Coupledom in Sicily

September 15, 2012

I’ve been thinking a lot about coupledom lately.

What happens when one half of a couple longs for a thing that the other half is completely indifferent to?

Let’s say the thing in question is Italy.

As in my case.

I learned late, in a halting kind of way, what Anais Nin seems to have known all along: How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself.

And once I created that world, he sort of liked it. Curiousity waxed. Resistance waned.

Moral: Go out and create the world you want, Sisters!

Sicilian Couple, copyright Jann Huizenga

Sicilian Couple, copyright Jann Huizenga

Sicilian Couple, copyright Jann Huizenga

Sicilian Couple, copyright Jann Huizenga

Sicilian Couple, copyright Jann Huizenga

Sicilian Couple, copyright Jann Huizenga

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And the winner is….

The winning name pulled randomly from my coppola for the book EATING IN SICILY  is Giulia! Congratulations Giulia, and please send me your mailing address!

Settling in Sicily: A Long Decision, Part 2

May 13, 2012

“It’s happened,”  I  emailed family and close friends when I finally bought my dream home in Sicily. “The deed is done!”

My euphoria was the kind of helium-filled joy that you recognize much later as one of those few moments in life when every star in the firmament aligns perfectly and glitters with a rare intensity.

 

Duomo in Ragusa Ibla, copyright Jann Huizenga

A few days later, in response, an old friend forwarded an email from one of his buddies, a British diplomat in Milan. It read: Anyone buying property in Italy needs psychological counseling. I send my deepest sympathies to the lady. If it is not too late, she should withdraw and run—not walk—as far away as she can from this country.

Talk about bursting my balloon…

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Settling in Sicily: A Long Decision, Part 1

May 5, 2012

It took me years–decades actually–to settle in Europe. An adolescent daydream turned into a young woman’s pipe dream, then a middle-aged reverie.

Time flowed fast as a mountain river in spring.

It took my mother’s death to make me really get it. Time is a Thief.

Do you know what I read to her on her deathbed? Under the Tuscan Sun. A book she’d picked out. As her life ebbed away, mine came strangely into focus. A mother’s last gift to a daughter.

Soon afterward I mustered a little courage, went against my cautious nature, and discovered Southeast Sicily.

Never mind that it took me another five years to find the house with the fat green doors. Find it I did.

Cui camina licca, cui sedi sicca.  

Who walks gains, who sits withers.  

(Old Sicilian proverb)

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