In my dream, as I'm sipping wine and eating the best pizza I know of in Rome, some uniformed official walks up to me and demands to see my passport. Darn, it's at the hotel via Boschetto. Signore, I'm on my anniversary trip and we walked here so per favore wait. And I don't speak Italiano very bene.
I was recently in Italy and it got me thinking. What if I was stopped and demanded to see my proof that I was only visiting Italia? I'd be more than a little offended knowing Italians are very laid back, gain a huge livelihood off my tourism but most importantly what did I do to piss them off. Now I'm now wishing I'd forgone that second glass of wine to explain who I am without any paper proof. Now this is just a dream but imagine this.
Imagine now you're in your car or on the bus getting to work and some dude has stopped you to ask to see your proof that you belong legally in the United States. I'd be quite offended. This is based on how I appear to look. I'll tell you right now, my husband looks European, but he's Mexican. He's here legally, always has been, but he wouldn't even get stopped based on looks, yet he's Mexican. I mean, damn, I even mistook his best friend and during first introductions. I asked ignorantly, "And what part of Mexico are you from?" His darker skinned, Hispanic looking friend said, "Well actually I'm from Texas." Oh, well so much for making a good impression on this cutie I was crushing on...he eventually forgave me (hence the marriage) but his friend I'm sure thought I was quite an idiot for some time.
And I was ignorant. Ignorant to the fact that not everyone who looks a certain was is or in some cases isn't. And that's the problem. No one should be stopped because they look like a thief, illegal immigrant, call girl etc unless they've committed some sort of crime. I mean, really? This is some one's real answer to an immigration problem?
I know it exists. I know it's not fair to my husband who played by the rules for others to break them. It makes it all more expensive and harder for us who play by the rules. But there are limits to policing this problem and I'm happy Obama and Calderón are coming together over this. Texas must remember it benefits from many Hispanics whether legal or not. It does. It may hurt too but there's no reason to support Arizona's ignorance in this particular method at solving this issue. Better solutions can be deployed.
Here's a story about Obama and Calderón coming together over Arizona that inspired me to write today.
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/metropolitan/7013495.html
I welcome comments. And as it's been said before...but yes, the Jews were forced to wear stars for the Nazis. Read Corrie Ten Boom's The Hiding Place. She was a Christian jailed and lucky she didn't die in captivity for her attempts to stand up what she believed in.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Finding Your Paradise
Via Krupp in Capri, Italia
Capri, Italy is often recognized as a vacation destination for stars and the wealthy. But normal people can go too and climb this breathtaking mountainous landscape surround by the turquoise blue Mediterranean. Jackie-O and Elizabeth Taylor both fancied the island. My husband and I did as well. Don't make the mistake and settle for a day trip. You’ll only get an impression of the island that fills with hundreds of day-trippers wishing they would have booked a night or two. Stay, stray and let the mystic island woo you with its grapefruit size lemons and flora straight out of the Garden of Eden.
We visited for three glorious days and the only disappointment was that the waters were still cold from winter. Beginning in June swimming stays enjoyable till September.
Where to Stay and Eat
On the way to Villa Jovis
Their suggestions for food were right on. The food in Capri can only be described as inspirational. My husband and I dined on fresh baked eggplant with mozzarella and tomato melted inside at EDIVINO. Only over a year old, this unique eating spot is one to try. Guests are invited to eat within the owners’ very home. We chose the inside porch at first but then moved inside to the dining room. Antiques and old photos of family were part of the decor. The menu is printed daily and the night we dined, the menu was scribbled on paper, our first hint of the absolute freshness of the cuisine we were about to enjoy. One of the brothers sat beside us and explained each menu item so we knew all our choices for our dinner. Another great establishment that offers wonderful brick oven pizza and the best pasta to place on your taste buds called Tagliatelle di Limone is Buca di Bacco. This restaurant offers a small, but great view of the Mediterranean waters as you sip your vino, made in Capri.
Getting there
Getting to Capri is an adventure in and of itself. We came from Rome, so we rode the train to Naples. The fast train gets there in an hour, the slow about two hours. We did pay more for the fast train but it was worth it. Once in Naples, take a taxi. The taxi for two is around 15 euros. I clasped my husband's hand as we made our way through downtown Naples. The driver barely braked in time for the passersby that jumped out in front of buses and cars as if there was no one else on that rule-free road. The bus is super cheap but packed and makes it difficult to keep a safe hold on your possessions. Once we reached Beverello, we caught the hydrofoil to Capri. There's a ferry that's cheaper but it is also slower. The hydrofoil is 16 euros and takes 45 minutes. Once docked in Marina Grande you have arrived but are not quite there. The cheapest ascent is taking the funicolare (is as fun as it sounds). You may also take a bus or convertible cab. The funicolare takes you to the main square atop Capri.
View from the Garden of Augustus
AnacapriWorth the roller coaster bus ride to the highest and less touristy part of the island, Anacapri is worth your time. Whether shopping, making your way to Monte Solaro or walking the many winding paths to discover the lighthouse resting on the edge of the island, Anacapri inspires one to pack up and move here. A philosophical garden invites you to chose a path: idealism or realism. I chose idealism.
Whether climbing the path to Villa Jovis (2 euros) to see where Tiberius ruled ancient Rome or ordering fresh gelato and eating it as you make your way to the Via Krupp to walk down the staggering cliffs to the sea below, I guarantee you will fall in love with Capri as we did.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Making Time for Travel
My interests include travel. I'm not only interested though; I'm a little obsessed. I warn people not to bring up Italy because I have a tendency to go on and on and on about Italia.
I buy every new travel book that looks sincere and not totally self-absorbed. My latest two are The Lunatic Express and Mayes' new Tuscany book. I fantasize about my past ventures and future hopes of venture. My home comforts with empty wine bottles, coasters, tiles and photos of travel. Why do I get so excited to google holiday rentals in Greece and look for vineyards for sale in California and Italy that I could never afford? My addiction is travel and my lust for it cannot be stopped. And not to just any old place but the places that dwell in my soul for they have found their home.
I like who I become in Italy. I don't always like who I am on the roads of Houston. I'm usually pressed for time on my way to work. It's not even a long commute, maybe 15 minutes on a bad day, but I long for a city where my feet can be my major mode of transport. The only diet that has ever worked for me is eating Italian in Italy and I eat more food in Italy unless it is Thanksgiving in the U.S. Over the course of 3 months, I lost so much weight than an Italian friend of the family I lived with commented upon my departure, "Italy is good to you. You look beautiful. When you came, you were heavy and not so beautiful." Her compliment and honest observation though painful to hear especially since I knew I'd probably gain the shedded pounds once back home, was much appreciated.
My second time in Italy made all the difference. I came dejected, crumbled, disenchanted and tired. Italy offered its best wine and its philosophy that we work to enjoy; we enjoy working for the good things in life, which are beauty. Beauty either made by God or made by the hands God created. This beauty cannot be mentioned without mentioning the people and food. (Oh the food!)
No more insults reigned over me in Italy. No more phone calls unanswered. No more children who worked so hard not to learn. I came to Italy to teach because my teaching in the United States had failed. No Child Left Behind...No Teacher Left Behind might have been more appropriate. I claimed the three year burn out statistic and since my dream of transforming the inner city kids into dreamers and future college students fell so far from expectation, I was ready to try again in a land that was not my own.
I didn't know the language but I didn't care. It would be nice to sit and not have to try to understand anyone for a few moments. Of course this changed rapidly as I became curious about all the beautiful people around me who wore their Prada proudly, even if one dress was both Monday and Tuesday's attire.
My school bell that summoned my students as a cue to begin fighting anything that resembled writing or reading was replaced with the bells of ancient churches. And yet I felt guilty at times to experience such a magificient reality when I knew of the needs back home. We all need teachers but even teachers need instruction. And I was about to have the most worthy lessons.
We're too rushed here in the U.S. Even our sitcoms are rushed. Our commercials, our media. Grab this, go here, get that, fufill obligation, grab a bite, even our off days are spent keep busy, busy, busy. Too busy to call; better to text. Good things, like a fetus in a womb, take time to mature. Time that cannot be rushed. A tree cannot bloom before it's planted. And a seed cannot become a tree before it's watered. Some balanced this in better ways than others but I've always struggled to balance the pace of big cities with the pace of my soul.
If life is a plant, mine was covered in weeds and chiggers. I was itching to get out. And so I bought a ticket and left everything I knew for Northern Italy for a summer. It's the best thing I ever did for that time in my life. Some around me didn't understand. Some around me couldn't imagine having the bravery to go alone into a foreign land, and live with a new family that they'd never met. But I can say I thought they were the braver ones, to stay back and wait for me to return. Without their support whether hesitant or not, I may have never come back. But every season has its purpose.
Travel, whether to your neighbored city or halfway around the globe. This will reveal a new truth in yourself, about this world and the people you love a lot and love a little less. Dare to travel. Immerse yourself in somewhere new. Otherwise you may never be able to step outside yourself in a land that holds new realities that only through experiencing for yourself will always be yours to have and cherish.
And you might get some good food too.
I buy every new travel book that looks sincere and not totally self-absorbed. My latest two are The Lunatic Express and Mayes' new Tuscany book. I fantasize about my past ventures and future hopes of venture. My home comforts with empty wine bottles, coasters, tiles and photos of travel. Why do I get so excited to google holiday rentals in Greece and look for vineyards for sale in California and Italy that I could never afford? My addiction is travel and my lust for it cannot be stopped. And not to just any old place but the places that dwell in my soul for they have found their home.
I like who I become in Italy. I don't always like who I am on the roads of Houston. I'm usually pressed for time on my way to work. It's not even a long commute, maybe 15 minutes on a bad day, but I long for a city where my feet can be my major mode of transport. The only diet that has ever worked for me is eating Italian in Italy and I eat more food in Italy unless it is Thanksgiving in the U.S. Over the course of 3 months, I lost so much weight than an Italian friend of the family I lived with commented upon my departure, "Italy is good to you. You look beautiful. When you came, you were heavy and not so beautiful." Her compliment and honest observation though painful to hear especially since I knew I'd probably gain the shedded pounds once back home, was much appreciated.
My second time in Italy made all the difference. I came dejected, crumbled, disenchanted and tired. Italy offered its best wine and its philosophy that we work to enjoy; we enjoy working for the good things in life, which are beauty. Beauty either made by God or made by the hands God created. This beauty cannot be mentioned without mentioning the people and food. (Oh the food!)
No more insults reigned over me in Italy. No more phone calls unanswered. No more children who worked so hard not to learn. I came to Italy to teach because my teaching in the United States had failed. No Child Left Behind...No Teacher Left Behind might have been more appropriate. I claimed the three year burn out statistic and since my dream of transforming the inner city kids into dreamers and future college students fell so far from expectation, I was ready to try again in a land that was not my own.
I didn't know the language but I didn't care. It would be nice to sit and not have to try to understand anyone for a few moments. Of course this changed rapidly as I became curious about all the beautiful people around me who wore their Prada proudly, even if one dress was both Monday and Tuesday's attire.
My school bell that summoned my students as a cue to begin fighting anything that resembled writing or reading was replaced with the bells of ancient churches. And yet I felt guilty at times to experience such a magificient reality when I knew of the needs back home. We all need teachers but even teachers need instruction. And I was about to have the most worthy lessons.
We're too rushed here in the U.S. Even our sitcoms are rushed. Our commercials, our media. Grab this, go here, get that, fufill obligation, grab a bite, even our off days are spent keep busy, busy, busy. Too busy to call; better to text. Good things, like a fetus in a womb, take time to mature. Time that cannot be rushed. A tree cannot bloom before it's planted. And a seed cannot become a tree before it's watered. Some balanced this in better ways than others but I've always struggled to balance the pace of big cities with the pace of my soul.
If life is a plant, mine was covered in weeds and chiggers. I was itching to get out. And so I bought a ticket and left everything I knew for Northern Italy for a summer. It's the best thing I ever did for that time in my life. Some around me didn't understand. Some around me couldn't imagine having the bravery to go alone into a foreign land, and live with a new family that they'd never met. But I can say I thought they were the braver ones, to stay back and wait for me to return. Without their support whether hesitant or not, I may have never come back. But every season has its purpose.
Travel, whether to your neighbored city or halfway around the globe. This will reveal a new truth in yourself, about this world and the people you love a lot and love a little less. Dare to travel. Immerse yourself in somewhere new. Otherwise you may never be able to step outside yourself in a land that holds new realities that only through experiencing for yourself will always be yours to have and cherish.
And you might get some good food too.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Why Write?
Writing, it seems, like religion, relationships and anything worthy in life, can be used for a false pretense. What motivates us to write? And is what we are writing a means to an end? And is the means to an end a respectable means?
With all the money out there now for your opinion of consumerism, whether political or material...for blogging and recommending one product over another...somehow makes me uneasy. I don't charge my friends for recommending an awesome read I just put down. I just offer to let them borrow it if they'll just simply return it.
But what's in it for me? That's the mindset I've been noticing lately. I want to write because I feel my experience could make a connection to those I'm not connected with. Maybe I could inspire someone as I've been inspired, maybe actually help someone. I want to be heard. But wait, I too have to pay my bills. And it'd be nice to vacation more than once in awhile. So the temptation comes about...I'll just plug this 'xyz' and I can ensure I'm paid to keep writing. But what about those who are paid to keep silent, or rather threatened with their life to keep silent, or even killed to be kept silent?
I can cast a nasty light on materialism affecting the blogs, tweets and what have you out there. But what about the dark places kept dark so that the truth is sealed. Which reminds me of why we began writing at all. As humans I believe writing was motivated by a need to reveal truth. And maybe when we forget it, as we so often do, it serves as a handy reminder.
The written word whether by keys on a cell phone, a #2 pencil, a hand carving, it all serves a purpose. And that's why we write. Distinquishing between the truth and the fiction, now that's another skill and another converstation I'll have to write about...
With all the money out there now for your opinion of consumerism, whether political or material...for blogging and recommending one product over another...somehow makes me uneasy. I don't charge my friends for recommending an awesome read I just put down. I just offer to let them borrow it if they'll just simply return it.
But what's in it for me? That's the mindset I've been noticing lately. I want to write because I feel my experience could make a connection to those I'm not connected with. Maybe I could inspire someone as I've been inspired, maybe actually help someone. I want to be heard. But wait, I too have to pay my bills. And it'd be nice to vacation more than once in awhile. So the temptation comes about...I'll just plug this 'xyz' and I can ensure I'm paid to keep writing. But what about those who are paid to keep silent, or rather threatened with their life to keep silent, or even killed to be kept silent?
I can cast a nasty light on materialism affecting the blogs, tweets and what have you out there. But what about the dark places kept dark so that the truth is sealed. Which reminds me of why we began writing at all. As humans I believe writing was motivated by a need to reveal truth. And maybe when we forget it, as we so often do, it serves as a handy reminder.
The written word whether by keys on a cell phone, a #2 pencil, a hand carving, it all serves a purpose. And that's why we write. Distinquishing between the truth and the fiction, now that's another skill and another converstation I'll have to write about...
Friday, February 5, 2010
What Rights Do Children Have?
Did you know that in the U.S. criminals are appointed a lawyer if they cannot afford one? Of course you do. But did you also know that if a child is brought into our country illegally by his or her family, he or she is not appointed a lawyer when facing deportation? I was speaking with a lawyer that shared through her nonprofit work, she makes certain illegal immigrant children have representation when appearing before a judge. Her current client is four and would have been in court alone had it not been for this nonprofit.
Another issue to hit Houston concerning innocent children who are held accountable for their parents' actions, is the issue of toys. This Christmas nonprofits such as Salvation Army demanded birth certificates before handing out gifts to make certain illegal immigrant children weren't receiving charity. I find this hard to swallow. See story here: http://www.theweek.com/article/index/103642/Free_toys_for_girls_and_boys__except_immigrants
I do not condone illegal immigration. I do not condone those who neglect this system we follow, however, should children be held accountable for their parents' crime? Children have been detained in strange government places while waiting on outcomes. Children, especially along our border towns, have been abused while waiting on outcomes in these places. I ask, in the country that is known as the best in the world, can we really afford to treat these children as though they have no rights? And yet, because of citizenship alone, we allow criminals to have more access to defense than children finding themselves in this country on no account of their own.
Another issue to hit Houston concerning innocent children who are held accountable for their parents' actions, is the issue of toys. This Christmas nonprofits such as Salvation Army demanded birth certificates before handing out gifts to make certain illegal immigrant children weren't receiving charity. I find this hard to swallow. See story here: http://www.theweek.com/article/index/103642/Free_toys_for_girls_and_boys__except_immigrants
I do not condone illegal immigration. I do not condone those who neglect this system we follow, however, should children be held accountable for their parents' crime? Children have been detained in strange government places while waiting on outcomes. Children, especially along our border towns, have been abused while waiting on outcomes in these places. I ask, in the country that is known as the best in the world, can we really afford to treat these children as though they have no rights? And yet, because of citizenship alone, we allow criminals to have more access to defense than children finding themselves in this country on no account of their own.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
On My Way
I woke up to a room I didn't recognize. Where was I, and what was I doing? It all started clicking. I was panicked. I jumped out of bed, checked the time and started dialing a friend of the family as to not startle my mother.
"Ellen, it's Natalie." I began crying. My voice was shaky and my nerves were so tight that I felt I might throw up. "I'm in Minnesota waiting on my flight. It's in six hours. I got a hotel room to pass the time and I just woke up and I'm freaking out and I don't what to do and..."
"Natalie, it's going to be ok. Tell me about it."
"Well I just realized I'm going to fly across the ocean to live with strangers. I have no idea where I'm going. I don't know why I'm doing this. I'm just freaking out. I haven't slept in awhile. I just woke up but I feel completely disoriented. I'm scared to get on that plane. I'm scared to not get on that plane."
I did get on that plane, and after that plane, I got on another to finally arrive in Italy. After crying and talking with our dear family friend, I realized I did have a choice. But I'd already made it. I was going to spend the summer in Italia. I cried myself to sleep as I prayed out loud. "Please God, let me sleep. Let me be ok. Give me strength to do this."
I'd been fantasizing so much about how much fun I'd be having in Northern Italy that I forgot to actually face or consider any fears about committing to live with a family I'd met on the internet, to be their daughter's teacher and nanny for three months and to live among people I couldn't even talk to other than 'yes, no, my name is, where is the bathroom, thank you, you are welcome.' I was so busy fantasizing about the vineyard, the vacation to Croatia and the plans I had to meet my mother when it was all over for a two week jaunt around Rome, Florence and Capri, that I didn't even consider this fear that was now gripping me.
As the passengers boarded the plane, my aunt Julie prayed with me over the phone. This would be my last call on my cell phone for three whole months. "God, allow Natalie to have a wonderful, safe flight today. Allow her to have peace while she journeys to meet with this new family..." As she prayed, I realized though making the journey alone, I had people behind me, supporting and loving me. I wasn't alone and I couldn't do this alone.
I took my seat at the end an aisle of six other coach seats. Sitting next to me was an old women, very old in fact. 'Wow,' I thought. 'If she can make this flight, surely I can!' She turned to me. "Excuse me dear, but I cannot seem to find the other piece of the seat belt." We began chatting as I helped her fasten in. She was on her way to see her son in London and to see her grandson graduate college. This was my longest flight until I connected in London to the outskirts of Milan.
Suddenly I remembered my grandmother's blue eyes and as I grasped her crucifix around my right hand, I felt her with me. She didn't have to say anything. I knew I was ready to have this adventure. Fear's grip began to loosen its hold all together. As the plane took off, I was sure I was on my way to the best summer.
"Ellen, it's Natalie." I began crying. My voice was shaky and my nerves were so tight that I felt I might throw up. "I'm in Minnesota waiting on my flight. It's in six hours. I got a hotel room to pass the time and I just woke up and I'm freaking out and I don't what to do and..."
"Natalie, it's going to be ok. Tell me about it."
"Well I just realized I'm going to fly across the ocean to live with strangers. I have no idea where I'm going. I don't know why I'm doing this. I'm just freaking out. I haven't slept in awhile. I just woke up but I feel completely disoriented. I'm scared to get on that plane. I'm scared to not get on that plane."
I did get on that plane, and after that plane, I got on another to finally arrive in Italy. After crying and talking with our dear family friend, I realized I did have a choice. But I'd already made it. I was going to spend the summer in Italia. I cried myself to sleep as I prayed out loud. "Please God, let me sleep. Let me be ok. Give me strength to do this."
I'd been fantasizing so much about how much fun I'd be having in Northern Italy that I forgot to actually face or consider any fears about committing to live with a family I'd met on the internet, to be their daughter's teacher and nanny for three months and to live among people I couldn't even talk to other than 'yes, no, my name is, where is the bathroom, thank you, you are welcome.' I was so busy fantasizing about the vineyard, the vacation to Croatia and the plans I had to meet my mother when it was all over for a two week jaunt around Rome, Florence and Capri, that I didn't even consider this fear that was now gripping me.
As the passengers boarded the plane, my aunt Julie prayed with me over the phone. This would be my last call on my cell phone for three whole months. "God, allow Natalie to have a wonderful, safe flight today. Allow her to have peace while she journeys to meet with this new family..." As she prayed, I realized though making the journey alone, I had people behind me, supporting and loving me. I wasn't alone and I couldn't do this alone.
I took my seat at the end an aisle of six other coach seats. Sitting next to me was an old women, very old in fact. 'Wow,' I thought. 'If she can make this flight, surely I can!' She turned to me. "Excuse me dear, but I cannot seem to find the other piece of the seat belt." We began chatting as I helped her fasten in. She was on her way to see her son in London and to see her grandson graduate college. This was my longest flight until I connected in London to the outskirts of Milan.
Suddenly I remembered my grandmother's blue eyes and as I grasped her crucifix around my right hand, I felt her with me. She didn't have to say anything. I knew I was ready to have this adventure. Fear's grip began to loosen its hold all together. As the plane took off, I was sure I was on my way to the best summer.
My home for a couple months in Italy.
My other home in Italy.
Sailing around Croatia.
Trip to Capri, Italy with my mother.
Whatever it is that inspires you, especially if it scares you too, you should probably do it.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Life in This Big City
What I always find amazing and encouraging such as in 9/11, the tsunami, and now this example of vast destruction in a matter of minutes, is the people who stand up. Those strangers who take control and help souls in desperate need. As I watch the news report from afar, I remain encouraged at the unwavering spirit of humanity. Evil exists. Yet watch while good triumphs.
I can only hope that if one day I find myself in a similar situation I will be able to help someone or that someone shall arrive for me to give me the help I need. For today my prayer goes up to the Creator of all humanity for comfort, patience and peace. For the strength of his hands to be with those helping the lost, scared, injured and lonely. Let's not wait for disaster to strike to find comfort in His hands.
A song that brings comfort:
By Alicia Keys
"That's How Strong My Love Is" Click on Song #6 to hear for no charge.
http://www.aliciakeys.com/us/music/element-freedom
"Through the shake of an earthquake
I will never fall
That's how strong my love is"
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