Growing Up.

There is something in a kid’s body when they are about hmmmm let’s say a teenager, that just kicks into overdrive. When this gear is put into place, the engine explodes with raging hormones, flaring attitudes, and the strongest desire to grow up.

When we were little and our joints were growing we got growing pains in our knees and elbows. Sometimes we get stretch marks from our bodies growing too fast. Sometimes we have young faces. I know I always hear that I look younger than what I really am. When you are 45 years old and they tell you that you look young, that is an AMAZING compliment and it would surely make your day. But when you are 19 years old and someone says that you look 16? Not so cool.  

The raging hormones of the teenager fades and then you get an awkward 20, 21 year old, who is disgusted by their young sibling’s teenage behavior (because they are SO FAR past it) and instead trying to make sense of an organize a coming all too soon, future.

I have never got homesick, in all my years of going away, but I can’t make any promises about this year. Leaving home this summer will probably be the hardest one. Harder than all my years that I have left and went back to college. This summer is the hardest because this summer could be my last.

For all my ranting and raving about wanting to be independent and an adult, I don’t feel I’m ready. There are tons of “grown-up” tasks and duties that I wouldn’t have a clue how to tackle. It’s my senior year and unless I magically fail all over the place, then this year will be my last year in college and the next step is the real world.

I am twenty one years old, and in this moment I wish I could stay twenty one. I wanna stay a kid. (how immature, I know)

I feel like a selfish parent when they say “I just want you to stop growing”---well I do!! I don’t want my niece to keep getting taller every time I see her. I don’t want my brother to keep getting buff and start dating girls while I’m gone. I hate noticing that my parents look just a little bit older than they did before…

It’s a frustrating, heartbreaking, exciting, thing to grow up. Psh, and I’m not even all grown. There are friends my age who have apartments and husbands and kids. I don’t know how they did it. I’m sure they had some growing pains; I’m sure they have some stretch marks, as we all do.

We don’t stay the same. (And for those of you who do, get the hint, it’s time to grow up. Lol) We should always be growing, stretching, hurting, to be bigger, stronger, and better than we were before. Moving on and growing up is a big deal but thank God that it doesn’t happen in one night. 

Journey to America.

Well, coming home from Italy was quite an adventure---that I never want to live again!! It was AWFUL. My carry-on bag ended up being overweight and I had to pay for it to be checked onto the plane. Of course it had to be paid for in EUROS so when you turn that into American dollars it would make anyone wanna cry, so that’s what I did, cry. I tried to adjust my bags by making a huge mess on the floor right in front of the counter, but nothing worked. That Italian lady could have been a liiiiiitttle bit nicer about it, I mean, geez lady its 4am, did something crawl up your butt already? So fine, I had to go all the way back downstairs in an elevator with all my stuff to pay for my bag, still crying. It is then that I realize that I don’t have tons of money in my account because I haven’t been working (because I have been in ITALY) and I just might get an overdraft from these dang Europeans and their euros. Now I REALLY have a reason to cry. Lol I remember just begging God to get me home. I actually was perfectly fine with LEAVING Italy at that moment.

I got my carry-on checked onto the plane and forgot to take my laptop out so when I remembered, I prayed to God very hard for that not to be shattered into a million pieces either. Lol sigh, man this story is funnier now than when it was happening. I finally get on my plane and it was such a relief. When I got back to the states it was honestly funny to see so many people who seemed to be waiting for our arrival and anxious to help us (Italians are not into customer service). But then, only 2 hours away from home I got a FIVE hour delay because our plane had a little problem. PLEASE, do not try to fix the plane and put me back on it, order another plane. And so they did. lol I got home suuuuupper late, but my family was there waiting for me with a cheesy sign that looked like the Italian flag, welcoming me home.

After 19 hours of traveling I am home. I’m still very tempted to say “excuse me” in Italian and I honestly miss hearing Italian everyday. I’m teaching my siblings the small stuff and integrate what I can into my speech.

I’m kinda scared to look at my pictures though; I might miss it too much….

Ciao, Italia...

I never thought I would actually make it to Italy. The only time I have left the country was on a cruise to the Cayman Islands, and the only other traveling I have done has been just up and down the East Coast to visit family. I never thought I would actually make it to Italy. 

But I did. And I am so sentimental just thinking about the magical time I had there…

I worked hard and got the grades I wanted. But I played hard too, and had way too much fun doing it. 

I have tons of images saved from google images of Italy and the places that I only dreamed of going to, and this summer, many of them actually happened. I can't look at the hundreds of pictures I have enough!! There was no blood, but definitely lots of sweat (from the Italian heat & hard work) and there were actually some tears as well. But every cup of gelato, bite of pizza, minute downtown, 14 bus ride, hike, souvenir, you name it, and it was worth it.

EAT.

Julia Roberts sure had it right in the movie "Eat, Pray, Love." Italians LOVE to eat. 

I think Americans love to eat too, but Italians are serious about their food: the flavor, how it's served, how they eat it. It's a big deal, so much so, that in almost every gas station here in Italy, there is a restaurant attached. Because Italians don't believe in "fast food." They need to have a place where they can sit and eat and enjoy their food. Why do you think they take a 2 hour lunch break during the middle of their work day? To go home and to eat! NEVER in the United States. haha. 

So, this post will be dedicated to some of the delicious things I have eaten and helped cook while here in Italy. Let your eyes feast! And Buon appetito! 

I Nostri 'cuoco' (our cook), Filipo is amazing. I can laugh at Filipo and understand his humor even though he isn't very good at English and I'm not very good at Italian. Here he is giving us some instructions on making Tiramisu. The story of Tiramisu is rather long, but the actual word means to 'lift yourself up.' :) 

Here is Gnocchi and Pesto. I'm honestly not a huge fan of Italian pesto. Lol, I guess I would prefer the Italian-American kind I get back at home. The gnocchi was good though. I definitely need to try it when I get home. 

Unfortunately I don't have the time to write about every single thing I made or ate, but here is a collage of some things I got to have: Pizza, tiramisu chocolate, Kebabs (SSOOO GOOD!), Calzoni, Bruschetta, and another dessert that I forgot the name to. :( Sorry! 

(Excuse the small pictures; I was trying something new and I think I don't like it. Bear with me!)