OBSERVATIONS OF SARDINIA and CORISCA

Many moons ago I used worked in Sardinia. I loved it so much I tried to get a job there so I could live there on a permanent basis. Alas it didn’t work out. But I was excited to be able to go back and explore the parts of the island I didn’t get a chance to see when I lived there. Corsica had always been on my list and I decided it was now or never. These are my observations of these two incredible islands that even though very close together are worlds apart due to their food, culture and landscapes. 

SARDINIA

When I worked in Sardinia I was always at the very south, Cagliari. On this trip I decided to explore the North around Olbia. Here are the things I noticed about North Sardinia. Well, the first thing I noticed was on the plane from Berlin and it wasn’t a very nice observation for me. There were A LOT of young kids on the plane ride over, young meaning 5 and under. “What’s his problem with young kids?”. Nothing, I have absolutely no problem with young children. I hope to have at least one of my own one day in the near future. But I can’t STAND loud screaming obnoxious  spoiled kicking my seat like it’s a football rotten kids. Luckily the flight was only about 2 hours. Any longer and I might’ve hurt a parent for allowing their little monsters to run around the plane like that. Another passenger told me that a lot of German families hit Costa Smeralda for their vacations. Costa Smeralda is close to the major city of Olbia and very close to the airport. Needless to say I knew I wasn’t going to be spending too much time there. I did however spend most of my time in a small town called San Teodoro. It’s about 30 minutes south of Olbia and in my opinion the best place to use as a base to discover the Northern part of Sardinia. 

As I used to live and work in Italy I learned enough Italian to get by without any problems which is always helpful in Italy. If you don’t speak any Italian you’ll be able to get by, but you are going to have to work for it. Most menus are in multiple languages, but whether or not the waiter will be able to understand your questions about the menu is a totally different thing. But hey, vacation stories are always better with one funny story about misunderstanding something on the menu. I lucked out through and my roommate spent many summers in San Teodoro and told his friends to expect me. The town was READY when I got there. At the restaurant he told me his friends owned they had a table reserved when I got there, WHA WHA!! Seriously, what is in the water that makes island people so dang nice!? I have yet to visit an island where the people weren’t super friendly and welcoming. Somebody needs to breakdown the chemical components so I can bring it here to Berlin and sell it! Friends of my roommate dropped by to talk and give advice on the best places to go and compare schedules to see if they had time to give private tours. Lovely lovely people all of them. I went at the end of May beginning of June so the island was preparing for the tourist season. When I’d worked in Cagliari it was always the end of August beginning of September. This leads me to my second observation of Sardinia.

End of May/early part of June take a sweater or light jacket. It gets a bit nippy in the evenings. On the very tip of Sardinia where you can see Corsica in the distance it was even dare I say, cold in the evenings. That wind is no joke! I’m not a bodybuilder, but I’m not small either. The wind was strong enough to push me along a few times. Bring something warm or you’ll be adding to the local economy buying warm clothes for the evening. I came from Berlin so I had a jacket and sweater but there were a lot of tourists who were surprised.

Me at Santa Terese di Gallura

The beaches in Sardinia are some of the best I’ve ever seen. Period. I haven’t visited Southeast Asia yet or the Philippines. Hence me using “I’ve ever seen.” You could go to a beach, be amazed, then go to another beach just 2 minutes away from that first beach and it would look totally completely different! Felt like you were moving from country to country and not just beach to beach. Another great thing about Sardinian beaches is the color of the water. Whoa! I’ve seen photoshopped images of water that color before but in real life? The greenest greens and the bluest blues I’d ever seen. And CLEAR! Went on a boat tour and you end up at a secluded beach you can only reach by boat. One poor kid thought since the boat was close to shore he could just jump out and walk the rest of the way. It looked like knee deep water and I almost did the same thing he did. Luckily I move slower in my older age and the kid jumped out first. WOOSH! Looked like he was in a special effects movie with how far he kept going down. Talk about a WTF moment! Boat driver said the water was over 6 meters deep! That’s almost 20ft for my US readers ;-) But that was the only beach like that. All the other beaches I visited you could walk out half a mile into the sea and still be only in waist deep water. For a black person you can’t ask for better beaches than that! Super clear water so I can see sharks and super shallow so I can run back to shore just in case I do see something I’m afraid of. Only sorta kinda bad thing? The water was COLD! I think in the 6 or 7 days I was in Sardinia I went into the water maybe 2 times. When I say in the water I mean walking into it at all. My feet went instantly numb the first time I went in so that was pretty much enough for me. I took some nice photos of me standing directly at the waters edge. More than enough thank you very much.  

I know I already spoke about how nice the people are but it deserves special attention. The people were so nice a part of you thought they were trying to scam you. At one point I missed a bus I needed to catch after the rental car was turned in. No surprise I missed some form of transportation. A taxi driver offered to drive me where I needed to go but it was like €85 for what was a €7 bus trip. I decided to wait for the next bus which was like 5 hours later. When the taxi driver realized I was OK with waiting he kept on trying to give me tips for things I could do while I waited. At first I was like, “Back up homie.” I get uncomfortable when people invade my personal space! But he kept recommending and I finally relaxed and caved. He told me about a restaurant close by and I went. One of the BEST decisions I made on the whole trip! Was a REAL husband & wife place. While the wife cooked the kids did their homework in the kitchen with her. Talk about home cooking! The husband was telling me about all these places I needed to visit and people I should call once I got there. It was like visiting cousins family introduced you to online and you were meeting for the first time. In other places I visited things you had to pay for were not only free in Sardinia, but they were a little offended you thought they would charge you for it. How can you not love that!? 

Ok, my last observation of Sardinia is the food. Very very simple menu but always cooked with such a high skill it made it seem like you were eating at a Michelin restaurant. Perfect example of why people should be using fresh and local ingredients when they cook. Basic stuff I cook myself just tasted 20 times better when I was there. 

CORSICA

Ok, so let me begin my observations of Corsica what I ended with Sardinia, food. But before I begin I

Bonifacio, Corsica

have to say I didn’t spend as many days there as I planned. Due to loving Sardinia more than I thought and staying an extra day I didn’t see nearly enough of Corsica. Also an unexpected French holiday which meant absolutely no public transportation happening also limited my Corsican experience. 

So, Corsica is a French island while Sardinia is Italian. Italian food is amazing. I love it thru and thru. French food is a cuisine as I always tell people. It’s more complicated with many more layers. Some people like it, some think it’s too much. I lived in France before so I knew what to expect. In saying that, the food in Corsica was on some nother other level! Steak was rarely on the menu in Sardinia, but in Corsica it was always one of the main dishes. When in Rome.. Lord have mercy that steak I had in Corsica! If my mom would’ve asked me for a bite I would’ve had to think long and hard before I gave her a piece. I never knew beef could melt in your mouth like that! I could cut the dang meat with my SPOON it was so tender! Every restaurant had proper COURSES. The last place I ate in Corsica I ordered Guinea fowl on what I would have to describe as a golden lawyered potato cake. The waitress tried to take it before I’d eaten licked the plate clean and I almost karate chopped her in the throat! When food makes you consider resorting to being stingy with your momma and violence you know it’s good! Say what you want to about the French, but they throw DOWN in the kitchen!

Another thing you notice very quickly about Corsica is that it has more class and this definite elegant undertone that Sardinia doesn’t have. It’s not better, just different. Without anyone saying anything you automatically want to dress up a bit more when you go out for dinner in the evening. Coming from Berlin with its constant laid back casual style it was a nice change. I personally liked it and appreciated the people there stepping out looking well put together. Normally island folk are always casually dressed, not so much in Corsica. If anyone was dressed super casual you knew they were a tourist and not a local. All the time would be a bit too much for me but for the time I was there I appreciated it. 

The people. Yes. Well Corsicans are certainly nice, I mean it is an island after all. But at the end of the day they are French. There was still this very palpable distance with the people in Corsica. Could’ve had something to do with the language. Very few people spoke English and I don’t speak French. Normally you go somewhere where you don’t speak the language you ask young people. In this day and age most young people listen to English music and have contact with the language often enough they have a basic command, normally. No, not in Corsica. I would ask people, in French, did they speak English. They would answer “A little bit”, then proceed to speak in very fast French to answer my question. Wait. What? How does that work?? I ask you if you speak English, you say yes then proceed to only speak to me in French? And they didn’t even try to speak to me like I was deaf and dumb, meaning veeeery slooooow and loudly. Nope. They just spoke to me like I was born and raised in Paris and would understand everything they said to me. The only places people spoke English was in the hotels. As soon as you left the hotels French. Yeah, a bit more difficult to communicate than in Sardinia. 

What’s interesting is, as cultured as the cities and towns of Corsica are, the nature and landscape is WILD. In Sardinia you get the feeling the island has been run through with a comb. Like it’s been tamed to a certain degree, not in Corsica at all. Has this very real sense of wildness and rawness to it. I personally loved the contrast it creates between the cities and open spaces. That wildness though? Fucked my allergies UP! The last time I had an allergy attach THAT bad was well… in France! Years ago when I lived there near Lyon. I took allergy medicine the entire time I was in Corsica and double the normal dose when I felt the attack coming on. Didn’t help in the least. My eyes swole up so bad it looked like I’d smoked out on purple haze for 2 days straight! I was so congested I had to breathe through my mouth and still sounded like Darth Vader. I sneezed 19 times in a row with no break, TWICE! Just achooachooachooachooachooachooachooachooachoo. I was a HOT mess! To make matters worse, that was the day I was trying to catch a bus to another town and no one told me that it was a French holiday so nothing was running and all the car rental places were closed. I was standing at a bus station all alone looking like homeless junky cause I couldn’t see well enough to walk back to the city center to get another hotel. I had to wait it out until the swelling went down in my eyes enough for me to see which was oooh about 3hrs. Surprised no one called the police on me! Not the best memory of Corsica but I go back I’m taking a kilo of medicine in case that happens again! 

OBSERVATIONS OF NAPLES, ITALY: Part II

Here is part two of my observations of Naples, Italy. Again, let me reiterate in case you’re just tuning in, these observations are of SOUTHERN Italy, specifically the Naples region. There are big differences between the North and South of Italy, the same as in any country actually. So here are some additional things I noticed about Naples.

I previously spoke about how loud are Neapolitans. Let me expand on that. Neapolitans seem to have a certain affinity for yelling. They revel in it, snuggle up to it like a warm parka in the dead of winter. Now, black people can also be loud, but the act of yelling in black culture generally accompanies laughing or fighting, i.e. extreme moments of excitement. For Neapolitians it accompanies more mundane acts, eating, or walking, even breathing seems to illicit yelling episodes. The number of times I've been speaking to my girlfriend and she started yelling at me for no reason! Of course I start yelling back because well... I’m black and these count as extreme moment of excitement for me.  We've had countless “arguments” where I’ve had absolutely no clue how they began! One time we were talking about milk. Yes, milk. Not about what milk philosophically represents, or the history of sustenance.. just milk. Next thing I know we are screaming and yelling... about milk. After a moment I realize the madness going on and had the sense of mind to ask her why she was so angry over milk. She looked at me like I was the crazy one and said she wasn't angry at all. Talk about a WTF moment! I thought she was joking for a second, using reverse psychology to win the “argument”! But she was being sincere! Apparently yelling does not equal angry in Naples. So that of course begs the question, what happens when they actually are angry??!! My girlfriend and her sister will often sound like they are up in arms over something ready to kick off their shoes and roll up their sleeves! Catfight! Nope. Just talking about the weather...

Ok, so even though they can be ghetto and yell entirely too much, Neapolitans’ bark is much worse than their bite. All in all they are extremely nice people. I mean, everyone drives like a maniac here. Red lights don’t mean stop, apparently they mean access the situation and decide on the best course of action while still moving, terrifying for the uninitiated. After a while, you begin to notice the insanity is infused with niceness. Pedestrians always have the right of way, even if they are in the wrong. I live in Berlin and pedestrians are treated only slightly better than gypsies; real talk. Another thing is, they’ll yell of course, make wide arm gestures naturally, but no road rage. Not saying it doesn’t exist! But I haven’t ever seen it myself in Naples. The people accept the chaos of the roads and work around it and use being super nice as the common denominator through it all... and it works! Throw in how you are always greeted with a smile and kisses..  even from men, which is still taking some getting used to but hey, coming from emotionally void Berlin it’s a nice change,

The last thing I have to mention and I’m sure many of you may have expected it is the mafia, or as it is known in Naples, the Camorra. No one ever really sees the Camorra; you just see their hands, if you know what I mean. Now, in Naples, if you want to do anything, and I do mean anything that is a money making venture, you have to get permission from the Camorra. Period. PERIOD! You want to start painting pictures of tourists near the beach? Yep, you need approval. You want to help people find parking spaces in crowded areas and hope they give you spare change? You got it, needs approval. To an outsider it makes you wonder how anything gets accomplished in the area. But when you look more closely at Naples, there are a lot of empty dilapidated buildings and vacant lots teeming with potential. In no other city do I know are prime real estate plots with views of the sea undeveloped. Just wouldn’t happen in New York or London or Sydney. In Naples it is an epidemic. If someone does open a shop or center or even children’s museum that doesn’t have approval or doesn’t pay enough.. it gets burned down. Yep. They fire bomb the place. The smell of burnt concrete in Naples is just as common as the smell of sea water or the catch of the fishermen.  And it is so engrained in their culture. One would think that at some point people would rise up and say enough is enough! There is a huge scandal in the region at the moment because it was revealed the Camorra created fake holding companies to bid on European Union waste removal projects. They came in with the lowest bids so were awarded hundreds of millions of euros to dispose of the most vile and repugnant stuff known to man. Know what they did with it? They took it to the small towns and villages of the Naples region and buried it. Where people are living. The cancer rates in these areas are astronomical! Much of the ground water and farmed food is contaminated. People are dying and you can’t drink the water or eat the food, yet, other than a few protests (large) and decrees by local politicians, nothing has changed. Me being me, I asked. I wanted to know. From the answer I get the feeling that the Camorra is as much a part of the society in Naples as the air they breathe. Good or bad, the past, present and foreseeable future will include the Camorra. The anger of the people is more directed at the politicians for allowing this to happen when they were aware of who won the contracts in the first place. It is how it is here. This region is slowly dying with the lack of jobs and opportunities and now poison.  BUT there is real opportunity for revitalization which is cause for hope, and sadness if significant changes aren’t made. That is Naples. 

OBSERVATIONS OF NAPLES, ITALY

For many years I worked in Italy as a director for intensive summer English camps. It allowed me to extensively travel throughout Italy. Most of the sites I worked at were predominately in the North of the country. Now that I’m with someone from the bottom half of the country, Naples, I’ve had the opportunity to explore more of the South and observe the culture in a way I never could before. I’ve noticed a few things about Southern Italy...

I don’t consider myself the “average” American in the sense that I’ve lived in numerous countries, speak multiple languages and the majority of my friends are non-Americans. I am up-to-date on most international socio-political issues. One example would be why Spain is called the Balkans of Western Europe, or having the ability to explain the difference between Kurdish and Turkish cultures to confused Germans. So, imagine my surprise when I was instantly corrected when I called someone from Naples, Italian. “I’m not Italian, I’m Neapolitan.” And they said it with attitude! Like, “Get it right negro!” Well excuuuuuse me for not being informed about the underground resistance movement in the region fighting for more autonomy from Rome! In case you missed it people I’m being sarcastic. No such movement exists.  People from Naples first and foremost associate with their region. End of story. And you better not get it confused either! To do so might get you cut!

I’ve actually lived a few places where this is the case. Go to the Basque or Catalonian regions of Spain and you get the same thing. The difference in Spain is that the rest of the country vehemently fights to keep these regions connected politically, culturally and economically.  In Italy, it feels like the rest of the country could give a rat’s ass about Naples, seriously. I would even go so far as to say that if Naples decided to leave Italy and formally declare itself an independent country that there would be quite a few cheers and parties of celebration in the North. I’m almost positive Italian politicians would seriously debate if it were worth it to bring them back into the fold. No way would this happen in the states. If a city or state even JOKED about leaving the union the rest of the US would seriously get an attitude, hence why most of America distrusts Texas. 

My thing is, I think the rest of Italy underestimates the importance of Naples and all it brings to Italian culture. I also get why Neapolitans are so proud of where they come from. In a sense, their story is comparable to Black Americans. Hear me out now and let me break it down for you. I always thought I spoke Italian until I started going to Naples to visit my girlfriend’s family. I then learned I spoke Veneto which is a dialect from the North. As I worked there the most it made sense.  People in Naples have their own language. Trust me; it is its own language. When people speak it they might as well be speaking ancient Greek cause I get NOTHING of the conversation. Very similar to Ebonics in my opinion when white Americans with no contact to black American culture hear it. Many consider Ebonics to be a low-class, uneducated, bastardization of “proper” English. Same as how many Northern Italians consider Neapolitan. However, when linguists began studying Ebonics they found a complex grammatical structure with syntax rules that bridged certain deficiencies in modern English. I’m thinking Neapolitan has the same complexity if people took the time to study it. Ebonics was the natural evolution of a spoken language that African slaves were forced to learn and modified it to fit their personal needs. Look at the history of Naples and you’ll find a rich history of diversity from the people who lived and ruled there.

Another parallel I found on the cultural level. Much of the culture we assume is Italian is actually Neapolitan. Much of what we consider to be American culture began as black culture before it was co-opted into mainstream U.S. culture. Gospel, Jazz, Blues, R&B, Rock&Roll, Hip-Hop and even Techno are all innovations of Black Americans. We hear pizza we immediately say Italian. No. The first pizza was made in Naples and it wasn’t until years later that it made its way to the rest of Italy. And lord do Neapolitans take their pizza serious! If it’s not made a specific way that meets standards set in like the 1700’s they don’t call it pizza. Really. Call it whatever you like but you bet not call it pizza! The number of arguments I’ve had over what constitutes pizza in Naples is mind-boggling. Most of the songs non-Italians associate with Italy are actually Neapolitan songs. Many of the country’s most famous actors come from the Naples region. The area is a powerhouse when it comes to anything connected to film and music. Who knew??

Another way that Neapolitans are like black people? They are ghetto. Oh my goodness are they ghetto! I say that with affection! Ghetto has become a code word for a host of negative assumptions, but in reality many of the most beautiful and fascinating things came from the ghetto; the Jewish culture often times flourished in European ghettos, the Civil Rights movement in the states started in the ghetto, music, food, art forms, all started in the ghetto. Neapolitans are ghetto in the ghetto sense of the word too, just like black people can be. They are loud! House full of people and everybody speaking like no one can hear properly.  And to prove your point one has to talk louder than the other person. Whoever talks the loudest wins the argument. Through all of this the TV is on full blast for “background” noise. Sound familiar black people?? Then they will talk mess about all their family, but if you say one bad thing about one of their crazy cousins that they spent an hour bad-mouthing you might get shot.  Just because they talk bad about their family, culture or region does not mean YOU are allowed to do it. Period. In this life or the next. Or you’ll die. Horribly. Twice. I get it though! It’s like how black people are with the N-word. There is a huge debate going on in the black community right now over its use. Everyone has their opinion on if it causes damage to us as a race and sets us back as a people. In saying that, if a white person EVER ever, evereverever used the N-word around a group of black people they would literally be taking their life out of their own hands and placing it in that of those black people. It would be up to those black people if that white person lived or died. I’m not joking. THAT’S how Neapolitans are and why I feel so damn comfortable there.

These observations are getting long! Gotta break them up into two parts, stay tuned for part two! 

FAMILY HOLIDAY 2013/2014

At this moment I am sitting at a desk in an Italian villa that rests atop a hill. There is a window in the room that overlooks the Bay of Pozzuoli and I can see the lights of Naples, Italy spread out before me like a buffet for angels. It’s breathtaking. It is not a bad place to be for Christmas at all. The food I’ve eaten today is the stuff of legends; four different types of home-made pizza for lunch alone. When I say home-made I mean the woman woke up at 5am to make the dough from scratch! For dinner we had three different types of salad, two different types of fish and breaded vegetables and that was only the starter! The main course was a lobster pasta dish. LOBSTER PASTA! Who knew that even existed!? All topped off with desert, wine literally made by the hands of my girlfriend’s father and limoncello. Amazing! Throw in the sunshine and warm weather and one could hardly ask for more! I can’t complain.. I mean, I shouldn’t complain. It’s not really complaining at all. It’s just... I miss my family.

The last few years I’ve made it a point to go home for at least 3 weeks to the states around Christmas. It gives me the time to meet up with friends, soak up the sun and most importantly reconnect with my family. Even kinfolks require the opportunity to reinforce bonds and strengthen ties. I expected this year to be no different, me flying home around December 10^th lounging around catching up on YouTube videos that are blocked in Germany, sneaking around trying to eat more than my fair share of my mom’s famous sweet potato pies, riding a bike and trying to explain to people I’m not gay for being 38 and having no kids and am not serving time in prison for staying away so long from my family. But as we all know, life often has other plans for us.

Living in faraway lands for the past 10+ years is something I regularly express in gratitude to the travel gods. The number of fantastic memories I have created are uncountable. At the same time, I am painfully aware of the missed chances to make memories with my own family. It is a delicate balance us wandering spirits must constantly be aware of to keep the scales from toppling over. In all honestly, the scales I speak of would probably be more manageable if I were able to express myself a bit better face-to-face as I am in the confines of my journals. I often see those posts on Facebook that urge us to let those we love know how much we appreciate them being in our life, yet how many of us truly reach out to our loved ones and let them know how we feel? I do try, but we all have our scars that hinder movement and prevent us from reaching out as far as need be.

This blog entry is me trying to reach out as far as I can, as far as need be to reach out to my family to let them know why I make the effort to be around them every year, even if I don’t express it verbally enough.

To my mother.. at this point I should just take the sun, dip it in chocolate and then drizzle honey all over it and attach it to this post. There is no way to express in words how much I love my mother, but that image that may have flashed through your mind’s eye with that description you just read might give you an idea. The sun not only warms, but provides nourishment, it brings life, and it raises spirits. That is my mother. Then the chocolate cause I mean, who doesn’t love chocolate! And who doesn't love Ms. White!? For real though! Then honey because I believe we forget how great honey is at times. Honey is like nature’s super food. There are all these healthy benefits they contribute to honey and the public tends to forget that at times with all the commercials for supplement this or enhancement that. Honey is natural, wholesome, under-appreciated and if more people used it in its pure form we’d all be better off. Skype is fine with my mom, but I’d much rather have a real hug. Or just to lay my head in her lap for a few minutes... yeah, the sun dipped in chocolate then drizzled in honey.. that’s my mother and I love her immensely for that.

To my sister Niki, Nikki, Nicole or however the heck you spelling your name these days! I don’t think she realizes how much I love her. When I am home I am always reminded of how much she impresses me. I appreciate St. Petersburg more and more as I get older, but I don’t hide my... ambivalence for it at all. The city isn’t exactly a mecca for high fashion and creativity, nonetheless, my sister finds a way to be on point with anything she does. She walks around and I have to remind myself I am not in New York, London or Paris but South St. Pete with her fashion sense. She has taken a hobby and turned it into a profession. Even her peers recognize her vast talent and that’s saying a lot cause you know how brown people can be when it comes to acknowledging others! And her daughter, my niece... Talk about an amazing young lady. I joke that her Uncles have a huge influence on her awesomeness, but in truth, she is just emulating her fierce mother. Love you to death...

To my brother Corey who is the epitome of an Aries. I don’t always agree with my brother’s views on history, or politics or social commentary, but I can appreciate the fact that he isn’t accepting what the mainstream says and is rightfully questioning everything. It is much easier to accept the status quo than it is to seek the truth and find your own answers. His answers are not mine, but that’s probably because we are asking different questions. I respect him because he is asking questions. The day we stop questioning is the day we stop improving and the day we stop trying to improve is the day we begin to die. I embrace my brother’s will to keep living. That and he can keep his mouth shut. Oh the secrets Corey has about me and never shared, a very rare trait to have these days. That’s probably why I consider him to be one of my best friends. I love you.

To my brother Ryan who thanks to Facebook surprises me at least three times a week. He posts these random quotes and stream of thought updates that I have to catch myself from liking because more often than not I should be working and don’t want people to think I’m available. He has this way of cutting to the heart of the matter that I love. The other thing that impresses me is he’s fearless. He posts things that are windows into the very fabric of his thoughts and heart. At 24 there was no way I was capable of doing that. Hell, it wasn't until I was well into my 30’s before I could even begin to fathom that and he does it so effortlessly at such a young age. Damn that is extraordinary. Love you like a fat kid loves cake. And you know I love me some cake!

This blog entry is starting to get long, but it’s the holidays and everyone has a few days free so I have to also say:

To my brother Dana who somehow finds a way to constantly smile and be positive no matter the situation and being a good father in the absence of a positive father figure growing up. That is another entry all in itself but you show up every single day to put in that work. Utmost respect.

To my aunt Ms. Doris (Tiki) Who has shown me what “Ride or Die” truly means. This woman has taught me what sticking up for your family is meant to be about. I need somebody to have my back when we gonna be in the thick of it? I’m calling my Aunt Tiki. Bet.

To my cousins:

To Sir Brock who isn’t waiting for his dreams to become his reality, but turning his reality into his dreams.

To Nico who has raised the good husband and father bar to a whole nother other level!

To Yook I’m Him for keeping it real... since the womb. Real talk.

Every Christmas time my family gathers, we eat a lot of great food then we retire to the family room and play Taboo together as a family. All told it’s at least 15 people including wives and children. By far it is the highlight of my holiday. It’s that release of energy that is expressed through laughter and squeals of delight that manifests itself into the intangible bonds that bind us together as a family. Immersing myself into that is why I try to get home for Christmas every year. It is to be a part of that love and add my own to the pot. I don’t say it, but I love each and every one of them more than they will ever know. I am not with them this Christmas, but I do believe I love them a little bit more this year than I did last year. 

OBSERVATIONS OF ITALY

These observations are not of Italy as an entire country, but just the places I saw while employed for a company while Teaching English. The first place was a small village called Colli del Tronto which is close to Pescara if you want to look at a map of Italy. The second place I was located was Cagliari, Sardinia. So these are observations of these particular places, maybe they apply to all Italians, but I hate to make generalizations.

 

1.) Italian women are gorgeous! I am sorry ladies, but it is the first thing you notice when you step off the plane. I don’t mean pretty, I don’t mean lovely, but strikingly beautiful. So many women have model looks...They have these striking features which really draw your attention. To me however, their looks made me more so want to look and admire rather have an urge to see them naked. I know, I know it sounds like something a Neanderthal would say, but it was the truth. The women are beautiful, but having that sort of sex appeal that makes me say, “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn!” They didn’t have it in my opinion... And I think I know why.

 

1a.) Second observation of Italian women is they have no ass! I mean, none, non-existent, no where to be found, someone crept up and just chopped their ass off, no ass. It was so disappointing!  In Sardinia, which is closer to North Africa, I thought it had to be different since the reason why Southern Italians are darker is the mix of African blood in their lineage...Well it was only slightly better. Seems the only part of the genes they got were the darker skin and the propensity to never be on time. I have been in some pretty white countries in my life...New Zealand, England and Latvia to name a few, in those countries I saw more ass than I did in Italy. What is that about!? If you were going to name a country in Europe where you would think the women would have nice asses, I am sure Italy would be in the top 3..top 5 at the LEAST. It was almost like it was bred out of them, some sort of genetic experiment gone awry. How else could people with African lineage, yes a while ago but still, have just no ass as an entire race of people?? One of the saddest realizations in my travels to date...Italian women on average don’t have nice asses.

 

2.) Will someone PLEASE tell Italians that there is such a thing as skin cancer Oh my lord do these people tan! I mean they do that old skool tanning where they rub butter on their skins and stay out in the sun for hours upon hours. Alright, I’m black so I don’t tan, maybe it isn’t butter they rub on themselves, but since it seemed like they were cooking themselves to death, butter is what I am going to say. Seriously though, even people in their 70's were in bikinis and Speedo laying out like their skin didn’t look like a leather wallet. Yes Italians have olive skin, but I saw people damn near my completion and you could tell it was from tanning and not from being born with dark skin. If Italy had the same hole in the ozone has New Zealand and Australia, half the population of Italy would have skin cancer I swear. I bet you if I had thrown on a blonde wig and walked around the beach, people would have come up to me telling me Italian that my tan was lovely. I would have just fit in. I don’t know what medical info they get, but it can not be the same as the rest of the world. Every where is taking steps to prevent skin cancer, and Italians are just baking themselves in the sun like they are Superman and it has no effect on them.

 

3.) Ok, after having been in Italy now, having lived in Central America, Spain and France and visited Portugal...Italian is the sexiest language out there. Everything about it is just sensual, the cadence of their speech, how they roll their r’s, the inflection on the words....I HATE how Spaniards say my name. My name is only one syllable, but the way Spaniards say it they make it sound like a cough, or a dog bark. They say it so it sounds like it’s 2 letters long and make the r and the l sound like one letter. I hate telling people my name in Spain because of how ugly they make Carl sound. It’s not a sexy name anyway then to destroy it like that? Hurt’s a man’s pride! But in Italy!?! Oh man, they say my name like it’s 17 letters long and it’s a wave coming in at high tide. Caarrrrrrrrrrrrrl. They roll the r sooo long and really softly. I was teaching young kids in Italy, usually teaching kids in foreign countries  you get tired of them always saying your name wrong. In Italy I would pretend not to hear them so they would just keep on saying my name over and over. Who in the hell ever put Castellano (Spanish in Spain) with Italian? They need to be shot! In Spain, they have a lisp. They literally speak with a lisp, the entire country, it’s part of the accent. So the Cs and Zs make the TH sound. So, someone says to you in Castellano, Hola, mi nombre es Gonzalo y soy de Zaragoza. (Hello, my name is Gonzalo and I am from Zaragoza) Zaragoza is a fairly large city north of Madrid. Anywho, it would sound like this...Hola, mi nombre es Gonthalo y soy de Tharagotha. Throw in that they make the J sound like they are clearing their throat and it’s not a turn on to me...How can you compare that to Italian! You don’t need to understand a word they are saying, the rhythm of the sound just gets to you. No wonder Italian men get so much play! Tourists go to Italy and Italian men are telling them, “Yes, I am 34 and I still live with my mother. I am in a band..but for money I deliver pizzas. I think a woman should be in the home cooking all the time...” But he says it in Italian and women throw their panties at him! I’m learning Italian dammit!

 

4.) As beautiful as Italian is...why does no one in Italy speak any other language?? Everyone always talks about Americans and how monolingual country. Ha! Italy is by far the worst. It is a lovely language, don’t get me wrong, but where else do they speak Italian?? You speak French you can go to France of course, but also to Belgium, Switzerland, West Africa, Haiti and a few other countries where French is the official language. You speak Spanish and you have almost an entire continent of Spanish speakers. But Italian? Only in Italy folks. And Italians are quick to go to other countries boy to live! Ever been to NYC? Did you know Argentina has a very large Italian population?? Australia the same..So you would think that the people still in Italy would kinda learn some other languages. Doesn’t have to be just English, but something different. Outside of the airports you are pretty much on your own with your Italian phrase book I’ll tell you that.

 

5.) The food. I know, I know, I know I was in Italy, but I still did not expect them to eat so much pasta! They eat pasta like Latin Americans eat beans and rice..All the damn time! For lunch, pasta. For dinner, pasta. Pasta, pasta, pasta. Oh it was good. No doubt about that Italians know their pasta, but EVERYDAY twice a day for all your life? Good lord man there can’t be that many ways to fix pasta can there?? I am going to say no cause the teachers were served certain types of pasta more than once while there. Yes, I have read the research that says olive oil is great for your health. I think, that the study wasn’t translated properly into Italian and they think it said, if you replace your blood with olive oil you will live longer. Lord almighty do they drown EVERYTHING in olive oil! I am not exaggerating either. If they brought you a salad, or a plate of vegetables, they were just doing the backstroke in olive oil. I am lactose intolerant, well, we can add drown in olive oil intolerant to that list of intolerants. Oh man my stomach was hurt up eating all that soaked food. Olive oil is an oil, i.e. lubricant...and that’s all I am going to say on that subject. Ok, you say Italy and you think of wine, pasta and pizza. To be honest, Italian pizza isn’t all that great. It’s rather boring. They just have normal pizzas, like mushrooms, or tomatoes, or ham...I never saw a place advertising apricot chicken pizza. Yuuuuuumm!! Or, BBQ pizza, or Hawaiian lovers pizza. Really surprising..But one thing they did have that the world needs to know about is GELATO. Gelato is Italian ice cream. I’m sure many of you have had gelato, I myself have had gelato numerous times, but until you have had gelato in Italy you are not living! The stuff is amazing! I am lactose intolerant and was having the stuff twice a day. They have these huge mounds of it in the shops that look like works of art. You almost feel guilty having the people dig into the mounds to give you a scoop, or two.....ok three. So sue me! I was in Italy for Pete’s sake! The flavors they had...No preservatives or fake stuff people...If it was strawberry, it had REAL strawberries. If it was fruit of the forest, there was real fruit from the forest! Eating that stuff was like, it was like, it was like making love to an old lover that you haven’t seen in a long time, but who still remembered all the spots to hit to make your eyes roll back in your head. Yes, it was THAT good.

 

6.) Italians without a doubt the nicest people I have met in Europe. I was in a small village on the mainland, but I was in the capital in Sardinia. People would drop by where we were staying and bring wine and ice cream randomly. They would take us out to dinner, take us to festivals and pay for everything! It was great! Walking around in Sardinia, I went into this store, and the guy working there in 10 minutes gave me his number, told me about the café his girlfriend worked at, told me her name so I could get the hookup when I got there AND showed me where he lived if I ever needed anything. Being from the states I was wary, if some guy working in a store did all of that for me in St. Petersburg..I’m thinking he and his girlfriend are swingers and they want me to join in. American men don’t go around giving other men their numbers and telling them where their girlfriends work. Just not done. My flight to Sardinia from Italy left super early in the morning. The village was pretty far away from the airport, I had to take a train to the city where the flight was from. Someone from the village, woke up at 4:30am to take me to catch a train to catch my flight. The guy wasn’t even associated with the program! He just volunteered. Man Italians are nice. In saying that, what in the hell is wrong with Italians in New York and Boston!? Why are they so racist when Italians treated me like a long lost son! Will someone tell them that Italians, especially southern Italians are super nice and treat people of color just as well as they treat everyone else.