Italians love having a glass of wine with their meal. Not necessarily every meal, but I have found often enough to make things tricky when it comes to my inconvenient wine intolerance.
In the last two years it has become apparent to me that red or white wine, sparkling or unsparkling will be guaranteed to make my stomach swell up like a giant gooseberry and keep me throwing up all night. Furthermore for most of the next day I will not be able to look at food without tasting stale yeast in the back of my throat and dry-retching. Same goes for any type of beer or ale... and for mixing too many liquors in one evening...
Trust, just when I decide to go Italy, a country boasting a magnificent history of wine-making I work out I can't drink the stuff without imploding or exploding, or both. Nothing can top the self-loathing I felt back in January when I had to turn down a glass of berry-red wine in the Chianti region whilst enjoying a hearty lunch in a farmhouse with my travel companion.
I have no idea medically why I react so badly, but something is telling me it may be to do with an intolerance or allergy to anything involving grapes and fermented...not fun as my poor Genovese family discovered this past easter, during which I spent most of the weekend crippled by nausea cuddling a plastic bucket after a night out involving a just tiny taste of Genovese beer and white wine.
Since that weekend they are quick to jump to my aid whenever a new acquaintance offers me a dash of wine, explaining that it if I were to drink the wine terrible things may happen...
A few weekends ago however whilst in the hills of Piemonte, we were invited to join the birthday party of the daughter of a family friend. A beautiful little thing with big blue eyes and blonde curls shaped like upright twisties on her head. She had just turned one and her father drunk on happiness (both literally and figuratively) insisted on treating us to some beautiful Sicilian white wine.
When we had first arrived at the party someone had already pressed a full glass of champagne into my hand ignoring my protests assuming I was just trying to be modest or polite. I had taken a few hesitant sips of the stuff, realized it wasn't going to happen as my stomach lurched unforgivingly, and with great mortification placed the plastic cup behind a large pot plant on the buffet table.
Now the father of the little girl began refilling our already still occupied cups with the golden Sicilian wine, telling us to shut-up in good humour as we protested.
'No! This Wine is beautiful! You are going to have some, you must try! I will not take no for an answer!'
He forced a fresh cup into my hand as my friend and I exchanged an panicked/awkward look. The memory of me violently throwing up into the bright yellow bucket over easter had scarred both of us apparently. I tried to squeeze in a polite rejection:
'Oh no, really, thank you but I have already had a fair bit to dri-'
'Nonsense!!! Your glass is empty!' he insisted.
'Oh but, no I am actually a big allergic..'
'Impossible!! no one is allergic to wine!!'
'Oh but you see -'
'This wine is sweet and beautiful! Impossible to make you sick!'
'It's the fermentation it-'
'-SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Drink!' was his final reply as he poured my cup to the brim. I fell silent and stared down into my sizzling cup of wine with terror. My friend next to me tried to keep from smiling.
At one point my friend's sister arrived at the party and as I went to greet her I slipped my glass into her hand, telling her to enjoy it. It did not good though. Noticing at some point I was now standing around with no drink, our host simply gave me another full cup.
We continued chatting with this man whose happy tipsiness began to work in my favor. Gesticulating wildly and often stopping mid-sentence to hug and greet a new guest, I took these moments to slip some of my own untouched wine into the cup of my friend. Meanwhile I took pretend sips from my slowly draining cup, a useless tactic I adopted more out of guilt than anything else.
Finally my cup was empty. Thank goodness and it even looked like I had drunk it all! I didn't have to look rude or ungrateful! Or go through the awkward horror of ruining our host's enjoyment of his beautiful wine by telling him the terrible tales of my violent alcohol-induced bowel movements!
But then to my horror the grandfather of the birthday girl wandered up to us with ruddy flushed cheeks, a sly grin and a huge bottle of Champagne. Without asking he filled our cups full once more. The Nonno was well on the way to 'I-Am-Totally-Sloshed-Town' and was determined to take all his guests there with him. He then surveyed the scene for more party-goers who did not seem intoxicated enough, selected his next victims with narrowed slightly blood-shot eyes, and stumbled off with a skip in his step. A true modern day Bacchus.
This time I gave up. Remembering I had left my book somewhere I excused myself to go collect it and in one swift movement emptied my cup into the hidden grassy knoll. I returned to the others and joined the conversation seamlessly.
No one noticed anything amiss, but later when I confessed to my sister's friend how I had guiltily disposed of my wine, she simply smiled and whispered, 'I know, Miranda, I know.'
Wednesday 28 May 2014
Friday 9 May 2014
Zinka, An Incredibly Socially Awkward But Beautiful Dog: My Guardian Angel Against Homesickness
When people ask me if I am missing my family I jokingly say 'No, but I am really missing my two pet dogs.'
In some ways this is true. I miss my family but not in heart-wrenching way known to abruptly end a traveler's trip and see them on the first jet home. In some ways being away from my family has made me appreciate them more than ever and I have to stop myself from buying every little lampshade or coffee mug set I see that I think they would like.
I am filled with a desire to share with them my little pieces of beauty here in Italy, because I am so grateful they helped me get here and that they are happy for me. And in some ways with just the positives now to share with each other, I am getting along much better with all my family members than I have for a while. I can't wait to return home to share with them all I have experienced but at the same time feel no rush to do so.
As for my friends, I would be lying is I said I didn't miss them very much. Often particularly when I have had leisure time to myself to travel I have mentally imagined summoning friends to join me, wanting their opinion on something beautiful and to make me laugh. However there is something very special about my friends, each and every one of them, and despite my deep sadness and regret that I haven't and may not be present for the big/difficult/glorious moments of their lives this year, I get the feeling that to them I am doing something actually quite expected and within the confines of my character that they know. It is a beautiful thing when your friends love you but also encourage to go where your gut instinct takes you and to make the most of it, because it is a sign they know you well and that they want to see you grow.
I guess at the end of the day I am just emotionally ready for this trip. In all honesty if i had attempted the same journey I am on now a year earlier, it could have been disastrous. It is not so much a sense of direction that I have here in Italy that prevents me from feeling homesickness, but a belief in myself that I will cope through the good times and the bad.
But in regards to missing my furry four-legged friends this is a serious issue. Nothing about Italy can stop me from missing my little couch-potato Tootsie with her sensitive brown eyes and her narcissistic despot of a companion, Billy, whose plump wool coat I miss running my hands through. No Colosseum, no sparkling coastline, no glistening freshly baked apple cake, no ancient church spire peeping through a foggy valley at dawn.
I miss my monkey-sausages (a strange nickname I know, but hey, it works for me) so very very much that I have taken to patting any new dog I come across here in Italy. And thankfully people love their dogs here in Italy so I have many opportunities. Almost every second family has a dog or at least a cat. My friend here in Genova had a friend who had to move apartment because his hunting dog had fifteen puppies and they destroyed the house....
In Pisa I was thrilled to know I would not only have three children to dote upon but there would be a dog! I could pour all my longings for my two dogs onto this poor unsuspecting canine, and smother it with attention and cuddles.
When I first saw Zinka I was stunned by her bright orange eyes. They glowed in contrast to her black fur which shined a variety of coppers and bronzes in the sun, like a brilliant piece of marble. She barked at me furiously, but being a dog person I could instinctively tell it was a facade of dominance, I ignored the barks and went straight through the gate and offered her my hand to suss out my smell.
Her barks melted into a silly whine of happiness and she ran towards me, wiggling her backend in a submissive almost sheepish way. She always had this funny way of throwing herself to the floor when you greeted her, but keeping her back legs and tail upright, so you always ended up patting her bottom as she squirmed around on the ground like a deformed but happy worm.
Zinka was hilarious, at once strangely independent but in other ways desperately needy and clingy.
She loved roaming the streets by herself, leaving the house by slipping through our legs once the front gate was opened. We had to back slowly towards to gate, keeping eye contact with her or else she would fly through and we wouldn't see her for at least an hour. But I took pity on the poor thing. I could tell by her sleek, stealthy build set low to the ground and long muzzle that she was a combination of herding dogs, breeds that are always intelligent and active. She was so curious about the world outside her expansive garden that I wanted to indulge her.
I will never forget her surprise when I opened the front gate and gestured for her to go through. She stared, thinking it some kind of trap and then without warning ran through with the panicked gait of someone being pursued by something dangerous. She whirled circles around the girls and I as we walked to the park, delirious on freedom willingly bestowed.
After that point she became my companion and I hated going to the park or anywhere without her. However she had some strange habits that saw me constantly apologizing to others in awkward Italian. Zinka loved people, but was also quite shy. When walking past a new human she stopped in her tracks and stared till they had passed. Then to my horror would silently stalk them for a minimun of 20 metres sniffing at their behind.
She was also fond of sneaking up to people from behind, only to have them jump with fright when she began licking at their shoes. Knowing she had done something socially awkward she would then run in the opposite direction for ten minutes solid. I would whistle and call her name, wanting the black speck on the Tuscan horizon to return and give socializing like a normal dog another go.
She loved children though, adults scared her a bit more. One of her favorite activities was to sneak out of the house at lunchtime, so she could pass by the elementary school on the corner of the street where one of the girls attended. The little girls would pat her eagerly through the bars of the school gate as Zinka would delight in the attention. She was also adorably protective of the little 2 year old girl of the family. She let the little girl snuggle up to her, sit on her like a horse and would guard her like a precious puppy if she sensed something was amiss at the park.
One night though I was up very late. Earlier that night the power had gone off in the house and in the confusion to reach the power box outside the house Zinka had slipped through the front door into the darkness. It was now raining outside and about 2am. With a start I realized Zinka was not sleeping nearby in the lounge room, her favorite spot. I grabbed a flashlight pulled on my coat and wandered outside the house. I called her name, whistled...but heard nothing. I was worried and didn't know what to do. I hated the thought that she had been forgotten, that she was wandering the streets in the dark and rain.
I was drying off in the kitchen when suddenly the only partially shut backdoor flew open with a bang against the wall and a wet black bundle skidded across the tiles, crashing into my legs. 'Zinka!!! Where have you been darling??' She just panted, shaking the wet off her fur. But she was clearly distressed as I patted her down with paper towels and tried to warm her up. She was soaked through and obviously shaken by her experience of being accidentally locked out.
'Zinka, babe, this is what happens when you sneak out of the house like that! You silly thing.' I told her
She whined and followed me around the house like a scared child. I sighed, took pity on her and took her upstairs to my bedroom. She didn't want to be by herself that night. However this proved to be a big mistake. I got into bed turned off the lights and tried to fall asleep. Zinka parked on the rug next to my bed let out a strange needy whine, like a pig trying to play the trombone. I reached out my hand and gave her wet skull a reassuring pat. But when I stopped she made the same sound again. I patted her again, more impatient this time.....and sure enough when I retracted my arm the strange 'Weeeee-errrrr-iiiiiiii-UMPH' was made again.
'Zinka, love look here, I can't sleep when you make that ridiculous noise!' I scolded. But she was mildly hysterical and before I knew what was happening she had levered her big damp body onto my bed. I ended up taking her back downstairs to sleep by herself, she wasn't going to calm down staying in my room, the poor thing.
Zinka and I had some beautiful moments keeping each other company. When I dropped off the 7 year old to Catechism by bicycle Zinka pounded through fields and dirt roads behind us, her eyes matching the color of the baked straw around us. When we got to the highway she scared the living daylights out of me by choosing to cross seconds before a trailer truck roared its way past us. I moved the shaky hands from my eyes and spotted my strange, independent Zinka calmly waiting for me on the other side of the road. She then sat with us in the blossom filled courtyard of the local church before class started. She sat in the shade, sniffed daisies, had her belly scratched by the children and gave my sweaty ankles an affectionate albeit slobbery lick. It was so nice to peddle along in Pisa and to look down and see the black blur of Zinka running along with me.
I also took Zinka with me to run ordinary errands I didn't want to do by myself like getting a new sim card for my phone. This being a longer walk than normal with more traffic I put her on the lead. She appeared calm and content but being on the lead only thinly veiled her unpredictable independence. When I had to go into the shop I attached her lead to a nearby street sign, gave her a pat and left her there. While waiting in the shop to be served I took a quick look out the window to see how Zinka was going. To my embarrassment she was being socially awkward again, straining on her lead and panting with her mouth open displaying her huge teeth, trying to reach passersby on the pavement as they inched their way around her looking terrified. With her disarming orange gaze and stealthy speed she often alarmed people....oh Zinka...
When I decided I had to leave Pisa I seriously wondered what was going to happen to Zinka. As I spent so much time with her and was often in charge of feeding her she had come to absolutely dote on me. Simply the sight of me entering the garden had her squirming on the ground in silly happiness. She was independent but she was also the type of dog that delighted in physical attention. Once I started patting her she would have been content for me to never stop. I have always taken the emotions of animals seriously and worried she would miss me and the attention I gave her that the other family members were more often than not too busy to provide.
When I left the house in Pisa I couldn't bring myself to look at her for fear of meeting her big orange eyes. When my two dogs in Sydney see suitcases or packing of any kind they automatically go into 'oh-shit-we-are-being-abandoned-again mode' and genuinely do their best to make us feel guilty as hell. With Zinka though, she just watched with an intelligence I found unbearable as I closed the front gate behind me. As I looked back I felt sad that Zinka had been witness to such a sad departure and that no doubt due to her sensitive nature she would experience a sadness she would not be able to describe to anyone.
Then again, I am sure she is back to stalking strangers and sneaking out of the house, her favourite pastimes. As long as she doesn't get accidentally locked out again I am sure she will continue to thrive being independent; being the lone wolf that she is she knows how to make an art of it.
In some ways this is true. I miss my family but not in heart-wrenching way known to abruptly end a traveler's trip and see them on the first jet home. In some ways being away from my family has made me appreciate them more than ever and I have to stop myself from buying every little lampshade or coffee mug set I see that I think they would like.
I am filled with a desire to share with them my little pieces of beauty here in Italy, because I am so grateful they helped me get here and that they are happy for me. And in some ways with just the positives now to share with each other, I am getting along much better with all my family members than I have for a while. I can't wait to return home to share with them all I have experienced but at the same time feel no rush to do so.
As for my friends, I would be lying is I said I didn't miss them very much. Often particularly when I have had leisure time to myself to travel I have mentally imagined summoning friends to join me, wanting their opinion on something beautiful and to make me laugh. However there is something very special about my friends, each and every one of them, and despite my deep sadness and regret that I haven't and may not be present for the big/difficult/glorious moments of their lives this year, I get the feeling that to them I am doing something actually quite expected and within the confines of my character that they know. It is a beautiful thing when your friends love you but also encourage to go where your gut instinct takes you and to make the most of it, because it is a sign they know you well and that they want to see you grow.
I guess at the end of the day I am just emotionally ready for this trip. In all honesty if i had attempted the same journey I am on now a year earlier, it could have been disastrous. It is not so much a sense of direction that I have here in Italy that prevents me from feeling homesickness, but a belief in myself that I will cope through the good times and the bad.
But in regards to missing my furry four-legged friends this is a serious issue. Nothing about Italy can stop me from missing my little couch-potato Tootsie with her sensitive brown eyes and her narcissistic despot of a companion, Billy, whose plump wool coat I miss running my hands through. No Colosseum, no sparkling coastline, no glistening freshly baked apple cake, no ancient church spire peeping through a foggy valley at dawn.
I miss my monkey-sausages (a strange nickname I know, but hey, it works for me) so very very much that I have taken to patting any new dog I come across here in Italy. And thankfully people love their dogs here in Italy so I have many opportunities. Almost every second family has a dog or at least a cat. My friend here in Genova had a friend who had to move apartment because his hunting dog had fifteen puppies and they destroyed the house....
In Pisa I was thrilled to know I would not only have three children to dote upon but there would be a dog! I could pour all my longings for my two dogs onto this poor unsuspecting canine, and smother it with attention and cuddles.
***
When I first saw Zinka I was stunned by her bright orange eyes. They glowed in contrast to her black fur which shined a variety of coppers and bronzes in the sun, like a brilliant piece of marble. She barked at me furiously, but being a dog person I could instinctively tell it was a facade of dominance, I ignored the barks and went straight through the gate and offered her my hand to suss out my smell.
Her barks melted into a silly whine of happiness and she ran towards me, wiggling her backend in a submissive almost sheepish way. She always had this funny way of throwing herself to the floor when you greeted her, but keeping her back legs and tail upright, so you always ended up patting her bottom as she squirmed around on the ground like a deformed but happy worm.
***
Zinka was hilarious, at once strangely independent but in other ways desperately needy and clingy.
She loved roaming the streets by herself, leaving the house by slipping through our legs once the front gate was opened. We had to back slowly towards to gate, keeping eye contact with her or else she would fly through and we wouldn't see her for at least an hour. But I took pity on the poor thing. I could tell by her sleek, stealthy build set low to the ground and long muzzle that she was a combination of herding dogs, breeds that are always intelligent and active. She was so curious about the world outside her expansive garden that I wanted to indulge her.
I will never forget her surprise when I opened the front gate and gestured for her to go through. She stared, thinking it some kind of trap and then without warning ran through with the panicked gait of someone being pursued by something dangerous. She whirled circles around the girls and I as we walked to the park, delirious on freedom willingly bestowed.
After that point she became my companion and I hated going to the park or anywhere without her. However she had some strange habits that saw me constantly apologizing to others in awkward Italian. Zinka loved people, but was also quite shy. When walking past a new human she stopped in her tracks and stared till they had passed. Then to my horror would silently stalk them for a minimun of 20 metres sniffing at their behind.
She was also fond of sneaking up to people from behind, only to have them jump with fright when she began licking at their shoes. Knowing she had done something socially awkward she would then run in the opposite direction for ten minutes solid. I would whistle and call her name, wanting the black speck on the Tuscan horizon to return and give socializing like a normal dog another go.
She loved children though, adults scared her a bit more. One of her favorite activities was to sneak out of the house at lunchtime, so she could pass by the elementary school on the corner of the street where one of the girls attended. The little girls would pat her eagerly through the bars of the school gate as Zinka would delight in the attention. She was also adorably protective of the little 2 year old girl of the family. She let the little girl snuggle up to her, sit on her like a horse and would guard her like a precious puppy if she sensed something was amiss at the park.
***
One night though I was up very late. Earlier that night the power had gone off in the house and in the confusion to reach the power box outside the house Zinka had slipped through the front door into the darkness. It was now raining outside and about 2am. With a start I realized Zinka was not sleeping nearby in the lounge room, her favorite spot. I grabbed a flashlight pulled on my coat and wandered outside the house. I called her name, whistled...but heard nothing. I was worried and didn't know what to do. I hated the thought that she had been forgotten, that she was wandering the streets in the dark and rain.
I was drying off in the kitchen when suddenly the only partially shut backdoor flew open with a bang against the wall and a wet black bundle skidded across the tiles, crashing into my legs. 'Zinka!!! Where have you been darling??' She just panted, shaking the wet off her fur. But she was clearly distressed as I patted her down with paper towels and tried to warm her up. She was soaked through and obviously shaken by her experience of being accidentally locked out.
'Zinka, babe, this is what happens when you sneak out of the house like that! You silly thing.' I told her
She whined and followed me around the house like a scared child. I sighed, took pity on her and took her upstairs to my bedroom. She didn't want to be by herself that night. However this proved to be a big mistake. I got into bed turned off the lights and tried to fall asleep. Zinka parked on the rug next to my bed let out a strange needy whine, like a pig trying to play the trombone. I reached out my hand and gave her wet skull a reassuring pat. But when I stopped she made the same sound again. I patted her again, more impatient this time.....and sure enough when I retracted my arm the strange 'Weeeee-errrrr-iiiiiiii-UMPH' was made again.
'Zinka, love look here, I can't sleep when you make that ridiculous noise!' I scolded. But she was mildly hysterical and before I knew what was happening she had levered her big damp body onto my bed. I ended up taking her back downstairs to sleep by herself, she wasn't going to calm down staying in my room, the poor thing.
***
Zinka and I had some beautiful moments keeping each other company. When I dropped off the 7 year old to Catechism by bicycle Zinka pounded through fields and dirt roads behind us, her eyes matching the color of the baked straw around us. When we got to the highway she scared the living daylights out of me by choosing to cross seconds before a trailer truck roared its way past us. I moved the shaky hands from my eyes and spotted my strange, independent Zinka calmly waiting for me on the other side of the road. She then sat with us in the blossom filled courtyard of the local church before class started. She sat in the shade, sniffed daisies, had her belly scratched by the children and gave my sweaty ankles an affectionate albeit slobbery lick. It was so nice to peddle along in Pisa and to look down and see the black blur of Zinka running along with me.
I also took Zinka with me to run ordinary errands I didn't want to do by myself like getting a new sim card for my phone. This being a longer walk than normal with more traffic I put her on the lead. She appeared calm and content but being on the lead only thinly veiled her unpredictable independence. When I had to go into the shop I attached her lead to a nearby street sign, gave her a pat and left her there. While waiting in the shop to be served I took a quick look out the window to see how Zinka was going. To my embarrassment she was being socially awkward again, straining on her lead and panting with her mouth open displaying her huge teeth, trying to reach passersby on the pavement as they inched their way around her looking terrified. With her disarming orange gaze and stealthy speed she often alarmed people....oh Zinka...
***
When I decided I had to leave Pisa I seriously wondered what was going to happen to Zinka. As I spent so much time with her and was often in charge of feeding her she had come to absolutely dote on me. Simply the sight of me entering the garden had her squirming on the ground in silly happiness. She was independent but she was also the type of dog that delighted in physical attention. Once I started patting her she would have been content for me to never stop. I have always taken the emotions of animals seriously and worried she would miss me and the attention I gave her that the other family members were more often than not too busy to provide.
When I left the house in Pisa I couldn't bring myself to look at her for fear of meeting her big orange eyes. When my two dogs in Sydney see suitcases or packing of any kind they automatically go into 'oh-shit-we-are-being-abandoned-again mode' and genuinely do their best to make us feel guilty as hell. With Zinka though, she just watched with an intelligence I found unbearable as I closed the front gate behind me. As I looked back I felt sad that Zinka had been witness to such a sad departure and that no doubt due to her sensitive nature she would experience a sadness she would not be able to describe to anyone.
Then again, I am sure she is back to stalking strangers and sneaking out of the house, her favourite pastimes. As long as she doesn't get accidentally locked out again I am sure she will continue to thrive being independent; being the lone wolf that she is she knows how to make an art of it.
Wednesday 7 May 2014
How To Cope When Things Go Wrong As An Au Pair: Hard Lessons, Learned the Easy Way.
It had been a bad week in Pisa. I couldn't exactly say why, but something was wrong. Seeing the children busy with their mum I silently excused myself and backed out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind me.
I dragged myself to the deserted top floor of my hosts house and, thank god, found the bathroom free.
I leant my head against the glass window pane, took a few deep breaths and finally now I had some privacy I could confront the awful fact that for the past week I had been increasingly overcome by a feeling of numbness, a panicked, strung-out feeling.
I wrung my hands and soon enough I was crying in a way I haven't in a long time. Eventually I calmed down, agreed to stop feeling sorry for myself and resolved to answer some important questions...
..The type no au pair wants to ever have to ask:
1. Was I unhappy?
2. Why?
3. What could I do to fix this situation?
And I made sure I was brutally honest with myself. I confronted all the problems that had been building up and found I had to accept was that I simply was not a happy au pair, let alone person. Things were not going to way I planned in Pisa and now I had to find a way to fix them.
The husband a good-humoured, genuine man was leaving soon, as he was a soldier required to work overseas for no less than 7 months at a time. He was making the most of his last few weeks with his family, but always had enough time to chat with me, help me out, and make me feel welcome.
I couldn't believe my luck. I felt happy, safe, and appreciated. I began to think more positively about the abrupt ending with the other family in veneto.
The location was also lovely. Green, tuscan fields, tall thin cyprus trees, fresh flowers, dramatic sunsets, medieval castles perched on cliffs...I thought I may have walked into a dream.
I dragged myself to the deserted top floor of my hosts house and, thank god, found the bathroom free.
I leant my head against the glass window pane, took a few deep breaths and finally now I had some privacy I could confront the awful fact that for the past week I had been increasingly overcome by a feeling of numbness, a panicked, strung-out feeling.
I wrung my hands and soon enough I was crying in a way I haven't in a long time. Eventually I calmed down, agreed to stop feeling sorry for myself and resolved to answer some important questions...
..The type no au pair wants to ever have to ask:
1. Was I unhappy?
2. Why?
3. What could I do to fix this situation?
And I made sure I was brutally honest with myself. I confronted all the problems that had been building up and found I had to accept was that I simply was not a happy au pair, let alone person. Things were not going to way I planned in Pisa and now I had to find a way to fix them.
***
Pisa had started off beautifully. I had contacted the Pisa family while still in London, when desperate for a solution. My previous family in the Veneto Region had just informed me they could no longer have an au pair, for reasons they could not disclose. I was devastated but resolved to move on, try again, keep positive.
Wanting both to resume au pairing asap and to see more of Tuscany I decided to accept this family's offer. I said I would be there within three days. There was no Skype interview, no nothing. In hindsight I regret this a great deal.
When I arrived in Pisa I was delighted to find my hostess was down-to earth, hardworking, honest and very generous. She had a no bullshit manner that I found different from my previous hostess, but reassuring in its own way. I knew we would get along well, we could be honest with each other.
I also found her three children absolutely gorgeous. The eldest child was quite independent but charming, and the two little girls were very partial to me from the minute I walked in.
The husband a good-humoured, genuine man was leaving soon, as he was a soldier required to work overseas for no less than 7 months at a time. He was making the most of his last few weeks with his family, but always had enough time to chat with me, help me out, and make me feel welcome.
I couldn't believe my luck. I felt happy, safe, and appreciated. I began to think more positively about the abrupt ending with the other family in veneto.
The location was also lovely. Green, tuscan fields, tall thin cyprus trees, fresh flowers, dramatic sunsets, medieval castles perched on cliffs...I thought I may have walked into a dream.
***
It was very emotional for the family when the father left. The eldest child in particular, still a boy but quickly growing up, found it hard to say goodbye to his Dad. The night before the man left my hostess gave me a big kiss on the cheek with tears in her eyes and told me how grateful she was that I was going to be here for the summer to help her. Without her husband it was very difficult, but now I was here. I felt thrilled that I was proving to be so useful, that I was needed so much.
However the dynamic of the family changed after his departure. My hostess was obviously really very stressed. Every day she had one hundred and one things to do, always darting in and out of the house, picking the children up, dropping off things for work, grocery shopping, running errands. Sometimes I asked if there was anything I could do. Could I go to the shops for her? Pick up the kids from school? The answer was 9 times out of 10 no. I was puzzled but at this stage not too worried.
But as the weeks progressed it was the little things that bit by bit became hard to deal with. I began to feel uncomfortable but could not yet say why because the problems presented themselves in the disguise of blessings. The children thankfully loved me, but to my confused dismay/happiness it was not that they loved me too much that was the problem, but it was that they had unlimited access to me...
I was like a robotic nanny, available 7 days a week with no weekends, from midday to as late as 11pm at night. During the hours the children were alone with me I wanted to give my very best to them and we had some beautiful moments in the garden, running around, playing imaginary games, wrestling, tickling, doing arts and crafts, making daisy crowns, playing with the dog...it is tiring though to play with children for even an hour. Children seem to only have two settings: On and Off. And when they are On they are full-on and I began to wonder if there was an alternative way to be an au pair...one where I could be both fully available and the fun energetic au pair that was expected of me...
At the end of each day I was exhausted. The family went to bed very late each night, and the children would sometimes still be up and wanting my attention till as late as 10pm. Often as I tried to speak with friends on Facebook and Skype on the family computer, my sole window into the world outside the house I was staying in. Often I gave up trying to sustain an important conversation with a friend and caved into a disney youtube sing-a-long session. Another time I took to hiding in the laundry in order to make a Skype call. I was quickly discovered.
I would finally switch off the computer around 1am, having been able to get my fill of the world outside Pisa. My head would touch the pillow and like I had hit a switch I disappeared into a slumber so heavy I would not wake till as late as 12pm the next day.
When I did it was because the girls would burst into my room, jump onto my bed, run around my room, grabbing things, quarreling, bouncing on top of me still cocooned in my doona, eyes still gummed together. They would complain I slept for too long. Could I skip having a shower, it takes too long, they would ask; can we play before lunch? Can we play after lunch? Can we go to the park? Can we go to the park twice?? Why hadn't I gotten out of bed yet?? Why was I just lying there?? They would eventually pull me out of bed and a new long day would begin before I, the au pair robot, had even had time to recharge my batteries.
I never resented the children ever, I was never angry...never complained, never lost my temper. It was not their fault. They very innocently and even charmingly saw me as a very exciting new playmate, and my living with them was like an endless sleepover.
But I was becoming exhausted. With no official weekend or day off in sight, I began to slowly fall apart. I was sleep deprived, physically exhausted and emotionally strung out. The children's once affectionate wrestling, tugging and chasing began to lose it's lustre. instead I felt smothered like one of those bunnies you see in a public petting zoo. The one that gets dunked by a voracious toddler into a bucket full of water while the child's mother is busy looking the other way.
I had dreamed of coming to Tuscany, working during the week and traveling on the weekends to nearby locations...Siena, Lucca, San Gimignano, Volterra...but my hostess needed 'flexibility' aka, every day. So I stayed in the house with the three children to myself.
One day in Pisa I woke up with pain in my back. Prior to pisa I had experienced kidney problems and telling my hostess about this we agreed I should go to the hospital. After spending 6 hours of waiting at the hospital it was concluded nothing was seriously wrong, probably trouble with a nerve in my back. Looking back on the incident my conclusion is the illness was a result of stress.
The next day my hostess had a big row with both her eldest children. She left the house for a long period of time, leaving me alone with the 7 year old girl for many hours. When my hostess returned she was too agitated to eat dinner. She hadn't been able to eat lunch either. I looked at her perched on the kitchen stool, starring numbly into her soup and saw she was rapidly losing weight. Her anxiety had rubbed off onto her children and they had been hard to handle that day, now they were bickering and neither of us had the the strength to get them to stop. I was feeling exhausted and worried. The mood in the house was grim.
The following day things got worse. I was alone in the house again with the children for many hours wanting to play endlessly. I wondered how it was that I was so tired but had barely done anything the last few days. That evening it struck me that I hadn't left the house except for the hospital in more than a week. When my hostess returned that afternoon she was once again agitated and frustrated due to problems at work. She became easily irritated that I had left the front door open and furthermore angry that the expensive vacuum cleaner appeared to be broken. I had been the last one to use it, so it was implied I was responsible.
But as the weeks progressed it was the little things that bit by bit became hard to deal with. I began to feel uncomfortable but could not yet say why because the problems presented themselves in the disguise of blessings. The children thankfully loved me, but to my confused dismay/happiness it was not that they loved me too much that was the problem, but it was that they had unlimited access to me...
I was like a robotic nanny, available 7 days a week with no weekends, from midday to as late as 11pm at night. During the hours the children were alone with me I wanted to give my very best to them and we had some beautiful moments in the garden, running around, playing imaginary games, wrestling, tickling, doing arts and crafts, making daisy crowns, playing with the dog...it is tiring though to play with children for even an hour. Children seem to only have two settings: On and Off. And when they are On they are full-on and I began to wonder if there was an alternative way to be an au pair...one where I could be both fully available and the fun energetic au pair that was expected of me...
At the end of each day I was exhausted. The family went to bed very late each night, and the children would sometimes still be up and wanting my attention till as late as 10pm. Often as I tried to speak with friends on Facebook and Skype on the family computer, my sole window into the world outside the house I was staying in. Often I gave up trying to sustain an important conversation with a friend and caved into a disney youtube sing-a-long session. Another time I took to hiding in the laundry in order to make a Skype call. I was quickly discovered.
I would finally switch off the computer around 1am, having been able to get my fill of the world outside Pisa. My head would touch the pillow and like I had hit a switch I disappeared into a slumber so heavy I would not wake till as late as 12pm the next day.
When I did it was because the girls would burst into my room, jump onto my bed, run around my room, grabbing things, quarreling, bouncing on top of me still cocooned in my doona, eyes still gummed together. They would complain I slept for too long. Could I skip having a shower, it takes too long, they would ask; can we play before lunch? Can we play after lunch? Can we go to the park? Can we go to the park twice?? Why hadn't I gotten out of bed yet?? Why was I just lying there?? They would eventually pull me out of bed and a new long day would begin before I, the au pair robot, had even had time to recharge my batteries.
I never resented the children ever, I was never angry...never complained, never lost my temper. It was not their fault. They very innocently and even charmingly saw me as a very exciting new playmate, and my living with them was like an endless sleepover.
But I was becoming exhausted. With no official weekend or day off in sight, I began to slowly fall apart. I was sleep deprived, physically exhausted and emotionally strung out. The children's once affectionate wrestling, tugging and chasing began to lose it's lustre. instead I felt smothered like one of those bunnies you see in a public petting zoo. The one that gets dunked by a voracious toddler into a bucket full of water while the child's mother is busy looking the other way.
I had dreamed of coming to Tuscany, working during the week and traveling on the weekends to nearby locations...Siena, Lucca, San Gimignano, Volterra...but my hostess needed 'flexibility' aka, every day. So I stayed in the house with the three children to myself.
***
One day I got a call from an Italian friend I had made in Australia before I left for my travels. He was back in Italy and invited me to go with him to Genova or Cinque Terre.
Instead of being excited at the prospect I was filled with anxiety. Every night that past week my hostess had been sombre, exhausted and had fought with the children. Despite the fact I was dying for a break I was too scared to ask her her for a weekend away...not when she so obviously needed help. It would be unfair of me, selfish I thought.
I put off the invitation for as long as possible, desperately waiting for a chance to ask when the time was right. One night my hostess joked that when summer came around she would need me not just for afternoons but mornings too because the children would be on school holidays for three months. She joked she would be keeping me on a tight leash. I realized with horror that it might be a long time possibly months before I got the chance to go to Genova, let alone leave the house.
***
One day in Pisa I woke up with pain in my back. Prior to pisa I had experienced kidney problems and telling my hostess about this we agreed I should go to the hospital. After spending 6 hours of waiting at the hospital it was concluded nothing was seriously wrong, probably trouble with a nerve in my back. Looking back on the incident my conclusion is the illness was a result of stress.
***
The next day my hostess had a big row with both her eldest children. She left the house for a long period of time, leaving me alone with the 7 year old girl for many hours. When my hostess returned she was too agitated to eat dinner. She hadn't been able to eat lunch either. I looked at her perched on the kitchen stool, starring numbly into her soup and saw she was rapidly losing weight. Her anxiety had rubbed off onto her children and they had been hard to handle that day, now they were bickering and neither of us had the the strength to get them to stop. I was feeling exhausted and worried. The mood in the house was grim.
***
The following day things got worse. I was alone in the house again with the children for many hours wanting to play endlessly. I wondered how it was that I was so tired but had barely done anything the last few days. That evening it struck me that I hadn't left the house except for the hospital in more than a week. When my hostess returned that afternoon she was once again agitated and frustrated due to problems at work. She became easily irritated that I had left the front door open and furthermore angry that the expensive vacuum cleaner appeared to be broken. I had been the last one to use it, so it was implied I was responsible.
When things quietened down after a sombre dinner I went upstairs hoping for some time to myself with my book. I was only a page in when they children found me, they came tumbling into my room, wanting to play. I looked at the time, it was 9:30pm.
Half an hour later, miserable and frustrated, I had shaken the children off and desperately wanted to talk to someone my own age. In Pisa so far my only company had been the children of the family, all under the age of 13. However I had no privacy to make a call as the kitchen was occupied, the lounge room was occupied and upstairs had no wifi. I was bending down to pick up the little one pulling at my skirt when I was accidentally struck in the face by the 7 year old. She and her brother were chasing each other around the house and I got stuck in the middle of the two, surrounded by flailing arms and legs. She apologized and I reassured her it was nothing. It was just a small cut and not painful but long repressed tears stung my eyes.
I sat down at the computer once again and in between disney song sessions I did managed to message a friend on Skype and he was alarmed by how depressed I was. He reminded me of why I went to Italy in the first place: to have a holiday and see the beautiful country...to enjoy myself. He told me I had to be strong and tell my hostess I was unhappy, see if we could fix this problem.
After talking to my friend I decided that all I needed to say was that:
1. I was stressed:
2. Because I felt I was working very long hours a day and did not have any days off
3. Would it be possible to arrange for me to have at least one day off a week?
I had a long sleepless night. The next morning, full of anxiety I took a deep breath and spoke to my hostess. Unfortunately a compromise could not be reached. I was given another week to stay in the house till I found another family. I was asked to stay away from the children and not talk to them except for at mealtimes. I asked why and was told it was for 'their protection,' something I still cannot understand. The order was unnecessary anyway because the children barely spoke to me. The family had a history of au pairs leaving the house on bad terms, and now to the children I was just like all the other quitters...I was a disappointment.
Remaining in the house as this unwanted guest was unbearable so I called my friend in Genova, asked him if I could stay for a few days and arranged to leave the following morning. Once again I never got a chance to say goodbye to the children of my au pair family. The experience was in short devastating.
Half an hour later, miserable and frustrated, I had shaken the children off and desperately wanted to talk to someone my own age. In Pisa so far my only company had been the children of the family, all under the age of 13. However I had no privacy to make a call as the kitchen was occupied, the lounge room was occupied and upstairs had no wifi. I was bending down to pick up the little one pulling at my skirt when I was accidentally struck in the face by the 7 year old. She and her brother were chasing each other around the house and I got stuck in the middle of the two, surrounded by flailing arms and legs. She apologized and I reassured her it was nothing. It was just a small cut and not painful but long repressed tears stung my eyes.
I sat down at the computer once again and in between disney song sessions I did managed to message a friend on Skype and he was alarmed by how depressed I was. He reminded me of why I went to Italy in the first place: to have a holiday and see the beautiful country...to enjoy myself. He told me I had to be strong and tell my hostess I was unhappy, see if we could fix this problem.
After talking to my friend I decided that all I needed to say was that:
1. I was stressed:
2. Because I felt I was working very long hours a day and did not have any days off
3. Would it be possible to arrange for me to have at least one day off a week?
I had a long sleepless night. The next morning, full of anxiety I took a deep breath and spoke to my hostess. Unfortunately a compromise could not be reached. I was given another week to stay in the house till I found another family. I was asked to stay away from the children and not talk to them except for at mealtimes. I asked why and was told it was for 'their protection,' something I still cannot understand. The order was unnecessary anyway because the children barely spoke to me. The family had a history of au pairs leaving the house on bad terms, and now to the children I was just like all the other quitters...I was a disappointment.
Remaining in the house as this unwanted guest was unbearable so I called my friend in Genova, asked him if I could stay for a few days and arranged to leave the following morning. Once again I never got a chance to say goodbye to the children of my au pair family. The experience was in short devastating.
***
For every Au pair I guess it is different but for me all I know is that I benefit the most from separating my working life, and my free time. In my working life I am someone who enjoys spontaneity but needs structure. I like to know when I start work and when I finish as this allows me to then pace myself and give 100% to my job for all the hours in between.
In Pisa however I was essentially always working, perpetually on duty but my hostess disagreed. She didn't understand why I felt that way as I had all mornings to myself. She wanted me to feel like a family member an older sister, not an employer anyway. We didn't need 'days off' or 'working hours' in this relationship.
I tried to explain to her that I didn't know that such a sibling existed, one who was willing to be a carer seven days a week with no chance to hang out with friends, to relax, to go on holiday, to have privacy, time in their room to themselves. I also stopped myself from adding that a sibling can yell at her brothers and sisters to get out of her room...I couldn't do that to the children (and wouldn't want to) and i was pretty positive my hostess wouldn't want me to either.
Furthermore to make the most of my mornings (e.g. by going to Firenze) as she suggested meant having to get up at 6am as the train took nearly 2 hours. On top of that the fare was up to 20 euros. I couldn't justify spending that much without giving myself at least 4 or 5 hours in Firenze, not on a salary of 65 euros a week. But every night I was needed till late. I could not survive on 6 hours sleep...I wanted to save my money for a more rewarding day off, a chance to spend a whole day or two in Firenze. I was trapped in a cycle of spending money on trips that were not worth the expenditure, but not ever having the chance to travel to somewhere for a worthwhile period of time.
My hostess still did not understand. Was I upset because the girls woke me up this morning? is that what this was all about? She told me it was impossible to stop the girls from waking me up in the morning. She had asked them not to once, but they wouldn't listen to her so she had given up stopping them. I tried to explain that I wasn't angry at the girls, it would be stupid to be angry at them...I was upset because my hostess couldn't and didn't think it necessary to protect my needs for privacy and rest.
It was no good. We just could not understand each other. My hostess was sure her understanding of how au pairing works was best, because it suited her, it was what she needed. And in the end I acknowledged the fact too. It was the best way for her, but it was not the best way for me.
If there is another way to approach my work than I am not sure what it is. If it is to become a half-assed au pair, plonking the kids down in front of the tv all day than that is just not what I do...not when I am earning money, not when someone is doing me the great honor of keeping me in their home, feeding me, hosting me. But the flip side is that I also cannot simply work like a robot, or be expected to give up what means most to me: my freedom.
The reality of my situation in Pisa was that my hostess was a strongly independent and active woman who needed me to be an immobile carer for her family, an ever-present figure with whom to safely leave her children. In short she needed a replacement figure for her husband, a parent figure.
And I guess this is what hurt so much about the situation. She was a free-spirit who spoke often about the virtues of being independent but could not recognize my need for the same freedoms. The Pisa experience had become a matter of deciding who's freedom I cared about the most: mine or hers. And devastatingly I concluded I had to protect my own, not simply out of selfishness but because I was undeniably suffering.
What also hurt was that I had been a darn good au pair. She was amazed by my rapport with the children, thankful for my calm and can-do attitude (even when inside I was screaming NOOOO) and told me about the awful au pairs she had had before...and yet she still could not think about altering her understanding of what constituted the best au pair arrangement, come up with a weekly schedule or give me one day off. Even at risk of losing me, her most reliable and successful au pair so far.
With my two au pair experiences combined I have learned some hard lessons.
1. If you are unhappy this is a truth, it is important to deal with it and you must no matter how scary it seems
2. With au pairing there are two kinds of benefits you can expect from that job: freedom or money
3. If you are really lucky, as I was with my first family, you can even find a family that can provide you with both. And when that happens, you are very lucky and happy indeed.
And I guess that is why I titled this post 'Hard Lessons Learned the Easy Way.' Telling the truth and being honest are in reality such simple actions to complete. Yet when it comes to actually opening our mouths and uttering the words 'I am not happy,' it takes so much courage, so much belief in yourself.
So I did learn hard lessons the easy way, the simple way: by telling the truth.
As for what I am doing now, have been living with my amazing friend and his beautiful family in Genova for the past month and I cannot begin to describe how wonderful the experience has been.
We have been to Cinque Terre by motorbike, spent happy weekends cosily tucked behind the mountains of Genova in the little town of Bandita in the Piemonte region. We have made gnocchi from scratch, partied, learned each other's languages and given each other opportunities we didn't have before. I have made more friends in the space of a month than I have made in the last 4 months au pairing. I feel happy, I am well and loving Italy.
Time has eased the pain of what happened in Pisa but my hesitation to au pair again remains. I feel that au pairing has broken my heart twice now, in two different ways. I have so far rejected another two au pairing job offers...and am now in talks about another au pair job in Rome. Whether I will accept it I am unsure.
I partly want to accept the job in Rome not only because they are a family new to the concept of au pairing and incredibly keen to know what best suits me; they see me as a person, not as a toy or robot. I also want to go because I am desperate to give au pairing another shot. I want to know that I can do it again, and do it well. And I guess most of all I want another chance to finally have a happy ending.
In Pisa however I was essentially always working, perpetually on duty but my hostess disagreed. She didn't understand why I felt that way as I had all mornings to myself. She wanted me to feel like a family member an older sister, not an employer anyway. We didn't need 'days off' or 'working hours' in this relationship.
I tried to explain to her that I didn't know that such a sibling existed, one who was willing to be a carer seven days a week with no chance to hang out with friends, to relax, to go on holiday, to have privacy, time in their room to themselves. I also stopped myself from adding that a sibling can yell at her brothers and sisters to get out of her room...I couldn't do that to the children (and wouldn't want to) and i was pretty positive my hostess wouldn't want me to either.
Furthermore to make the most of my mornings (e.g. by going to Firenze) as she suggested meant having to get up at 6am as the train took nearly 2 hours. On top of that the fare was up to 20 euros. I couldn't justify spending that much without giving myself at least 4 or 5 hours in Firenze, not on a salary of 65 euros a week. But every night I was needed till late. I could not survive on 6 hours sleep...I wanted to save my money for a more rewarding day off, a chance to spend a whole day or two in Firenze. I was trapped in a cycle of spending money on trips that were not worth the expenditure, but not ever having the chance to travel to somewhere for a worthwhile period of time.
My hostess still did not understand. Was I upset because the girls woke me up this morning? is that what this was all about? She told me it was impossible to stop the girls from waking me up in the morning. She had asked them not to once, but they wouldn't listen to her so she had given up stopping them. I tried to explain that I wasn't angry at the girls, it would be stupid to be angry at them...I was upset because my hostess couldn't and didn't think it necessary to protect my needs for privacy and rest.
It was no good. We just could not understand each other. My hostess was sure her understanding of how au pairing works was best, because it suited her, it was what she needed. And in the end I acknowledged the fact too. It was the best way for her, but it was not the best way for me.
***
If there is another way to approach my work than I am not sure what it is. If it is to become a half-assed au pair, plonking the kids down in front of the tv all day than that is just not what I do...not when I am earning money, not when someone is doing me the great honor of keeping me in their home, feeding me, hosting me. But the flip side is that I also cannot simply work like a robot, or be expected to give up what means most to me: my freedom.
The reality of my situation in Pisa was that my hostess was a strongly independent and active woman who needed me to be an immobile carer for her family, an ever-present figure with whom to safely leave her children. In short she needed a replacement figure for her husband, a parent figure.
And I guess this is what hurt so much about the situation. She was a free-spirit who spoke often about the virtues of being independent but could not recognize my need for the same freedoms. The Pisa experience had become a matter of deciding who's freedom I cared about the most: mine or hers. And devastatingly I concluded I had to protect my own, not simply out of selfishness but because I was undeniably suffering.
What also hurt was that I had been a darn good au pair. She was amazed by my rapport with the children, thankful for my calm and can-do attitude (even when inside I was screaming NOOOO) and told me about the awful au pairs she had had before...and yet she still could not think about altering her understanding of what constituted the best au pair arrangement, come up with a weekly schedule or give me one day off. Even at risk of losing me, her most reliable and successful au pair so far.
***
With my two au pair experiences combined I have learned some hard lessons.
1. If you are unhappy this is a truth, it is important to deal with it and you must no matter how scary it seems
2. With au pairing there are two kinds of benefits you can expect from that job: freedom or money
3. If you are really lucky, as I was with my first family, you can even find a family that can provide you with both. And when that happens, you are very lucky and happy indeed.
And I guess that is why I titled this post 'Hard Lessons Learned the Easy Way.' Telling the truth and being honest are in reality such simple actions to complete. Yet when it comes to actually opening our mouths and uttering the words 'I am not happy,' it takes so much courage, so much belief in yourself.
So I did learn hard lessons the easy way, the simple way: by telling the truth.
***
As for what I am doing now, have been living with my amazing friend and his beautiful family in Genova for the past month and I cannot begin to describe how wonderful the experience has been.
We have been to Cinque Terre by motorbike, spent happy weekends cosily tucked behind the mountains of Genova in the little town of Bandita in the Piemonte region. We have made gnocchi from scratch, partied, learned each other's languages and given each other opportunities we didn't have before. I have made more friends in the space of a month than I have made in the last 4 months au pairing. I feel happy, I am well and loving Italy.
Time has eased the pain of what happened in Pisa but my hesitation to au pair again remains. I feel that au pairing has broken my heart twice now, in two different ways. I have so far rejected another two au pairing job offers...and am now in talks about another au pair job in Rome. Whether I will accept it I am unsure.
I partly want to accept the job in Rome not only because they are a family new to the concept of au pairing and incredibly keen to know what best suits me; they see me as a person, not as a toy or robot. I also want to go because I am desperate to give au pairing another shot. I want to know that I can do it again, and do it well. And I guess most of all I want another chance to finally have a happy ending.
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