Conversation can be a bit stilted (but always in an amusing way) due to the Italian/English language barrier. Steve is very patient. Giuseppe is very eager. Conversation manages to happen somehow, but it reminds me of my time volunteering in Rovigo wherein we had to have a computer with Google translate open on the table at all meals.
The main difference is that in Camp Full Monte, there is less wine and no internet.
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| Steve explains a project to Giuseppe. Aided by tea and cigarette and loads of experience working with volunteers. |
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| Giuseppe tries to understand Steve. Aided by years of trying to understand various English accents. |
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| Giuseppe tries to communicate with Steve. More wine would have been helpful. |
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| This is either the "I finally understand!" laugh or the "it doesn't matter and life is hilarious!" laugh. |
I took Daisy out on a walk before dinner. I'd spent the majority of the afternoon awkwardly trying to help Steve and Giuseppe (who's still feeling under the weather) build the massage table platform, but was told that my hands weren't really necessary (they ended up getting in the way more often than not).
So I went walking.
And then took pictures of buggy things hanging, hopping, crawling about the campsite.
I returned from the walk and took pictures of Giuseppe and Steve at work.
The amount of work they'd managed to accomplish without my clumsy fingers puttering about was quite impressive.
Then I tidied up tiles from a mosaic project.
Giuseppe made risotto. I slowly minced onions and reveled in his enthusiasm for perfectly spiced, beautiful food.
Why wasn't I born in Italy? Everything I love seems to come out of this country.
Giuseppe makes perfect risotto. And he makes it with Italian flair. He slices granny smith apples for garnish and drizzles grape jam over the top. He boils his own broth on the side and carefully drizzles spoonfuls into the pot of rice and mushrooms.
I go to Colorado in just over three months. I start my walk in two days. I work here two days (whacking shrubs into submission and whatnot) and then pack my too large, too heavy bag and head into the wilderness of Montenegro with Tessa and my Italian friend.
I hope Giuseppe is well enough to manage.
I go to Colorado in just over three months. I start my walk in two days. I work here two days (whacking shrubs into submission and whatnot) and then pack my too large, too heavy bag and head into the wilderness of Montenegro.
It would be a boldfaced, big black lie to say I'm not nervous as hell. In these situations I just have to drink a cup of tea and keep repeating to myself Michael's words.
"Aimee, your body will be there for you when you need it."
My last two days volunteering until December 15th.
It would be a blackfaced, big bold lie to say that I'm not happy as Aimee with a jar of extra crunchy peanut butter about taking a big, fat break from life as a volunteer.
Volunteering is a meaningful, often profound (occasionally horrendous) way to meet people and to give something back to a world that's given me so much.
But I need a solid break. I've had itty-bitty, beautiful breaks here and there --
- Martin
- Louise
- Giovanni
- Baris
And I'm tired. I'm losing my enthusiasm. I found myself wanting to curl up in one of Steve and Denise's Eco Friendly showers and cry (I do my best crying in the shower) this afternoon. But the whole "this shower uses 45 liters of water every five minutes" sign deterred me from curling up into my roly-poly/armadillo ball and sobbing camouflaged tears.
I'm not premenstrual. I'm not angry. I'm not sad. I'm... drained. Constantly adapting myself to fit through the doors of other people's homes has shaved off so many edges that I feel raw.
Until December 15th, I have my freedom. I will hitchhike with Tessa. We will try to fit through doors, but if we don't fit easily, we will sleep in woods. This is an important lesson for me to learn.
Maybe I just don't have to try so hard.
If the dress doesn't fit, I don't have to wear it. Girl can sleep in a cave.
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