I remember returning Edmonton, to meet a mentor that I knew well, for a coffee. I ran into my ex-director, a man that I really didn't know well. He said hi to me and then said, "I heard you won the lotto and moved to Italy."
In that moment, he had seen only the physical changes in me: my waist from a 14 to a 12. My hair, once short, now longer than my shoulders. My clothes more fashionable. My skin tanned and sun kissed. My soul refreshed and nourished.
It's interesting that when you travel somewhere and you come back, people ask the weirdest questions like, "how was it?"
or they comment like, "I wish I could do that but I don't have any money, you're so lucky."
One of my closer friends to me, upon my return, told me, "I'm sure the stories will come out in time."
And now it's 3 years later and no one wants to hear about your experiences anymore.
But I don't want to forget.
So this blog is an attempt at my remembering the stories, the people, and the things that happened to me while I lived in Italy. The first point being, I was really, really poor.
But I didn't know that I was poor.
I have never been properly poor before.
When my parents divorced, we didn't have money, but we weren't poor.
There were clues at first, but the Italian sun shone right through them. I remember when I got there, the apartment had no living room, there was a space in the living room with nothing on it. Everything was old. The tiles looked like they hadn't been washed in 50 years. The kitchen chairs were plastic ones you could get for $5 from Ikea in Canada, but they cost E30 there. But when the sun shined in the cute balcony doors, it seemed like something from a movie.
E30 didn't seem like much to me. Me, who had taken my last paycheque and that was all the money I had at the time. I once started the shower and ran back in the room to get something - and it was commented - don't run the water like that. And I shot back, "it's fine, we're not destitute." Until I saw the water bill... and the electricity bill.
I have to tell you. When I got there, my roommate at the time gave me a towel. This towel was threadbare and tiny. It was like a bigger hand towel, something that didn't quite cover me. I had to dry off in the tiny bathroom and get dressed there.
I never replaced that towel the whole time that I lived there. I wore the same clothes I brought with me for 2 years - picking up the odd sweater or shirt at the market. I did not own a scarf, or cashmere sweater. I bought new shoes - from the market - only when my shoes were falling apart.
I literally had other things to buy with my money - like rent, food, phone credit, bus tickets, coffee and odd ice cream.
Speaking of ice cream- when your ice cream is more than E2, it better be your birthday or a special occasion. Ice cream and coffee are pretty much the same price at E1-1.50. That 0.50 matters. People have lengthy debates about the value of 0.50.
My first month in Italy, I was generous with my money. I bought bus tickets, coffee, a flip phone (no smart phone) and E40 of credit. I spent E20 on printing copies of grammar notes, thinking they'd be useful for class (they weren't). I bought wine out on the terrace. I bought my roommates beers and coffees.
When I started work in January, that would all change.
