You are my sunshine...

Well, this blog entry won’t be the typical travelogue you might have been expecting, because this week wasn’t exactly a typical week for me and my family. For those who don’t know already, my 96-year-old great-grandmother “Grammy” who I have written about in this blog, passed away two days ago. It was very sudden. When I last saw her on New Year’s Eve day and said my goodbye before this trip, I never expected that would be the last time I’d see her. She’d never been to a nursing home and still lived independently in her own house with her boyfriend, John. Her short-term memory was fading a little bit, but she was still full of witty jabs and spunk and determination. If it weren’t for my Grammy, I might not be here studying Italian in Italy right now. Her stories of growing up here were the seeds for this trip… singing “O sole mio” accompanied by her piano-playing, munching on her homemade pizzelles and looking at that old photo of her with her pouty 7-year-old face sent from Italy to her father in America. All of these little pieces came together to ultimately build my desire to speak Italian and know my roots here. But as fate would have it, my Grammy was scheduled to depart from this world while my sister and I were abroad. It’s really painful knowing I can’t be at her funeral, but there are a few things that help mitigate that pain.

1. I feel that being here in Italy and speaking the language she grew up with is almost like a tribute to her. I’m here on this journey as a result of the inspiration she gave me, and I’m connecting with her roots. My family and I had plans to visit the town where she was born in May—and now that this has happened, that visit will have even more significance.

2. Once I’m home I will be able to go to her gravesite with Melissa and my cousins Jimmy and Cameron, who are also not able to make it to her funeral, and I will be able to get a type of closure then. I’ll be able to write something from me to Grammy and read it aloud. And here in Italy, in the town of Lavorate where she was born, we are thinking of holding a memorial service of sorts for her. So my Grammy will get an extended memorial—not just one service, but a series of continuing tributes. In typical Grammy style, this isn’t going to be just any old ceremony, but instead something really extra special.

3. Although I didn’t get to speak with my Grammy half as often as I wish I did during these past few months I’ve been in Italy, I spoke with her on the phone while visiting her cousin Pasquale last Friday, and I got to tell her how much I love her Sunday night when she was rushed to the hospital. And she was able to understand me and tell me she loved me back. I am so so grateful that I was able to have that last conversation.



I am still struggling to grasp that this actually happened, but I feel comfort knowing Grammy lived a (very) long and fulfilling life, and she didn’t have to suffer or stay confined in a hospital bed for years, months or even weeks. She made a quick and graceful departure, just as she would have wanted.

It’s hard for me to even remember the details of the weekend I had before I got that phone call Sunday night on the train back from Verona. But I’ll try wrack through my brain to remember Friday through Sunday afternoon and the really wonderful weekend I had.
I took a train to a town called Busto Arsizio, just outside Milan, on Friday, so that I could visit my Grammy’s cousin Pasquale. Pasquale is Alessandra’s (the cousin I visited outside of Rome about a month ago) father and he and my Grammy kept in touch throughout the years, talking on the phone frequently, with Pasquale even visiting the U.S. twice. He was at my Bat Mitzvah eight years ago, and the last time I saw him was four years ago when he and Alessandra came to the hotel I was staying at with my high school group near Rome. But since then Pasquale had a serious decline in health, and for the last year and a half he has been confined to his house. The hardest blow for him was his loss of vision. After hearing from Alessandra what a tough time he has been having, I knew I had to find a way to visit him. And I’m so glad I did.

Walking through the door to their apartment and saying hello to Pasquale when I first arrived— it meant so much. He held me in a tight hug for a long, long time and even started tear to up, which made me start to tear up a little. I could just tell how badly he’d missed our family in the U.S….I think I was the representative of everyone and everything he remembered from his visit to America, and being with me reminded him of better times, when he was able to travel and spend time with us. His long-term memory was incredible—he remembered so many names of relatives, how many cousins I have and what their names are, the location of my grandparents’ house in Brigantine, what it was like to take pictures outside the synagogue at my Bat Mitzvah. I think it was therapeutic for me to talk about these things with him, and I was happy to do it. I knew this visit wasn’t going to be like my previous family visits in Italy. I wasn’t expecting to get a grand tour of Milan (in fact I really had no desire to see Milan) or go out to eat or anything like that. As we say in Jewish terms, this visit was a “mitzvah,” a good deed, and I felt satisfaction just from having spent time with Pasquale and giving him something to look forward to.

I also enjoyed meeting Pasquale’s wife, who I’d never met before. She was so incredibly sweet, treating me like I was her granddaughter. She made me nice little meals while I was there and let me drink hot cups of tea to my heart’s content, to help out with my cold. At the end she wrote me a thank-you note (in Italian, of course…did I mention I spent 90% of this visit speaking Italian? There was no other choice!) and gave me a special good-luck charm present. I was also introduced to Pasquale’s daughter Michela, son Gianluca, grandson, his sister Maria and her daughter Daniela, and even more relatives whose names I can’t remember. Everyone was so friendly, and it was once again a great feeling to meet these long-lost family members and share laughs.

On Saturday afternoon I took a train ride to nearby Verona, opting out of a Milan sightseeing trip in favor of the quainter, in my opinion much more appealing city that was supposedly home to Romeo and Juliet. This was my first experience staying overnight alone while traveling, and I’m proud of myself for having the guts to do it, and for successfully pulling it off! One of the many things I’ve learned during this semester is how to be an independent traveler, and to me there’s nothing quite like the thrill of getting on that train by yourself and setting off on an adventure. Trips (up until Verona, just a couple daytrips) I’ve made all by myself have provided me with some of my favorite memories from this semester, and knowing I was capable of doing it gives me the confidence that I’ll have all the more wisdom for my travels post-graduation, of which I hope there will be many!

I stayed at a “bed and breakfast” that was really more like a hostel, although I had a cozy single, the owner picked me up at the train station and drove me to the hotel, and everything was super-clean, so I can’t complain! It was close to all the major sights, like the tourist-filled Piazza Bra, where the world famous Arena is located. I got myself a yummy gnocchi dinner in Piazza Erbe, the other main square in Verona, Saturday night, and then I went to bed early so I could make the most of my full day Sunday. And let me say, I really did make the most of that day. I literally traversed the city…I couldn’t tell you how many miles I walked, but let’s just say I definitely walked off the gelato I ate at the end of the day. I bought a one-day “Verona Card” which allowed me to see sights like Castelvecchio, a medieval fortress on the banks of the Adige River, Juliet’s house, Juliet’s “tomb,” the views from the main tower in Piazza Erbe, and the Roman Forum. I loved walking across the bridges over the Adige River…there’s just something about a city with a river winding through the center of it. I love it. My other favorite part of Verona was the off-the-beaten-path Giardino Giusti, a Renaissance garden I’d read about online. Although it wasn’t in full bloom, and there was even some construction going on, I enjoyed walking through the paths and feeling like I was out in nature. There were also gorgeous views of the city from the top of a hill at the end of the gardens. It was just a tranquil little part of the city, and a nice break from some of the areas that were just a tad bit too tourist-centered.







Here in Perugia I’ve been enjoying the nicer spring weather, walking through Parco Sant’ Angelo, my favorite park just down the street from my apartment. My Italian is continuing to improve and just the other day I had a great conversation with a shopkeeper at this little Umbrian products specialty store. Today I had a field trip to the Perugina chocolate factory, where they make Baci candies, with my Italian class. It was way outside the city center, and getting there was a hassle…not worth the trip if you’re only in Perugia for a few days, but since I am here for the semester I’m glad I got to see what the chocolate factory hype is all about. The best part was getting lots of free chocolate samples and seeing them package the Baci candies on the conveyor belts. And of course our tour was given in Italian!

Tomorrow I’m meeting up with my friend Erica for a three-day weekend in Cinque Terre, and then I’ve got a very, very busy last three weeks here. Trips to Brussels and Prague, and two presentations and a paper due in between.

It’s hard to think about all those things when it hits me that my Grammy isn’t here anymore, though…which is still only hitting me in waves. I haven’t fully grasped onto it yet. She’s in my thoughts every day here, and I lit candles for her and prayed in two Perugia churches. I was lucky to have a great-grandmother for 20 years, let alone a great-grandmother as amazing as her.