I would say that I have jumped off the deep end...

EXCEPT I HAVE NO WATER.



Two blog posts in one day, an unprecedented treat, but I simply had to share how this nightmare continues. The two workers toiled, sweated and cursed at each other (I have been learning a little Italian) from 9am to 1:30pm. Finally they declared their work finished after asking me for one of my kitchen pans to put beneath the big new tank because it is leaking, "solo una po'acqua senora" the men assured me, it was only leaking a little, surely this baking pan would do just the trick. My 80 liter tank would be warmed up and ready in just one hour. After they left with their two buckets of tools and dusty boots, I surveyed the damage, I have two holes in the bathroom wall. No worries, they did a fancy job spackling them and discarded the leftover spackle in my bathroom sink to dry and crack. It will be a nice project for me later to scrape it off with my bare fingernails. There is dirty water everywhere as they used every drain, including the toilet to dump the old rusty water that was in the broken heater. Finally I have a nice sprinkling of plaster, paint chips and dust (some of it was there before) throughout the entire apartment. There was only one thing to do... leave. I could hope that when I got back it wouldn't be as bad as I imagined.

I went out to lunch and returned an hour later. It was as bad as I had thought. In the meantime, it looks like Charlie has managed to walk through every pile of dust and now there are paw prints trailing in and out and on top of every visible surface. There is only one thing to do, start scrubbing. So, I drag out the sweeper and promise myself a reward of a nice, long, steamy hot shower after I am finished. This is when I think that it might be a good idea to resoak the plastered sink in hopes to remove it in a weakened and wet state. I flip on the faucet and out rushes a hiss and a few drips of water. It is then and only then that I remember seeing something posted on front door of our building, so I trot downstairs with a sinking feeling, because I know that I know what it says. Sure enough, it is a warning that the water will be turned off to the entire building for the entire day.

At least the lights are on and I can see that the house is dirty and that I am now filthy and that the water is not even a stream.

And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light.

And light there is in our humble home. What a luxury. After one day of living like a Pilgrim, you would have thought I was without electricity for a year. I am a material girl living in a material world, and I need appliances and electrical comforts! Now that we have switched back from daylight savings time, dusk and darkness arrive promptly on the Roman skyline at 5:00pm. I had the romantic notion that I would by candlelight but 45 minutes later a was on the same paragraph with a monster headache. I then remembered smugly that we have a gas stove, I wasn't ruined yet, I may have to do it in the dark, but I could still make food! Who needs a toaster or a microwave when you have the power of gas! Again 30 minutes later, a raging headache, and now I had wet feet. I had opened the refrigerator to take inventory of what wonderful things I might make, only to be shocked with the gushing of freezing water all over my socked feet. My refrigerator had spend its day without electricity defrosting itself and slowing creating a mini hoover dam in my crisper drawer. Finally I had enough, patted the cat on the head to wish him luck (he can see better in the dark after all) and left the house to go forth and enjoy someone else's sweet electricity... I went to the movies.

Our electricity was restored on Monday, but only at the sacrifices of another important modern comfort, our hot water heater. Apparently our boiler exploded sometime during the wee hours of the morning on Sunday, knocking out our power completely. After a good hour of fumbling around and sticking screw drivers into sockets and making a general mess of plaster as he knocked about on all my walls, my friendly building technician delivered the bad news. Our hot water heater died a brilliant death and could not be fixed. Sure enough, I spotted a tale tale water spot in the ceiling where the poor boiler had made his last stand. We would need a complete replacement, which would take at least two days. So after this experience of what life must have been without electricity, we now know that the Pilgrims must have had an awful stench, no one wants to take a cold shower in the middle of November!

The two maintenance men are now in hour two of project "acqua calda" and so far no old water heater has come down from its perch, let alone the new shiny one gone up. I am starting to get the feeling that they intend to just leave the old one to rust in its former home until the end of time. In the meanwhile, they have been hammering large holes in the wall knocking plaster and bits of paint everywhere.

This morning as I longed for a hot shower I amused myself with prose:

Ode to Water Heater

Without you we shiver in the cold dark marble,
I miss the sight of your glowing red light to match my glowing red skin.
The dishes are left shuddering after their chilly bath.
Nothing is the same, without you.
Oh, Water heater.

In the Dark

...literally. We awoke this morning to find we had no power in our apartment. Of course there is no emergency line to our landlord. There is certainly no way any bonafide Italian utility would actually answer the phone, much less fix the problem. We spend the mid morning and afternoon out at the zoo enjoying the daylight, but dusk is approaching fast... what am I to do? No Internet, no TV, no lights! Yikes.

Just Breathe

WARNING: Male friends, father figures and brothers, proceed with caution, you are about to enter an uncharted territory of the feminine mystique.

Now, if that isn’t enough to make you want to read on! Seriously though, in today’s post I am going to venture into some personal, very personal information. After much discussing with Josh to determine if this was appropriate blog literature, I decided that I am in the mood to bear my soul and the story is just too funny and Italian not to share. It embodies the Italian experience that we are living here in Rome. It is one of those instances when we look at each other, laugh and say “only in Italy”. So here I go, and please note, there is a bit of soul bearing here, so I do hope that you appreciate my willingness to strip down (literally) and show you the underbelly of my everyday Roman existence.

So what is all of this hubbub about? Well folks, we are living in Italy and although I try to keep things light about the oddities of our lives, there are some things that we experience as expats that you may have never thought would be worth a blog. Today I had a situation that every American women goes through (or should go through) at least twice a year. I am going to tell you about my bi-annual visit to… “the lady doctor”. Yes, I am about to write about the Gyno, an experience that no one looks forward to, this time even more anxiety was attached as I sought to at least find a doctor who spoke English. I can brag all I want about my Italian, but there was no way I was relying on it in this particular situation.

I made an appointment, after searching in the English Yellow Pages (thank GOD for the English Yellow Pages) with a doctor who had a nice full page ad, and claimed to have done residencies in both America and England. A fertility and childbirth specialist, his practice also did regular checkups. As luck would have it, Josh happened to have the day off of work today (after working for some 36+ hours straight). Being the good husband he is, he agreed to accompany me to my appointment. We left the house this morning complete with literature for him to read in the waiting room and off to the doctor’s office for this seemingly routine visit. I must admit because of the language situation and the very delicate nature of business I was about to conduct I was in a heightened state of apprehension and very glad to have the company.

We arrived to the office a few minutes before the appointment. A Russian nurse, through a little bit of broken English and a lot of bad Italian made my chart recording my name, date of birth, address and other credentials. I then needed to convey what I was coming to see the doctor for. After asking me three times if I was sure I didn’t want a blood test, I think she was finally assured that I did not, or want to become pregnant and scribbled disappointedly on my chart that I simply wanted a regular “checkup”. Here the real fun begins…

A suave looking Italian man in what I would describe as a “doctors costume” (think of the fake doctors in the movies in a white smock and a mandarin collar) enters the waiting room, he takes my hand and kisses it and shakes Josh’s hand warmly as he ushers us out of the waiting room and into his office. He wants to speak with us before my examination… So we enter into his nicely decorated office and sit down in front of his desk. “Now, what can I do for you?” he asks. This reminds me very eerily of the time when we bought our first car. I explain to him that we have recently moved to Rome and I am due for my routine check up and will soon need a refill for my contraceptive pills. “Okay”, he said very cheerfully, “but why don’t you just have a baby?. I choke a little and then Josh and I smile politely and look at each other “Well…”, I begin, as he interrupts, “how long have you been married”. Josh tells him proudly that we have been married for five years now. “Oh, it is definitely time to have the baby”. Did our parents somehow contact this man before we came? Is this life advice included in the price of the exam!? After a few more minutes of baby pressure he finally relents and tells me about the Italian version of birth control pills he can offer. I tell him that I would like something as similar as possible to the levels of chemicals and medications I am currently taking. After consulting his reference manual and finding the make up of what I was prescribed before, he tells me that there is an Italian version that I can get, but it will make me fat, specifically that it “might make you gain the ten pounds or so”. He then recommends another product and I agree to try it. With this matter settled and the prescription written out he explains that he will now do my examination. He tells me that he and Josh will chat in his office while I go with the Russian nurse to get undressed and he will come in when I am “no longer exposed”. So I leave the office with Helga, I don’t really know if that was her name, but I think it fitting. Helga stops at a door in the hallway, points and tells me in Italian/Russian/English that I must “pee pee” before I go for my exam. Is this a real medical term?

Once this business is over we proceed into a very sterile and official looking examination room, much like what I had been used to seeing stateside. I have never been so comforted by sterile metallic instruments in my life, but at least they were a universal sign for normalcy! Through a series of gesticulation and relaying on past experience I prepare myself for the exam and station myself properly on the table (I will leave these details out, for you men readers that have made it this far, ask your wives or girl friends for further description). The RussiaNurse goes to another door in the back of the room and calls “Pronto”. It seems that this room is directly connected to the office that Josh and I were just in, in fact, I can now hear the doctor and Josh laughing merrily. After a few moments wait, in walks the doctor…with my beloved Josh. Apparently this has turned into a family affair and Dr. Italian has just invited my husband to witness this momentous occasion. As Josh walks in he looks nervous and as confused as I am, but the doctor is very merry and ushers Josh into a front row seat for the show. Again, without going into too much detail things are pretty routine, but the whole experience made bizarre by having an audience. The doctor excitedly shows Josh my uterus on a screen and assures us that everything is “A-okay”. The exam is over in less than 5 minutes and we are back in the office for our final consult.

Again, here, I share very personal information in the name of humor. Apparently I have a very common medical “situation”. I have bit of “erosion” on my cervix. Nothing to worry about the doctor assures me. He illustrates the problem by showing us a series of slides that I think may make Josh faint, but he seems to be holding up just fine. The good doctor would like to treat this with a prescription for now and then gleefully tells me with eerie gesticulations that if that doesn’t work he will burn it off, “bzz bzzz” during my next checkup. He then goes onto explain how to use the prescription, which is basically a topical ointment. You can apply it whenever, he says, “but, it just depends if you like to wear the underwear at night”. He smiles knowingly, “I don’t need to know, maybe you do, maybe you don’t. You Americans because of your heritage do not like to discuss these things, but really, you have the pajamas to cover… and a woman and a man, they need to be able to breathe sometimes” he says enthusiastically and nods, “going to bed with underwear is a lot like going to bed with a hat, you need to let your cervix breath, it is up to you though, whatever you want”. By this time, the man could have said anything and it would not have fazed me, I was in the gynecological twilight zone. Oddly enough, I had sort of gotten used and almost embraced the pure madness of the situation, so I just laughed and looked at Josh, who by this time was in the same shock of all that he had just witnessed.

We finished our business in the office with the merry medical man, who again kissed my hand and slapped Josh on the back as we made our way out to the receptionist area to pay the bill. On the walk back home we both decided that this was the most fun we’d had in awhile and that we had just experienced a true dose of the Italian way of life. After having an afternoon to ponder and think the situation over, I think there are some real learnings to share here, not to mention a funny story. Lesson one, it is good to be open about such things, we stuffy puritans might benefit from the ability to talk freely about one’s total mental and physical well being. Two, it may also be good for men to experience firsthand what we women are subjected to as a routine part of our quest for good health. And finally, perhaps the biggest lesson for all… sometimes we just have to let our cervixes breathe.

Autumn in Rome

We've settled into a nice routine (well, sometimes) now that we've been back in Rome for a few months. It has been a busy fall, so I thought I would share some highlights! The weather turned beautiful, cool nights with big moons, perfect for sleeping! We went to a play last Friday and this is the view we caught on the way home. The play was in English, but we've been discussing the idea of trying to see a production in Italian, a good way to learn!







One Saturday we headed out the Parco del Musica, with its amphitheatre and campus designed by Italy's own Renzo Piano. The Rome Film Festival also happened to be in full swing during our visit, so I happily kept an eye on the red carpet while Josh oogled over the good design. We saw some famous Italians, but still have no idea who they were. The crowd seemed to like them though...




I ran my first official Roman race, a 5k on World Food Day to fight hunger! I did pretty well, those cobblestones are still tricky though. There was a pretty decent turnout and it was nice to see all of my fellow runners come out. There wasn't nearly as much male spandex as I had prepared Josh for, the weather was a bit chilly, so everyone was pretty well covered. Josh spotted a Will Ferrell look alike lining up at the start of the race, he was an interesting character! He was jumping around, stretching out, but his outfit was the best, at first we thought he was a joke!











Halloween, one of my favorite holidays, hasn't really caught on American Style here in Italy yet. There are a few things out in the stores, but no trick or treaters and excessive costuming. The Italians aren't really up for the secular holidays; I think they spend most of their efforts on all of the individual Saints days that we always seem to be celebrating. After a bit of effort and almost a full day’s work, I did manage to find a pumpkin. The man at the market thought I was nuts for wanting the whole thing, I had to explain to him that this zucca (pumpkin) was very important in my culture to celebrate Halloween. He let me have it, but watched me drag it all the way up the street to my house. Apparently people eat the pumpkin here and they actually use the insides for stuff... imagine! We carved him this weekend to really freak out the neighbors, so far we haven't received any formal complaints!



We may be thousands of miles away from home, but one tradition we have managed to uphold is our beloved Ohio State football. We have managed to watch most of the games, thanks to the wonders of technology; we can watch the games live through a little miracle called the Slingbox. The little gadget, after much prompting frustration and phone calls to IT, connects to the cable feed in the Mackley's house in Groveport and sends the signal across the world directly to our internet connect!

Unfortunately for us EuroBuckeyes, there were quite a few night games this season. An 8 o'clock kickoff starts at 2am in Rome! We worked out quite a nice little routine and by this past weekend (a thorough routing of Penn State) we breezed through the night quite enjoyably. I took a good healthy nap before the game (Josh of course, was too excited to sleep). We start the pre-game prep at 1:30am with some light stretching and jumping to promote blood circulation. Before the game starts we load up on salty snacks and start downing the Diet Coke through the first quarter. We are alive and well through the 2nd quarter and then during halftime (4am ish), we make coffee and pancakes. The caffeine and sugar high then serve nicely until the end of the game and post game discussions, taking us right up to dawn at 6am ish! Of course, it helps when your team is #1 and dominating.

Fall in Rome has treated us well. The weather is nice, there are lots of things to do and see and the Buckeyes are the number 1 team, no matter where you hang your helmet.