lost in translation
ciao pizza mi scuzi no thank you do you speak english oh god just go away.
that is how to speak italian.
since i posted last a lot has passed in my life. i suppose looking back at everything, the mistakes that i´ve made, the things i thought were important even though i knew they weren´t... i will never understand them because i´d have to view them in an abstract manner, but i think i´ve grown from these things all the same.
you might not understand this, but i need to write it down some place in case i forget myself.
i was in,
vilnius and warsaw again, krakow, zakopane, slovakia, budapest, vienna, prague, munich, switzerland, genoa and rome. i´ve been in rome near two weeks, by myself.
i´ve been driven to illness by standing in the kgb prison museum, while sickly delighted with the medieval museum of torture (because it´s okay if it happened a really, really long time ago). i´ve sat on roman relics with a thousand other tourists, more or less as obnoxious as i, spent far too many euros at book stores, fallen in love with passing strangers (several times), destroyed my feet walking around prague, drank a litre of german beer from one glass, fallen asleep standing and wished myself back in australia.
perhaps before i get too ahead of myself i should explain why i have been so alone these past two weeks, and not with my father as was the plan.
my dad and i parted ways under the false pretense of good will, though we both knew our tempers could no longer abide eachother. he had to leave europe early anyway for the sake of my poor family, though if truth be told i think i would have left hime anyway, as i told him i would do so on many a grim car trip.
my faults are, according to him,
too quiet, too serious, too absorbed with my own experience, not involved with experiences enough, too much a child, too mature for my own good, too dramatic, doesn´t take things seriously, doesn´t respond well to threats, too diplomatic in the wrong situation, too busy thinking when i should be making idle conversation.
well. i always thought my father was some form of a supreme being, but i suppose the more i got to know him the more human he became, the more i wished to be elsewhere.
i know that everything that happened was as it should have been, that we were too different and too alike to be together without others or any sort of space for so long. but still, it makes me kind of sad. we spent so long not really knowing eachother and thinking the other was perfect, and now we know better. anyway, such is life.
my warrior of a mother flew into rome yesterday and will be moving with me up italy, across france, down and across spain, up france, and all around the uk for the next while. we already understand eachother, we often speak indepth of the faults of our relationship and so i suppose less is the room for disappointment.
if anything travel has turned me into an authentic wanker. i get excited talking about gothic chapels and james joyce and the sprawling metropolis at the wine bar with german tourists who probably think i fell out of a tree.
i miss home. i regret not telling my friends and sisters how much i love them (without alcohol lighting fire to my words). i miss holding my cat and resting my head on her stomach because no one else in the world can do that without getting their faces scratched off. i even miss the public transport system. still... it will be longer until i get back, and if i don´t think about it so much it isn´t so bad.
i know you´re waiting for me, on the other side.
that is how to speak italian.
since i posted last a lot has passed in my life. i suppose looking back at everything, the mistakes that i´ve made, the things i thought were important even though i knew they weren´t... i will never understand them because i´d have to view them in an abstract manner, but i think i´ve grown from these things all the same.
you might not understand this, but i need to write it down some place in case i forget myself.
i was in,
vilnius and warsaw again, krakow, zakopane, slovakia, budapest, vienna, prague, munich, switzerland, genoa and rome. i´ve been in rome near two weeks, by myself.
i´ve been driven to illness by standing in the kgb prison museum, while sickly delighted with the medieval museum of torture (because it´s okay if it happened a really, really long time ago). i´ve sat on roman relics with a thousand other tourists, more or less as obnoxious as i, spent far too many euros at book stores, fallen in love with passing strangers (several times), destroyed my feet walking around prague, drank a litre of german beer from one glass, fallen asleep standing and wished myself back in australia.
perhaps before i get too ahead of myself i should explain why i have been so alone these past two weeks, and not with my father as was the plan.
my dad and i parted ways under the false pretense of good will, though we both knew our tempers could no longer abide eachother. he had to leave europe early anyway for the sake of my poor family, though if truth be told i think i would have left hime anyway, as i told him i would do so on many a grim car trip.
my faults are, according to him,
too quiet, too serious, too absorbed with my own experience, not involved with experiences enough, too much a child, too mature for my own good, too dramatic, doesn´t take things seriously, doesn´t respond well to threats, too diplomatic in the wrong situation, too busy thinking when i should be making idle conversation.
well. i always thought my father was some form of a supreme being, but i suppose the more i got to know him the more human he became, the more i wished to be elsewhere.
i know that everything that happened was as it should have been, that we were too different and too alike to be together without others or any sort of space for so long. but still, it makes me kind of sad. we spent so long not really knowing eachother and thinking the other was perfect, and now we know better. anyway, such is life.
my warrior of a mother flew into rome yesterday and will be moving with me up italy, across france, down and across spain, up france, and all around the uk for the next while. we already understand eachother, we often speak indepth of the faults of our relationship and so i suppose less is the room for disappointment.
if anything travel has turned me into an authentic wanker. i get excited talking about gothic chapels and james joyce and the sprawling metropolis at the wine bar with german tourists who probably think i fell out of a tree.
i miss home. i regret not telling my friends and sisters how much i love them (without alcohol lighting fire to my words). i miss holding my cat and resting my head on her stomach because no one else in the world can do that without getting their faces scratched off. i even miss the public transport system. still... it will be longer until i get back, and if i don´t think about it so much it isn´t so bad.
i know you´re waiting for me, on the other side.