As life returns back to normal - which is my polite way of saying I am SO freaking busy right now! - my search engine is often directed towards bestflights.com and the dream of a cheap escape back to Europe. Without ever really anticipating that one exists cos, you know, I had to sell half a lung and a kidney on the black market to cough up enough for an airfare last time. And coughing is really hard work with half a lung.
I get why people just hire a rusty dinghy for ten thousand bucks to come to Australia!
My bad!! I don't know why I'm joking about asylum seekers lately. It's no laughing matter and I don't want you to take my glibness seriously! They just fit so well into my metaphors! I guess what I am saying is that I want to be a refugee. But one that eats pasta and torta della nonna. And gets shit on by bats by the Santa Maria Novella.
I never told you about the bats, did I? Gesu Cristi! Ew Ew EW! Not a fan, Firenze. Not. A. Fan.
I had too many beautiful things to be ruined by bat poo. And I'm still paying for them now!
Which brings me to today's Una problema, when the cheap flight became a reality. Cheap is actually too light a word, but I have forgotten how to use adjectives properly - making me a fraud in my year 10 English class. In any case, four and a half magical weeks in Italy beckon to me at Christmas, for a bargain basement price that I can barely believe. And I would still be here for actual Christmas, so my poor mother wouldn't disown me. (Hmm. An interesting opportunity for emotional blackmail just cropped up!!!) Even as I sit here eating fagole con tonna - cheap - so I can pay for coats I bought 6 weeks ago, I feel I would be a fool to pass this golden opportunity up. I'm rationalising it this way: it's less than a fortnight's pay; it's 260 days of coffee consumption, or thirty hours of tutoring. It's not stepping foot inside Myer for a few months.
The change at the back of my couch! HA!
It's nothing. Right?
Oh my God, can I go, Santa?
New Oh my God: I'm going to tutor again?! Seriously??!
BIGTIME OH MY GOD! I'm considering giving up coffee to go back to Italy?!!! So I can drink fabulous coffee again. What sort of insane paradox is that?!
Am I still jetlagged? Sleep-deprived?? Overworked??? Or am I just nuts? If I'm even considering giving up caffeine, I'm going with starkp-raving crazy. And if I'm going to tutor again, I'm positively certifiable. Get me a straight jacket, I'm going back to Italy.
Maybe. Let's justify some more!
I've already given up shopping! (Hi - my name's Katmol, and it's been 14 days since my last shopping experience. Sort of. Cos underwear shouldn't count). I haven't even been to a shopping centre, unless you count going to the movies. And just that one little time I went to check out this season's new boots :-) But I was good; I didn't buy anything! And I'll continue to be good - NON FARE DA SHOPPING!!! Per sempre!
I need a hug.
But I also need to go back to Italy!! I miss nutella gelati SO MUCH! And I realised, after I attended my first Italian class in Australia last night, that though I have come along way since Monday the 17th of January, when as a lost and frightened Aussie Italian wannabe I rocked up to Firenze and was nearly stoned to death by a foreign language, I could still go a few more weeks in real Italy. I mean, I'm still estranged from pronomi and my divorce from fare is imminent. But on the other hand, I can no longer spell imminent without using a spell check, so surely this qualifies me for special asylum: I can no longer speak one language (ok, point taken I never could!) and I can't spell in the other.
Class in Melbourne was fun and all - sort of. Talking about relazioni industriali di Giappone in any language is pretty tedious - but it wasn't the same. For a start, it wasn't proceeded by half as many espressos, and the pasta I cooked for dinner afterwards was just RUBBISH! And that's just the food aspects that were different - the teacher was too. She spoke in English, in a conversation class. Hello! I can already do that!!!
And I miss pannini. And speck. And speaking English in Italy to my friends!!! And my friend, the scary gypsy lady in the purple coat. And running away from the scary gypsy lady in the purple coat!!
And I miss Firenze, even if I wouldn't necessarily stay there next time. Cos Milan has more shoes and Bologna has better Sangiovese :-)
So, riddle me this Jesus: Is buying an airfare considered shopping? Surely not. After all, shopping for food is an essential - and therefore exempt from self imposed ban - form of shopping, and I promise in Italy I will eat lots of food. I can stake my life - and my last remaining heart valves - on it, actually!
Send me a sign, universe. Send me a sign! And a new credit card statement doesn't count!!!
Though it should. I suppose.
Cavoli.
Any last blessings, Scary gypsy lady? Please?!
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