Adventures in Public Transportation (aka learning to chill)

Today I got home from work in 40 minutes, record time! This was a major feat considering just last week it took me two long hours in the grueling heat to get home. So far, catching the bus in Rome is like finding a $5 bill in your winter jacket; you always find it when you don't need it, and it's never there when you do. Three times last week I waited for my bus for just short of an hour. When I complain about the buses being late or entirely absent to my students, co-workers, or friends that have lived here for awhile, their response is always "that's Italy." Everyone is always late, in fact 15 minutes is not considered late, rather it is right on time.

Last week after a particularly tough day of work I saw my bus leaving the stop right as I was approaching. Since I didn't want to wait an hour for the next one I did what any normal person would do; I chased it with all I had in me. I caught up with it long enough to bang on its side a few times and when it still didn't stop I proceeded to trail it waving my arms wildly over my head. Finally, it seemed to take pity on me and stopped. Thank goodness the bus was empty so that no one saw my shameless attempt to catch the bus. The bus driver, however, saw it all and continued to sit with the bus in park laughing at me and reenacting what I looked like chasing the bus for longer than I'd like to remember. He was making the motions and everything (hand slapping bus, arms flailing above my head). Thanks man, glad I could entertain.

This is not my only public transit blunder so far in Rome, not by far. I could probably write a blog based solely on the stupid crap I do day to day. About a month ago I got stuck in the metro doors and had to fish myself out before the metro carried me sandwiched between the thick automatic portals to my certain death. This was the first and last time I tried to listen to music in transit. I totally dazed out while listening to "The Apples" and when I looked up the doors at my metro stop were closing, so instead of a.) pressing the "open" button next to the doors or b.) just relaxing and getting off at the next stop, I decided to lodge myself between the doors and squeeze my body out in sections (chest, arms, legs). Oh to be a fly on the wall at that moment.

Despite these frequent public embarrassments, I'm finally learning the best way to get places. And now that I know it will never be fully reliable, the transit system is teaching me to chill a little bit. Italian culture is very relaxed about time, a characteristic I'm trying to adopt. I now bring my book everywhere I go, so if there is a wait at least I'm enjoying myself. I've also met some of the kindest people at the bus stops. People who have volunteered advice to me not only about the buses or trains, but also about life in Rome. I'm learning the concept that I will get there when I get there, and no amount of worrying is going to help get me there any faster. I'm trying to carry this over to other aspects of my life as well, hoping that I will learn to let go a bit more. So far so good.

ROOTS! parte due

Just a couple more tidbits from my trip to Villa Latina.

This is Gabriele:

He is, among many other things, a multi-instrumentalist and each Sunday goes out with two other guys to play music at various places. He plays the Italian bagpipe (which we were informed is very different from Scottish bagpipes), the accordion, and this little pipe-like instrument the name of which I can't remember. The lady kissing his cheek is his girlfriend, Rosetta.

Erich gave it a try and they dressed him up in the traditional zampognaro garb. Everyone got a kick out of it.

This is where my Dad was baptized, right next to it was the municipal building where I picked up his birth records:

This is the Cantina where my Papa's family lived and worked. It's been vacant much longer than Nonna and Papa's house:

More family! Me with Gabriele's brother Vittorio, Gabriele, and their cousin (my 3rd cousin) Antonino. Below that is cousin Maria and her daughter and grandson (they own a bar called Artu in Atina):

We plan on heading back to Villa Latina in the next couple of weeks to start cleaning up the house and visit more people. Currently, life in Rome is treating us well. It is starting to get really hot and more tourists are coming into the city, but ultimately for us this just means sticking closer to our apartment steering clear of the metro, and eating more gelato to keep cool (rough life, I know). We know how lucky we are to be here.

ROOTS!

In traveling to Villa Latina, we were able to see the long-awaited house that belonged my Nonna and Papa. When we first heard about it still being vacant two years ago, we were like “hell yeah we’re going to go to Italy and stay in this house!” After perpetual warnings that it was “unlivable” we finally started to listen up and when we visited we found that it is indeed in shambles. I am still, however, enchanted with the idea of fixing it up one day. After talking a bit to Gabriele, he seemed to think that fixing it up little by little just enough to be lived in while visiting would be a great idea. So, here is the house!

The house is kind of like a condo as part of a larger building in this small courtyard. When you enter in the front door to the left you find a little sitting room with a fireplace and a stairway that takes you up stairs.  Directly in front of you when entering the doorway is a narrow hallway that leads to the backyard. The backyard is small and over grown with weeds and grass and right in the middle of the backyard is another small house without a roof. And next to the roof-less house is an outhouse (now, I'm an outdoor-sy girl, but you could not have paid me to go in there). Standing in the backyard you also find a large room that is separated by a wall from the rest of the house.

  

Upstairs there are 3 bedrooms one small one and two bigger ones with balconies. The room to the back of the house has a very nice view of the mountains and of the roofless house in the back. There is also what I imagine is a very spacious attic, but I couldn’t get up there as the ladder was rotten and it looked like there could be rodents up there.

 

There are cobwebs everywhere you turn and since many of the balcony doors are broken and rotten, there are a couple bird nests in the house with little bird families living within. Truly, they were flying in and out as we toured the place. Even from the photos you can see the house is in great need of a good cleaning and some minor renovations (i.e. new doors and windows) before anything else would be conceived. 

I'm sure these photos look like a raggedy old shack at first glance, but in it, I can see nothing but evidence of my family, and its potential. Gabriele was, as usual, very helpful in telling us all we needed to know. He does a bit of real estate in the area, and assured us that the structure and foundation are very stable. He also told us the government came and put new roofs on all of the houses after a pretty significant earthquake about 20 years ago. Suffice it to say, although I know that any renovations will be distant and time/money consuming and although this may just be a pipe dream; I want to keep the roots that this house holds in the ground.


As we were leaving the house, Gabriele began talking to an elderly woman just a few doors down. He told her that I was the granddaughter of Mesquite and Palma and she instantly remembered them. She had been wondering why she hadn't seen them, and was hoping they were doing well. Gabriele explained that they have since passed away, and she said that her husband had recently died as well, and that she was very sorry to hear they were no longer with us. As I heard her speak with Gabriele, my eyes instantly welled up with tears and I got a bit of a chill. I can't even express how much I wish they were here with me on this trip, showing me around, introducing me to people, and telling me stories about growing up in the village. I would give anything to have come here with them before. But, since we can only go forward and we can't go back, I feel very lucky to have Gabriele and my family in Italy to fill in the gaps as well as my amazing Aunt Cec who seems to be the glue that holds our family together. My Dad's no slouch either, when you can get him to talk life in the old country :).