Busy is Good

Since school began, life has picked up speed and it seems as though I am constantly on the go. I am in class everyday from 8:45 in the morning until 1 in the afternoon. I forgot how much I love being in a classroom setting and learning. And... now I have amici (friends)! We are quite an international group and we have so much fun together! I have friends here from Sweden, Germany, Indonesia, Mexico, Australia, France, and Lebanon! It's so cool! Although the common language is English (can't seem to get away from it!) we are all practicing the new Italian phrases and words we learn in class each day. This past week I think that the language capability side of my brain finally clicked the "ON" button and I suddenly found myself speaking Italian! It was awesome! We were out at bars and I was speaking Italian to everyone I encountered. Even when I picked up Franci and Ali from school, I was speaking Italian to the other parents and nannies in the school yard! My fluency has started to kick in! Ecco! Also now, twice a week, I take Franci and Ali to Atleticà, which is a sort of after-school group exercise class in a great open-air athletic complex. They exercise with their age-groups and I go to a class with all the mommies! It is so great! I felt a little funny at first but now I love it, and I am learning all the Italian terms referring to the body and exercise. My understanding of the language has increased dramatically, now I just need to work on speaking it. Allora (the Italian word for "so...").... lots of other things have been keeping me busy lately, but I actually have to run now; just thought I'd give a little update. I'll fill you in more later. Ciao!

Va bene! Va bene!

After thinking about my last blog posting, I realized that anyone who is not, well... me, might consider my "difficult month" not so difficult at all. You were probably reading and thinking "By difficult, do you mean, weekend trips to Rome? Sightseeing in Florence? Loads of free time to do whatever your heart desires?" Well, I know, it sounded a bit spoiled, and yes, I get it. But I guess sometimes it really takes SPELLING IT OUT to realize what's in front of you. And as decided, I'd like to proudly say that I have been appreciating each of these last September days. Today, I even met a new friend while at the Agenzia delle Entrate -- and she is from Spain so I practiced my spanish! And...Tomorrow is my first day of Italian classes! I am sooo excited. Thus, I must go and get a good night sleep for the first day of school tomorrow!

Try to remember the kind of September

They say September is one of the nicest months in Italy. Unfortunately, for me, it was one of the hardest. After summer had ended and the girls went back to school, I found myself alone in Florence for the most part. I thought, no problem, I enjoy being solitary -- I get a lot more reading done, that's for sure. I started wandering the streets of Florence by myself and getting acclimated to the neighborhood and the surrounding territory. I keep imagining that some fortunate twist of fate is going to bring me together with my newfound Italian boyfriend, but it hasn't quite happened yet. So, once I had sufficiently found my way around without a map, I began to search out all the important tourist spots that were "must-sees" for visitors of Florence. I went to the Cathedral of Santa Croce, I went to mass at Il Duomo, I saw San Lorenzo and the Crypts of the Medici family, I studied the artwork on the walls at Pitti Palace and the Uffizi Galleries. I saw famous works such as the Botticelli's Birth of Venus, Lippi's Madonna and Child, Caravaggio's Medusa, and Michelangelo's David. Everything seemed so wonderful, and yet I somehow was not feeling myself and was beginning to question the greatness of it all. Realizing that a large part of my dissatisfaction was due to the lack of social interaction that I am usually used to, I set my eyes on the calender start date for my Italian course. I thought, October 1st: it's not that far away, and I have time to do all the things I want to do before life gets too busy. I have from the time I wake up until 4 pm, when I go to get the girls from school, completely to myself. It was during this time that I realized how much I missed my friends in the States. I am not even really able to talk to them on the phone during these hours, because of the six hour time delay. The loneliness, particularly the lack of conversation during the large part of the day, was starting to shrink my spirit of enthusiasm.

In the middle of September, the girls' cousins' nanny, Georgia, whom I had spent time with in Bolgheri, had returned from her family's stay at the beach and moved to their home in Florence. She came as a blessing to me, because just as I thought I was hopeless on my own, she came to cheer me up. We went out together and discovered new places , such as the market of San Ambrogio and Mercato Centrale, and walked the route to where we would be attending classes in order to finalize and turn in paperwork for the start of our Italian course at the University of Firenze. The next weekend, Jane took the girls and me, along with a friend and her daughter, to Rome for the weekend. We stayed in a hotel by the Trevi Fountain and took a sightseeing bus to see all the tourist sights. Roma truly is a romantic city and I fell in love with it instantly. Upon returning to Florence, I once again, tried to make the most of my days on my own, though it became difficult at times. Some days I did not feel up to any adventures and so I stayed inside, working on odd tasks. However, for the last few days, I have been forcing myself to go outside and appreciate the beauty and splendor of this city that is now home to me. I still have not felt completely assimilated and attached to this place, but I know that it will come in time.

Today, as I ran my new jogging route (which is helping me to feel so much better) I opened my eyes, maybe for the first time in a while, and really looked out around me. I realized how truly lucky I am to be here in Florence and how I have been very fortunate to have the opportunity to live in very different but very beautiful places in my life. I ran up to Piazza Michelangelo and stared up at the giant replica of David with all of the city of Florence in the background and I was filled with marvel. I wandered up the hill and saw a sign for Basilica di San Miniato al Monte. Curiously, I strolled up the many stairs. Halfway up the stairs, there was a plaque of information that stated that the construction of the present church began in the 1000s and that it was a Benedictine monastery, and later, in the 1400s, a summer home for Bishops of Florence was built next to the church. Now, this was a fascinating find, I thought. As I reached the top of the stairs I turned around to check out the view. It was breathtaking. There were not many people around the church grounds, so it was very peaceful to simply roam around. There were graves and statues that I began to wander through. I walked from one section to the next and my excitement built up as I realized that this was no little graveyard-- it was a magnificent cemetery with monuments, mausoleums, and private family chapels. It is an odd thing, but I do adore cemeteries. When I was an undergrad studying abroad, I went to the famous Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires to see the grave of Evita Peron and was fascinated by the serenity I felt there but also by the beauty and creativity of the individual tombs. In Charleston, there is a beautiful overgrown graveyard at the Unitarian Church that I used to love visiting when taking a detour off of King Street. And in Ireland, the beautiful emerald isle, we visited gorgeous graveyards filled with celestial Celtic crosses.

As I wandered the cemetery of San Miniato, I looked at the names and even the black and white photographs that were on some of the graves. At one moment I looked up, and behind the bell tower, the clouds in the sky were moving at a rapid pace. An autumn breeze blew through the cypress trees surrounding the grounds and suddenly the church bells rang. I looked around and there was not a person in sight, but in front of me, there were hundreds of graves of souls that had gone before me. I thought about their lives and of how they had come and gone. I continued on and eventually I went inside the church. It was very dark inside and there were a few other visitors too. And, there was chanting. The Benedictine Monks were chanting their daily prayer from behind the wrought-iron gates in the lower part of the church. It was magical. There were frescoes on the walls of the church and beautiful patterns on the ceilings. It was one of the most beautiful and serene places.

As I ran home to Borgo Pinti, I no longer felt the pang of loneliness. I knew that next week will be different and that perhaps I might even meet some new friends at school. But more importantly, I realized that I can be happy with the todays instead of always looking for the tomorrows (which is my common downfall). I should get out there and do something, anything, and enjoy these last individual days of September.

Only in Ireland

"Alive alive oh! Alive alive oh!..." These were the lyrics that were the soundtrack of our trip in Ireland. At the beginning of our adventure, I taught Franci this classic Irish tune entitled "Molly Malone". She picked up on it right away and everywhere we went in Ireland she was compelled to sing the song. "In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty..." She belted the tune wherever we were and had a rather good Irish brogue singing it too! I think she was actually mistaken for a genuine Irish lass! On one occasion, while coming out of the bathroom at the pub, Franci was swaying (only because she never quite can walk straight - that would be too boring!) and singing without shame. An old Irish man with rosy cheeks looked down at her and then looked up at me and said, "Looks like the wee one's had a little too much to drink."

In Clane, the village outside Dublin where we did a house swap and called home for two weeks, we soon became the loud but lovable town guests. (I think we were the only tourists in this little town). There was a sign on the main street of the town that read: "Clane. A good place to live." Ahh, and wasn't that the truth. There were many sayings like this that we noted throughout our stay that were so simple, but so true. Frequently we saw the saying, "A good day for a Guiness." And no matter how many days we saw that sign, the idea never got old.

We went to Ireland with Jane's friend Caterina and her two sons, Edo and Georgio, and their nanny. (Their father Mario joined us the second week). The first week we were in Clane, Ali, Franci, Edo, and Georgio were signed up for a horse riding camp. We were, as it was, in County Kildare, the most well-known horse country in the Emerald Isle. Everyday the kids were in pony camp from 10 am until 4 pm. They loved it and came home happy campers at the end of each day. Georgio, however, had a bit of a harder time understanding their trainer and usually would ask Ali to translate when he had no idea what was going on. One day we went to watch and Georgio, who is six years old, but looks like he is nine years old, seemed to be clueless while the others were fiercely paying attention to their teacher. The young and extremely friendly teacher with pretty black hair and green eyes noticed that Georgio was lying almost all the way back on his horse and not paying a bit of attention and said "George-eee-oh!" It sounded almost like she was singing Old MacDonald with the ee-i-ee-i-ohs. She asked him to take the reigns and sit up. He looked around clueless. This was a funny sight. Finally, he got the picture, realized it was his turn to trot, and went around the ring bobbing up and down on his horse happily and the teacher said, "Well done Georgio" in her thick Irish accent. I'm sure he had no idea what she was saying. Georgio and Franci were the best of friends during the trip, as were Ali and Edo. It was so cute. Caterina, who is half American constantly speaks to her boys in English, but Georgio who I'm sure will grow up to be the classic Italian stallion, had no interest in even trying to speak English. One time he became so upset that the other kids wanted to watch Harry Potter in English and not in Italian that he stormed out of the room crying. He fitfully asked me, in his dramatic Italian accent,"Wherrre iz da mya maaaamaaaa?"

Ireland was simply beautiful. We drove through Kildare and down to Cork and Kerry. For miles we saw the most gorgeous scenery. Everything was so lush and verdant. We went to Wicklow National Park, where we kept our eyes peeled for leprechauns and fairies, but no such luck. We even tried looking for a handsome feller --this was the place in the movie P.S. I love you that the main character finds her husband. But again, no luck. That isn't to say, we didn't get lucky in Ireland! We did see a rainbow, but the pot of gold came in other forms. We had the most enjoyable journey from beginning to end. We even had a few fun nights out on the town! One night, the other nanny, Anna, and myself were invited to an Irish wedding! I never in my life thought I would be able to call myself a wedding crasher, but a few lads we met in the pub insisted we go and said that their best friend, Sham, who was the groom, would love it. The party apparently had been going on since one o'clock in the afternoon and and it did not stop until after four in the morning! We had an Irish good time and hung out with the bride and groom and danced the Irish Step dance and sang along to "Come On Eileen" (Mom, you would be proud) and to "Galway Girl". And of course, we felt perfectly safe getting home in Clane, since we were, "just at the top of the road!" Two nights later, I had another gallivanting good time with Jane and Caterina. We went to the Village Inn where we ended up closing the bar sitting around the outside tables with our new friends singing classic Irish tunes and famous American ones too. One of our new friends sang to me Bruce Springsteen's "Jersey Girl" and wooed everyone with his melodious voice. I never did realize how similar Springsteen is to classic Irish singing....and "Galway Girl" (a song you might recognize that was in P.S. I love you) was actually written by a U.S. country singer. I might have just been converted to country music....just a wee bit.

We saw castles, graveyards, forts, stables, and thoroughbred horses. We even went seal watching in the Ring of Kerry. Our trip was just wonderful. We ate Irish soda bread each day, and frequented the carvery at local pubs where we indulged in a classic meal of "meat and three (pronounced 'tree') veg." And believe me, from the looks of it, there won't be another Great Irish Potato Famine any time soon, for there certainly was no shortage of the kind while we were there! We simply accepted soon into our trip that we just might return to Italy feeling like we had turned into giant Irish potatoes. That prediction certainly came true. And usually, for dessert, to top off our already full bellies, there was plenty of rhubard crisp to go 'round!

We also went into Dublin and saw all the sights, including what all the tourists seem to flock to, the Guinness factory. At at the top level of the factory there is the Gravity Bar where you receive a complementary Guinness, and, of course, we made friends with the bartender and received an extra beer on the house! We went down the famous shopping district of Grafton Street, where we saw a red-headed guitarist, which seemed so familiar because it was the exact scene we had just watched in the recent Oscar-winning Irish film Once. We also saw the funky Temple Bar district, just before catching our Bus Éireann from Connolly Station, which took us back to Clane in 40 minutes. Surprisingly, we had the same bus driver twice in one day, and, of course, we managed to make friends with him too! All in all, it was certain that we had the luck of the Irish on our side! I felt proud to be there, after all my life claiming my Irish descent, and yet only having been in the 'motherland', I'm told, when I was a baby. We saw the Coffey (my last name) Family crest in tourist shops, on key chains, mugs and magnets, and I beamed with Irish pride at the sight of it. None of the children wanted to leave when it was time to go, but, along with their luggage filled with souvenirs, they all (even Georgio!) seemed to carry with them a newfound Irish spirit. All left with the knowledge that in our hearts we would always hold a bit of Erin go Bragh (Ireland Forever)!

Catching Up

I have been away from my blog for more than a month now and I have been told that I must get back to it. I am finally back in Florence after the past two months of being here, there, and everywhere. At the end of July, Jane, the girls, another family, and I went to Ireland for a two week vacation. It was just gorgeous! (Say that with an Irish accent!) From beginning to end, we spoke to one another throughout the days repeating the Irish phrases that we heard in our best Irish imitations..."Top of the morning to ya!" was a daily thing..."Oh it's just at the top of the road" was usually what we heard after asking directions. "Tanks very much," we soon recited. And when looked upon with the four children running around me, I was once told, "You've got your hands full - you'll go straight to heaven!" Did he think they were all mine??? There's lots more to be said about Ireland and I will fill you in about it in another post. But just to catch up, after returning from Ireland, two days later, Katherine and Kellen and the whole Cooney clan (Kellen's family) came to Italy for a visit. It was fantastic seeing them! The girls had already gone to Bolgheri to spend time with their cousins and grandparents, so I was a free agent and was able to hang out with Katherine, Kellen, and the Cooneys for five days! (I was sad though that they did not get to meet Ali and Franci). I saw parts of Italy with them that I may have not otherwise been able to see, and it was so nice to hang out with them and to recharge my not-quite-homesick-but-definitely-missing-my-peeps battery. We went to the Chianti region, to San Gimignano, Sienna, Pisa, and then, spent three days in the most beautiful place with the most stunning views from cliffs with vineyards scaling them and colorful towns built into them -- this was Cinque Terre. And I will tell you more about that another time. :) From Cinque Terre, I took the train down the Mediterranean coast to reunite with Ali and Franci and La Famiglia Guarducci in Bolgheri. I spent the rest of August there and had a wonderful time meeting all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins, and going to the beach (which all reminded me of summers with the Coffey family in Avalon), playing in the pool, eating very yummy food, and just having a nice relaxing end to the summer. So finally, now, I am back in Florence and beginning to have a regular routine. The girls started school this past Tuesday and I have been there to pick them up at the end of each day. They go to a French school that is a little more than a ten minute walk from our apartment, and it is very interesting observing all the after-school chatter in a variety of languages -- so far, English, Spanish, French, and Italian have been the languages I have been hearing among the parents and children around me. So that seems to bring me up to the present day. I will definitely go back and fill you in on all the details. For now I must be off -- I am registering for school for myself - classes in Italian - and then I go to get the girls! Until later...Arrivederci!

Made in Italy

What is it about Italian appeal? There's something instantly sexy, refined, and beautiful about being "Italian." When I was working in New York at the offices of the fashion brand J.Crew, I realized the power of J.Crew's marketing and its honest aim for top-quality production. In recent years, J.Crew has been going in the direction of a more sophisticated look, a more European, and even, specifically, Italian look for its products. On the home page of its website, the words currently appear:

"Location. Location. Location....these shoes? Made in Northern Italy by craftsmen trained in centuries of Tuscan tradition. We're very lucky to work with them."

And how lucky do I ever feel to be living in the very heart of Tuscany right now...amongst these world-famous craftsmen and women?! (I have to be gender-politically correct).
From its "Florentine-print" to its"Isola d'Elba" such-and-such bathing-suit to its "Capri (as in Capri, Italy) Sandals", J.Crew has seriously got it figured out---their marketing, or should I say, Brand Creative Services, as the department is so aptly called, (and who I can attest probably receives the most phone calls a day), knows what their clientele wants....ITALIAN.

So what is it about Italian-made fashion that instantly gives it this allure of such distinguishment? Is it the ancient tradition of craftsmanship (to which J.Crew refers) that has given it the reputation of quality, sophistication, and style? Perhaps. In any case, the reputation still exists and Italians work hard at upholding it.

This past weekend, I had the good fortune of testing for myself the true quality and durability, and, of course, style of Italian-made apparel. There was a fabulous beach party being held on Saturday night and I was invited! The theme for the party was 1970s and Nonna Cicci insisted that I wear her clothes that she had kept from this inspiring era. I felt as though I had died and gone to heaven. I was like a child again, playing dress-up in my mom's old dress-up box, only this time, I was trying on Nonna Cicci's vintage Prada, Valentino, Pucci, and Gucci dresses. (Sorry Mom -- your dresses were pretty cool too at one time). I was so giddy! I chose a dress that was a beautiful multi-colored print sarong dress made by Yves Saint Laurent, the famous and recently passed away French designer. After visiting his beautiful gardens in Marrakesh, Morocco last summer, I felt especially lucky to wear one of his designs. It wasn't Italian of course, but the French certainly know how to do it too!
The party, now that deserves another story, but let's just say for now, it was unforgettable. Pretty much the who's who of Tuscany all were present and dressed fabulously in their wildest 1970s ensembles. I was quite happy and, to borrow a term coined by a once-popular television show, I was feeling "Made" in Italy.

Gelato!

Gelato....ummmmmmmmm buono. I have been in Italy for exactly 21 days now and this may be a bit indulgent of me, but, I have not gone a day without gelato since I have been here. It is so bad! But so good! Each day, usually around four o'clock in the afternoon, we have snack time. That is the hour in the day I look forward to the most. The rich chocolately (usually) flavor of the ever-so-smooth and delicious Italian gelato. Some days we go to the gelaterìa. Other days we grab some out of the freezer of our own home, a delicious swirl of chocolate and vanilla drizzled with fudge and nuts packed into a cono carefully wrapped up in a package of an Italian brand incomparable to any pathetic American-made ice-cream. OK, maybe I'm becoming a bit of a snob about this Italian gelato, but really, this stuff is good.
Italian food is obviously something worth talking about. The tomatoes here are so juicy and ripe and usually are paired with the freshest basil which gives such a wonderful aroma to the dish. Olive oil is used in practically everything, and as I soak my schiaciatta (bread) in it, I, too, am soaking in this experience, this flavor, this culture of Italy. It is wonderfully delicious.
In Bolgheri, where I spent the last 11 days of my trip (and is the main reason for why I have not been on this blog), the girls and I visited their Nonna and Nonno at their beautiful, gigantic, Tuscan seaside home, or should I say, estate? It was heaven. There is too much to say about it all at once, but one of the highlights of being there was the food. Every single day it was amazing. The breakfast room was set every night so that as we, sleepy heads, trickled in each morning, tired from the previous day of fun and relaxation, we had the options of fruits, cereals, pastries, and delicious coffee to start out our day. Then at lunch, at 1:00 in the afternoon each day, we had lunch outside in the main eating veranda, where we were served course after course of delicious pastas, the freshest vegetables from the property's vegetable garden (Maurizio, the gardener was there every single day), the softest mozzarella balls that simply melt in your mouth, pizzas, salads, schiaciatta always, of course, and for dessert, the ripest, sweetest, most delectable fruits - my favorites were the figs, pears, and medieval peaches, flat shaped smaller peach from the south of Italy that are so soft and so rich in flavor. Afternoon snack, as I mentioned before, was inevitably gelato, which one could never be bored of. And for dinner, usually around 7:30, an exaggerated version of lunch was brought before us, with course after course set out on the serving table, pronto (ready) to be eaten. Also, usually some type of meat was served at dinner, veal, chicken, fish -- one day we had the rare delicacy of Mediterranean Red Tuna that Nonno caught on a fishing trip. It was seasoned with the most excellent spices and grilled to perfection. It was superbly satisfying. Oh! The wine! I almost forgot! Almost every day before dinner Nonna had the wine brought out at about 6:30 (when I say "brought out" it is because at all times there were at least two servers present -- two in the morning, two in the evening). Bolgheri is famous for their wines, but I believe the wine we drank was from Lucca. It was a delicious white wine, full-bodied and slightly sweet, and it went wonderfully with the tastes of our dinner. After dinner, of course, there was fruit, always a medley of something new, interesting, and utterly appetizing.
Though the food is plenty, I actually finish my meals feeling quite light, but certainly satisfied. The food here seems as though it is the quintessence of how eating should be. Food (or "cibo" in italian), is something which I've always had a great appreciation for, but strangely at times, have felt guilty about in the United States. Here, there is no guilt factor. Only pure satisfaction.

Bambine

Oh the bambine (little girls) just crack me up. Franci (or Franchi as it would be pronounced in English) is turning seven (sette) in seven days. And it has been a countdown each day. At first though, she was angry that we reminded her of how many days until her birthday, because she wanted it to be a surprise (sorpresa...I know that word!). She will say a few words in english and then ramble off in italian like an old italian mama mia! madre. It is so funny to watch/listen to! She is very helpful when I ask, what does this mean, or, how do you say this in Italian, and she patiently teaches me the pronunciation. In the pool the other day she was riding on my back and I asked, "How do you say Pony?" and she said in a very beautiful and dramatic italian accent "Pohhh-ney." All I could do was laugh and say "oh, it's the same." Franci, by the way, has the accent of any normal, boring american kid most of the time when speaking english-- so this, was particularly funny.
The other day when we were walking to their mom's work to visit, on the way there, we passed three men in a row who were all wearing yellow pants. I whispered to the girls to take a look and Franci, who truly is Italian and cannot be discreet, laughs histerically and begins to say in her scratchy yet powerful voice coming from her little body, "Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow!" and continues all the way until we pass the men in the yellow pants. Luckily, I did not see them react, so hopefully, they had no idea what she was saying.
In the mountains this past weekend, Franci had us all in stitches, when she kept referring to herself in third person, with a name derived from the sounds she often makes, saying "Farticus is hungry", "Farticus has to do this... " or "Farticus wants that..." She is a clever one this Farticus...
Also, in the mountains, Farticus, I'm sorry, I mean Franci found a walking stick and started referring to it as her boyfriend. In the car she was going on and on about her boyfriend, pointing to his eyes and nose and even kissing his lips! We asked her if they were going to get married, and if they do and have kids, what would they call them. Some of the favorites were, "Branchy" "Twiggy" "Peg" and for the little one,"Splinter." When we arrived back to the mountain house, Franci had fallen asleep with her boyfriend poking into her cheek, so Dina, Jane's friend, fearing that Franci's boyfriend was abusing her, removed the stick and left it by the side of the car. When we were already on our way back down the mountain to Firenze, Franci woke up frantically, screaming "where's my boyfriend!" We had to break the news to her that he was hurting her so we had to get rid of him, but Franci was so heartbroken that she cried and cried halfway down the mountain.

Come si dice "a dream come true"?

I have been in Italy for five days now and I still have to pinch myself as a reminder that I am not dreaming. It is truly amazing how things have worked out so nicely. As of less than a month ago I wasn't sure that the trip would actually take place. Well, it has, and I am here, and now I am getting used to calling Firenze (Florence) my home -- which is not so hard to do. I am living with the most wonderful family -- Jane Guarducci and her two adorable daughters Ali and Franci, turning 9 and 7, respectively, this summer. Each day has been a fairly easy schedule to get used to. On Sunday, Jane, a native of Edmonton, Canada who speaks fluent Italian and English at home with her daughters, picked me up from the tiny Florence airport and whisked me off to her friend's fabulous Tuscan villa to relax by the pool all day and recover from jetlag. Each day this week, Ali and Franci go to music camp in the morning and so I sleep in, wake up and have breakfast on their rooftop patio that overlooks Il Duomo, check email, dabble a bit in teaching myself italiano, and walk around Florence (if it's not too hot), and do whatever my heart desires until 2:30 in the afternoon when I go to a friend's house to join them and go off to a pool somewhere in the Tuscan hill towns outside Florence. (So far it has been the homes of two particular friends who have pools that overlook the most beautiful views of Tuscany). And so, I keep asking myself, is this what is meant by "La Dolce Vita"? Perhaps, and yet, I know I still have so much to experience here in this glorious land...and I am ready to experience it all.