good side of the bed. But nothing I do now will ever compare to his new love, the new Nikon SLR camera he bought on the weekend. Sigh.

Dear husband has had a flu for three weeks and I have been a dutiful wife who has lovingly ran to the chemist for medicine (ok it's only 30 metres away but I still went!), hand squeezed oranges to make fresh juice and cooked him chicken soup. But that all means nothing now.

On Sunday we decided to drive to Portofino for a day trip. SHE sat in his lap, he lovingly stroked her and I even think I heard the words 'I love you' come out of his mouth although he swears that was aimed at me. I doubt it though as he was looking at HER intently when he said it.

We'll see who looks after him next time he is sick in bed.

We had wanted to go to Portofino for a while as we been told it was beautiful. I don't know if our expectations were too high but we thought it didn't compare to the amazing Cinque Terre. It could have been that it was so stinking hot. Back home in Karratha it was not unusual to see a thermometer reading of 45 degrees celcius. So I don't know if it was the extra humidity or if I'm just getting OLD, but the heat really got to us in Portofino.

After we walked around the marina, we went to the nearby town Santa Margherita Ligure for lunch. But not before husband took a million photos with my new replacement. I must admit the view from the castello (castle) was truly beautiful. This was one of the million photos taken that day.

Here is an amazing boat moored up at the marina. Oh to be rich and beautiful in Portofino.

And here are some random innocent ducks that were not expecting someone to take twenty photos of them with different lenses. No one is safe from my husband's new hobby now.

And here is my foot, you get the picture now? Man, I have an ugly foot and a really weird tanline ...now I'm going to have a foot complex.

Okay, this is not funny anymore. I'm trying to sleep now. Enough is enough. Turn off the camera. And why does my arm look so fat in this photo? Surely it's not the pasta and tiramisu I devour every night. Did you not get one of those lenses that makes everything look skinny?

Note what is next to me on the bed. Yep, it's the camera manual. Very romantic don't you think?

Swapping Italian caffe for a cup of Earl Grey tea

2008-07-31T06:32:00.000-07:00

When my husband's work asked him to transfer to Europe for an ex-pat assignment, we made up a big list of pros and cons before we made the big decision to come here.

The cons list included things like:

- I would leave my career for 18 months and possibly go insane without a full-time job (this has nearly happened on more than one occasion, chocolate helps)
- We would miss our family and not be able to bring our beloved golden retriever with us
- Both of us would become unrecognisably obese due to the Italian food we would daily gorge ourselves with. Thankfully this hasn't happened, but there is still another 9 months to go before we move back so watch this space.

We also had a big list of pros which obviously outweighed the negatives and hence we are in Florence. One big ticket item on the pro list was that by coming to Europe, I would be able to spend a lot more time with my family that I don't otherwise get to see.

I emigrated to Australia from Poland in 1983 but still have a lot of family throughout Europe especially in Poland, Germany and the UK.

So, when Jason asked me if I wanted to accompany him on a business trip to London last week, I jumped at the opportunity to be able to spend time with my step-sister, my cousin and both their new babies. Due to the distance, expense and everything else that goes with living 24 hours flight time away from each other, I realised that I had only seen my step-sister a handful of times in my life. And I had never met my neice. Here is a picture of me holding my cousin's divine little baby and my sister Natalia and her beautiful daughter. Look at how slim she is even after having a baby not long ago - I'm so hoping that's genetic.

Natalia moved to London with her husband some time ago as she told me that there are just not as many opportunities to get ahead financially in Poland. Coming from Australia where opportunities are on each street corner (provided you are willing to work hard), it was interesting to hear about how life was in Poland just a few years ago when they were still recovering from the effects of Communism.

When Jason and I briefly lived in the UK as part of this ex-pat assignment, I was surprised at just how many Polish people are living and working in London. Not a day went by when I wouldn't hear at least five different Polish conversations whilst I ran my errands. There are also many Polish restaurants and specialty stores all around the UK. Even Sainsbury's (like the Australian Coles/Woolies) has a dedicated Polish food section and there was a Polish section of the bookshop I visited.

I'm looking forward to our next holiday when we get to see more of my family in Poland. They love hearing about life in rugged, outback Australia where thanks to the National Geographic documentaries they are convinced we have kangaroos in our backyard. But for me, nothing is more intriguing than hearing about the country I was once a part of and how it has changed over the years. I'm so happy to have this opportunity of visiting my family more frequently.

Friends, friendship and all that fluffy stuff

2008-07-21T23:29:00.000-07:00

'A friend is someone with whom you dare to be yourself' (Frank Crane)

This week I've been thinking a lot about friendship. It all started with going to watch the Sex and the City movie at the Odeon Theatre which screens English speaking movies in Florence. I had been looking forward to seeing the movie for a long time but always envisaged I'd be going in a group of close girlfriends and having cocktails well into the night to discuss the juicy bits (ok that's a lie, us 30 something year olds would have probably gone for a green tea afterwards and then fallen into bed at 10pm) Oh, and we'd all be wearing our stilettos and then complain about our backs hurting the next morning.

So, I felt a little awkward as I sauntered up to the theatre alone. Actually more like hobbled up to it as I was wearing my completely impractical (but cute) stillettos and they just did not agree with the Italian cobblestone roads that have not been repaired probably for longer than Australia has been a recognised country.

Husband kindly offered to come with me, but I rejected his sweet gesture as I didn't want him to be the only male in the theatre. In actual fact there were two single guys there. This is Italy so I'm not sure whether they were there to actually see the movie or they were very opportunistic and smart enough to work out the cinema would be full of females presumably looking for their own 'Mr Big'.

Anyway, after the movie (which is a lot about friendship, in case you haven't seen it) I slowly walked home and realised I was in a sad mood. Just like in a tissue grabbing chick flick, I started to notice all the girlfriends out on the town together, laughing and sharing life together. They were even laughing in slow motion like in the movies.

I really missed my friends in Australia. Like, I REALLY missed them at that point. Not only my female girlfriends but also my male work colleagues, our friends that Jason worked with and of course our family. I still speak to them on email daily and the phone weekly, but nothing beats sitting together with your closest girlfriends for a cup of tea and a gossip...I mean intellectual 30 year old conversation about politics, the health crisis and ummm stuff like that.

Last week my old friend Simone arrived in Florence with her husband. When I say old I mean as in we have known each other for a long time. Not old as in her age as that would mean I'm old too. Which I'm not, you know. In fact, a clothes store owner told me I looked too young to be married this week. If only I hadn't worked in advertising sales for four years I would have believed her instead of thinking she was just using the old compliment tactic to try to sell me something. Been there, done that. But just in case she was being honest and I really do look too young to be married (yeah right), I'm telling you that MAC eye concealer is worth it's weight in gold. Anyway I digress.

Simone and I were destined to be friends ever since our maiden surnames were both towards the end of the alphabet and our homeroom teacher sat us near each other in year nine high school. We've shared a lot in our lives and although we hadn't seen each other for a few years, we slipped back into our comfortable ways with each other and joked about 'the good old days' when I easily worked three jobs, went to university, partied til 3am and never seemed to feel tired. Our respective husbands had a blank look at some of our 'you had to be there' jokes.

I also have my 'old' friend Simone to thank for introducing me to my now-husband as she was the one that yelled over the loud night club music to say 'I've found the cutest guy in here, you HAVE to meet him'. Much to my protests (I was in a man hating stage of my life) I met him and the rest they say is history...Italian history now. By the way, my husband himself will protest when he reads this as his story is that HE found ME in the nightclub. But since he doesn't have a blog and I do, this is the story you must believe.

In my life I've always been surrounded by friends. In Australia I had so many friends, work colleagues and family always around me that I had no time for myself. That was fine as I hated being alone. My life was always one big rush and I never actually stopped from the time I awoke to the time I went to sleep.

Here in Italy I don't have as many close friends and for the first time in my life, I have learnt to enjoy my own company and to just be still and quiet. It's actually harder to do than you think. At first I confused my feelings with loneliness, but in actual fact I now have learnt to appreciate the quiet times where I can feel at peace, hum a song, pray or just think about life. I hope that when I go back to Australia and get into the daily grind of working a job and busying up my life again, I will still find that quiet time.

I'm enjoying this peaceful stage of my life but I also look forward to the day when I return home and have my coffee dates with my friends. It won't be a date filled with the strong aroma of real Italian coffee and it won't be in a terrace overlooking the Ponte Vecchio, but it will be a sweet feeling to have my friends physically around me again where I can hug them and tell them how much I've missed them.

Saldi glorious saldi!

2008-07-07T08:50:00.000-07:00

This morning Jason and I went to our usual cafe for colazione (breakfast) which consists of a panini (bread roll) and a freshly squeezed orange juice. We love going there not only for the amazing pastries (is it wrong to have a nutella filled croissant for breakfast?) but also as we have realised that the Italians get more and more friendly the more familiar they become with you. Read: good customer service, which is not so common in most places here. We especially like the staff at this cafe because they make us order in Italian and refuse to serve us in English. It has become our Saturday morning joke with them.

After we paid for our food, they asked us whether we were on our way to the famous Florence saldi (sales) which happen twice a year, in July and February. "No we didn't know about them and weren't planning on going, but I suspect we now are. Why oh why did you have to say anything?!" husband joked to the lady.

As we got into town my heart fluttered as I saw all the signs that were displaying my new favourite Italian word: Saldi. Possibly the most beautiful word in the vocabulary, no matter what language you speak. I was sad initially to see a red top I bought last week for fifty euro's down to thirty five. But I was happy with my husban'd suggestion of buying the same top in a baby pink colour - well it would be wrong to pass up a bargain, right? There was 50% off signs all over the place and I plan on going back there on Monday, oh I am counting the hours already!

During the week, one of our favourite things to do after dinner is to walk into the heart of Florence, just as soon as our tummies settle the pasta I seem to be cooking every night. Our rule of only having pasta once a week is clearly not working and needs to be addressed. Last week on such a walk, we stopped near the Ponte Vecchio to see what the local artists were drawing that night. I was speechless when I saw this picture as it was so amazingly perfect.

I was sad to think that by the morning, this beautiful artwork would be washed away by the street cleaners at night as the artists draw directly on the concrete. What also made me sad was a sign that was next to them. It read 'We are collecting donations to help pay our council fees that have been increased from 300 to over 2000 euro's per year. I didn't realise that they had to pay a fee and I wondered if the illegal sellers of fake Gucci handbags are getting charged a fee this year for clogging up the roads and walkways every day.

We also saw this and could not help laughing. A cooked pasta vending machine! Only in Italy...

While out on our nightly walks we almost always stop at the famous bronze boar of Florence.

Locals say that if you roll a coin down his nose then you will have buona fortuna (good luck) and you will one day return to Florence. There were so many tourists in line waiting to have a picture with him that I didn't want to take up time with a coin. But I figure I have nine more months to visit him to ensure that some day we return to this beautiful city. And being able to walk around Florence every night makes me realise I already have my fair share of buona fortuna. But it's also good to know the boar is only a five minute walk away if I feel I need a top up.

Hair today, Gone tomorrow

2008-07-03T05:08:00.000-07:00

Life is an endless struggle full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you find a hair stylist you like. ~Author Unknown

So I know it's only been about one day since my last blog. Usually I would ring my Aussie girlfriends and share this kind of news with them, but since I don't have many of those in Florence I had to write about my exciting day. (I did comtemplate ringing them but I didn't think they would appreciate me calling at 2am their time for something as trivial as my hair).

I had my first hair colour appointment in Florence today. My male readers are probably saying 'so what?' but my female readers know exactly the dilemma in trying a new hair colourist.

Jason had told me to wait for an English speaking hairdresser when we go to London in the next couple of weeks but I refused saying I was going to do this in Florence. I am woman, hear me roar! Plus, when I looked in the mirror all I could see was my re-growth that Jason told me I was imagining. Ladies, does this happen to you: you look in the mirror and think 'I could go another two weeks before I need my colour re-done'. But then that very night your hair grows 30 centimetres of regrowth and you can't even bare to look at it? Same goes for my eyebrow waxes...anyway I digress.

I walked into the salon and told the hairdresser what I wanted through the English interpreter. He told me that it was not exactly what he wanted to do and would make it look better than what I was asking for. I started squirming. The English interpreter told me to relax and I realised I was probably sounding like a lunatic giving a hundred instructions on how I like my hair done as if I'm some kind of diva (which I'm usually not).

Feeling deflated I resigned myself to a bad hair colour. Due to the language barrier, the two hours it took for him to do my hair was in silence with both of us smiling politely at each other. He asked one of the girls to wash my hair and I had a flashback to my last hairdresser appointment (see my last blog). I was so pleasantly surprised to get a brilliant head massage. Then my hairdresser exclaimed VOILA! and I nearly hugged and kissed him amongst my exclamations of grazie. I love my hair and feel like a million dollars! Or a million Euro's I should say. Luca from Pistolesi Group - I LOVE YOU!!

When I lived in Australia I felt confident in everything from dealing with advertising agencies in my job to booking a holiday to speaking in front of a hundred people at a work conference. A few years ago I used to be an advertising consultant and drive a company car to visit corporate clients and present a sales pitch in front of a boardroom. Here I am scared to drive down to the shop. In Florence I don't feel so confident and am aware that situations that would never ever usually intimidate me, do now. I know how small and irrelevant this blog may sound, but to me it was a major cause for celebration. Not because I got a hair colour that I love, but because I felt like I wasn't on the back foot yet again in this country.

Looking at Florence through a tourist eye

2008-07-01T09:09:00.000-07:00

The Creator made Italy from designs by Michaelangelo." (Mark Twain)

Recently my father visited us from Australia. I put on my well worn tourist cap and took him to see Cinque Terre, San Gimignano, Siena and the Leaning Tower of Pisa. It is always interesting for us to have visitors as I find myself looking at Florence through their tourist eyes and seeing things that I now take for granted as daily Italian life, but to an outsider seem quite strange.

So here is a list of things that show some differences between living in Australia and central Florence. I remember being surprised at these points when I first got here. It's funny how I had forgotten about them until my dad pointed some of them out to me.

uno) Italians are not big breakfast eaters. I am not even sure that there is a cafe in Florence that serves the traditional 'big brekky' that consists of fried eggs, bacon, hash browns and sausages. I used to cook bacon and eggs every Sunday for us but have only just realised that I haven't made it in over six months. Now our breakfast consists of a pastry and cappuccino eaten while standing up in a pasticceria. I do wonder what Italians eat when they have a hangover as everyone knows that a big greasy breakfast is the only cure.

due) Italians eat very late. Restaurants here do not open until 7pm and we (along with some other tourists) are generally the only ones eating at that time. Around 9pm when we are finishing off our dessert, the Italians slowly start coming in for their dinner.

tre) The driving situation here really is horrendous. Italians have little regard for road rules and not many of them observe the marked lines on the autostrada (freeway). Parking is also a problem. I remember driving home in Australia, parking in our private driveway and walking ten steps to our front door. Now our car is parked a ten minute walk away. However from what I see of the cars that are allowed to park on the road (they have a special residence permit) there is very few without scratches or dents. The parking on the street is so tight that sometimes a little nudge to the front car is necessary to parallel park your car.

quattro) Beach space is at a premium. At the Cinque Terre this week, I was shocked to see so many people cramped together on one beach. Not only that, but you had to pay to sit under the beach umbrellas one metre away from a complete stranger. In Florence, there is a fake beach set up on the banks of the arno river so people can tan. (You can't swim as the water is dirty). Only now do I understand why Australian beaches are so appealing to tourists.

cinque) You have to pay for plastic bags at shopping centres. I don't think I've ever come across this in Australia.

sei) When at the supermarket, you have to weigh your own fruit and vegetables before you take them to the cassa (cash register). I was very embarrassed the first time I went shopping with a trolley full of fruit. I held the queue up for five minutes while the lady waited for me to go back and weigh them myself.

One thing I also learnt this week is that Italians don't believe in pampering or 'niceties'. Last week I had an appointment for my first Italian haircut and back massage, both at different salons. Let me describe a massage at my local Australian beauty clinic:

Customer shown into beauty room. Serene rain forest music is playing softly. Candles are lighting the room up with a gentle glow. Masseuse asks you to take off your clothes when you are ready and get under the covers. Masseuse politely knocks on door to ask if you are decent and whether she can come in. After the massage, masseuse thanks you and hands you a glass of water and tells you to relax as long as you want.

All sounds good doesn't it? So, I decided to try an Italian massage. Now before I go on, I have to point out that this was not some kind of backyard beauty shop, it was not exactly a cheap place. I walked into the room and noticed the Italian pop music playing. Not relaxing, but fine. The masseuse hasn't made any obligatory small talk so at this point I'm not sure she speaks English. Then she says loudly in English 'take off your clothes and bra and lie down.' I wait for her to leave the room. She looks at me and repeats the sentence. I realise she isn't leaving. She looks bored as she watches me get completely undressed. I'm quite sure I looked really attractive (not) trying to hoist myself up on the tall massage bed with her looking on at my boobs and half bare bum. Mental note: make sure I always specify a request for a female masseuse in the future. For the next hour I ponder how such a small and lean Italian woman could have so much force and power to do such a brilliant massage, perhaps the best one I have ever had. After she finished,she said finito and left the room. And that was my Italian massage experience. Not relaxing but damn good.

The next day I went to get a haircut. Again at a very reputable place. The hairdresser who cut my hair chatted to his colleague the whole time he was cutting and he even stopped midway to have an espresso. Then it was time for my shampoo. In Australia this is my favourite part as they massage your hair, wash it and give your head some pampering. Not here. They pulled at my hair and twisted my neck around so that they were comfortable in washing my hair, not me the paying customer. Then they proceeded to brush it so forcefully that I had tears in my eyes. I realised I had wasted my money the day before on that massage as my neck was already throbbing. Again no small talk and a quick exclamation of 'finito' and I was off.

The next day, on my way to the English bookstore, I ran into my American friend Melinda who has been living in Italy a few years. I asked her whether this beauty regime was normal or whether I had just gotten two people who really did not like me. She confirmed that that Italians don't believe in pampering and would definetely not be shy about seeing you getting undressed in front of them. I'm not a shy person so I wasn't really bothered but I can imagine my mother-in-law being mortified and leaving the beauty salon altogether.

On Thursday I'm going to a different hairdresser to get my hair colour done. I have been putting it off as going to a new hairdresser is bad enough, but going to a hairdresser that speaks a different language to you could turn out to be a molto interessante experience.

With our vast spaces, backyards and private garages, it is nice to be reminded of how easy life is at home in Australia - after all, we do have to return in ten months! But where in Australia can you have the experience I had this morning. Slice of pizza in hand, I walked past the statue of David to my favourite traditional Italian market and bought some fresh porcini mushrooms. The seller was so excited when I told him I had never cooked with fresh porcini's before so quickly added some fresh herbs that he told me I must use to enhance their flavour. Then walking home, I stopped at my favourite gelateria and had Florence's best gelato. Everyday Florentine life might be crazy at times, but it is also a wonderfully unique experience that we'll treasure forever.

Soccer fever, plastic gloves and Italian food in Germany

2008-06-22T12:17:00.000-07:00

Cleanliness becomes more important when godliness is unlikely (P.J O'Rourke)

This week I went on a three day impromptu visit to see my family in Germany, a country I love visiting. My poor husband was to stay behind as he had to work. Being a Polish wife means you are inherently born with a gene that makes you feel instant guilt if you abandon your husband without leaving a fully stocked fridge with three different cooked dishes and a homemade dessert. So after finishing that task, I packed my bags and yelled out arrivederci as my husband dropped me off at Pisa airport.

My German cousins decided to take me out to a restaurant and then a bar afterwards for a drink. I was disappointed when they excitedly told me we were going to their favourite Italian restaurant but didn't have the heart to tell them I really felt like a schnitzel. Afterwards at the bar, I got to experience the madness in Europe right now that is soccer fever. The fussball match I watched was close to home as the Italians were playing and they won. I smiled as I could only imagine the happiness and cheer that I was sure was being paraded that night in my hometown of Florence.

Whenever I go to Germany I stock up on food at the Polish delicatessen. I left Florence with a twelve kilogram suitcase and came back with twenty one kilograms. Jason picked up my suitcase and looking weak asked 'how many clothes did you buy this time?' But to his pleasant surprise he opened the bag and was greeted by the wafting smell of salami squashed in amongst Polish preserves, Polish spices and the traditional Polish poppy seed cake, makowiec. I sneakily smiled at the thought of my two new gorgeous items of clothing I had stowed away in my hand luggage.

After living in Italy for a few months now, Germany always feels so clean and organised. Now today's blog is going to expose me for the germaphobe that I am, but I have to admit I have some 'cleanliness issues' with Florence. See, I can get over that I will be walking behind someone who will not think twice about dropping rubbish to the ground that I inevitably step on with my new pair of cream wedge shoes. I also have no problem dodging the dog poo that is on every footpath. And I can even get over that smokers will not care about you choking when they are smoking three centimetres away from you while you are trying to eat.

But I just can't get over that the shop owners use their ungloved hands to serve me my bread each morning. In the first couple of days of arriving in Florence, I bought bread and pastries from various fornaio's (bakeries) around town and was shocked that they handled my (and a hundred other people's) money and then used the same hands to cut my bread or piece of pizza. That would never happen in Australia. I paid them and promptly threw the 'dirty goods' in the nearest bin cursing myself for choosing a seller that clearly was not hygienic. Well, it only took me another two days to realise that if I was going to eat at all in Italy, I would have to get over this cleanliness obsession I had.

Recently we started doing our food shopping out of town in a big supermarket as there are no such places in central Florence. With lower prices and a larger variety of food, I was excited to find a shop that looked like my beloved Woolworths in Australia and I quickly proceeded to the fruit and vegetable section. I picked up some delicious looking peaches that are in season now, checking for their firmness. An Italian lady looked at me with displeasure and pointed at the gloves. Apparently it is mandatory to use plastic gloves to pick up the fruit and vegetables before I put them in a bag! Someone forgot to tell this news to the bakery, pizza shop and every other place in Florence. I thought about the irony of this situation of handling fruit that will be washed anyway as I put on the plastic gloves. I mumbled mi dispiace (I'm sorry) to the lady.

Returning from the supermarket and back at home, I cooked up a traditional Florentine meal for dinner. The menu was Bistecca Alla Fiorentina or in plain English terms a medium rare steak half the size of a cow served with fried zucchini flowers. And just in case you were wondering, yes, I washed the zucchini flowers thoroughly before we ate them and washed my hands. Twice. Old habits die hard.

Our very own casa

2008-06-09T09:36:00.000-07:00

This week was an exciting week for my husband and I. After six months of living in hotels and serviced apartments in three different countries we finally had our immigration paperwork finalised and moved into our new permanent home in Florence.

Admittedly it has been wonderful not to pick up a vacuum cleaner or change bedding for over half a year. I don't care how lazy this sounds but if I ever became insanely rich, I would hire a permanent cleaner (oh what the heck and a hairdresser and a massuese) in an instant.
However, three months into living in Florence, we were still feeling very unsettled into our new country and didn't feel like we had a home of our own to rest our pasta filled tummies in each night.

I had two criteria when searching for an apartment. One of them was that the interior had to be modern and minimalistic and was strictly not to include any frilly curtains or wallpaper. After a very depressing search where I decided no one shared our love for minimalism in central Florence, we finally found something that fit.

The second criteria this home had to have was that it had to be in a safe suburb. We were assured how peaceful this area was but no one warned me about the daily danger lurking right in front of our door. Yes, that's right...I didn't notice that we are now living in front of a pizzeria. No, not one of those dodgy ones that you walk past quickly and wonder about how much salmonella is breeding under that counter. No, this pizzeria just happens to be one of the best in Florence. See, there are two things that I have no control or willpower over. One is tiramisu and another is pizza. The pizzeria which I gaze at dreamily from my window does both superbly. Damn! We have been here one week and so far four visits there.

In Australia, when you rent a property from someone it is unlikely you will meet the owner and you deal only with the agent. In this case, the owner wanted to meet us. I liked Senor P. straight away (let's call him that). Effortlessly fashionable and wearing a silk scarf, he immediately and unashamedly eyed us up and down a few times. I have learnt that Italians have no problem with staring at you and do not try to hide whether they like/dislike what you are wearing and they even sometimes will make suggestions on improvements. I had a perfect stranger stop me recently and tell me my blouse was very cute. But then I have also had someone recently tell me I look very tired - the comment that every girl is dying to hear.

Senor P's very first question to us was 'how long have you been married and do you have children?' I thought of his custom furniture in our home-to-be and assured him we don't have any members in our family that would scratch it. But that was not his concern. He was concerned that at my ripe old age of 30 we didn't have children and sincerely encouraged us to start making them in Florence!

Senor P. went on to show us his apartment which was all completely decorated by him - we didn't realise he was a famous interior decorator who had designed the interior of Wanda Ferragamo's house. I was impressed and thought it best to keep quiet our plans of buying extra 'common' Ikea furniture to mix in with his custom peices.

He then led us to our beautiful private courtyard (a rarity in inner Florence) where his gardener smiled warmly at us as he was busily manicuring a magnificent topiary tree. Senor P. then lovingly introduced each plant to us and at this point, I thought it best not to mention that nearly every plant I have ever owned has died. Even a cactus. I do flowers in a vase and that's it. I wrote down the gardener's name and assured him we would be calling regularly. In turn, the gardener gave me the name of his grandson who works at the offending pizzeria and can sell me the best salami and cheese in Florence. Note taken again. This pizzeria would not be good for my thighs.

Next we were taken to meet our neighbour in the same building. I was sure the Italians wouldn't understand my giggling but I couldn't help it as he introduced himself as Lucca and wait for it...he lives on the second floor (sing it people!).

On our first night in our new home, Jason slept soundly but I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about how my life had changed so much in the last six months. Even if I could sleep that night, I'm not sure I could have even dreamt up all these experiences that we've been through, both good and bad. I felt relaxed and happy in our new home and finally I drifted off to sleep.

Note about the photo on this post: Luckily my husband and I don't fight much. But one recurring argument we have is about my Nutella addiction, in particular me eating it out of a jar with a spoon in front of the TV. I say 'delicious' and he says 'heart attack by the time you are 35'. Anyway, imagine my delight when I saw this in a supermarket - a water pitcher size jar full of Nutella. I'm talking about 1000 grams of pure heaven. I immediately put it in my trolley but by the time we got to the check out it had miraculously disappeared. Prime suspect: party pooper husband.

I hate you and then I love you

2008-06-01T09:31:00.000-07:00

"Italian post offices are no place for an optimist" Claire Millington, 2005.

My love-hate relationship with Italy continued this week.

Love or Amore or whatever you call it, there is undoubtedly a lot to LOVE in this country. The food (just ask my stomach), the warmness of the Italian people, the sights and did I mention the food?

But on Friday I was not in love with my new found home. In fact, I wanted to break up with her and return to my ex-love Australia where the relationship seemed much easier and with a lot less heart ache.

See, this all started when I got a letter in the mail stating that I was required to go to the post office and pay a tax of 6.33 euro's to pick up a parcel that my dear friend Christina had sent me from California. (I say this so easily but in fact it took the apartment staff over ten minutes to read three pages to determine what exactly had to be done).

I walked to the uffico postale with a copy of my passport . I took my number and patiently waited in queue. I was actually having a great day and was enjoying looking at the beauty of the post office in Piazza Republica and silently thinking that Australia Post had nothing on these beautiful ceilings.

Finally my number was called and from there it all went horribly wrong. The woman did not speak English and refused to listen to my broken Italian. She read the letter and said it was 'impossibile' and told me I needed to go to the information desk where someone would speak English with me. Have you ever had that feeling when you know someone is lying to you and just wants you to get out of their way? In Australia, I would have stood my ground and demanded a result but in a country where I don't speak the language, I slinked away and quietly seethed.

An hour later, I was still waiting at the unmanned information desk. And there were four people in front of me with a similar look on their faces to mine. Finally a woman appeared and when it was my turn, she read the letter and told me she doesn't understand this and she can't help. If she, the Italian speaking postal worker, didn't understand post office correspondence I wondered what chance a flabbergasted worn out Aussie had. I gave up. Exhausted, I walked home and felt like a failure.

The next day, undeterred I walked back to what was becoming my least favourite building in Florence. This time I was in there for two hours. I was once again referred to the unmanned information desk and finally some mercy in the way of a man who spoke good English came. He explained that I would have to come back tomorrow with my codice fiscale (fiscal code). While I was filling out some details with him, a young American girl came up behind me and and told him that she had been waiting for two hours to retrieve a package (I snorted under my breath) and that she refused to stand at this information desk any longer. Right in front of me, the man who spoke good English just moments before said in Italian 'non parlo Inglese' (I don't speak English). I couldn't believe it.

When I got home that evening I opened my email and read a note from a friend who had just finished visiting Italy. She ended her email with 'you are SO lucky to live in Italy'. I smiled wryly and sighed deeply but knew that when the morning came, I would be out falling in love all over again.

Thirty is the new twenty

2008-05-21T09:12:00.000-07:00

I can't believe that in just three more sleeps I will be thirty years old.
I remember being at school and thinking that thirty was so old and by then my life would be just about over. I would wear daggy tracksuits and stay at home and bake biscuits all day.

I definetely did not imagine this sweet turn of events where I would be spending my thirtieth birthday in Florence, Italy.

The good news (apart from the above fact that I'm in one of the most enchanting cities in the world) is that I know I don't look thirty. I constantly get told I look a lot younger. If only they knew how much I spend on moisurisers and how much make up is under my eyes!

But the bad news is that sometimes I'm so tired that I don't feel thirty at all. I feel more like sixty! I remember going out wearing stilleto's and partying until wee hours of the morning. I would quite happily wake up the next morning and attend a university lecture at 8am. These days, if I don't get to bed at a reasonable hour, my husband tells me how cranky I get the next day. I hate it when he's right. And as for the stilleto's? Well I am a girly girl so I still wear them and complain bitterly about my sore back to anyone that will listen.

As women, I don't think we give ourselves enough credit for what we have achieved in our lives, no matter what age we are. Certainly in this stage of my life where I keep getting jokes about being a 'kept woman' and not having a job or children to look after, I sometimes doubt myself in what I have achieved to date. So, I've decided to write a list of some of the things that I have achieved in my life and also what I hope to achieve.

This is by no means meant to be a vain exercise but just a reassurance to myself that I've had a wonderful thirty years thus far. Here's hoping the next thirty are just as good, because even if I don't get one more blessing in my life, I feel I've been blessed far more than most. And I challenge every woman (and man) reading this to think up of their own list. I have to admit that initially I wrote down three points, got stuck and was about to delete this blog.

So, here it is. Things I've achieved and things I hope to achieve in the next thirty years. Most importantly though, I acknowledge that I couldn't have achieved anything in my life without God and without so many different people at various crossroads in my life.

1. I'm alive and healthy. Having survived a major car accident when I was five (the others in the car were not so lucky), I consider it a privilege to be in this world. And having the opportunity to see a lot of the world, I especially value becoming an Australian citizen.

2. I worked three jobs to support myself through university and finished a marketing degree (and still found time to party as mentioned above!)and then managed to find a wonderful job.

3. I found the most sincere, loyal husband in the world and kept him (so far so good)for 9 years...although he tells me he is only here for my Polish cooking. Did I mention he's extremely handsome too!? Please don't hate me!

4. I have survived six months of not working. This statement is not a joke. In fact, for me, following my husband on this Europe assignment was a big adjustment as I very much liked my career and still struggle with not having a "proper job".

5. I have kept my body healthy and exercised at least four times a week for seven years now. Before then I did no exercise and a friend of mine who hadn't seen me for a while told me I had put on weight (he was unfortunately right). I decided to exercise from that very day and whilst some days it's a challenge, I do it for the health and well being of my body. And to fit into my favourite pair of jeans but that part is vanity!

6. We worked our butts off in our first years of mariage to buy our first home. Mind you, we both saw very little of each other as we were always at work, our TV sat on the carpet as we couldn't afford a TV table and this was in the times when houses were actually affordable in Perth unlike now.

7. I found God and the comfort of praying daily. This actually should have been my first point as without Him I feel like none of my achievements would have occurred.

8. I was hoping to have ten points but I'm now out of ideas. I thought that surely I I could list more than just seven points...have I really only achieved one thing every four years?

Ok, so I didn't make my ten points. But here are some things I hope to achieve:

1. Become a better person and a better wife for I feel like we can always improve and grow in our lives

2. Become a mother. But not just any mother, a great mother. My friends with children really inspire me.

3. Finish writing my autobiography. I've dreamt of writing a book since I was a young girl and my primary school teacher told me she enjoyed my story writing.

4. Curb my chocolate addiction. I eat more chocolate daily than most people do every week and it is my one big weakness that I seem to have no control over.

5. I hope to read the Bible from start to finish one day. So far I've been unsuccessful.

6. And last but not least, I hope to someday willingly eat vegetables every day. I just don't enjoy them unless they are deep fried, covered in mushroom sauce or pickled (Polish gherkins, now there is a good vegetable).

So, there you have it. I can honestly say this has been a very hard blog to write. It's much easier to write about visiting a cathedral in Florence or enjoying the Tuscan sun. It's always harder to delve into one's soul, especially your own, as you may not always like what you see.

Lean on me / He ain't heavy, he's my brother

2008-05-17T12:19:00.000-07:00

This morning I opened the curtains in the hope that the Tuscan sun would be smiling back at me. I was very sad to see the rain and dark clouds above as my brother-in-law and his wife had just arrived from Australia to visit us and we were hoping to take them to Cinque Terre. We quickly changed our plans and decided to go to visit La Torre di Pisa (The Leaning Tower of Pisa).

Jason had been wanting to see this famous tower for so long but for some reason I wasn't as excited as him. My feelings changed and my mouth dropped open as soon as I saw it. It looked so unreal and unlike anything I have ever seen before. I simply couldn't help but wonder why it doesn't fall over which is really not the best thought to have when you are just about to climb it.

After buying our tickets, we proceeded to climb the 294 steps to the top. I was proud of my pregnant sister-in-law who seemed to have more energy than the rest of us.

Being scared of heights coupled with the angle of the tower making making me feel like I was walking half-drunk, my legs started to shake and I felt sick. But the view from the top was spectacular and we were disappointed that our alloted viewing time was over so quickly.

I was interested to learn that from 1990 to 2004 the tower was actually closed to the public due to safety concerns. But now you can walk up there just as soon as you get past the hundreds of market sellers asking you to buy a half tilted coffee mug or a random poster of Bart Simpson leaning on the tower.

When we were driving home, the GPS took us the wrong way around Florence and we accidentally stumbled across the Piazzale Michelangiolo with a huge (replica) statue of David overlooking the whole of Florence. This was a sweet accident as we quickly realised that we were looking at the best view of Florence one can ever hope to see. Once we got our bearings of where we actually were, we realised that our new apartment is only a short walk from this beautiful spot and we can walk up to this view every day for our exercise. It was a beautiful surprise.

I imagine the lookout is usually full of tourists and locals serenly looking at the breathtaking view. But on Sunday the lookout hosted what looked like a huge street party. It started when we drove towards the lookout and all we could hear were beeping horns. It was so loud and constant that we couldn't hear the GPS telling us where to drive next.

We are still slightly nervous driving around Italy so we immediately thought we had cut someone off. But then a car completely draped in purple drove by and from there all we could see were scooters waving purple flags, people screaming and banners flying in the air. We found out the Florence soccer team Fiorentina, had made it into the next round of championships. It was fun to see not only Italian youth but old grandmothers loudly and frantically cheering in support of their beloved soccer team.

The weekend with our first lot of visitors was wonderful as we got to spend time with our family and experience sights which none of us had ever seen before. However for me, it was also exciting as I purchased my first two pairs of shoes in Italy. Beautiful high wedges to wear in the daytime when that sun returns. Hey, I didn't say they were practical, but they are very karina (cute).

The Madrina

2008-05-12T02:58:00.000-07:00

This weekend I left the hustle and bustle of Florence in tourist season and headed to one of my very favourite cities in the world, Cologne in Germany.

Not only did I get to see my favourite cathedral again, the truly breathtaking Koln Dom, I also had the privilege of becoming godmother to my cousin's new baby Victoria Monika.

This was to be my second time as a madrina (godmother) in the last couple of months because my best friend Gina's son, Daniel, also became my godchild a few weeks ago. I may be biased but I think I easily have the cutest boy and prettiest girl as godchildren.

When I got off the plane in Cologne, it was a stark contrast to my new home town Florence. Everything was spotlessly clean, trees and flowers stood proudly manicured to an inch of their lives and the country runs like an efficient Swiss watch. But it lacked the Italian hospitality and vibe that I have now grown to love.

When I arrived back in Florence, I was walking to our apartment amongst food wrappers, cars beeping and homeless people begging for money on each corner. But no fewer than three people yelled out 'ciao' and one sang out 'welcome to Florence Senora!' (I guess the suitcase gave it away). Unlike in Germany, the city was alive with colour and excitement from both locals and tourists alike.

Arriverderci Jessie, the best companion in the world.

2008-05-08T19:54:00.001-07:00

When our plane touched down in Australia two weeks ago, we were literally jumping with excitement to see our beautiful dog Jessie. Readers of my last entry will know she was slightly sick and off her food.

Never did I think that two days ago we would be looking into her beautiful brown eyes while our vet sent her to doggy heaven because her body gave in to a very bad case of bowel disease. It was the day that I hoped would never come.

Jessie had been with us from the time we were newly engaged to five years on in our marriage and was truly a part of our family. Jess' vet told us that a lot of dogs will wait for their owner's return before their body finally gives in to their sickness. I love that she waited for us to return from overseas.

Jason and I have been truly overwhelmed by not only our friends with their compassion towards us, but also of stories of how many people can relate to such a sad time with memories of their own pets passing on. Thank you to all our beautiful friends and to our wonderful in-laws who looked after her for the last six months.

As the plane touched down in Venezia yesterday and I boarded a water taxi, I took off my jumper and enjoyed the beautiful Italian sun on my skin and felt the wind through my hair. I finally smiled because I know Jess would have wanted me to. She was our greatest companion that brought a smile to our face each day. She knew exactly when you needed one.

I hear they only serve t-bone steaks in doggy heaven Jess and belly rubs are very strongly encouraged.

I still call Australia Home but I miss the pizza

2008-05-02T00:18:00.000-07:00

Ten days ago, we found out we would need to fly to Perth Australia, our home town, to finalise the last bit of necessary paperwork to obtain our visa. Whilst this was a big disruption to my husband's work, I was excited as for me a free trip home meant a holiday and a wonderfully unexpected chance to catch up with family, friends and our beloved dog Jess.

Unfortunately, this year seems to be proving to have many obstacles for us and hasn't gone as we thought it would. Our trip home was no different.

My wonderful in-laws look after our dog (think home cooked meals, a bedroom with a sofa of her own and twice daily walks) and had warned us that she was off her food and wasn't her usual energetic 'I'll stare at you until you take me for a walk' self. Despite my in-laws spending a fortune at the local vet, I just had to take one look at her and realised just how sick she was. So, my intended week of shopping and coffee dates with girlfriends turned into spending the whole week taking Jess to the vet and finally visiting her in intensive care at the doggy hospital. I was so touched by all my family and friends that have been sending their well wishes as they all know how much our dog means to us.

Jess is being treated by a wonderful vet, Dr. Fleur James at the Murdoch University hospital. So, I have been visiting the university every day and really experiencing a 'blast from the past.' I graduated from the same university in 1999 and I can't believe (with my 30th birthday looming by), how old I feel when i see all the young students around me busily typing away their assignments at computers next to me.

It got me thinking that I had never dreamt 'big' whilst I was at university. I had never imagined I would even get a chance to visit Italy let alone live in Firenze and wake up to some of the most beautiful places in the world. And now that our visa issues have finally been resolved after six long months, I look forward to returning to Italy (once Jess is treated) and continuing our rocky but amazing year.

Each morning I wake up, before I put on my make-up....I say a little prayer for you

2008-04-18T23:43:00.001-07:00

We have been trying unsuccessfully to get all our relevant paperwork to permanently stay in Firenze for my husband's work. This has been a very trying and frustrating time that has spanned over nearly six months. But finally there may be a light at the end of the tunnel. Watch this space...

Whenever we tell our fellow stranieri (strangers to Italy) that we are in the process of obtaining visa's, they often look at us with a mixture of sympathy and disbelief. The next thing they say is 'hmm don't worry no one ever checks in Italy'. So it is my belief that there are A LOT of people here illegally. Whilst we choose not to stay illegally, I can see why a lot of people do. Italian immigration policy and the bureacracy that comes with it is just so incredibly frustrating. And it's upsetting to know that we are trying to do the right thing but get nowhere whereas I can walk past the Ponte Vecchio at anytime today and see at least twenty men from Africa selling fake Gucci handbags. I'm very sure they do not have a visa (or if they do perhaps it a fake one stamped with a Loius Vuitton logo on it).

Each morning I pray before I start the day to thank God for letting me experience Italian food, smells and adventures in this amazing country. But I also pray that the immigration policies will just get that little bit easier for people like us who legitimately want to live here and contribute, if only for a short time, to the economy and community in Florence. Failing that, by at least allowing us into your bella Italia, we are at least supporting the economy by staying in your apartments, eating your gelati and buying those fabulous Italian shoes.

Italian elezione

2008-04-14T21:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I sampled the crisp Florentine air by going out to buy some fresh salami and pane (bread). Now that I have written that sentence, I am wondering why I refer to salami as fresh, when the best kind is sometimes left to hang for a few weeks?

On my walk I noticed that a lot of the shops were closed and it was well after 10am so I didn't understand why. Then it hit me, yesterday was the second day of voting in the Italian elezione and I guessed that was the reason.

I've only really 'lived' in Florence for 7 weeks now so I will not profess to any knowledge whatsoever of the Italian political system apart from what I see on CNN, which is the only channel I can understand here. But I have spoken to a few local people here who say that living conditions are getting worse. According to them, the taxes are high but public services are inadequate. CNN reported that the national debt is so high that for each Italian there is a 1200 Euro debt. (It was early morning, half awake, when I listened to this but I think I have this information correct).

So, it was with interest that I waited for the results to appear on the internet this morning . But I see that the current leader, Mr. Silvio Berlusconi, won again. What this means for Italy I don't really know. However what I do know is that compared to Australia there is a lot less advertising in the weeks leading up to the election. This could explain why their voting turn out was low.

Late last year, the Australian election was held. During the boxing match Johnny vs. Kevin it was impossible to watch any TV programme without being bombarded by annoying and biased advertisements slandering each others political party. Here in Italy, it seems a lot more civilised and whilst I can't comment on Italian press as I don't read it, the TV did not seem to have every second advertising spot crammed with ridiculous election advertisements. Aussies, you know the ones I am talking about.

As the Italian country voted, I waited at home for my husband to return from work. He was working late as he had received some very good news that afternoon. Our paperwork for moving here permanently had come through. Anyone that has dealt with the Italian immigration office (or any immigration office for that matter) will understand the significance of this. If you have been the recipient of my sometimes angry emails, you too will understand!

So, I decided to make a big antipasto dinner to celebrate. I didn't have any wine at home but had bought some beautiful oranges at the markets that morning. Imagine my surprise when I cut one open and saw a brilliant red coloured flesh. At first I thought there was something wrong with the orange but then realised I must have stumbled across the Sicilian blood red orange. This delicious arancia made deliciously sweet orange juice and we sipped it in wine glasses with our plates of fresh/old salami and cheeses and celebrated the fact that we after six long months in between three countries, we will now have a permanent home soon.

Book recommendation: Well I have a confession on what I will be reading this week. Whilst I love reading books, especially autobiographies, I also am a fan of trashy magazines from time to time. This week my husband flew to London for a meeting and asked me if I wanted anything brought back. I'm ashamed to say that at the top of my list were an English Ok! magazine and Cadbury's chocolate.

How can something so sweet, cause so much pain?

2008-04-13T06:57:00.001-07:00

My daily love affair with Italian gelato has regrettably ended.

See, I have been trying unsuccessfully to kick my habit of ending each meal with a double scoop of my favourite two flavours - caffe and zabaglione (coffee and egg nog). However, I'm the first to admit that I have trouble exercising self control over dessert and would inevitably end up in my favourite gelateria each night somewhere between the hours of 7 and 8pm. Actually make that my ex-favourite gelateria.

Friday night was no different. I said grazie to the shop assistant and proceeded off happily into the streets of Firenze with my own little bit of heaven. Or so I thought. My stomach unfortunately didn't agree.

The next morning I woke up doubled up over in pain and my body shaking uncontrollably. I have never had food poisoning and I pride myself on my Polish stomach of steel that can quite happily eat egg nog and raw mince tartare style. Since I don't want to lose any of my readers, I won't go into any more details about my next twelve hours of severe food poisoning details, but all I will say is that I never ever want to look at ice-cream again. Even now, I can't walk past a gelateria without my stomach turning. If you have been to Florence, you'll know this is a problem as every street has many gelateria's.

It is now two days later as I write this and my stomach is still making noises that resemble a washing machine. No, not a quiet Fisher and Paykel. More like a noisy machine similar to the one I had as a student at university which had a life of it's own on the spin cycle.

I am now thinking about what lovely treat will become the replacement for my daily dessert. Perhaps a tiramisu or panacotta or some fragola with ricotta and miele (strawberries with ricotta cheese and honey). Hang on, my stomach is making those noises again...

Restaurant recommendation: Ok, so it is an hour drive from Florence, but we had a fabulous lunch at a restaurant at the Barberino Shopping Outlet which by the way is a great day out for shopping (and in my opinion a lot better than The Mall outlet centre). The restaurant name is Ristorante Il torracchione and trust me, just get the mixed grill - massive platters of ribs, roasted chicken and ribs. You can't miss the restaurant as you'll see roughly fifty Italians lining up for it. But it's definetely worth the wait.

The Italian Intruder

2008-04-08T08:24:00.000-07:00

Last night my husband and I had two unwanted extras in our bedroom. I know Italy is a country full of pasion and love, but before you start exclaiming 'mamma mia, what is going on there ?' let me explain.

See, in Australia we have very advanced technology called...wait for it....the humble fly screen. This wonderful invention is cheap, effective and until now has been very much taken for granted by me.

After changing hotels four nights ago, we go to bed knowing our two unwanted guests, the Italian mosquito's, will serenade us with Italian buzzing to the tune of Dean Martin's 'that's amore'.

Like anyone, I hate mosquito's and usually am the first to get bitten. While I calmly swat the damn zanzara, husband is convinced we have a plague in the house and proceeds to turn on every light in each bedroom at 3am. After I kill the offending mosquito's he promptly falls back asleep and I am left to lie wide awake listening to Florence traffic zoom past our window. (Where do people go at 3am?)

I finally fell asleep thinking that mosquito's were the least of our worries. Not long ago I was living in outback Karratha with a gecko in my shower, flying cockroaches in my back yard and I even had a poisonous snake under my desk at work.

After our pest control activity last night, I assured husband that I would not let one ray of Tuscan sun enter our room thereby eliminating any chance of even one nasty intruder getting in.

Happily I left for my daily tea and book reading session at a cafe. When I returned the housekeeper was cleaning our room and putting fresh orchids in our vase. My smile froze as I looked around - every single window was open and she was happily humming away an Italian song...but her humming sounded like buzzing to my ears.

I predict another long night ahead.

Amazing Abetone

2008-04-07T06:26:00.000-07:00

On Sunday morning we got up early to go and visit Abetone. We had visited this ski town initially three weeks ago and had such a wonderful time, that we had to return.

We were a little tired but had to leave Florence early as part of the town near our hotel was going to be closed off to cars from 8.30 am. The 25th Florence Marathon, one of the most important sports events in Europe, was going to be held that day. A quick stop for an espresso at our favourite pasticceria quickly woke us up and the 90 minute drive passed quickly.

As a young girl living in Poland I surely have seen snow before. But because I immigrated to Australia when I was 5 years old, I hadn't remembered it so, in my view, Abetone snow is the first I have officially seen and felt.

It was so amazing to see the beauty in the snow covered mountains, hear children laughing while throwing snowballs at each other and feel the snow drops on our tongues.

My dad grew up in the Polish mountains and was an excellent skiier. I thought that I would have inherited this gene but sadly my skiing attempt was dismal and ended in me covered in bruises on my legs from falling over numerous times. My image of delicate snow softening my fall quickly diminished as I realised that falling on the snow really hurts! And it wasn't only my butt that hurt. The biggest injury was to my pride when I saw ten year old children skiing at fast speeds around me while I was just attempting to stay upright.

All the time we were there I was wishing my family could be there to see the beauty that we were experiencing. When they arrive in the Italian summer to visit, we are planning to take them to this wonderful place as I can imagine there will be just as much beauty in those mountains when they are covered in summer flowers instead of winter snow.

Restaurant recommendation: On Saturday we indulged in a wonderful brunch at the Fusion Bar just near the Ponte Vecchio. I go to the Fusion Bar daily for a cup of tea to accompany whatever book I am reading, but I had never tried their lunch. They also put a twist on my favourite dessert - a white chocolate and green tea tiramisu. I'm sure not everyone would like it, but it's really worth a try. I really enjoyed it, my husband had one one spoon and quickly pushed it away. It's definetely not the winner in my quest to find Italy's best tiramisu, but it was really good and the atmosphere in the bar, whilst not strictly Italian, is very chic and modern.

It's a long way to the shop...if you want a sausage roll

2008-04-03T23:54:00.001-07:00

Six months ago, I wasn't filling my days sipping cappuccino and eating tiramisu. Back then, I worked as a marketing specialist for Australia's largest telecommunications company, Telstra.

As part of my job, I had to drive around the Northwest of Western Australia frequently for business. I didn't really think too much of driving eight hours to Broome but with no direct flight, driving was the only option. (My city dweller friends, thought this was ridiculous as like most city people, they complain bitterly about a two hour drive). Sometimes my husband and I even drove to Perth for holidays with the car packed with suitcases, aeroguard protective insect spray and our beloved white dog which would end up a dusty red coloured beloved dog by the end of the trip. We managed the drive in 16 hours non stop and usually went through five packets of lollies and ended on a sugar high.

Yesterday my husband and I drove from Florence to Monza which is a town just out of Milano. The drive took us five hours because of the traffic and due to what looked like new roads, our trusty GPS decided to take us through not one but three autostrada toll crossings and needless to say, the wrong way.

As my husband was driving, I was commenting on just how different the landscape is in comparison to our outback Australian road trips. Driving in North West Western Australia meant sometimes you wouldn't see a car for hours and when you did, they waved at you excitedly and you always waved back. If they didn't wave, you would muffle something along the lines of 'bloody rude tourists'.

Petrol stations were far and few between and it was not unusal to see a sign warning you of the lack of available fuel or water for the next 300 kms. Definetely you would see a whole array of amazingly beautiful wildlife that you try to avoid hitting including kangaroos, lizards, emu's and the number one crusher of cars, the big bulls that navigate into the middle of the road and look at you accusingly when you drive past. One less assuming animal you also tried to and failed to avoid was the humble fly and when you opened your car door to get out for a stretch you would literally be covered in flies...sounds quite glamorous doesn't it!?

Yesterday's five hour drive was molto diverso (very different). There were hundreds of cars zooming along the autostrada at high speeds, car horns beeping at those unfortunate enough to decide they want to overtake at normal speeds and no signs of our Aussie bouncy kangaroos on the side of the road. We did see a husky (for those that don't know this is a BIG dog) sharing a ride on an open scooter with his owner. If only I had my camera out as I can't explain how funny (and dangerous for the dog) this looked. And when we stopped for a break at a roadhouse and I stood ready armed with my can of fly spray, not even one fly greeted me.

Driving in outback Australia , you need to choose your roadhouses/service stops very very carefully. Future travellers, consider yourself warned. Criteria should include:

Is there a working air - conditioned toilet?

Has the toilet been cleaned say ...this decade?

Is the petrol going to cost you more than your car repayment this month?

Has that Australian meat pie been there for longer than 24 hours? (23 hours you say? ok two please)

So I braced myself for the worst when we veered off the autostrada into the My Chef roadhouse. Now, I know Italians live for food, but I'm sure their standards drop at the humble roadhouse? Surely there would be the usual suspects - stale cakes, some day old fries and half frozen icy poles?

We walked in and felt like we stepped into another small Italian city full of bustling Italians. The espresso aroma wafted into our tired faces, the patisserie bar beamed with fresh cornetto con marmolada (my favourite croissants with jam), the wood fired pizza oven was in full swing and there was a choice of five different pizzas (try the margharita, it was good!). In another section, there were salami's hanging from the ceiling and a selection of fresh fruits, pasta's and cakes.

Now onto the toilets. Now everyone that knows me knows that unfortunately I am a germophobe at the best of times. (It makes for interesting travelling). So you can imagine my amazement at walking into clean toilets with self flushing toilets, automatic taps and even a lady sitting there waiting to clean after me. There was not one red back spider looking at me doing my business and no cockroaches squashed on the floor.

My Northwest WA readers will surely understand when I say 'Nanutarra road house, you have a lot to answer for!'.

This morning I woke up and I had that sense where I didn't know where I was. We have lived in six different houses/hotels/apartments in three different countries in the last five months due to my husband's engineering job, and that doesn't include the hotels we stay in for trips away or his business trips. But as I opened the room service breakfast menu and saw a selection of cheeses and salami's with boiled eggs, I could almost smell the strong aroma of a macchiato. My senses returned to me and I quickly realised that I'm in the wonderful pulsating heart beat of Italia. But why then, does my heart hurt writing about my true home and love, Australia?

In love with Lucca, the Italian City (not the person on the second floor)

2008-03-29T12:53:00.000-07:00

This weekend we drove to Lucca, a town an hour away from Florence that was recommended to me by a few of my new Florentine friends. When my Italy guide book described it as the most beautiful city in Italy, I was skeptical....would it be as enchanting as my new home town?

We decided to explore this town on the humble pushbike and funnily enough, the lady that ran the bike shop lived in Australia 30 years ago in Fremantle, a town that is ten minutes from where we live in Perth - what is it they say about the world being so small?

We hopped on our bikes (Without the stress of helmet hair - helmets are not compulsory or even suggested!) and rode through this amazing town that has easily gone on my top ten towns in the world. Not only was the town and it's city walls just as enchanting and beautiful as the guide book suggested, but it is a town that is famous for fritole, a deep-fried doughnut that even has a nutella option. We tried both varieties just as they came out of the hot oil. I had no idea fried nutella could be so delicious! The doughnut seller was so delighted as I stood there with nutella all over my hands and face telling him that this was heaven - a messy heaven but heaven nonetheless. He smiled and wisely kept handing me serviettes.

Our relaxed carefree day of eating doughnuts, fritto misto (mixed seafood grill) and sitting in the warm sun soon turned into a stressful experience. I decided there and then that I was going to conquer my fear of driving in Italy and get us home from Lucca back to Florence.

This would be the first time I would drive on the wrong side of the road - remember in Australia we drive correctly (!) on the left hand side. The whole thing felt weird from sitting on the wrong side of the vehicle, to changing gears with my right hand and me constantly swerving to the right and eventually hitting the curb (let's hope the car hire company is not reading this).

Dear husband felt like he was with a learner and not someone that has been driving for 11 years. So, after one argument and about five cars tooting me, we finally pulled up into our safe-haven (the garage). I didn't realise just how stressed I was as when I got out my legs were physically shaking. But now I can go back to Australia saying I have driven not only through busy central London but also through the crazy maniac Florence streets with Italian street signs that I can't read. This is a big achievement considering we have lived in Karratha for the last four years, a town with not even one set of traffic lights.

I have to make a quick mention of Friday night. I told my husband I was going to cook a casual meal at home but at 4pm I had this urge to go out (this happens after I have been sitting at home alone for 9 hours straight!). So the apartment staff booked us a very traditional Florentine restaurant and so far, it is the best restaurant I have been to in Florence.

As soon as we walked into Omero and my husband had to duck his head so he wouldn't hit the twenty prosciutto hanging from the ceiling, we knew we were in for a true Florentine meal. The highlight of my meal could have easily been the antipasti of meats and pates. It could also have been my Florentine style pigeon. But the easy winner was in fact the unbelievable dessert. Initially I was so disappointed that they did not serve tiramisu, but I was so glad they didn't as I have never ever eaten a dessert like this - marscapone and ricotta cheesecake that was so perfetto that I was lost for words. There is just no other way to describe it and when my tastebuds woke me up on Saturday morning I started planning when we would go there again and if it would be wrong of me to order the same cheesecake for antipasto, primi and secondi courses.

If the Italian scooters won't kill you, the cold weather is sure to

2008-03-27T05:08:00.000-07:00

When people ask me what nationality I am I always answer Australian. I emigrated to my wonderful country Australia when I was five years old, so I do consider myself a true blue Aussie and have not one but three pairs of thongs to prove this (Note here: thongs have a very different meaning in some languages and in this case, I refer to the ones you wear on your feet!).

But I also consider myself Polish which is where I was born and both my parents were born. I was brought up in a house with Polish customs, traditions and rituals, some which I still live by now in my adult life which are coming very handy in understanding Italian life.

When I was growing up, my polish father used to have a very frustrating answer to what I thought were very legitimate questions. The answer was always 'because that's the way it is'. My questions were often:

Why do I have to eat prune soup? (no, I'm not joking, it's an actual Polish dish)

Why can't I go to sleep with wet hair?

Why do I have to speak Polish at home?

Why can't I take a peanut butter sandwich to school instead of salami and gherkins?

Why do I have to drink hot milk with garlic when I'm sick? The Aussie kids just take an asprin.

In a Polish household some things are just the way they are and there is really no point in trying to change the system. It's been like that for decades and who am I to try to point out any flaws in it? I'm quickly learning this rule also applies in Italy. In Italy you do not drink cappucino after dinner, you do not order a Florentine steak well done and you do not serve pasta as a main dish. It's just the way it is.

In a Polish household, you are committing a grave sin if you walk into someones house with your shoes on or for that matter, walk around with bare feet in your own house. Are you not civilised enough to have heard of slippers? I must admit this one I have engrained into both myself and my Australian husband and I wear slippers in the house even in 40 degree Australian heat.

Another thing you must never do is drive with your car windows down. It's just 'not done' and will inevitably end in you getting sick the very next day or in extreme cases, immediately as soon as the wind enters your body. I was in a car with my Polish cousins who came to visit us in Australia. I put the car window down slightly to get some fresh air and they both loudly screamed 'Close the window, we'll catch a cold!'. It was 40 degrees outside but there was no reasoning with them.

Today I went walking to the mercato and I was reminded of this fear that Europeans have of 'catching a cold'. See, I walk around Florence all day long and I am a fast walker negotiating myself expertly between kissing lovers and slow walking tourist groups. I can't help it. I try to slow down and enjoy the beautiful city but inevitably end up power walking in my high heel boots wondering why I didn't wear the comfortable shoes that sit buried deep in the cupboard. Anyway, because of the fast pace of my walk, I always get really hot, no matter how cold it is outside.

Today the beautiful Tuscan sun was shining through my curtains and so I decided to wear jeans, boots and shock horror a 3/4 sleeve knit top. No less than three Italian women stopped me to ask me if I was cold (actually they didn't ask me, they told me I was cold) and starting shaking their heads at me like I was surely asking to be sick. And that was in the space of an hour long walk to the shops.

The lady at the market was the most dramatic and told me in no uncertain terms, that tomorrow I will be sick. The older lady that stopped me on the road used the words 'mamma mia' (usually reserved for grave occasions) and the hotel staff advised 'signora, you should wear a jacket, it is freddo (cold) today.' And I can bet that if my dad saw me wearing my outfit today, that would have made four people reminding me of my completely wrong choice of clothes and the illness that is now my fate for tomorrow. (It will be interesting to read this blog entry when I myself become a parent and my child wants to go out in the cold without a jacket. But for now I rebel and go sleeveless).

This also got me thinking about how different Australians are to Europeans in their outspoken opinions of one another to each other. I remember quite vividly my Polish cousin telling me that she did not like the outfit I was wearing because my thighs looked terribly big in the pants (damn those heavy pasta dishes!) An Australian would NEVER tell you this. They would notice your thighs but smile and say 'you look really great, have you lost weight?'

Another big cultural difference is the way Australians and Europeans address each other. Very rarely do Australians call someone Mister or Mrs. It's nearly always by their first name regardless of what their age is. To this day I find it very hard to call someone much older than me by their first name. Not that I would dare dream to do that in Italy. Even when I insist our apartment staff call me Monika, the next day they revert back to Signora (although my favourites call me Signorina which makes me feel young!).

So, today I walked through Italy with thoughts in English contemplating European culture. Tonight I will be cooking Polish chicken soup for my half Filipino, half Australian husband. To add to my wonderfully cultural day, I stumbled upon a bakery that sold pink frosty American style doughnuts which I couldn't resist buying three of. Everyday I keep reminding myself of just how lucky I am to be living this tremendously cultural experience in a city filled with surprises and strangers who worry for my health.

'Every age, every culture, every custom and every tradition has its own character, it's own weakness and it's own strength, it's beauties and cruelties....' (Herman Hesse 1946)

Eating french fries but dreaming of pizza

2008-03-24T08:30:00.000-07:00

My husband and I left Florence for a weekend getaway to Paris for Easter.

I was really excited as I had never been to this famous city before and I was already envisaging my blog that I would write with all my wonderful experiences. But because I've decided this is going to be a very honest blog, I have to say I wasn't that impressed compared to the other wonderful cities Europe has to offer. I'm sorry to offend Paris lovers or Parisians with that statement but it's my blog and I'll cry if I want to...

Sing it people!

Of course I was impressed with the stunning Tour Eiffel, the Louvre museum and Notredame, I don't think you could find anyone that wouldn't be. And I was definetely impressed with the cuisine. I didn't realise the French love their chocolate so much! The pattiseries were the best I've ever tried (and I've tried a lot!) and there were stalls selling fresh hot crepes on every corner - bliss!

We went to one restaurant that a good friend had recommended called Aux marches du Palais. This is a traditional restaurant out of the tourist area (but still very easily accesible by the excellent metro train) which starts serving at 8pm because an hour beforehand is when the staff eat. We were told that this is a traditional Parisian custom whereby staff of restaurants and hotels used to always be served food before their work shift started. This would ensure the staff were well fed and happy and also arrived to work on time. If the staff member did not appear for dinner, then the restaurant would have to pay him extra in his/her salary as this was actually part of their work package. We thought it was a great idea as there is nothing worse than getting an unknowledgable waiter that can't recommend or explain the dishes on their menu. For our meal we ordred entrees of pork terrine which was also served with salami's (I thought I had left Italy!) and ravioli de crab maison. Then my husband ordered a house specialty Gigot de Sept Hueres - lamb that had been cooked for 12 hours in a french traditional way and I ordered duck which was encased in a crepe. Both were fabulous but the best was still yet to come. All who know me know that I live for dessert and this restaurant served a petit pot au chocolat that is easily the best dessert I've ever eaten in my life. It was a pot of pure chocolate heaven and one that will frequently appear in all my best dreams.

But with all our wonderful Paris experiences, we just could not get over how rude the French were. I had read numerous stories and reports referring to their abruptness, but I am not usually one to beleive stereotypes (I have also read the Italians are rude and I completely disagree with this!). But I have to say that for the small handful of people that were polite to us, the majority were very rude from the waiters to even our hotel staff. Sorry to sound snooty, but when I am paying 11 euro's for a glass of lemonade I expect at least a nod from the waiter to acknowledge my presence! To me it seemed that everything was just too hard for them.

One thing that shocked me was seeing a pickpocketer in action, although I know this is a daily occurrence in much of Europe not just Paris. As all us Aussie's know, this would be a rarity to see in our country especially at 2pm in the afternoon, but in Paris no one even took noticed (apart from us standing with our mouths wide open) as a fight broke out between the pick-pocketer and the man whose wallet he stole. Eventually the security men came to the scene and handcuffed the offender. Surprisingly to us, the offender was about 28, quite handsome and very well dressed. It made me hold on to my handbag a little bit tighter after that incident and we decided that we would only ever take one of our wallets out on a day trip and leave the other one behind in the safe.

So, all in all, I'm so grateful for the chance to see this famous city. I'm glad for the chance to see the Mona Lisa, sample real French profiteroles and visit the place where my favourite manicure, the French manicure, is invented. But when the plane landed in Pisa and the Italian custom of passengers clapping started, I turned to my husband and said 'I'm so glad we are home in our wonderful Florence.' It was the first time I had called Florence my home. And when the staff at our apartment greeted us as if we were family members, we fell in love with Florence and the Italians just a little bit more.

The Fabulous Mercato S. Ambrogio

2008-03-19T05:40:00.001-07:00

This morning I went to my favourite place in Florence. No, not the famous Uffici museum, not the Duomo and not the Ponte Vecchio. My favourite place in Florence has to be the Mercato S. Ambrogio markets.

Not only do these markets have mouth watering Swiss Cheese, fresh non-salted bread and homemade spinaci e ricotta ravioli but they are full of Italian atmosphere. Usually there are no tourists and the shop owners speak no English, so I feel like I am in the real heart of Italy in this place. There is my favourite smiling lady in the pasta shop who shouts 'brava!' if I pronounce something right in Italian, the cheese man who today let me taste a delicious parmesan and a smiling butcher who sells me veal and tells me I'm molto gentile (very polite). Me? Grazie!

The market is also always full of doggies accompanying their owners to the markets. A part of me thinks this is a cruel torture for the poor doggies who can see the proscuitto hanging. A week ago, I saw the most beautiful dog who also happened to be the largest dog I've ever seen. His owner told me he weighed 80 kilo's! He was drooling everywhere, but in fairness so was I at the sight of the pancetta I was just about order.

Today I also met a beautiful blonde Italian....his name simply Filipo...a golden labrador. His owner spoke perfect English so we chatted for a while and I got lots of licks and kisses (from the dog not the owner!!). By the way, Filipo and I were the only blondes in the whole market amongst an array of perfectly styled dark coloured Italian hair.

In another section of the market, the vegetable sellers are in full swing. I now have my favourites in particular the vegetable man who associates me as the 'shark girl' because apparently there are a lot of dangerous sharks EVERYWHERE ready to eat you in Australia! He also teases his neighbour that all the 'bella' girls come to his vegetable stall! (I don't have the heart or the knowledge of Italian language to tell him it's because his fruit is cheaper ha!).

A couple of days ago I made the mistake of asking him for basilico (basil) with the intention of making some bruschetta. By the look on his face, clearly this was a mistake. He told me that I must make something else as basil is not in season and why would I want to make something with unseasonal vegetables - good point actually. So, i picked up some seasonal zucchini flowers and lightly fried them in olive oil - bellisimo!

When we eventually move back to the small mining town Karratha in Australia where the vegetables are on a truck for two days before they get to the store, I think this is one aspect of my days in Florence that I will surely miss.

Tomorrow I will be swapping my pasta eating for snails and frog legs as we are going to Paris for Easter. I'm fully expecting my body to go into shock from pizza and tiramisu withdrawals. But when Tuesday comes I will be waving hello to the salami's, cheeses and my new friends at the Mercato S. Ambrogio.

Food & Fake Gucci

2008-03-15T14:20:00.000-07:00

This morning we both woke up tired and decided to abandon our plans of a skiing trip to Abetone and went to the 'Taste Food Festival' at Stazione Leopolda. On the way we stopped at Palazzo Strozzi which is a museum near the Uffici. We didn't go there for the exhibits but rather for their chocolate torte that I had sampled the day before at the museum cafe. I asked my husband to take a picture of me with the big statue in front of the museum and as I did a loud peircing noise sounded and it took me a few moments to realise I was setting an alarm off. An Italian security man ran out from seemingly nowhere and said something to us in Italian which I'm quite sure translated to 'bloody tourists.'

Anyway, the chocolate torte was again delicious but was a mistake as the taste festival had so much glorious food to sample. For 8 Euro's each, we didn't expect much. But inside was a beautifully upper class exhibition with at least 40 vendors proudly showing their various produce from all around Italy. From olive oils to breads to balsamic vinegars, we could barely walk home. We ate unbeleivingly tender prosciutto off the bone, truffle chocolates that are probably served in heaven and cheese that defy an explanation. There were very little tourists there and it was probably for this reason that we were a hit with all the stall holders - well they were probably laughing at our broken Italian and the fact that everything we tried we tagged with 'bellisimo'. You just do not get this kind of produce in Australia let alone Karratha!

In the evening, we felt like some healthy Japanese food. The hotel gave us a recommendation and off we set to a place near the Uffici. When we arrived the restaurant was completely empty but they wouldn't accommodate us as we did not have a booking. By this time, all I could think of was tempura and miso soup but alas it was not to be. We are booked in for tomorrow night but I am still wondering why an empty and expensive restaurant would not serve two (very hungry and miso craving) paying customers in low tourist season! A lot of things in Italy are simply 'impossible' and can not be done. I guess this is one of those times.

Our evening gelati ritual ended up in watching the fake handbag sellers and their 'games' with the carabinieri (police). We wonder whether the police are actually interested in really catching these men that sell fake Gucci, LV and Prada. At first I felt sorry for the sellers as I contemplated on what would lead someone to want to spend their days fleeing from police and conning unsuspecting tourists into buying a 'real' Prada for a quarter of the price. But then I spoke to a local Florentine man and he explained that it makes the Italians really upset and mad as they have to work for their money and pay taxes whereas these sellers are usually here illegally and pay no taxes and still use the Italian public services - I hadn't thought of it that way. I also hadn't thought of the thousands of euro's a year that Gucci pays for leasing a shopfront just to see their brand being destroyed in the street.

Back at home, I turned on CNN and watched a documentary about women in Iraq and the terrible struggles they face daily. It made me realise that we are all in this world together but we are all in such different circumstances. I'm ending the night thanking God for our blessings and for us having the privilege of being in Italy - a country that not only has a wonderful food festivals but allows freedom of speech and a safe caring environment for women to express them selves and live without fear.

Buses and shopping

2008-03-14T05:39:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I decided to take a trip out to Barberino, the shopping outlet an hour out of Florence. I had bought my tickets the day before and asked for a return ticket - non problema.
Getting there was easy but I didn't realise that the return ticket was from a location 45 minutes on foot from the outlet...and that was the only bus that serviced the area. I was wearing my high heels so I had to then take a taxi to this spot and catch the bus back. It was a bit of a bummer to my otherwise good shopping experience but during my two hour wait at the bus stop (that is the only taxi I could get in a town with just two taxis) I happened to meet an older Italian lady walking her golden retriever. I instantly fell in love with this dog that looked like my Jess at home. The lady did not speak a word of English and I don't speak Italian (yet) but through our mutual love of dogs we understood each other.

After the bus debacle, I wished that I had the guts to take our car and drive out there myself. For now, my husband is the only one driving in a town that seems to have no regard for lanes, traffic lights and definetely not for pedestrian crossings. Being in Italy for just over a week, it still feels wrong to me to drive on the right hand side of the road...every day my husband drives our car to work I pray for his safety as the driving here is very intense compared to our home town Karratha which does not even have one set of traffic lights!

I have been away from Australia for five months now. The last three months were spent living in the UK while we waited for our work permit to come through. In that time and even now, I've had lots of lonely moments where I have felt very alone with no friends in a new city. Back home, I've always worked and for the first time, did not really have a purpose for getting out of my pyjamas every day. I got out of that habit and made myself go to my local coffee shop every morning and get out and about even if it was just walking around aimlessly enjoying the sunshine (yes even the UK has sunshine contrary to popular belief!) . It also took my mind off this nigling thought that I had now given up my career and my own independence. I have been jokingly threatening my husband for years that I was going to become a 'lady of leisure' - but here I was, and I felt lost and without purpose.

This week Tuesday was such a day and so I got dressed and decided to go to the bookshop Edison which has an English speaking section and a selection of delicious cakes. I ordered in my basic Italian (they answered in English, how am I ever going to learn this language!?) Sitting down with my pear torte I picked up a copy of the 'Lonely Planet' about Florence to find a destination for my husband and I to visit for the upcoming weekend. In it was a recommended blog about an American woman that moves to Florence. I read her very interesting blog, emailed her and today we met for a coffee in a museum coffee shop. There are some people that I find so interesting and I feel I can be myself with and Melinda was one of them. I had mixed feelings of missing my girlfriends at home but also a really happy feeling of meeting such a lovely person that shares the same passions as me reading and writing. I was so happy when she invited me for a lunch next week. For me, I could have all the riches in the world but a simple coffee with a friend means a whole lot more to me. I rang my husband all excited that I had spent a day with a 'real human being' and found someone I had clicked with. Sometimes I think he thinks I'm crazy but unless you spend all day by yourself trying to pass the day, it's hard to understand that it's VERY BIG NEWS to make a friend! Anyway he was really happy for me as he could hear the real happiness in my voice which has been missing for some time.

On the way home, I stopped to buy some beautiful produce at a market for a dinner that I'm making tonight for one of Jay's colleagues and a new friend of mine. I've always loved cooking and growing up with a father who is an excellent cook, I feel most at peace cooking for others. But I have had to change my habits. Living in a hotel apartment (until we find an apartment) means that I have a smaller kitchen and need to cook simpler things. This summarises Italian cooking in the best possible way: simple recipes with a couple of flavoursome ingredients. Whereas I would previously make some complicated sauce and spend hours on one dish, I now serve ravioli simply with butter and sage....and the taste is amazing. I would spend hours baking cakes at home but now for dessert I am so happy with fresh local fragola (strawberries) served with marscapone and drizzled with honey. At home, I used to eat butter like it was going out of fashion. Here I have been introduced to non salted bread with olive oil and my body feels healthier for it.
Mind you, I still have my daily gelati habit and my quest for the best tiramisu in Florence goes on. Some things never change...

Our first week in Florence

2008-03-10T08:21:00.000-07:00

A year ago, my husband Jason and I were living in sunny Karratha, a small mining town of twelve thousand people .... life was good albeit a little boring. Then the news came that Jason was offered a position on a project abroad for a year and a half in....bella Firenze. Hmmm hang on let me consider my options...desert mining town with forty degree daily temperatures and 200 kms away from the nearest town or moving to a place millions of people will only dream about visiting all on the company's expense....tough choice but we choose Firenze.
This blog is about my thoughts of a country that is not only beautiful but also very challenging if you are here for more than a week on holidays!
Hope you enjoy it and please feel free to comment and make any suggestions.
Ciao and baci
Monika