I miss sushi among other things. I miss the long, drawn-out summer nights of Alberta, those last hours when the sun lingers seemingly forever on the horizon, refusing to call it a day. I miss her soaring mountains carpeted with pines and the smell of the wet sidewalks after it rains. I miss screaming the lyrics to Dust on the Bottle, a little high on life and drunk on Fireball. I miss the sound of your voices. I miss the the great, big sky- a blue that doesn't exist and painted puffs of cloud. I miss the friendly nods of strangers on the street, walking their dog, or in a rush to work, it never mattered did it? Canadians will nod and give you the corner smile. I miss the ease by which the country opens it's arms to the world and how everyone runs in for a hug. The enthusiasm by which people make Canada their home and native land.  I miss the sing-song of a thousand languages coming together in perfect harmony to create Canada's background noise, where a different language never turned heads. I miss flannel and cowboy boots, the golden wheat fields and campfire smoke in my eyes. Wildflowers. Among other things, I miss sushi. 

Happy Canada Day, Canada, and to all my fellow Canadians wherever in the world you may be. 

Love, 
a forever Canadian

P.S. Here are a few photos taken back in the true north, strong and free! 

Living abroad in a foreign country like Italy can be utterly rewarding; no matter where you are in the world, you almost always can find at least one other expat to break out in English songs with at the karaoke bar. There's this other unspoken side of it all though, this underlying sense of friendly competition. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about if you're an expat- even though we're batting for the same team and cheering each other's homeruns, there is most certainly a sense of who is being the "model expat" or the "better expat". It's most noticeable in certain situations, like when talking about work, for example. If you're teaching English, meh, that puts you in the average expat category, we're all doing that in one way or another.  Got another job that has absolutely nothing to do with your native language...brownie points for you. Then there's the blog universe- how committed you are to your expat blog, how hip are the places you get your morning cappuccino (my go-to is a teeny bar in the middle of the countryside, definitely not as cool as say Cappuccino da Marotin, via Archimede 59 in Milan), how attractive are your Italian friends (mine win, see above photo), how many locals do you really count as part of your inner circle etc, etc. The language struggle is understandably the worst, your expat friends are probably secretly judging your skills that were either exponentially "slower" or exponentially "faster" in acquisition time relative to theirs. It's almost impossible to not loathe those genius friends that just "picked up" the language as if it were an item available to buy at the local market. I hate those people who render useless my years of Italian pop quizzes. Just kidding, I love you, I just wanna be you.  It's all about who can roll their R's with more flair, or speak more colloquially, or who knows more words of dialect. Truthfully, some friendly competition is good for the soul (and the language-learning), if your expat friends can't challenge you, who can? Let me know your thoughts if you're a fellow expat! 

"To the Romantic temperament, missing out causes immense agony. Somewhere else, noble and interesting and attractive people are living exactly the life that should be yours. You’d be so happy, if only you could be over there, at that party, with those people or working in that agency off Washington Square or holidaying in that shack in Jutland. Sometimes it makes you want to burst into tears."

I used to think this way about Italy when I lived in Canada. I would spend evenings overlooking the river valley and imagine it were a view of Florence at my feet, the Italian lifestyle the ultimate dream. In Italy, I would be a more exotic version of my current self- impeccably dressed, flitting effortlessly between Italian and English at cocktail parties in Milan with an international cast of friends and acquaintances. The eagerness to leave home was driven by this fear of missing out of what was surely waiting for me in Europe. But truthfully it's all a lovely illusion, this exaggerated idea of your parallel life in a cooler city with cooler people. It was not Italy that made me better, happier, but the choices I made myself on the road that led here. Now, the only thing I allow myself to think I"m missing out on has to do with gelato flavours.

Continue reading on the original site: The Book of Life 

If you follow me on my Facebook page (), you've already seen this one- that time I wore my boots to the beach in Sicily and all the flip-flop-clad Europeans experienced a major case of shock and awe. I would just like to point out that all the major Italian magazines are touting "western style" to be the newest summer trend this year. 

It's non-existent. Punto. Dot. End of the story.  I don't typically like to rant on the blog because all in all, when I put Italy on the scales, the positives always outweigh all the things that make you want to tear your hair out. But today I could've punched the lady ringing my groceries through. I mean, it's a general well-known fact that customer service in Italy is laughable- from being transferred from person to person on the phone and finally being hung up on to having someone make me wait while they take an Instagram of their morning coffee- I've experienced it all. I really would have pulled a Samantha (remember that iconic "dirty martini, dirty bastard" scene in Sex and the City?!) on that girl taking a photo if not for the fact that she was sitting behind a pane of protective glass. More often than not, people in the customer service in industry in Italy act like they are serving a life sentence while at work, as if they never asked to be doing that job and someone is coercing them into it. I'm sure sometimes that's the case, so I'll let those people off the hook. But my case and point for today was the reaction from the cashier when I pulled out the buoni that I wanted to pay with. Buoni are like meal vouchers that alot of companies give to their employees so they can buy lunch. Conveniently, you can also buy groceries with them which apparently is very inconvenient for the aforementioned cashier. She LITERALLY let out the loudest, most exaggerated, sigh of exasperation accompanied by a fully intentional eye roll. It was as if I asked her to run laps around the store. These situations make the Canadian in me want to apologize profusely until I remember that I've simply asked someone to do their job. This particular cashier had a couple of people after me in line and was evidently so deeply affected by my request that she told them she was closing her register...That being said, I have also had a few (rare) instances of lovely customer service so I'm not saying it's all terrible all of the time, I've just had a harder time adjusting maybe? Have any of you had some good, bad, or ugly customer service experiences. Please share so I don't feel like the only crazy one! 

Turns out I rationed my photographs of Sicily terribly and now this third and last post has tons, so enjoy!  The photo above is of me eating my first cannolo in Sicily from the pasticceria-with-no-name that you read about in the previous post (Pieces of Paradise in Palermo). Our last day in Sicily, we drove from Palermo to San Vito lo Capo, a trip that takes around two hours, however one that takes you through beautiful scenery that includes crumbling ruins next to the highway, rolling country, coastline cliffs, and even desertscapes that reminded me of Nevada complete with tumbleweeds and cactus plants. Our first stop was at a bed and breakfast owned by the son of a Sicilian named Nunzio that we had met through an old Italian friend back in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. The more you travel, the more you realize how small the world is. It was heart-warming to meet the family whose father and husband we had met so many years ago and on a whole other continent. From there, it was straight to the beach...wait no, I would be lying if I didn't admit we went straight to order some arancini. If you're not familiar with these rounded pieces of heaven, they are fried risotto balls which are usually stuffed with anything from ragù to prosciutto and mozzarella. Served warm, you take a bite and the filling just oozes out. The perfect pre-bikini snack don't you agree? San Vito lo Capo's claim to fame is its beach (and its seafood cous-cous). I have to say that I was blown away- I felt like I was on Waikiki Beach in Hawaii in terms of the shape and the dramatic backdrop (and the number of people), but with the water of the Caribbean- a transparent turquoise blue with very subtle waves. Naturally, we took in every last minute under the sun and literally left straight from the beach to catch our flight at the airport. I swear I had sand in my cowboy boots when I took them off for security and my hair looked like I hadn't showered in weeks. I was also rocking my beach cover-up, not even real clothes...oh those crazy Canadians eh!? x 

This is a re-post, you can find the original  (author credit to D-Jizas). I previously wrote a post about the idea of The Red String Theory, you can read that post here.  It's in Italian, so all of you expats/current Italian lovers and learners- here's some practice! I promise it's a good read! 

La leggenda del filo rosso 赤い糸 (akai ito) del destino, è una credenza molto diffusa in Giappone, che si rifà a un’antica leggenda cinese. La leggenda narra che ognuno di noi nasce con un invisibile filo rosso legato al mignolo della mano sinistra. Questo filo ci lega indissolubilmente alla persona cui siamo destinati: il grande amore, per noi occidentali la nostra anima gemella. Le due persone così unite, sono destinate a incontrarsi, non importa il tempo che dovrà passare, le circostanze o le distanze che le separano. Perché, il filo rosso, sarà lunghissimo e fortissimo e non si spezzerà mai. Sarà lo stesso destino a tenerlo saldo e unito finché esse non s’incontreranno. Durante la Dinastia Tang, un tale di nome Wei, i cui genitori erano morti quand’era molto giovane cercò per tanto tempo una donna da sposare e con cui creare una famiglia, ma non ci riuscì. Una sera, arrivò nella città di Song e in una locanda un uomo gli disse che la figlia del governatore sarebbe stata la donna giusta. L’indomani mattina, Wei incontrò sui gradini di un tempio un vecchio che leggeva un libro in una lingua incomprensibile e gli chiese cosa fosse. Il vecchio rispose che lui veniva dall’aldilà e che era lì per occuparsi delle faccende umane, soprattutto dei matrimoni. Disse a Wei che la sua anima gemella aveva solo tre anni ora e che avrebbe dovuto aspettare quattordici anni prima di incontrarla e averla tutta per sé. Così Wei, curioso, si fece accompagnare al mercato per vedere la sua futura sposa. Deluso dalla povertà in cui viveva la bambina, decise di ucciderla per essere sicuro di poter scegliere lui chi sposare. Mandò quindi un suo servitore ad accoltellarla e quando quello tornò, gli disse che l’aveva colpita in mezzo agli occhi. Wei proseguì più tranquillo la sua vita, dimenticandosi di quella storia. Trascorsero quattordici anni senza riuscire però a trovare una sposa adatta a lui. Ormai viveva nella città di Shangzhou, benestante, e il governatore di quella città gli offrì in sposa sua figlia. Finalmente Wei ebbe una moglie e incuriosito da una pezza che le copriva la fronte, le chiese dove si fosse procurata quella cicatrice. Lei rispose che all’età di tre anni un uomo cercò di ucciderla al mercato. Così Wei rivelò tutta la verità e capì che quel vecchietto del tempio aveva ragione: sin dalla nascita siamo destinati a qualcuno e che niente e nessuno può rompere quel legame.


Photo above: Massi and I making a gingerbread house just a few months after we had met. 

What can I tell you about Palermo? I can tell you that it was much more touristy than I ever expected. I’m not sure why, but I had this misconception that there would actually be Sicilians in Palermo…! Every corner we turned while visiting the key landmarks and sites in the center brought us face-to-face with tourists. I guess that would make Palermo Sicily’s version of Rome but with fewer line-ups. Expect to see hoards of tour groups aimlessly following flags and taking a thousand photos of the ornate mosaics of Santa Maria dell'Ammiraglio (La Martorana) and the Cappella Palatina. I shouldn’t poke fun because I also fell into tourist mode pretty hard, the only thing is that instead of following a flag, we essentially followed the path to cannoli…

Massi and I decided to tour the city from morning until late afternoon so that we could still fit in a stint at the city’s famous beach, Mondello. In that time, we probably saw less than a quarter of the recommended sites and only a very small section of Palermo. It was stifling hot, so we often sought refuge in the churches more for a place to sit and cool off than for historical interest. Massi kept chastising me for being “touristy”, refusing to acknowledge the fact that in Sicily, he is also a tourist. Our Italian didn’t help much in terms of communication- we were often left perplexed at the simplest exclamations in Sicilian dialect. An entertaining example is when we asked what flavors of granite (a slushy drink) were available and ended up resorting to limone (lemon) because we couldn’t understand the other options that the barman rattled off to us.

All in all, Palermo is gorgeous. However, there is a certain normalcy to some of her main streets, contrasted by the grittiness of others. She lacks the quaint side streets to wander down like you can in Rome. Many of the alleys we “wandered” down were actually quite rough and reminiscent of South or Central America. I can admit that had I been alone, I would have felt extremely uncomfortable and Massi even said he felt uneasy at times. If I had to pick a “must-do” in Palermo, it would be Mercato Ballarò (a street market). It’s noisy, smelly, and all-around chaotic but it is true to the je ne sais quoi charm of so many markets across the world, from Africa to Asia. Stop here and have some street food- pane con la milza is probably one of the most renowned, although you can have your pick of seafood (check out the photograph below). To top off your day, you gotta have a cannolo. Ours came courtesy of a local who advised us to go to a pasticceria across from the station, next to a pharmacy, on Via Roma. Those were literally the instructions- no name, no exact address, but I can assure you that those directions will lead you to the right place! More on Palermo and San Vito lo Capo in the next post! 

Here is the first of probably a series on Sicily because it was simply too beautiful to fit all the photographs I love into just one post. We flew into Palermo from Bergamo, a quick one-hour and twenty minute jaunt. As soon as we hit the road with our rental, we knew we had to head for the sand, surf, and...seafood! Our first stop was Sferracavallo just outside of the city of Palermo where the seaside was rocky, the water clear, and the seafood just steller. The food photographs here show the octopus salad topped with the most glorious onions I've ever tasted, and Massi's mixed seafood plate which should probably be re-named "the best damned shrimp of your life". If you think you know how onion or shrimp taste like, I can assure you that you don't unless you've been to Sicily. With full tummies, we nestled into the rocky seaside for a post-lunch suntan and swim. This was followed-up with the obligatory frosty beer before heading to our hotel, Hotel Bel 3 (www.bel3.com). It comes highly recommended by yours truly (should you have a car) as we paid very reasonably and got to enjoy a one-of-a-kind view of Palermo from the outdoor jacuzzi, well worth the price and the distance from the city center. Palermo is quite chaotic just like any other large city and I found the hotel to be a wonderful refuge every night. For the evening, we headed over to Monreale (sounds like Montreal). It's a smaller city at a higher elevation than Palermo but very much accessible from the city center. We loved it. I'm not sure you could spend a whole day there but it was absolute perfection for a couple hours while the sun was setting. It has the kind of old-school Sicilian charm you'd hope to experience on a trip to the island (also, they've invented this amazing concept of gelato in a pastry so do try that on your next visit!). That's it for now folks, stay tuned on the blog to see our city tour of Palermo, Mondello Beach, and the famous beach town of San Vito lo Capo! P.S. I swear Massi was on this trip, for some reason the first set of photos I chose feature exclusively me but he'll pop up in the next batch, note the hairy arm in the background of the second food photograph as evidence.