Insanity or courage? Even I don't know :)

Hi Friends/Ciao Cari Amici:

I am starting this blog in order to keep my friends and family posted as to my adventures and education this year in Perugia, Italia. Most of you already are (exhaustively, sorry :)) familiar of my plans to relocate from Yorktown, Virginia to Perugia, Italia (in the green heart "cuore verde") of my fantasy land, Italia. I have thought, prayed, and beat myself up wondering if this is a smart decision or a temporary, middle-aged loss of insanity, but I've come to the conclusion that we can't be assured of all outcomes in our life and, if we don't ever take risks, we lose out on a lot, perhaps including our heart.

My love of Romance languages began in high school. I had never been abroad my entire childhood, much less out of the state of Kentucky; I was raised by single mom who worked as an English teacher and we didn't have funds for luxuries such as travel (perhaps explaining my addiction now!). Anyway, I studied French for four years in high school and was enthralled with the language, food, songs, culture and, basically, just a different way of being. The French seemed so sophisticated and exotic to me and I adored the way the French language sounded on my tongue; of course, it helped I had a very gifted, ultra cool French teacher. I won the French award every year in high school (representing my passion, not superior ability) and continued to study "francais" in college. However, when serious decisions came about, such as deciding what to major in, I decided French wasn't a safe option. I couldn't see any possibilities besides being a French teacher and that didn't sound like a lucrative, glamorous, safe career. I wasn't a materialistic youth and I'm definitely not now (I have other sins, but greed isn't one of them :)) , but when one grows up without a sense of financial and familial safety, it makes a permanent mark on your psyche that a safety net is essential. So, instead, I decided to major in biology and go to medical school at the University of Kentucky. I ended up not working as a physician because I wanted to raise and influence my own children (a story for another day). I have taught college-level biology and anatomy courses at the local community college for the last sixteen years and really do enjoy biology and believe that I am a good teacher (at least my students say so). However, my passion for languages was reawakened three years ago (with either dangerous or wonderful consequences, depending on your point of view :)).

Five years ago, I took my first trip abroad with my daughter, Christina, to Paris and Normandy. She was studying French in high school, so France was a logical choice. My language ability was all but gone (one day, have Christina tell you the hilarious story of my extremely broken attempts to inform a hotelier in Mont Saint Michel that we would be late checking in!), but the food, baroque churches, metropolitan people and the French language itself reawakened something in me: a passion and desire I had suppressed and forgotten about. I vowed from that point on to go abroad once a year, finances permitting. In 2006, I led a student trip to Japan (since I could go for free!), followed by another student trip to Italy and Greece in 2007. In preparation for this trip, I attempted to enroll in Greek at a local university since most of the voyage would be spent in Greece; but, as fate/Providence would have it, all of the courses were full, so I "had to" take Italian as a back-up. My purposes were totally utilitarian: to be able to say "hello", "goodbye", "where's the toilet", "how much does this touristy, probably made in China, leather handbag cost?" and to be able to take care of my students if the need arose.

Oh my gosh: the first week in my Italian class was a shock! The professor started the first day speaking only in Italian and my ear was not accustomed to these sounds. I attempted to write everything down that she said, phonetically, since most of it wasn't on the board. I remember being full of despair at the end of the first week, thinking OMG, I'm too old to do this now. But I decided to stick it out for another week and make a verdict at that point. Something happened during that second week: we went over very basic things, such as how to say the alphabet and how to pronounce the hard and soft C and G, etc. Out of pure doggedness and determination, I thought, "I am going to try to do this." My initial objective was to take only two semesters of Italian in preparation for the trip, and then go back to my "normal life" of teaching biology and taking care of three children.

But, then, I went to Italy.

It wasn't that the trip was particularly wonderful--we stayed in real shit-holes for hotels with five students to a room and literally ate Americanized spaghetti every night (remember, this trip was for students and economy was the number one objective of this particular educational tour group). However, something happened to me on that trip. I felt independent and powerful and sexy even (sorry, kids!), being able to speak the native language in a foreign country and be (relatively) self sufficient on a different continent. Of course, now I laugh at the mistakes I made. For example, I had only learned how to say "vorrei" (I would like) when ordering a meal--the first day in Rome, I ordered for each person at the table, saying "vorrei" blah, blah, blah--I guess I was hungry enough to eat 15 plates of food! Something that charmed me about Italy was/is a cultural difference there compared to France: the Italians didn't smirk superiorly at me when I tried to use my baby-speak Italian and they didn't automatically start speaking to me in English--they actually seemed to appreciate the effort and were laid back, kind, accepting and encouraging. After a week in Rome, Capri and Pompeii (other reasons I am an Italiophile!), there was no turning back for me. I enrolled in the next two courses at Christopher Newport University, followed by a year at William and Mary (hugs and kisses and much love to all of my Italian professors--you have changed my life!!!!).

Anyway, at the end of this academic year, I had some decisions to make. I had taken all of the Italian courses that were available in my area. I could attempt to drive an hour and a half each way to class next year at VCU; I could give up on my Italian dream; or I could jump into the frying pan and move to Italy and pursue an unfulfilled dream from my youth. For those of you who know me well, this is uncharacteristic of me; I am usually a very logical person and don't do rash, crazy things. However, the thought of NOT going to Italy drove me crazy. I knew this would be a permanent regret--it's like finding true love but not doing anything about it.

So, I'm withdrawing my eight-year old, precious son Daniel from school, putting him in a Montessori school, and enrolling myself at the Universita' per Stranieri (University for Foreigners) in Perugia, Italia.

Here goes . . . Wish me luck (please!).