Italy, Whats the deal?

Okay, so some of you have been asking why I haven't been posting on the Italy blog. Its simple and not as tragic as it sounds. I just really have been laid back here and not getting out and seeing everything Italy has to offer. I know, chance of lifetime, grand adventure, live life and all that. But I just haven't been feeling it. I realize that its hard to imagine me not having fun where I go whether it beautiful Italy or outer Siberia. But as previously stated, I'm a complicated creature. While its beautiful here, I just really didn't get the opportunities for intellectual conversation that I had hoped. Most italians don't speak english here and I just find it way too tiring to have to converse with the Americans here. I should amend that to most of them. One can only gossip and bash people so much. God only knows what they've been saying about me. Apparently. I am a sobbing pile of whinyness and depression without modern technology. I refuse to appologize for being a child of the 20th century. My generation is tech savvy and yes dependent and there is worse things in the world. After I get my final grade, I'll tell you about my prof. oy! Even though Italy hasn't been what I've been expecting, even yes, a terrible mistake, I can't regret coming here. I feel like I have more pieces to the ultimate knowledge I've been seeking and another piece to understanding the human condition. It's helped my writing and moreover, its given more credence to arguments I've been making for some time. Plus, I've been able to buy some awesome awesome awe-some shoes. I'm supposed to be working on my final so I'll not tarry here, but I will include some lyrics that seem appropriate. They pretty much summarize my feelings, which is even more depressing. Yes, I've been a little ray of sunshine here, yessiree. Hahahaha. Trust me, when I'm home and can tell you the real story, you will totally understand. Another summer day Has come and gone away In Paris and Rome But I wanna go home Mmmmmmmm Maybe surrounded by A million people I Still feel all alone I wanna go home Oh, I miss you, you know And I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you Each one a line or two“I’m fine baby, how are you?” I would send them but I know that it’s just not enough My words were cold and flat And you deserve more than that Another airplane Another sunny place I’m lucky I know But I wanna go home I’ve got to go home Let me go home I’m just too far from where you are I wanna come home And I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life It’s like I just stepped outside When everything was going right And I know just why you could not Come along with me This was not your dream But you always believed in me Another winter day has come And gone away In even Paris and Rome And I wanna go home Let me go home And I’m surrounded by A million people IStill feel alone Oh, let me go home Oh, I miss you, you know Let me go home I’ve had my run Baby, I’m done I'm coming back home Let me go home It will all be all right I’ll be home tonight I’m coming back home

Okay, so apparently this is when God has decided to make my trip a little more interesting. Last night, when I was calmly doing my homework, my upstairs neighbor got locked out of his apartment. It was quite the crisis because just about everyone's homework was in his apartment. So as you can guess, everyone was totally freaking out. There was about 5 of us and mike and so they all went back to where Mike had thought he had lost his keys and traced his steps. I stayed in case everyone needed let in the building and because I thought this was pointless. Mike was really upset and was looking at climbing gutter pipes like spider man and using wire to hook on to the handle. While he was doing this I went downstairs and wrote down in my best italian from my dictionaries "I have lost my key, can I climb on to your balcony?" Yeah, I didn't think it would work either, but we were running out of options. So anyway, I talked him into going downstairs and at least trying to sweet talk our way into the building next door so he could climb on the roof to his patio. Thus getting in his house. We went downstairs and we just couldn't figure a way to get in next door. So I stopped an Italian couple and using my phrasebook, which does not include the important phrases like "I'm locked out of my house, may I climb on your roof?" Clearly a gross oversight on their part. Don't think I won't be writing a letter. Anyway, I start doing these wild hand gestures that are rapidly turning into an interpretive dance of pacing our lane pointing at our building and then miming climbing and then running to the other building and pointing. Anyway, the couple watch the show for a minute and then the man makes a call on his cell. I can't understand anything except, "molto stupido americano" in the entire call. He tells us to wait there for 20 minutes. Anyway, meanwhile one of the other girls in the program comes over and goes up to my apartment to put up some jello she had brought over. As she comes down the stairs, I look over to the end of the lane and what pulls up? A Fucking Firetruck!!!! Yes, four really good looking italian firemen came out of a firetruck, laughing their asses off. Michael is just sitting there going, no! No! No! I'm laughing hysterically and I turn to sonya as she comes down the steps and I tell her "you have to go get my camera, trust me, its on the table. GET THE CAMERA!!!" So I'm explaining the problem to the firemen and they are like, no problemo. So we all trek up to the top floor and three of them get this little plastic strip out and unlock the door. The main guy is standing on the steps and his eating this up man, he thinks this is so funny. So I ask him if I can take his photo and he says yes. (See below.) Anyway, they get the door open and ask to see Michaels passport and after that michael asks if he can take their picture. They say. "We want the women" I'll be posting soon that picture. Lord have mercy, the things I get into.

I am a complicated creature. Now some of you reading that statement who know me well or even just have a nodding acquaintance with me are thinking: “Well, duh. You went 8000 miles to Italy, spent an ungodly amount of money and that is your great epiphany? I could told you that for a quarter and half an uneaten tootsie roll.” Allow me to explain why I feel the need to point this most glaring fact out. I am in a picturesque village in the Italian countryside, whose architecture is breathtaking, the people smile at me when I pass them, mostly because I look like a cute little fat American. I can hear the rain tap the cobblestone streets, my neighbors are playing an Italian love song of some kind out their window and my apartment looks like a movie directors dream. In short, this is one of those moments that are supposed to carry you throughout your old age, those blissful minutes that you keep tucked in your memory to tell your grandchildren. I am so fucking miserable I can’t even stand myself. See!?!?! See?!?! Is that nuts or what? How can you be miserable in Italy? In TUSCANY?!?!?! What the hell is wrong with me? Allow me to explain why I feel this way so that you can gain further insight into what has the potential to be one of the great clusterfucks of my life. There is no TV, no newspaper, no radio, no satellite radio, and NO INTERNET!!!! I have no internet. I can only get internet by going to an internet spot that for all intents and purposes is only open from 4 to 8. Of course, for all intents and purposes, ITALY is only open from 4 to 8 because the Italians eat lunch from 1:30 to 4. Normally, I would not mind this as I am all for a long lunch. However, I have class until 1:30 every day and after that, I am alone. Yes, alone. Totally and completely alone. People who will tell you that most Italians speak English have never been to Viterbo. No one speaks English here. I want to converse with these people so much and yet, I can’t because of a language barrier that is so wide we might as well be from other planets. No international students! I have only met one and I didn’t get a chance to talk to her because she was leaving the coffee shop I was in. I am going to try to find more of them but its really hard because the University is really just a few buildings, a joke of a library, and a cafeteria. And most of the Italian students don’t exactly look thrilled to see an American in their vicinity. Of course now we must get to the heart of the matter, what about the other Americans? Most people like you Crystal, so you must be making friends with the other Americans right? Well not exactly. To say we are not getting along is not accurate. I have been the soul of southern gentility, as unbitchy as possible and I think it just comes down to I can’t keep up with all their walking and they have left the weak link behind. And I don’t blame them. You see, you walk everywhere in Italy, EVERYWHERE. Which actually I was surprised to learn that I did not mind this. Unless its uphill. My little legs have never actually walked up a tall hill in their 22 years of existence. They don’t know how to function. And of course, I had either the stomach flu, dehydration, or poisoning from the water the first few days so that didn’t help matters. But in my inner most heart I can’t help think a lot of it is we have nothing in common. Though in truth there is one or two, I would like to smack the living crap out of. But they aren’t a bad sort, in fact most of them are very very very nice And I have party central, their main meeting place, right above me. But I have different interests from them and don’t know how to make conversation. I know, I know, I never thought there would be day that I couldn’t make conversation. But maybe it’s because I come from a different culture or maybe its just I’m having such a difficult time adjusting, but I’m just not having any fun with them. I hope that will change. Of course, over the last week, I’ve been asking myself what I wanted out of this experience. And I realized now I wanted 4 things: to eat as much Italian food as possible, to see Rome and Florence, to have intelligent conversations with people from other countries, and to learn how to live on my own. Also I guess I thought living here for a month would help heal me from the Great Depression of a couple years ago. Yes, I got this from Eat Pray Love and now it’s turning into “Lets All Pray Crystal Gets Out of Here Alive.” Having purged all the poison, all my misgivings, all the pain from this experience from my soul, allow me to tell you what I love about Italy. Yes, there is some kind of magic in a place that you can still love even when you’re miserable. A place that even almost getting run down by a crazy fiat driver puts a smile on your face. There are so many things to love about this little corner of the world. I love Italy so much that I even don’t mind that every shower I take is a new experience in second degree burns and hypothermia, that learning how to use the washer was a week long epic journey that involved more work and brainpower than any final. I love the rain here so much that I splash in every puddle I can. I wouldn’t even do this when I was little, but, here its so wonderful for the skies to open up and let down all this beautiful water. I didn’t even care that my sneakers got completely and utterly filthy, ruining the pristine white that had caught my eye when I saw them on the shelf. That just made them more Italian. I love going to all the different stores and buying just what I want. I don’t care that’s its inconvenient or expensive. I just love getting to have a new encounter with an Italian every time I buy something. I love looking out my window and saying buongiorno to my neighbor across the alley, who is about 10 feet away. I love leaving my windows open at night and letting the cool air in. It makes me feel like I’m a part of everyone’s home, that we are all connected. I haven’t had much Italian food in the restaurants because I had a yen to cook. I didn’t like going to the supermarket the first time I went but now I love looking at all the different foods, guessing what they might be by the pictures. I bought some chicken at the supermarket here and sautéed it in a little butter, olive oil, and garlic, and it was the juiciest, plumpest chicken I have ever tasted in my life. I had pizza here and its so good that I ate almost the entire pie. Even the coke is better here and its so terribly expensive I’ve been hoarding it like a squirrel’s nuts. And then there are the pastries!!! Oh the pastries. Every morning I go by a little bakery that makes cookies to die for and croissants with little pockets in them. Once they are done baking they put either apricot jam or nutella in them. “Oh the nutella!” She screams in rhapsody. It has given me so much satisfaction its almost sexual. I eat it with everything---bread, fruit, potato chips. I’d even have it on top of pasta if I didn’t think it would freak out my roommates. Maybe not, but it is so good I cannot describe to you how wonderful it tastes. The best thing about everything being in Italian is that I can’t read the food labels, which means that I cannot be held responsible for the calorie count in the food I eat. Yes, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I’m getting fatter but hey, blame the Italian language!!! And yet, I had not gotten to the best part of my Italian food journey. The Gelato. Oh gelato, how did I live 22 years without you? Gelato is the new love of my life, something so blissful so absolutely lovely that were it not blasphemous I would make it my religion. But them God would smite me and where would I get my beautiful gelato? Bellissima gelato! . For one of the first times in my life, I have no words. There are no words. It’s the greatest ice cream on Earth and a passion that has been kindled in me. How I love it! I could live off of it and whenever I eat it I cannot imagine being miserable in Italy. How could anyone be miserable in the vicinity of Gelato? Like I said, I’m a complicate creature.

Essay for YAF Conference

There comes a time in every girl’s life when she has a defining moment. A moment so clear that she understands a truth greater than herself. I had mine last week when I realized something very important about the state of the world. American liberals are idiots. Of this I have no doubt. However, European liberals are just plumb out of their minds, dangerous nutjobs in fact. I had this realization as I sat in a Tuscan cafe, enjoying a caffé and croissant. I overheard two girls discuss American politics and to put my feelings in a nutshell, I was terrified of the state of the world. The more time I spend here in Europe, the more I believe in American foreign policy. They say its supposed to be the opposite, but then I’m the same person that got here, realized there were no clothes dryers, air conditioners, cable television, and internet and said distinctly, “somebody get me the heck back to Texas!” If the European Union is going to be as powerful as everyone is predicting, than the fight needs to start right now. We as conservatives have our own defining moment now and I strongly believe in our cause. The more that is revealed about Mr. Obama the more disgusted and worried I become. I am even more disgusted when I think about the fact that it might be my generation that gives him the White House. We have become blinded as a country by all the swill that is thrown at us that we have lost our way, lost sight of truths that used to be self-evident. We now live in a world where our media hates people of religion, values or own a gun and have forgotten that it was a group of highly religious people armed to the teeth that landed on Plymouth Rock. And as much as we may claim to have friends in the international community, I am convinced now (as I sit in an Italian internet café) that there will be no help from that quarter. They say travel is broadening and that is true. Being here in Italy has made me appreciate America is ways that I wouldn’t have imagined a month ago. It also has given me insight into the value of the American Conservative Ideal. I firmly believe we are rapidly becoming the last defense in a world that has gotten completely and utterly mad. I live in a world where Michael Moore is a frequent visitor, where the professors are allowed to call the president “Georgie Porgie the election stealer,” and where there are sex workers conventions going on in the auditorium. Allow me to say its very Twilight Zone when you are in the middle of Renaissance Lit and hear “Whores Unite!” from the next room. And as much as that used to upset me, I realize now that all of those things are symptoms of a greater disease, of a greater problem. All the liberal eccentricities that I deal with on an every day basis are mere trifles compared to what is to come if we lose this election, if we do not fight this like our very lives are at stake. Because I realize now more than ever, this is life or death. Because if we lose what we have, there will be no tomorrow. And I will fight this madness with every breath in my body, with all the strength I have, with every skill I possess. Because I believe. I believe in so much that could fade away in the face of the liberal sickness. And that is sooo not going to happen if Crystal Boyd has anything to say about it.