Mom comes to Italy!

Last Saturday, Giacomo (bless him) taxied me to the airport to retrieve Mom. I knew she would be tired, but I could hardly wait to share my piece of Italia with her. In any case, it took me a year to get her across the ocean! But when I picked mom up from the airport, I thought I was going to have to take her to the hospital, instead of the geloteria. Her legs were swollen up like a hoppy toad and she appeared as if she needed to sleep for a week. Ultimately concerned, I took her to the hotel so she could rest. I was not sure if it would be better for her to walk or sit, but anything other than sleep was out of the question. She was a little disoriented as we hauled our luggage to the hotel. But, I think she was instantly amazed at my ability to speak Italian and proceed normally in another culture. Mom knew I loved Italy, but I doubt she understood the reasons why. She has generously and blindly given lots of money so that I may learn a different language and culture. I was absolutely content to have Mom visit; this was an opportunity for her to witness the fruit of her generosity.
My mom is a very intelligent woman with many dynamic attributes but, I would not call her an international traveler. She is a true southern woman who is dedicated to family and small town life. While there is no question that I am her child, there were some definite role reversals this week. By observing her, I realized how comfortable I am in this country. Mom was afraid that she was going to lose me. But as the week went on, I realized that I would not be the one lost! As we proceeded thorough the streets of Italy, we held hands along the way. I have not been able to hold my mom’s hand for years and this is something I will cherish for the rest of my life. When we were walking around the Academia in Florence, I had a funny memory of when my grandparents lost my brother at the zoo. My grandmother had let go of Joey’s hand for just a second, and he wondered off. The amount of people observing Michelangelo’s “David” is comparable to that of a hectic zoo. Mom was distraught that I would walk away from her in the Academia. She was even upset when I left for the bathroom. At twenty-one years old, I am certain I can go to the bathroom by myself. But Mom was afraid I was going to lose her in an Italian museum!
Besides being able to guide her around, I was able to impart some cultural knowledge. With Mom here, I realized there was so much I knew that I would not have known if I had not traveled overseas. After she took a nap on Saturday, we I went for a walk around Ferrara. Originally I thought that the country would speak for itself. I assumed Mom would understand that every Italian town had a “duomo” (large church) in the center, and there was a “bar” (coffee shop) on every corner. But then I realized these were things I learned after being here for several months. I was quickly transformed into a tour guide. I desired for Mom get the most out of her week in Italy and I was surprised by my knowledge. I explained to her about the street names and why every city has a “Via Garibaldi” or “Via Cavour”. This subsequently meant explaining a little bit of Italian history (at this time I was silently thanking Davide Lombardo for his history lessons). If one does not have a context for such things, it seems a bit strange. I then told her about the Italian city squares, or “piazza”. Every Italian city has several “piazzas’” that serve different purposes. There are cultural, religious, and theatrical “piazzas’”. They are places of work and play. For mom, the best use of a “piazza” was if she were to get lost. All roads eventually lead to the center “piazza”. This might be the most important thing I taught her all week!
I was happy Mom saw Ferrara as her first city in Italy. Her first weekend was full of memories for me. We stayed at the same hotel I stayed at my first night in Italy. I discovered that the owner of the hotel, Cenzia, is the former host mom of a Meredith Alumna who studied abroad in Ferrara. I knew Cenzia because she was my friend Ariel’s host mom last semester. For dinner on Saturday night we ate at “Osteria Balle’Busta”, where I took cooking lessons last year. Tita, the owner of the restaurant, still recognized me after eight months. I was pleased and felt at home in my old city. Meanwhile, my mom was attempting to use the safe in our room and wore her money belt. I have defiantly transformed from a tourist to a traveler; I am no longer a stranger, but still a foreigner in this country.
If anything I can say with confidence that Mom had an adventurous week in Italy. She experienced some of the worst public transportation Italy has to offer, including a train with no empty seats and the worst, a train derailment (you will have to ask her about this)! In Rome, Mom proclaimed that the fountain outside her hotel was a site where Angels and Demons was filmed. I realized afterwards that the scene was filmed in the grand Piazza Navonna, not the Hotel Navonna. I must now apologize to my mother for ridiculing her innocent mistake, but this was the funniest thing I heard all week. She also encountered some Italian men. In Anghiari, the wine shop man told her he was available, right after he told her about his wife and child. Like I said, Italy speaks for itself.