My Italian Diary: Roncolo Part 2
It got to a point where we felt like we were never going to leave that house. Phone call after phone call, apartment after apartment, frozen meat after frozen meat — we would hold each other in bed at night in silence. We knew exactly what the other was thinking, and any mention of it would just cause an argument or a headache. We went for an aperitivo each night to detach ourselves from the realities we were forced to face; Slurping our favorite spritz and of course the regional classic, erbazzone. We were so incredibly grateful for everything his mom was doing for us, but her character would often not let us show it.
I became restless. One month felt like 6. Coming from a life of freedom and independence, I felt like a caged animal not being able to drive, just going for walks, and eating what was available. This made Davide so sad. I stayed as absolutely positive as I could to keep him afloat because whenever his mom would try to give me a hard time, I pretended I didn’t understand so it would stop. But he had no way to avoid it, and it was constant. He started running daily, too, as an ‘escape’. Our escapes left us both in the best shape of our lives, thankfully. “How many pool parties can we throw before our winter bods arrive?” I would always think to myself. Anything to laugh it off. When I couldn’t sleep at night, I would scour the internet for more apartments to rent, and continue planning our ‘Tour of Italy’ trip that we had been planning for months. Davide passed his motorcycle license test on the first try! The only thing standing in our way was finding a place to live, and the arrival of our shipping container from America.
My hair started to fall to the floor once again. I wept in the bathroom for twenty minutes or so until Davide found me. I felt so defeated by the stress I could barely get the words out. He held my tightly, comforting me as he always does. It’s a feeling that never fails to fill my heart with warmth and security, especially in moments where I forget how to channel those feelings on my own. He knew I had been trying my best to stay positive, and for that he whispered, “it’s ok amore…sono qui,” (I’m here).
We both told my hair that it’s not allowed to fall out again. We laughed it off as I jokingly remarked, “Get your shit together, hair! A little stress and you’re just down and out? who does that??” Comedy has always been our way to overcome moments of distress, and still it works wonders. This is especially how Davide balances me out. Whenever I feel a moment of sadness or stress, he’s there…smiling and ready to help make it better. There’s no way to ever show just how grateful I am for that other than to completely reciprocate the same sunshine.
We’ll get through it. We’re going to be ok. We’ll soon be riding the bike all over Italy, our new home together.
In Italy, if you don’t have an ‘indefinite work contract’ it’s nearly impossible to do anything. You can’t rent a home, buy a home, finance anything, INCLUDING furniture from IKEA, which we did of course learn the hard way. This made finding an apartment nearly impossible. We must have called and emailed over 40 places with no luck. I had only a one year work contract, which just didn’t suffice. Just as we thought we were going to land a place, it fell through.
My mom always says, “In hindsight, it’s always 20/20,” and looking back she (of course) couldn’t be more right. Approaching mid-august, we finally got a phone call that we had been waiting for.