Serendipy a' Firenze

ser·en·dip·i·ty  /ˌsɛrənˈdɪpɪti/ [ser-uhn-dip-i-tee]In the simplest of words, it means a "happy accident".

Things always happen for a reason...or rather, things happen just because they are suppose to.  Even if you take a detour, life leads you right back to where you are supposed to be...

So after a drunk filled night of stumbling around...I woke up and had no clue where I was the night before.  I had asked my roommate and my classmate...no clue...Lion's Den...or something?  Lyon with a "y"...google maps had NO idea.  And all I know, is that it was a green pub with a kebab place next door....great.  I had recapped my night with my other two roomies that didnt come out the night before.  Telling them that I had a date in 1 hour and I had no clue to where I was supposed to be.  BUT, I was going to give it a try anyway.

On the way over, I saw another classmate that I was with the night before.  I asked her if she remembered where we went...she didn't.  But she tried helping me anyway....we were close, we knew that for sure.  After a little bit, she left me to go on about her business while I tried to continue my search.  I asked a couple of people and they lead me to a bar called, "Lion's Fountain".  While the area looked familiar, that was NOT the bar I went to the night before...that much I knew. Or thought I knew.

So in defeat, I walk home.  I enter saying one simple thing, "fail.com".  My ride or die tells me that one of our other roommates has a story to tell me and that I should take a seat.  Ok, thats weird...but I take a seat anyway.  Vero had gotten her hair done the other day and they double charged her...so she went to take a walk to go sort it out.  What does this have to do with anything, you ask?  Shit, I was thinking the SAME thing.  So here is how she told me her story..

"So I go to the salon so I can show them my bank statement to prove

that they had doubled charged me.  I always walk to the same way...it's just

past the Duomo.  I know a little short cut that I can take to get there.  It's near

this cute little piazza. (she goes on to describe the piazza)  I'm walking in the little

 alley way and I look up and see a pub called "Lion's Den" (Yup, that's right. 

She FOUND the bar I was busily looking for at that exact moment) and I just thought to myself, 'I just bet that this is the bar that Nikko is looking for.' 

So I walk in and find a tall guy asking the bartender, 'hai visto una ragazza ...'

(have you seen a girl..) and goes on to describe you.  I walk right up to him and ask

him his name.  He looks at me weird and tells me his name.  I ask him if he is

waiting on a girl...he says,'Yes, Nikko.'  I explain to him that I am your roommate

and told him that you were looking for the place as we spoke but that you had no

idea where it was.  We exchange numbers, just in case...and he tells me, 'I'll wait a

 little longer just in case she can find the place'"

Can you believe that shit?  I couldn't.  She pulls out the little piece of paper that he scribbled his number on and hands me her phone.  ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?  I just spent....maybe 45 mins trying to find this place and here he falls so neatly in my lap.  I couldn't believe how much effort I had put into finding this place and this person...

I. HAVE. NEVER.



Was it worth it?  I'm not sure yet...but I will definitely let you know.



Friday night in Florence

My first week in Italy was fillled with lesson planning and homework.  So, needless to say, I was tied to my desk at home.  Finally, Friday came around and my classmates and I agreed that we should go out...Since my ride or die was dying in bed from being sick...my other roommate and I decided to start a little early.  We grabbed some beers from the Euro store (yes, I can get a 40oz for ONE Euro) and went for a walk...to the Uffizi, Ponte Vecchio and L'Accademia

After two 40's and some whiskey...Antonio and I are ready to pre game at our classmates apartment.  While waiting for everyone to arrive, we drank, drank and drank some more.  Finally, we head out into the night and try to find a place to dedicate out night to (since it is roughly 11:30pm).  We stumble upon a pub that looks inviting and crackin' enough. 

While hanging outside, my eyes lock with 6'2 Italian man with light eyes (not pictured).  BAM.  We both give the side eye to a girl tripping out of the bar wearing next to nothing in 10*C weather.  That's his in....He, joking, tells me not to judge, in next to perfect English.  Ok, funny man...let's see what you got.  His friend works at a restaurant and is throwing a Super Bowl party that they invite me to...and apologizing about the Niner's.  Thanks guys.  I make my way back into the bar to meet back with my classmates...dancing the night away to American music.  Given, it is songs by Cypress Hill, Nsync and the Backstreet boys but I am happily singing along. 

Before the night ends, Mr. 6'2 comes up to me asking if he can have my phone number.  I say, no...because I don't have a number.  He asks if I would like to meet him back at the bar at 12:30pm the next day... and I say YES. 

Stumbling home, I tell my roommate that I had just landed myself my

very first date in Florence, Italy...

to be continued..

da qualche parte là fuori..(somewhere out there)

It wasn’t until Monday night where things became real for me.  and it all started with a letter from my Mahoganizzle sister…

It was a letter about me…her version of me.  Have you ever known, really, in words how your closest friends feel about you?  It was so incredibility touching to know how much a person believes in you…loves you. So there I was, reading her letter in bed on my second to last night…crying.  THANKS.A.LOT.

The next day was filled with errands and packing.  I had my best and my main staying up with me to divide my life into 160 lbs.  It took a while and many attempts, but we got it.  I don’t get to talk to my best often…shoot we don’t even see each other on a regular basis…but he is always there.  It’s times like these that count the most and he is ALWAYS there to help me thru.  I talk to my main everyday…I see her every other day…and it’s the same thing every day.  I couldn’t tell you how many times she has saved me in a clutch play.  Or saved my life…in so many ways.  For this, I am forever thankful.

At 3:30am, my family and I get into the van and make our way to SFO.  I silently cry to myself in the back seat.  Mostly because I am thinking of all the things/people I will miss.  I’ve never been so far away from my family…from my younger brother.  It breaks my heart to know I won’t be able to see them at a drop of a dime.  I regret not spending more time with them…

Then finally at the airport, we have a goodbye committee to see us off and to make us cry.  bitches.  And then they pull the stunts of all stunts.  Mac and I receive an email that we are to read together.  It’s a slide show with messages from some of our closest people and our theme song(s) playing the background.  I am so touched that I can not help but cry hysterically at our gate.  I couldn’t ask for a better way to be seen off…really.  Now, anytime I am feeling down or a little homesick, I have this video to remind me of how much my family and friends support, believe in and love me.

I write my final chapter of my American life in 2012 on my plane ride from New Jersey to Rome. 

“And even though I know how very far apart we are…it helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star….”  (sing that shit CrystalMotherFuckenClear)

Excessive to a minimalist

I am..

I am a woman

I am a Filipina woman

I am a Filipina-American woman

therefore, I am excessive

By nature, women tend to be on the excessive side.  For example, it is NECESSARY for us to own at least 4 pairs of black shoes, have at least 5 purses and own at least 3 LBD's.  As Americans, we are force fed to be excessive.  For example, super size this, jumbo that and why do we have 10 different flavors of M&M's?  Now...has anyone heard of the famous Filipina..Imelda Marcos? 'Nuff said.  I was doomed from the beginning...

Now, I didn't always categorize myself as "excessive".  I actually thought that for a girl, I did pretty well (beside the shoes...I am known for my addiction to high heels/boots).  and I move just about every year so I try to keep my load light.  One of my mains and I actually have it down to a science and can do it in two trips with the party pilot.  So when it settled in that I would only be able to take two 50 lbs luggages and a carry on for my MOVE...I finally knew the truth.

Now how in the world am I 'pose to fit 100 pairs of shoes into 2.5 luggages?  Apparently, you can't.  So I had to down size.  I gave away a lot...and put even more in storage...and still managed to pack 12 pairs.  Shit, and that is JUST shoes. I don't even think that I am high maintenance (s/o to my boy who said, "You are not as high maintenance as you look") but I do require A LOT and a lot requires space.  Now I have never been there before, but I am told that there isn't a ton of space in Italy. Not to mention that I am the only one dragging my luggage from Rome, on to a 4 hour train ride to Italy and then out of the airport to the bed and breakfast.  And since I am finishing my packing tomorrow....I better start practicing how to be a minimalist....

...starting now...

The one thing I needed

"Its a catastrophe, but its the one I need"

A good friend of mine recently had me read a short story about a couple who held on to a slowly diminishing relationship.  It wasn't until shit hit the fan when both parties knew that it was really over and they both had to let go. The story hit a little close to home and brought on a wave of emotions for me.

You see, the ex and I were this couple.  Annoyingly happy in love, totally consumed with each other which in time became comfortable and complacent.  When the first break up happened, it seemed like a long time coming.  The fights, the all of a sudden low patience with one another, the nagging and absolutely no quality time.  We all of a sudden had different views on everything.  So shit hit the fan in the worst way.  Like, THE WORST.  So we took a 6 month break before realizing that we were "meant to be".  There wasn't a day I didn't think of him.  There wasn't a night I didn't yearn for him...and he felt the same way.  So we gave our love another try.  A short year passed and we found ourselves at our 5 year anniversary.  And just like history does, it repeated itself.  An even nastier ending than the first.  I thought that it was the catastrophe that I finally needed to just let go and let God.  But it was also paired with a unbelievable heartbreak that I never imagined possible.  After a deafening silence, we were back in touch but not back in the grove.  Optimistically, I would like to be friends.  He knows me better than anyone and I know him better than he knows himself.  Who knows, maybe after I get back...we'll both be changed and can do this for real.

So the holidays came around and this year was harder than I thought it was going to be.  There was no Christmas shopping together..no tree lighting ceremonies..no ice skating rink..no duraflame logs and a great bottle of Pinot.  It was just us pretending that things hadn't changed when they obviously have.  Christmas day, feeling more like shit, I called him cos he was once the only person that could make me smile.  The funny thing about the person who can make your day is that...well, they can turn that shit upside down.  It was such a simple question from him...that probably meant nothing..but for me, it killed me. So that was it.  Two big blow outs and a selfish comment later and I go back into silence.

I look back on the two catastrophes and wonder why I couldn't be strong enough to walk away then, either time.  I guess I had hope that one day my knight and shining armor would get the fuck off his high horse and sweep me off my feet.   But this is real life honey, there are no fairy tale endings...so while our love is still greater than anything anyone will ever understand...he finally gave me the "catastrophe" I needed to be able to board my plane in 6 days and begin my new adventure.

Plan this...event planner

pre·pare

   /prɪˈpɛər/ Show Spelled [pri-pair] Show IPA verb, -pared, -par·ing.

verb (used with object)

1. to put in proper condition or readiness: to prepare a patient for surgery.

2. to get (a meal) ready for eating, as by proper assembling, cooking, etc.

3. to manufacture, compound, or compose: to prepare a cough syrup.

 

 

Resign: check.

Move back home: check ;(

Storage run: check

get VISA: fuck.  I do that soon, I swear

School books: they sell that on amazon.com, right? Ugh.

 

I almost wanted to keep going until I realized the ONLY three things that I HAVE

done is resign, move and put shit in storage. SMH. 

 

We're in mid November and to date, I have 59 days left in America.  It's so crazy...SO CRAZY.  Some days I am so excited that I don't know what to do with myself.  Other days, I am so scared to go...I just wanna stay in my comfort zone where my whole life is with all my friends and family.  And then I remember why I choose to go in the first place.  To feed my soul, to finally be fully selfish and to live MY life, the way I want to.

 

Now in preparation of my move, I am being pulled in every direction.  My mom wants to spend more time, my friends wanna hang out more, the holidays are here for the industry and I am busy as shit.  I get guilt trips from every angle...and I just can't catch a break.  I wonder sometimes how MAC feels about our move.  Is she just as sad?  Stressed? Anxious?  But to be honest, I don't even really like to talk about it or think about it in detail cos...well, cos it becomes more and more real.  I like to live in the now...I guess that is why my to do list is 17 pages long still.

 

The crazy part is, this year alone I have made friends with some of the most amazing people I have ever met.  In such a short time, I have become sooo close with them, more than people I have know for 15+ years.  And being that girl that grew up with very limited to no girlfriends, this is the hardest part.  I know that we are always going to be friends...but it's different not being able to see you everyday,  not getting a good morning text from you, taking a picture of yourself and sending it to me cos you so damn modest, group texting and chatting and HH.  I know you hootchies are reading this and you know I am not an affectionate person AT ALL but...damn am I going to miss you all.  You better visit like you all said you would, period. 

 

So with all the planning I do on a daily basis for other people....it's now time for me to buckle down and plan for myself.  But first:

 

You are all formally invited to our going away party: 

Saturday, December 17th

Minna Art Gallery. 

Hosted by BOOGIE EVENTS.  S/O to B, thanks brutha.

 

(ps - Kat, I know you are reading this and thinking, "WTF" but

I will be at your Christmas party and arriving to my own, late.)

the begining

It all began as an idea. 

Today is the first step to the rest of my life.

I had this overwhelming yearning to feed my soul and to see the world.  A free spirit at heart, I surprise no one with my ideas of adventures and my travels.  I guess I should thank the US Government for telling me that I was too old to join the military...go figure.  Thankfully, the beautiful RENegade came into my life and introduced me to an outlet that would lead to endless possibilities.

June 2011, the idea of teaching abroad is played with.  The next round of classes begin January 2012..yeah, thats do-able.  Still an idea, still a half a year away...We both apply to teach English abroad in Florence, Italy.  Still just an idea, still more than 6 months away...we both get accepted and then pay our deposit.  Ok, but we are still 2 seasons away..we have plenty of time. Ideas of pasta, wine, cobblestones and vespas circle in my head, happily.

Ill be moving back home two months prior to the move.  smh, THAT should interesting.  Then one day I wake up one day and it's October 24th. Shit, I have ran outta time and now I have a week to pack up my stuff. My girlfriends come over to help..newspapers and boxes everywhere.  I have 3 main catagories: into storage, come with me and send to me.  All of my memories get put into cardboard boxes so they can go into a dark room, waiting for me to come home... if I come home. Ok, side note: I almost cried typing that. Slowly, my room empties out and  is starting to feel bare. And when I pause for a moment, I suddenly feel bare too. Taking the first round of boxes to my moms house.  Yeah... shit just got  real..real.  Minor panic attacks..brief moments of excitement..whooshes of worry..and day dreams that don't end...

Yesterday was the day I officially turned in my notice.  My last day is Friday, December 23rd. If this wasn't real...it is now. 

Hi, my name is Nicole and I am 28 years old. 

I have quit my job, which I have made a career out of, to move to another country.

In this country, I do not know a single soul nor do I speak the language.

I will be teaching English.  Did I mention I hardly speak Engrish?

..but..

I will be with one of my closest and we are in it together.

We will feed our souls and our tummy's

We will tour the world and open new doors.
this will be an experience we will never forget.

So begins the story:
eat.PLAY.love.2012