Here we are...again!

Hello everybody,

... even if you are very few, but I'm not discouraged, one day maybe someone will be interested in what I'm saying :)

So, what happened in in such a long time? Five months of silence, it's definitely a long time.

First of all I traveled a lot to and from Italy, many things happened I became auntie of a lovely girl, I literally adore her and I go back to Italy whenever I can to spend time with her.

[source Pinterest]

In the new year, with my husband we started our own company, it's really thrilling, so many things to think about, evaluate, but I'm so happy to share this experience with him.

love
ML

Learning Italian

Last night my husband showed me one of his notebooks of the period he worked in Rome, which is when we actually met, and I found something very funny, a sort of  Italian emergency manual that he wrote - with all the possible misspelled words - of his first days, all the words are related to small talk kind of conversation and - of course - food :D

Have you ever lived abroad without knowing the language of the country?

L'albero di pere di mio Nonno

Quando ero bambina il mio frutto favorito era la pera, mi piaceva il succo di pera, mangiavo le pere e detestavo le mele e tutto cio' le riguardasse, insomma una ragazzina forse un po' controcorrente.

Ad alimentare questa passione era il nonno materno, Augusto, uomo di campagna di poche parole, ma di grande dolcezza. Il nonno che ha regalato a me e mio fratello la prima bicicletta, il nonno che ci veniva a trovare a Roma ad insaputa di tutti, per poi tornare a casa subito il giorno dopo, perche' il lavoro in campagna non si puo' lasciare.

Con lui si mangiava a mezzogiorno, tutti a tavola e non ammetteva ritardi, e la sera a letto presto spalancando la finestra verso est per essere svegliati dal primo sole. Un nonno che mi ha insegnato ad amare la natura, la terrra con i suoi prodotti, un uomo che mi ha insegnato cos'e' il sacrificio e la dignita'. Un uomo semplice ma di profonda saggezza, che spegneva il televisore per giocare a carte con i nipoti la sera, che raccontava storie di fantasmi per le orecchie spaventate e trepidanti degli adorati nipoti. 

Immancabili le bretelle e il borsalino in testa che toglieva solo quando si sedeva a tavola e andava a dormire, come immancabile e' stato il suo amore per la moglie, Maria, anche quando la malattia aveva offuscato i suoi splendidi occhi verdi. 

Un piccolo uomo dal cuore tenero che negli ultimi anni si inteneriva rileggendo le lettere d'amore che si scambiava con la moglie, che raccontava le lacrime della prima notte di nozze, con una dolcezza che faceva salire le lacrime agli occhi di chi lo ascoltava.

Sono cresciuta tutte le estati della mia infanzia nella grande casa che aveva comprato con il suo lavoro e di cui andava fiero perche' vi era cresciuta la sua famiglia.

Nei caldi pomeriggi d'estate sedeva sul lato est della casa all'ombra, proprio sotto la finestra della sua camera e raccontava piu' a se stesso che a chi gli stava accanto i ricordi di vita che riaffioravano alla sua memoria, storie sempre nuove e sempre affascinanti e in quei pomeriggi, senza preavviso troncava il racconto per alzarsi, raggiungere un piccolo albero al di la' dell'aia e portarmi una piccola pera gialla e rosa, che accarezzava con gentilezza e mi porgeva riprendendo il racconto dove l'aveva interrotto, io incerta affondavo i dentini in quel frutto e rimanevo estasiata dalla dolcezza. 

Ancora oggi quando al mercato trovo esposte le pere, che qui chiamano "blush pears", ne prendo in mano una e penso sempre a mio nonno e rivedo il suo sorriso sotto la falda del borsalino.

                                                             

When I was a child pears were my favorite fruits and they still are. At that age I hated apples and anything which involved apples, and I loved pears. I still love them eventually I have learnt to appreciate any cake with apples :)

My grandfather Augusto really fueled my passion for this fruit that he loved too. He was a simple but sage man who adored his family, he'd grown up in close relationship with nature and taught me to love it, to love the products of the earth and to face sacrifice with dignity.

In the hot summer afternoons he used to seat outside on the east side of the house, in the shade, and tell stories of the past, more to himself than to anyone sitting next to him, often he'd stop telling the story get up, walk quickly to the end of the shaded area, called "aia", pick some fruits form a small tree and come back offering me a tiny yellow and pink pear, caressing it with tenderness.  I remember sinking my teeth in the sweetest fruit I'd ever tasted as my grandfather would resume the story where he had stopped minutes earlier.

Still to this day, when I go shopping and I find some blush pears, I always stop and pick one up, thinking of my grandfather Augusto, I can picture him stilling there smiling at me from under the brim of his hat.

To a Wonderful Woman

I would have liked to start this year telling you all about the hand made gifts I prepared for my family and friends last Christmas, unfortunately something occurred to change my plans.

Few days ago my beloved auntie passed away, so suddenly, even if she was unwell for such a long time, affected by the ravages of Alzheimer disease her memory was slowly fading away, but her sweet smile never ceased to light her face whenever she met my eyes.

When we were little children we used to spend all the summer school holidays at my grandparents’ house where my aunt Mariannina lived, it was at that time that my brother started to call her “zia mamma” “auntie-mum” because she really meant something special to us.

Going out with her was always a great experience, she allowed us to do little things that our parents always deny, often you'd have two little children shouting out of a car window to the cyclists along the road, "you're the last, looser!!", we laugh so hard with her as she lead us in high jinks.

She was a woman who really taught me to be brave, ok maybe she was not very successful with me in particular, certainly if I ever climbed a tree is thanks to her. She was always extremely positive and supportive, she never let you down, always present, always extremely generous and always able to make you feel special, at least for her.

After breaking my leg when skying, I will never forget that she was next to me when I woke up from an operation, even if she herself had an operation few days before, she traveled from Rimini to Rome, when not being well herself, to hold my hand and I will never forget that kind and generous spirit.

She was unconventional for her age, she got a degree in Pharmacy when women rarely reached university education, she was driving when very few women had a driving licence, importantly what she really left was a mark in the life of whoever she met, glowing with her bright and sweet smile.

She decided to change her career into teaching Maths and Sciences, something she did so well that people decades after being her students, when meeting her would still addressing her with a “ciao Prof”. My small regret is that I wish I had such a good Math teacher I wouldn’t be so mathematically challenged now.
I was always reprimanding myself on my efforts to calculate simple formula, telling this to her she would always smile back to me, her sweet smile, with a little melancholy in the later years.

I will miss everything about her, during the later years when the disease had left only a shadow of her full beauty and brightness, her eyes of an indefinite colour between green and light brown, expressed more of her unbound love than what she was actually able to speak out...

ciao my adorated Auntie Mum