Tuesday, January 31, 2012

South Texan in Southern Italy

First, let me explain that from now on Paul and I will be “dual-blogging” about our experiences here in Italy. We are not allowed to read each other’s postings. The hope is you get two unique accounts of the same life. One from a south Texan far away from home and one from a southern Italian returning home.

So on that note, I really wanted to bring over my cowboy hat for the final trip. After all, I’ll be doing a lot of work outside now, so it’s bound to come in handy. Knowing it might get crushed in transit, I decided to wear it. If a 6’3” guy didn’t get noticed before in Italy, I think the cowboy hat was like waving a giant US flag. But this being Italy, instead of riding in on my horse, we just had it for lunch.

The first few days, to be honest, were a little rough. It’s not easy moving away from anywhere after 15 years, much less to a foreign country. So I was a little worn out I think from the stress of the move. That, plus, I learned a horrible new Italian word: sciopero. The first day here, and all the truckers were on strike. Now we might not be able to fill a big order for Williams Sonoma for our products. Ugh.

Then there’s the list of stuff that I still have to do. Buy this. Organize that. Talk to this agency about that thing. It’s enough to stress out even the most organized German boy.

Luckily, as I was enjoying a wonderful sunny day last week, I quickly realized something. The same Puglia sun that has a way of melting your delicious gelato also has a melting away all your worries.

I think things are going to be just fine.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Day #1 of Life #5

Well, we finally did it. We moved here permanently. Packed up everything in NYC and moved to "the farm". It's kinda like "Green Acres" for modern times. The opposite of the Beverly Hillbillies.

I've come back to my roots and Steven has followed me - and his dream - will all his heart. I've made many darts and turns in my life. This is just another one.

I've lived as an immigrant who couldn't speak English. I joined a monastery without being religious. I married and have 3 amazing kids. I succeeded at the American Dream at the center of the storm: New York City.

Now, I have a new life; another dream come true: the dream of returning home.

It wasn't and won't be easy. It's Italy, after all.

There's a truckers' strike, so we're having trouble filling our first-ever order for Williams-Sonoma. We thought we'd be excited, proud, bragging. But not yet.

We're waiting for the rest of our belongings to arrive but, yes, there's a truckers' strike.

It will be beautiful, though. It's Italy, after all.