Day 2 in The Mountains

So it's day 2 at the mountains in a town called Cortina. This place is absolutely gorgeous, imagine whistler but bigger with smaller windy streets, and instead of fake log cabins it's old Italian apartments and shops, completely authentic and I'm told very old. At first I thought it was a total tourist destination because of all the fancy stores that would normally attract high class foreigners, like Prada and Gucci and luxurious stores that I'm sure I could afford the dust in he corner of the shops; but then I realized that no, everyone here shops in those stores.

Looking around there were woman in fur coats that just screamed high fashion, leather pants and heeled boots that must have taken a miracle to be able to walk in the streets in. Those that weren't dressed as if they were shopping directly from Italian vogue were dressed like ski bunnies from a movie, I'm talking fur trim everything and skin tight everything else. My jeans and sweater probably made me look homeless. 

I've also noticed that everyone is tall here, especially the women. I'm lucky that Beatrice is my height because it's better to be a midget with a midget friend. Speaking of Beatrice, she is an absolute godsend. She makes me feel so loved and is always giving me hugs, I really am so lucky to have chosen this family.

Food is so good (which I'm starting to think is just the way it is here). We went to the super market bakery section and got these little pizzas that looked like they were lunchables, but I bit into it and warm dough with beautiful sauce and fresh mozzarella flooded my mouth. Soooo good.

My room in the mountains is on the smaller side but super cool. The bed is lofted with a built in reading nook and has its own sink (I'm sharing the actual bathroom with Ria and Aaron). I'm still amazed at how they treat me so well. Both nights so far, after we feed the kids, Ria takes care of them and Aaron sets the table all fancy then brings in the dinner he cooked. 

I finally got a really good sleep last night, 9-7:45 but in the mountains the kids obviously don't go to school so I can't sleep in because I need to help take care of them. I'm still surprised at how little they expect me to do, like they always tell me no when I go to clear the table, and when I'm playing with the kids they are always around too, and they do all the disciplining. I try to insist they go relax but they refuse to. Also, big bonus: the parents love it when the kids are quiet and watch TV.

That's one of the things I really like about this family, and what I've seen, Italian family culture. There's no crazy expectations from the kids, they don't have sports right after school, snacks are yummy not organic or gluten free, and getting outside to play is fine, letting them play together is better, and letting them learn to be careful by themselves is important. There's no hovering. I've noticed I'm always saying "ATENTO ATENTO" which means careful, when the parents are just laughing and watching, telling me to relax.

I've learnt an incredible amount of Italian for only being here for 4 days. I can follow bits of conversation and say a lot of phrases (I specialize in "non en la bocca" for Elena because she likes to put everything in her mouth.

I've yet to be accepted by Paulo, but from what I've seen, neither has anyone else. After diaper change and quick cuddles from Elena, her favourite game is sitting on my chest while I do sit ups. So basically I'm doing crossfit. Everyone said Olympia would be the difficult one but to me she's just a normal 4 year old and Paulo is the tricky one.

Missing my family and cats, but being so busy and active 

Am I In The Princess Diaries?

Today has been amazing, and it’s only 11:45. I woke up at 10 and had the customary breakfast of fantastic coffee and a couple tiny cookies, then finished my packing for the alps. I decided to go for a walk and to my surprise, I didn't get lost. Some may say that’s because I walked around the block in a circle I had studied on google maps for half an hour, but really I think it’s due to my excellent sense of direction.

Holy. In a 20 minute walk I think I saw more beautiful buildings than what all of Vancouver has in total. Every single building had history to it, whether it be the plants that people had tried to grow around their windows into hearts (no picture of that because taking pictures of peoples windows is weird, even for me), to wrought iron gates that twisted and turned into beautiful designs. My urge to step every single dog I see is still very present, especially when the dogs are italian and walked on Louis Viton leashes by gorgeous humans. And I mean G.O.R.G.E.O.U.S. Like, I’m sorry but how can old people be so fabulous that I want to take a picture of them and have them sign it? Not fair.

So to continue on the amazing day I already wrote about, after a 2 hour drive in their big van (which has a DVD player which had the little munchkins asleep in a matter of minutes) we arrive at their country home. When you say country home you imagine a little cottage with chicken running around and a couch for me to sleep in.

But oh boy. Was I ever wrong. I guess I should have suspected something when the housekeepers came with us. 

This place was amazing. It took 2 gates to even get into the place, and I know that doesn't sound like much, but really?! TWO GATES. We pull into the driveway and automatically staff come out of the house and take our bags for us while I get to gather my thoughts and my jaw up off the ground. It is a palace. 3 stories high made of weathered besiege stone, a garden that you know took daily maintenance, and windows I imagine a delicate lady would lean out and bid hello to her passing peasants as the walked by (except for they couldn't because, ya know, 2 gates...). There's even a small private church on the grounds for marriages and baptisms.

The fact that they had staff that lived there full time should have prepared me for what was inside.

I opened the giant doors and stepped into a different world. A giant marble staircase wide enough to fit like 2  medium elephants poured into the matching marble floor that had gold lines weaving through it. The walls were carved oak and velvet curtains and when I looked to my left there was someone polishing the door I did the white and gold doors. POLISHING THE DOORNOBS! I didn't know people actually did that!

Anyways. Ria showed me up to my room (which was kinda in the 4th story but they don't count it as a story because it doesn't have vaulted ceilings) and again, beautiful brick flooring, two single beds with more pillows than anyone could possibly need, and an all marble bathroom with 2 bidets (every bathroom in Italy I have been in had a bidet) and enough room for me to do my old floor routine.

Dinner was definitely my most Princess Diaries moment though. It was just me and Beatrice and Ippolito sat at a giant table with gorgeous china and so many forks I became overwhelmed. First course was vegetables with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. But wait. Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the staff (his name was Fernando) standing in his white staff jacket in the corner of the room. JUST STANDING THERE WAITING FOR US TO NEED SOMETHING! Then, when we finished our vegetables, he came and took our plates away and gave us new ones. Now here was my first Anne Hathaway-esk mess up. Apparently they take the dirty plate away from your right side, and put the clean plate on your right side. I just kinda shimmied away from  whichever side he was coming from. Also, it's unheard of that you poor your own water in this place.

Next: pasta. Not just any pasta, this was pasta I had seen being made fresh in the kitchen, and was now being served on my clean plate with a creamy white sauce and veal. I tried my best not to moan with every bite, with little success. After pasta and a quick plate change shimmy, it was time for the meat. Fresh steak from the ranch Beatrice's father owns. Fernando brings out this giant steak with a knife and fork and we each cut away a piece for ourselves. Fancy eh?

For dessert, we had fresh fruit. I think I'm never coming home.

Anyways, I should try to get back to sleep seeing as it is 5:30 in the morning.

Ciao!

Finally!

Finally I’m here!

It’s been an absolute nightmare getting here, but when I was about 20 minutes away from roam and they announced that we were beginning our descent, it really hit me. I’m in Rome. I’m 20 hours of travel away from mom and dad and Tiger and Mohawk and Oliver and maple syrup and Candian Netlifx. But it also hit me, I’ve been doing dick all with my year. It started off really really crappy if I’m honest, getting sick at the school I’ve wanted to g to for 3 years and having to come home, doubting myself and my abilities, working jobs that would sometimes make me cry, other times leave me feeling like I would never amount to much. And that was over. 

No one knows who I am, what my past holds, what I wanted this year to be. No, all that people know me as here is the little Canadian girl who can’t speak a word of Italian and can’t do the cheek kissing thing (turns out you go to your right first then your left, who knew hey?). Just driving home from the airport made me forget about my lack of maple syrup. The buildings, even in the dark, had so much character. Winding iron balconies stood out from building made of gorgeous stones in different hues of creams and pinks and yellows. Ivy crawls up almost every building, and the trees look like the kind from the lion king, all skinny at the base and puffy on top (sort of like elongated broccoli).

I felt like Lizzy Mcguire when I got off the plane, the air smelled like vacation air, the night was warm and even though people were bundled up, I had to take off my jacket. The kids were asleep when I got in, but I was greeted with a big hug cheek kiss (which I messed up) from Beatrice who quickly hurried me into the dinning room for roast duck and potatoes. The apartment is beautiful, it’s on the 4th floor of a 5 story building with (of course) ivy climbing up it’s beige-grey stone walls. The floors are polished marble and the ceilings are vaulted nearly an extra story high. Everything is so luxurious, and when they told me about Ria and Aaron (the husband and wife couple that are live in housekeepers and cooks) my jaw nearly hit the floor. Yep, I could get used to fancy place setting and a 5 bedroom + 5 bathroom apartment. 

Tonight and tomorrow I will sleep in the baby (Elena)’s room because they wanted to have my future room painted so it was nicer for me (again, I could get used to this :) ) but Elena sleeps in the parent’s room anyways and theres a super comfy bed in here, so you don't hear any complaints from me. Lying in bed, I have to say I’m surprised. Surprised I’m not thinking ‘did I just seriously agree to being here for 3 months’ ‘what the hell am I doing’ and so on and so on. No, I’m sitting here grinning like an idiot who just won the lottery. No regrets so far.

I think this is where I need to be right now.

Freaking Out

At this moment, I’m sitting in London Gatwick Airport, trying my best not to stare at the most adorable children jumping around on the seats in the waiting lounge in fear of looking like a total creep. I figured I should write something before I actually get to Rome, the prequel if you will, because holy crap was getting here tough. I left Vancouver February 6th at 1pm (or at least I was supposed to), but due to our oddly ginormous snowfall, my flight to Toronto was delayed 45 minutes. No big deal, except my layover in Toronto was 50 minutes. So kinda a big deal. Thankfully, it came out that there were 44 people on my flight connecting to the Toronto flight headed to London as well, so at least i wasn’t struggling alone (although being in the midsts of a sea of angry travellers scurrying around the Toronto Airport like bees to a hive, was not that enjoyable). 

Finally, I was sitting on the plane in Toronto waiting to take off to London, the reality that I was 1/3 there flight wise had begun to set off the panic bells, but I was lucky because I was sat next to the most lovely retired nurse who mistook me doubting my choice to go live a completely different life across the globe as fear of flying, so she chatter about god knows what was actually pleasantly distracting. After 3 hours sitting on the plane, butt numb from sitting still for so long, the captain finally announce that there was a gas leak they could not fix and that the flight would have to be canceled. Of course, being the rational thinker i am, I took this as acoustic sign tat this entire endeavour was a mistake and that I should give up now and go home.

Fast forward one night in a hotel listening to all the heart breaking stories of other passengers’ crappy situations (an understatement). One woman was going home to Ireland to surprise her fiancé for their anniversary which she would be missing now, another man was missing his son’s big speech, and worst of all, one woman with twin toddlers would be missing her father’s funeral. Suddenly, my annoyance of having to stay in a crappy hotel instead of getting on my merry way didn't seem so bad.

So fast forward an entire day in a hotel room watching netflix, an 11:30pm flight that came into London the next morning on which I got a total of 2 and a half hours of sleep on, here I am, all settled, finally at peace just waiting on my flight… And I’m freaking out. I don’t know if I can handle being away from home, in a foreign country where I don’t speak the language, where I don’t know a single person, and where I have no clue what I’m walking into. I’m truly and honestly terrified and finally saying it feels a lot better than blowing off my nerves as worrying that the family won’t like me. 

It’s terrifying, having no clue what is happening in your life, not knowing what I’ve set myself up for for the next 3 months. I want to cry and give up and go home to where I know my routine, I work my shitty jobs and then do nothing but hang out with my parents the rest of the time. But saying that now makes me realize I don’t want that either. Jesus, I have no clue what I want. I’m sure it makes sense to seem nervous about going to au pair for 3 months with a family I’ve skyped twice and am too shy to ask what they do for a living. 

I think the scariest part is going in this alone, starting this new chapter without any friends, anyone to talk to. I won’t be surrounded by people wanting to make new friends, it’s not highschool, it’s a new country where no one will understand me. Am I ready to spend the next 3 months essentially by myself? I guess I have to be. But I’m scared. Just really really fucking scared. 

Leaving

So here we go.

Had you asked me this time last year, what I thought I would be doing in exactly one year, on February 6th 2017, the answer would probably have been something about sitting in my dorm studying for an exam, or maybe sitting in class. Well past self, you were so so wrong.

Here I am, sitting on my butt in a corner of the Vancouver Airport, four hours early for my first of 3 flights. Saying goodbye to my mom and dad was hard, because it felt wrong to feel sad, this is my big adventure, I should be excited to go, right? But still, I cried walking away from the car when mom dropped me off from our last Mcdonalds breakfast together, then again a couple hours later when I turned away from dad and walked into the security line.

I'm hoping this plane actually takes off, it's been dumping snow for a couple days now and I'm not sure if Vancouver knows how to handle that.

Anyways, I'm in need of a snack and a distraction for the terrifying leap into the unknown I've just embarked on. But mostly a snack.

Bye!