How does one use a bidet?

Ciao Tutti!

I live!  I hope you didn't mind the scheduled posts last week, I'm glad i put them up as i STILL have no internet.  The little village I live in north of Milano, Cairate, is indeed very quaint but along with that comes no internet service.  I bought a Internet Key to use for my laptop but the key and the computer dont seem to understand each other.  So here I sit in my friendly neighborhood Pakistani Internet Zone, unable to upload any of the million pictures I've ever taken.  Like the one I took this morning.  It's been raining straight for the past five days, and before that it was thick sunny smog, but when I opened my shutters (yes I do it dramatically every morning) this sunny morning, there on the horizon were snow-capped mountains!!  Why didn't anyone tell me we were that close?!

You know how back home everyone tells you, EVERYONE speaks English in Italy? Liars.  All of em.  Immediately upon arriving I've been thrown into so many situations where I'm forced to use what little I remember.  Thankfully I can understand almost everything that they say to me know, but just have a hard time getting the words out.  I hear this is normal.

(side note: do you realize how hard it is to type on this foreign computer?)

My apartment is in a little courtyard off of a tiny street.  My landlady Luigia lives next door.  This morning she came in to measure curtains because the neighbors complained about me walking around in my underwear.  She doesn't speak English at all, so getting that information across was...hysterical.  In Cairate the first days as I walked around, everyone would stare at me like I was the enemy.  Now that they have seen me at the Tabaccheria, post office and on the bus they seem to have warmed up a bit.  I even get a 'Ciao' from the weirdo with an eye patch that walks around all the time.

Hopefully my internet situation will work out soon..I'm going to look up wi-fi spots right now so I can use my own laptop and upload my pictures.

With love,

D-H

Tommy Tom

Io Sono Amore

Il Sartorialist

Pasolini

Fare thee well sweet home of mine...Chapter Three

The hour is upon us.  I leave tomorrow.  I've not finished my packing and seem to be in a dream state.  My brother an avid cyclist has put together a bike for me, but there was a big predicament about getting it there.  Thankfully that's been ironed out and I can bring it on the plane with me.

It may look terribly cold now, but the water is the most gorgeous shade of blue-green.  My brother and I go snorkeling here in the summer months.



This weekend my sister threw a surprise party for me, which was a first for me.  My favorite card along with a gorgeous tie clip came from my best friend Marlen. I hope she won't mind if I quote some of it:

"...Tell Tilda [Swinton] I say 'hi.'  Don't let her feed you anything...Also, if you're coming dangerously close to selling your body to pay for a cappuccino, please just trade this instead..."

 

More views of Jamestown (Conanicut Island).

And here is my favorite house in all the world (one of them).  Down a long Manderley-esque driveway lives a humble Georgian cottage that sits atop a cliff.  The surrounding landscape is more reminiscent of Monterosso than Rhode Island with it's grape vines and cypress trees, which juts down 30 feet to the rocky Mackerel Cove where a tiny dock awaits you.  If this is your house, yes, I walked on your property and took pictures.  Why in the world don't you live here year round?  You're one of the few places on the water protected from the feared Nor'easter!  Please contact me if you'd like me take care of the house for you.

Well, my dears, this is the last post State-side.  The next time I'll be speaking to you will be from Italy!  As soon as I get my internet situation figured out I'll be posting regularly, I hope you'll join me on this journey...

Fare thee well sweet home of mine...Chapter Two

My favorite jaunt in all Rhode Island is to little Conanicut Island.  Where endless farms and pastures mingle with rocky cliffs, where a thick forest can still be found and tiny coves are sparsely dotted with houses reminicent of Thornfield Hall.  Lest we forget the best espresso and foccacia bread that can be found this side of Verona, only on weekends of course.  Last night gave us a beautiful sunset, an anomaly for this little isle.

Here, a view at Mackeral Cove:

There's a terribly morbid story involving this cove, but I'll save it for a more apt day.

Ps:  If you want to miss your mom really bad, go over and watch Amy's beautiful footage of her mother as a young woman.

Fare thee well sweet home of mine...Chapter One

I think for the next few days I'll just be posting pictures of the homeland I keep close to my heart.  Rhode Island is a small place, but has many gorgeous vistas.  This tree on a farm near my home is something I pass on a daily basis.



It's especially stunning when the grass is newly green and leaves haven't budded.  Very gothic.

A George Plenderleith

After reading the great Admiral Cod's suggestions the other day on his places to buy tweed, I happened upon something that has left me salivating.  When one is short and narrow as I am, one struggles to find clothes that fit that do not one like a schoolboy wearing his papa's accoutrements.  So finding this HERE obviously left me all agog:

Not only is it a gorgeous tweed, it's my size AND it was made in 1932.  Heavens to Murgatroyd where are my salts!?  If it wasn't for the move and my seeming refusal to spend money on anything, I would have bought this last week.  How perfect would it be for the country place? - oh, the rides I could have wearing it!