Three years on

I think about T every single day; not one day goes by that I don't. Yesterday, the third anniversary of T's fatal accident, and today, the third anniversary of his death, have prompted more thoughts than usual, but I think my thoughts around the time of these anniversaries are more destructive than on other days of the year. I find myself reliving those terrible days: thinking that this time three years ago T was alive and we were all going about our lives as usual; that this time three years ago I received the call from the hospital; that this time three years ago I didn't know that T's accident was fatal; that this time three years ago I spent my last night with my beautiful husband; that this time three years ago I somehow said my last goodbyes; that this time three years ago I was taken back to the house we shared and how very little I remember about what happened after that. On other days, my thoughts are generally more positive. I remember T's smile. I remember his love for me, and mine for him. I give thanks to him for the life I'm now living in his memory. I speak to him; I tell him things I want him to know. I remember happy times with him.

But despite this, the third anniversary of T's death has been okay. It's almost been and gone and, once again, I've survived. I haven't done anything specific, I've had a quiet couple of days alone with my thoughts. I fought the urge to succumb to the destructive thoughts yesterday and, although it felt a bit like I was burying my head in the sand, I think it was the right thing to do. I half wish there was someone here who knew T, who could help me mark the occasion in some way, but it's okay that there's not. I'm grateful to my mum, dad, sister and nephew for visiting T at the weekend and yesterday and leaving him some flowers. I don't like to think of him on his own. I'm also grateful to my lovely friends and relatives for the messages I've received. I really believe that the strength of the thoughts for T over the past couple of days can only be a positive and powerful thing.

Today I'm also remembering the people who received some of T's organs; those people who were given another chance of life thanks to T. Only one organ recipient has contacted me so far. I'd like to think that one day I'll hear from some of the others, but that's up to them. I assume they'll be offering their own thanks to T and his family today, a third anniversary for them too.

I think this year's anniversary officially marks a turning point for me. It's taken me a long time, but I feel   completely happy again. You don't believe it when people tell you that one day you'll be happy again, but now I believe it. Yes, you never forget. Never ever. But you do start living again. Living happy. The pain of the loss makes you stronger. Makes you braver. Makes you grateful. Opens your eyes to life and how best to live it. I feel I'm living my life to the best of my ability right now.

Now I'm going to raise a glass to T. To the wonderful person he was. To the happy memories I have of our thirteen years together. To the life I'm now living in his memory. I love you T. Always.

2009

Yesterday, after a morning at the beach with both kids and their grandmother, we took the scenic route home in an attempt to get Pietro off to sleep. He resisted but we ended up near the cemetery where their grandfather is buried. Alice insisted we go and say hello, so in we trooped to pay our respects. (As a slight aside, many grave stones in continental Europe have photos of the deceased on them. To begin with I found this slightly disturbing, but now I quite like it. It enables you to picture the person, whether you knew them or not.)

Back at home, I had a late lunch with the grandmother; the first time we'd been alone like that. I decided to tell her that my husband also died in 2009, the same as year she lost her husband. I assume that she already knew something of my story but I'm not sure. Regardless, it felt like the right thing to do at that moment. We exchanged stories and shared our experiences of death and bereavement as best we could with my limited Italian.

I don't tell many people my story anymore. Partly because most of my friends already know, but partly because it's not what defines me as a person. It's no longer need-to-know information. But I was happy I was able to tell someone yesterday, someone who understands too. Strangely, later that evening I found myself dining alone with the housekeeper – again, the first time that has happened. During the conversation she asked if I was married. My usual response is no, but last night I also told her my story.

It felt good sharing it with women. Not that men don't understand, but I find a lot of men don't know what to say or how to respond when I do tell them. With these two women, I felt like it was a bit of female bonding. It maybe helped them to understand why someone my age was doing what I'm currently doing. And, if they already knew, maybe it meant there was no longer an elephant in the room, which is what my former boss told me when I confessed everything to him. He already knew my story but hadn't known how to acknowledge that fact to me. Actually, it was definitely female bonding because at about 22.15 there was a knock on my door and I was invited to go and have some gelato with the two of them. The three of us sat around the kitchen table and polished off the ice-cream together. It reminded me of the midnight feasts I used to have with my sister and good friend, Margot. It couldn't have been more girly and an appropriate end to the day. I love you Tim – you have opened more doors for me than you could possibly imagine.

Call to action!

This week I went on a date. Not something I would usually share in such a public place, however out of my date came an important call to action for us Anglo Saxons...

The date was innocent enough – a film under the stars (including one shooting: at which point I felt like I was starring in a cheesy movie but managed not to vomit into my popcorn...), followed by an ice-cream on the prom – so don't read too much into this next comment because it will sound way worse than it was, but I was told that I was surprisingly tactile. Romeo thought that Anglo Saxons were meant to be quite 'cold' people and not very physical! Funny what stereotypes perpetuate in this world we live in. Stereotypes that we need to challenge!

So, get out there people. Be more tactile. Show these Romans that they don't have the monopoly on romance. I've started the campaign (I felt it was my duty), but I need some back up ;)

Last Wednesday I did another first and drove into Monaco to pick Chri up from work. I don't know why, but I loved doing that. It was funny thinking of my little UK car having made it all the way to Monaco. I did almost roll into the back of the car in front while gawping at the flash cars cruising past me. It's a funny old place Monaco, but it is growing on me now that I know it a bit better. I've never been to Vegas but I think it might be a bit like that;  you have to just accept it for what it is in order to get on and enjoy it. 

Anyway, after I collected Chri (and he filled my car up with petrol – it's like having my dad here, love it!) we went to Villefranche and had our first swim of the year together in our favourite bay. It was a bit of a routine last year but now I'm living in Italy it's not very practical, so it was especially great to be back. I was in Nice to collect my friend Kari, who was visiting from the UK but her flight was delayed so Chri and I headed to an Italian restaurant near the port (where I did some Italian/French parking on the pavement outside a church). I had the most delicious seafood linguine washed down with a lovely glass of white wine. I love it here! I dropped Chri at home, had a quick cuppa then headed to the airport to collect Kari.

It was lovely seeing a friendly face from home and great that we had the drive back to Italy to catch up on each other's news. I dropped Kari at her hotel and met her at the beach the following afternoon once I'd finished work. Unfortunately the waves were too big to venture into the sea so we chilled out on the beach then I went for a run along the seafront followed by a pizza and a gelato. On Friday I drove to Monaco again and met Kari, Chri and some of his friends for an apertivo in The Brasserie. We then went for a really nice Thai meal (my first in France or Italy) in Juan Les Pins and a cocktail. That night we stayed at Chri's but I got up at what felt like the crack of dawn the next morning to take him to the airport for a stag do in Barcelona. Luckily I was able to go back to bed when I got back and caught up on some sleep before heading to Villefranche in the afternoon. Getting the train again made me incredibly thankful I've brought my car with me. I really couldn't survive without transport here. 

On Saturday night we picked up an Italian friend who was on my TEFL course last year and happened to be in Nice that weekend and drove to Menton – in France but near the Italian border – for a Bastille Day meal and fireworks with some of my Italian friends. It was a good night but another example of the Italian way of drinking/not drinking. Yes, we had wine etc with our meal, but after the fireworks we strolled through the town (not stopping anywhere for a drink) and stumbled across an old-school dance in a marquee on the sea front. We stopped there and did some dancing (well, I call it dancing but I think the pros there were a bit pissed off with us...) then headed home. It was a late but a totally sober night, for the drivers as well as the passengers. I think Kari was a bit surprised but you do get used to it and, although you might be tired the following day, it's actually really nice not being hungover. 

We spent Sunday on our usual Italian beach where it was finally possible to do some swimming, although the waves were still pretty big, then had dinner in my favourite favourite restaurant in Bussana Vecchia. It was so nice being back there and the food was as good as usual. Kari stayed with me on Sunday night then before we knew it, it was Monday again and time to take the kids to the beach. All in all, a great weekend was had by all and although I don't want the time to pass as quickly as it is, I say roll on the next one!

Two other things...

1. Today a snake slithered across the garden path in front of me. I assume it wouldn't have posed a threat but I was a bit surprised nevertheless. Thankfully, although I've heard a lot of them, I've not yet seen any frogs. I'd much rather encounter a snake than a frog.

2. I forgot to mention that when I go running I run from the town where I'm living to where my parents went on their honeymoon. I love that! I didn't realise that's where I ran to initially, but I really like that it's gone full circle.

Buonanotte!

I may have said this before, but...

I'm having lots of fun here. The things I'm loving the most today are:

– The weather. Most of all the weather. I really don't want to piss British- or southern hemisphere-based readers off but... it's simply wonderful! The temperature is pretty constant. This means that you don't need to check the weather forecast before you leave the house. And you don't have to pack a bag full of things to cover every weather eventuality. Even if it rains, which is rare, it's still warm. I love spending the majority of my time outdoors. I love having dinner on the terrace with the sun setting behind the mountains. I love swimming in the sea multiple times every day.

– The people. My friends are so lovely; they're kind and thoughtful and caring and I love spending time with them. But every week I meet friends and relatives of theirs and they're also kind and thoughtful, and very welcoming to an English girl who speaks little Italian. Initially I thought people were being more kind to me because they knew my story, but not everyone can know. This weekend, Eve and I were invited to join five of Matte's friends for lunch at his parents, so there were ten of us in total. Matte's parents were so hospitable and waited on us hand and foot. When I offered to help clear up and load the dishwasher I was told I couldn't, but I'd be welcome to pull up a chair and have a chat while they cleared up. (This bullet point isn't about the food, but I'll just quickly tell you what we had... marinated peppers, pizza pieces, torta verde (beet leaves and rice in pastry – a typical Ligurian dish), salami and prosecco to start. Then homemade tagliatelle with ragu, accompanied by red wine made by Eve's dad. Then pork steaks. Then fruit and cake and pastries, with limoncello made by Gianluca's mum and mandarinetto – the same as limoncello but made with mandarins. Then coffee.)

– The food. Chri arrived back from Genoa this weekend with a bag full of apricots that they'd picked that day from the tree in Massimo's garden, as well as a jar of jam they'd made that afternoon. Oh, and a cake he brought back from his business trip to the Alps last week – what a lovely friend he is! For dinner this evening we've just eaten the most delicious octopus salad (with tomatoes from the garden), stuffed courgette flowers (from the garden), green beans and then plums that Marco's parents brought back from Piemonte. I love eating fresh, seasonal, local food. Another thing I read in the Lonely Planet book, which I'm going to take note of in future, is that you should only take a small amount of food because you will be obliged to have seconds and quite probably thirds, maybe fourths. So start off with a small portion and you'll be able to manage the refills and not have to risk offending your host by refusing more food. The other trick is to leave something on your plate. If you have an empty plate you will more than likely be persuaded to have more. I find it interesting that the Italians often eat their meat totally on its own – no potatoes, no veg. Everything is also self-service – nothing is plated up in the kitchen; it's all about tucking in together.

– Wifi. It makes a massive difference having wifi. I love being connected to my family and friends around the world. I loved receiving photos of Hooch's latest baby via WhatsApp this weekend – congratulations my Marra, very proud! I love Skyping my lovely sister and beautiful nephew every Monday, and Janello, and hopefully Laura and little Rose soon. I love being able to email people and post my photos to Facebook and update my blog regularly. It helps me feel closer to the people I love who I'm not physically close to right now. I couldn't be without that, much as I love it here.

– My car. It's great being independent. It's even better not having to get the train. Bringing my car was definitely a good idea!

The things I'm enjoying least are:

– Sun cream application. It's tedious and time-consuming and the factor 30 leaves white marks on my black clothes :(

– My knee injury. I went running twice last week and ended up walking the second time, which I never ever do. I've rested it over the weekend (read: been out enjoying myself, but don't tell Graeme that!) so will try running on it again tomorrow. I've also been doing some strengthening exercises and applying a special pain relieving gel, so hopefully that will all help.

And that's it. I'm very very happy here and I know I've said it before, but I feel incredibly blessed to be living this dream. As always, I dedicate every second of my life to the man I loved most in the world. I know he'd be happy for me.

So true

Lounging in my bed this morning reading the Lonely Planet Italy book (it's a hard life, I know!), I found myself nodding vigorously in agreement to certain passages. This was the first:

"... you'll quickly learn that the root of Italian pathology is an unswerving dedication to living life well. A surprising number of Italians care deeply about the floral aftertastes of sheep cheese, the correct way to cut marble and the nuances of a Vivaldi concerto. Lurking behind the disinvoltura – the appearance of effortlessness – is a passionate attention to life's fine print. So slow down, start taking note of life's details and enjoy your own bella vita."

Three things struck me about this:

– The first is linked to my recent comment about how the Italians don't seem to be phased by having large groups of people for dinner; it's that appearance of effortless that's described above, but behind that effortless is the attention to detail. It's fascinating.

– The second is the comment about the Italians' dedication to living life well. They really do and I think we could all take something from this. But I've noticed that they're not only dedicated to living life well, but some of them also seem to see life as a bit of a challenge. They blatantly refuse to wear a seatbelt in the back of a car and laugh at me when I do (which I always do – force of habit). They can't understand why I'm still using factor 30 suncream (which I probably will all summer); instead they think I should cut it by a factor of 5-10 every week and even get a bit burnt to help my skin acclimatise. When I mention the risks of skin cancer they once again laugh. It sometimes seems that they like to push life as hard as they can to see just how far it will go. Sometimes I think they could take a leaf out of our book in this respect.

– And finally, the Italians all, without exception, tell me to stop planning ahead so much, to just relax and worry about tomorrow when it comes. I don't think it's unreasonable to email a friend on Thursday to enquire about the plans for Saturday night, but apparently here that is not the done thing. Last Saturday at the beach Chri and I were discussing the plans for that evening and I said I was going to call Matteo to find out what time he could meet us. Chri advised me not to, saying it was far too early (it was about 3.30pm from memory) and I would just stress Matteo out. I agree, that I need to relax a bit (A LOT sometimes) and just enjoy life, but I think I would need to be here a good few years to adopt the Italian approach to plannifying (as one of my friends calls it).

Then there's the passage in the book about food:

"Italy is quite literally a feast of endless courses, but no matter how much you gorge yourself, you'll always feel as though you haven't made it past the antipasti. Even the simplest snack can turn into a revelation... The secret is an intense, even savage, attention to top-notch ingredients and fresh, seasonal produce."

This is so so true. Gelato (ice cream) has to be eaten fresh from the gelateria because putting it in a standard freezer at home overnight makes it too hard. I don't think that would generally bother us too much. When making pesto I was told to choose my basil plant carefully and to use only the smallest leaves of the plant as they make the best pesto. I'd just throw all the leaves in but then I'm not Italian. And woe betide you if you serve the wrong type of pasta with the wrong type of sauce. And did you know there's several types of spaghetti – they're numbered, it's complicated. And whatever you do, don't cut your spaghetti, that's a real blow to the heart of an Italian. Here today they just rustled up the most delicious rabbit dish for lunch. Yesterday it was stuffed courgette flowers. If I had kids, even if I did have a housekeeper, I think it would be something more along the lines of fish fingers and beans (in fact, that's something I often have for lunch at home and I don't have kids!).

And under the section entitled, 'What to wear':

"Appearances matter in Italy. The concept of la bella figura (literally 'making a good impression') encapsulates the Italian obsession with beauty, gallantry and looking good. Milan, the fashion capital of the country is rigidly chic. Rome and Florence marginally less formal, but with big fashion houses in town sloppy attire just won't do."

Holy moly is this true! You should see what some of these beautiful women wear to go to the beach, or just to pop into town. And heels are de rigour, even if you're just out for an evening stroll. Last weekend at the beach, Evelyn took one look at my bikini (admittedly last year's and now past its best) and said she was taking me bikini shopping! Then she gave me three of her dresses. And the way they combine this glamour with the above mentioned disinvoltura is pretty incredible and yet another thing I don't think I'll ever master. It can make you feel a bit inferior at times (although rarely among friends), but it's fascinating to observe. 

My current life

Since Fête de la Musique I've done the following:

– Spent a lovely day in Nice with my parents; wandering around the old town, introducing them to socca (similar to a crepe, made with chickpea flour. It's a speciality of both the French and Italian Rivieras but is called farinata this side of the border), drinking cheap cheap rosé wine!

– Had my first swim of the summer at St Laurent du Var. It was amazing to be back in the water again. Not quite like bath water just yet, but not too painful getting in. I've been swimming a lot – doing my usual trick of swimming out to the buoy and back a couple of times – however, I've developed a bit of a phobia of the water after coming face-to-face with two massive jellyfish last week :-(

– Had dinner and lunch with my parents before they flew back to the UK. I was sad to see them go but really pleased they'd been able to join me and meet my Italian friends. 

– Went to a lovely BBQ on the beach to celebrate a friend's birthday. Her family own a shack (well, it's a bit more than a shack really, but you get the idea) on a tranquil little bay near the French border. Her husband is a meat buyer in Monaco, so the steaks were out of this world and perfectly cooked too. Chri and I also took a midnight dip in the sea – it was magical swimming under the moonlight. All in all a perfect evening!

– Watched England lose on penalties to Italy. In Italy. Surrounded by Italians. No further comment required.

– Watched Italy beat Germany. In Italy. Surrounded by Italians. A great game and a great night; the celebrations afterwards were like nothing I've seen before!! Here people tend to watch the match at home, not in bars or pubs as we do in the UK, so after the game finished Marco (my friend/employer) and I jumped on the scooter and drove into town, me holding the Italian flag proudly aloft, horn blaring.  The entire town appeared to have congregated in the main square – there were cars crawling through the crowds with people hanging out of windows; cars whose roofs had more or less caved in due to the number of people sitting on the roof; people on top of dustbin lorries; people commandeering buses; footballs being kicked high into the air from one side of the square to another; vuvuzelas; songs; firecrackers; flags. The council had the sense to turn the fountain off so unfortunately the traditional celebratory dip I'd been told about wasn't possible. The celebrations were amazing to witness, especially considering that was just the semi-final. I was hoping Italy would win on Sunday, partly because that's where my loyalties lay for that game, but partly so I could witness more craziness, but sadly that wasn't to be.

– Been running – once for 30 minutes in the 5pm heat, and once last night for 50 minutes in more pleasant conditions. I realised that it's only 10 weeks on Sunday until my half marathon so I need to get some serious training in. Graeme successfully completing his first long-distance triathlon (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run) also spurred me on. Well done my Marra! It's lovely running next to the sea. In fact, all of my favourite runs have been beside water (my all-time favourite was the run I did along the beach at Shelley Point in South Africa, scanning the sea for whales).

– Watched Alice, the 5-year-old I'm looking after, perform in a dance show at the local theatre. She was great but I nipped out after her last dance and went with Matte and another friend, Gianluca, to a festival in a nearby town, which was a bit more up my street! There was lots of live music, including a concert by Roy Paci, an Italian trumpeter who has played with Manu Chao and Gogol Bordello. I also met some more lovely people – friends of Matteo's – who all made me feel very welcome and who I will definitely see again. The people from the north of Italy are meant to be more closed and less friendly than those from the south but I only have good things to say about them.

– Went for an Indian meal in Nice with Chri, Eve, Matte and three of their friends. It was a late night though; we ended up going to a bar afterwards and didn't get home until 4am. After getting home at 3.30am the previous night! Fortunately I was driving one night and didn't drink too much the other, so there were no real hangovers to contend with. The Italians can quite happily go into a bar and not get a single drink between them. The French are the same. For some reason, us Brits seem to find it necessary to have a drink in our hand at all times. I'm trying to take a leaf out of their book...

– Eaten a lot of lovely food. Part of the deal is that I'm fed here so I haven't had to cook anything to date! I've had three BBQs, squid for lunch one day, delicious homemade vegetable tart for lunch at the beach today (torta di verdure is a Ligurian speciality), pasta, focaccia (one of my favourite things and something that tastes quite different here in Italy than it does at home), homemade tiramisù (which actually means 'pick-me-up' – did you know that?), a prune and cinnamon gelato, and been to a dinner party with about ten people and t-bone steaks! That's another observation I've made; the Italians are far more relaxed about the whole dinner party thing. Large numbers of guests don't phase them. Food is always good but often simple. It's not a show. Hosts aren't outwardly out to impress guests with their cooking prowess. Drinks are put on the table and people help themselves when they want some. No hosts fussing around checking guests have a drink at all times. No guests feeling bad about helping themselves when their glass is empty. It's good I think. That's another leaf I need to take.

– Memorised regular Italian verb endings. Yes! I'm also thinking much more in Italian and struggled to speak French at the beach on Saturday. I could think of the word I wanted in Italian but not French. Lovely friends have allowed me to practice verb endings with them, even if they were slightly confused by which of their verbs were regular and which were irregular! The kids I'm looking after don't speak English so I'm having to communicate in pidgin Italian, but hopefully I'm getting better at it, even if it is often frustrating.

– Oh yes, and I've also done a bit of work too ;-) I now think the whole deal may have been more to help me out with accommodation and something to do for a month or so, but I am doing half days Monday to Friday all the same. The family I'm working for have two children, aged two (almost three) and five, and the parents work full time. However, they also have a housekeeper/nanny and the grandmother living on site, so childcare is more or less in hand. I think I'm there more to entertain the kids and take the pressure off a bit. Today, for example, I started at 9am and was driven to the beach club where they rent a beach hut and sun beds for the summer with the little girl (5). We played in the sand, jumped some waves, had a coffee and then a picnic and an ice-cream and were collected at 2pm, when my working day was officially over. Yesterday was similar, except the grandmother, the nanny and father also appeared so I was able to have a swim and relax! The one day I had both kids was a bit of a disaster though, so maybe that's why they only tend to give me one to look after!! First the boy – who's being toilet trained – wet himself, as I picked him up, crying, to change him, he pooed himself. I couldn't find the wipes so cleaned him up as best I could and left brother and sister playing quietly in the garden while I sorted the mess out. Not more than two minutes later they were both howling. God knows what had happened but the girl already had a big egg on her forehead and the boy had a purple ear. Cazzo, as they would say in Italy!


So life is good. I have lovely independent and spacious accommodation and it's nice to be surrounded by people, and people I vaguely know. I'm less lonely than I was last year and a million times happier. It's great having my car so I can be independent and it's wonderful living in Italy. I continue to be amazed by how at home I feel in this part of the world, and in this country in particular. I'm also pleased that following our little road trip, me Ma has adopted some of Chri's anti-French sentiment (no offence to any French readers) and is becoming a bit Italian herself; salad with sundried tomatoes and basil during last week's floods, supporting Italia on Sunday, and pasta with homemade pesto tonight. Brava Mama!