Sola solitamente

The words haunted me as I listened to the voice aloud in my head. Sola. Da Sola. Solitaria. Solamente. Solitamente. Saturday Italiana classe always fried my brain and left it reeling for the rest del fine settimana. I felt more and more retarded with every classe; in qualche modo non ho povuto trovare le parole esprimersi mai pui. Perhaps the hours, distance and its absence were taking their toll on me.

Forse io penso troppo. I laughed and wept at the irony of life; living in a cushy shining bubble but merely bouncing off the padded walls in a safety net, unfeeling and untouched. I longed for the fields beyond, the unknown rugged path where my heart quickens with every pace and corner. Devo essere pazza.

My dear 75-year old granny just called to ask why I was all alone at home and that I should get out and have fun for a girl my age - find a good man and settle down soon. Ha. I told her it's not my time yet and cheered her with news of A. She giggled and said he's too far and that I should just be contented with someone here who can provide for me, or else I'd end up like her alone watching TV every Saturday and waiting for sleep to creep in. There was sadness and resignation in her voice... and I can just picture her dragging on her cigarette in the dark. I told her in Hokkien 'Ah ma, I'd rather take my chance and wait for the one while watching cable!' Jin eh!

Of late I was also addicted to italian singer Tiziano Ferro's CD 'Nessuno e' solo' (which means nobody is alone - si, laugh at the irony!). Listening to the lyrics helped to sharpen my pronounciation and listening un po' ma lui canta troppo velocemente e troppo basso. Allora questo e' il mio preferito canto 'Gia Ti Guarda Alice' - chorus:

Nessuno e' solo finche' di notte
Anche lontano ha chi non dorme
Per pensare a lui, e penserai a lei ancora
Rimani e pensa a questa notte
A quelle cose dette e fatte
A tutto il tempo ancora
Senza rimpianti
Che avrai davanti insieme a lei

Tanti auguri a me

La Domenica, la festa italiana è stata benissima. I was worried about making the gnocchi from scratch but luckily the US Russet patate held their shape so they were molto delizioso with the Sicilian capers, pomodori and porcini funghi. Everyone brought their italian specialty, including C who attempted a bravissimo 10-hour effort with le sfogiatelle! Come difficile!

The table was full of food as usual and conversation flowed freely with the tavolo vino and limoncello soda di Amalfi. Hmmm, I missed the heavenly taste of italian prosciutto and coppa! So succulent and fatty. Midway thro' dinner, we danced to Diana Ross' 'I'm Coming Out' - my anthem of 2006 and C's dad started to twirl me around.

When the cioccolata torta came out with the lit candles, I played conductor and orchestrated everyone to sing the b-day song in italian - 'Tanti auguri a te...!' They were such a sport! I closed my eyes and prayed that my wish would come true. Per favore. Turning 31 was a huge feather in my cap as it marked yet another exciting stage of greater self discovery. Let's go!

Piccola fiore asiana

What a difference a day made! From the lowest pits of mood, my high soared when I received a huge bunch of 16 big red roses with the prettiest jasmine on Saturday. As it turned out, caro A remembered my b-day and ordered it from Italia along with a sweet message - "To: My litle asian flower..." Awwww. (Don't gag on me now!) I know it's such a cliche but flowers really do it for me.

That lifted my spirits and inspired me to cook up una grandissima cena, while stifling girlish bashful giggles every now and then. My parents gave me the puzzled look and probably suspect they might lose a daughter to this mysterious man in Italia. Well at least now that I had taught them how to say 'Buon giorno!', it'd come in useful when they visit the country!

Dinner at Adriano's went without a hitch and everyone loved the 'Toni-Piero-Pirlo' antipasti of proscuitto con arugula, involtini di melazane, pepperino con pesto e feta, and melone con feta, olio e basil. The Barbera d'Asti vino rosso (Coppo Canelli estate), a b-day gift from Elena in Milano, was exquisite (grazie bella!) with the Molto 'Grosso' squid ink pasta with crabmeat, Sicilian capers and sun-dried tomatoes. It was amazing how they could find room for the 'Cannavaro' pollo - baked chicken thighs stuffed with chopped olives, bacon, rosemary and basil, served with its decadent dripping and meaty Portobello mushrooms.

Garibaldi was on a vegetarian diet and could only watched us stuffed ourselves with the meat. Then we sipped the plum-ish 25year-old Tokay dessert wine from Australia and mustered the will to finish the 'Buffon Finale' of fresh pears and peaches poached in red wine scented with vanilla bean and cinnamon. I also brought along the precious torta of panforte that M bought for me from Siena and treated my dear amici to la dolce vita dell'Italia.

When the clock struck 12am, I found an sms from A before I could even call him to thank him for the wonderful gift. I was so nervous dialling his number, a lump in my throat and knots in my tummy, wondering if we'd understand each other cos he no speaker inglese at all. It turned out bene as he commented me on my vastly improved italian and we laughed during the 'non capito' moments! Grazie mille di nuovo.

Buon compleanno cara me

Si, questa la domenica e' mio compleanno... ogni anno, mi sento molto triste e patetica sempre prima il giorno. Non io so perche, forse voglio essere giovane per sempre. For my avid blog audience (I didn't realise you guys are still following my journal), I declared: si, it's the shitty part of the year which I dread most - the 'B' word - where I up my age by 1 and embrace a year past 30 - officially leaping into my 30s. Hooray. Blah. Pui.

As usual, the drama queen in me has been acting depressed with each day nearer to the B'day - fuelled by a triple wave of PMS. I let out a blood-curdling, toe-curling scream of frustration in the office but it only vibrated off the walls. The migraine was f%cking killing me too. It didn't help that on Wednesday I got a massive hangover from just 3 bloody screwdrivers at a client's soiree and was still paying the price for the free drinks. I guessed it's my 31-year old system protesting to the alcohol. "Basta, va bene?" Carl nagged.

Sono molto felice che mia Italia ha vinto la coppa mondo e lo festeggiare, sto facendo 2 'Viva Italia!' feste con i miei amici questo fine settimana. I shall prepare a 6-course italiana cena - each piatto named after an Italian player... starting with the 'Toni-Piero-Pirlo' trio of antipasti, edged by the molto 'Grosso' squid ink pasta, the 'Cannavaro' baked stuffed pollo and finalmente il dolce -'The Buffon' finale grande of mista frutta cooked in vino rosso. Molto delizioso si?

La Domenica, I'm putting my rustic gnocchi skills to test and hope they turn out buonissimo for my food critics amici. M and E just came back from a glorious 3-week vacanza in Italia and lagged back plenty of proscuitto and parmiggiano from Parma, panforte, tartufo and vino from Tuscano, and limoncello and melone from Almafi. Oooh, non posso aspettare!

Allora, on this lonesome Friday night sulking a mia casa, I shall share one of my early poems and dedicate it to all of you. Live the life you dare to dream, no matter the nags, fears and insecurities. Buona notte amore. Baci.

Lunatic Lunedi
Monday's woeful child
I smiled a poignant frown
Filled with impassioned fervour
Grasping the metier of ardour
Thwarted but not bent
I prayed for a gem from heaven sent
Your heart will never be empty
Blissful you
The soul's stirred
Love's renewed.

Carl - Feb' 2000