Happy B-day to Moi!

13 09 2011

My birthday gift to myself: a few hours of blissful solitude




A Red Red Rose

12 09 2011

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose, 
That’s newly sprung in June: 
O my Luve’s like the melodie, 
That’s sweetly play’d in tune. 

As fair art thou, my bonie lass, 
So deep in luve am I; 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
Till a’ the seas gang dry. 

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, 
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun; 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
While the sands o’ life shall run. 

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve! 
And fare-thee-weel, a while! 
And I will come again, my Luve, 
Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile!” — Robert Burns

Many moons ago today, he sent her this beautiful poem.

She read the poem, looked at the bright blue sky, and smiled.

I miss him.

I miss her.

Summer memories

10 09 2011

I am feeling nostalgic these days. In fact, this feeling has been haunting me for a while. It could also be the end-of-summer blues that strikes me every year… or the fact that I am turning 35 next week. Lately, I often find myself thinking of the past, how I used to be, how I used to feel.

Summer has always been a special time of the year for me. As a child, there was always a road trip with my parents, being it to the beach or to the mountains, my parents would leave in the middle of the night, sometime before dawn my father would carry me from my bed, still asleep, and wrap me in the coziest blanket in the backseat of the car. I would always wake up in time to watch the sunrise, something very special as I never used to do while at home.

I remember lots of great summers and great adventures. I remember the first time I went abroad by myself, I was only 11 years old and I spent a month in another country as part of a school program. That was the beginning of numerous trips, I never stopped traveling by myself after that summer…

Summer of ’96 marked the moment I fell in love for the first time, with a man, with a place, with the feeling of freedom. Summer of  ’97 taught me that, no matter how much planning we do, something unexpected always happens and it could turn our life upside down. I think back of Summer of ’98 and I love the person I was then. I backpacked around Europe by myself and met wonderful people. It was standing on a hill in the Isle of Skye, however, that I realized that during the two plus months of traveling I had met a strong girl, funny, deep, sensitive, passionate and loving… For the first time in my life, I had got to know and, above all, like the real me.

Another fantastic, yet quite crazy summer happened in ’99. After spending most of the hot months working in the town were I went to university and  having a short, yet steamy love affair with a charming, older Englishman, I went traveling again accompanied by whom would become a dear friend. He showed me new places, geographical and emotional, he showed me that no matter how beautiful love is, it always hurts one way or another. He didn’t know this, but he probably knew me better than I knew myself then.

Summer of the year 2000 was a turning point for me. Again, I traveled a lot but this time I stopped in one place and I made it my second home.

Every single summer in my life taught me something, being it positive or negative, like when I lost two of my closest family members in summer 2003…

When I was expecting  my daughter, I promised I would do my best to build happy and unique summer memories for her. Traveling is a very important part of my life and life of our family so, since her very first summer, we took her to different destinations. This year, I decided to introduce something new, something that I hope would make the bond between us even stronger. We backpacked through three countries, just the two of us, and it was such a wonderful experience that I can’t wait to do it again next year.

The end of this summer season carried bitter-sweet feelings. We moved to our new home, to a new town and my baby started her second year of preschool. Soon, I will turn 35 years old and I have to admit I am not taking it well… I love the life I chose for myself, I love being a mother, and a married woman (even though from time to time you might hear me yell say otherwise, especially when the poor hubby does or says something he really really shouldn’t have), but I feel like I am getting old, and this scares me because, on the inside I still crave that passion and freedom that characterized my early twenties…

… does it make any sense?!

Anyway, I will leave you with one of my favourite quotes on growing old…

It is not the years in your life, but the life in your years that counts.”



9 09 2011

“I close my eyes, then I drift away, into the magic night I softly say. A silent prayer, like dreamers do, then I fall asleep to dream my dreams of you. ” – Roy Orbison


30 08 2011

I am.



30 08 2011

Gosh, I have a new blog and I am already late at posting! Sorry!  

However, I have a very good excuse, I have moved to a new place, my own place, for the first time in my life. It all happened so fast and unexpectingly that it is quite complicated to express the rollercoaster of emotions this process is having on my over sensitive soul. In a way, I am happy and excited to be able to have my own temple, a place that nothing else knows but my life and the one of my family. 

It is also a committment, however,  to a specific place, geographical and emotional, which is causing me a bit of anxiety. I moved to the town where I grew up, the same place I happily left when I was 18, full of burning desire to see the world, meet new faces, experience new cultures.  I spent all of my twenties doing just that, traveling and moving to different countries, passionately experiencing life in two continents. At the beginning, this purchase felt to me like a loss of that lifestyle, but I am slowly realizing that, even though I left the place, the place never really left me…

I will certainly keep traveling (it is a passion I can’t live without) and, as my child gets older, I will do so more often and for extended periods of time. Each time I will return to this little mountain town, to my little grey house with wooden windows and the mountains will hug me again, ready to welcome me and my family. We will feel “home” over and over again. 


Welcome back to me…

25 08 2011

I was a blogger for a couple of years and loved it. I also had my fair share of readers, some were old friends, some were complete strangers who eventually became new friends. Then an unfortunate incident happened and I realized I couldn’t be “the true me” on my blog anymore. I stopped writing publicly. What was the point of keeping up a blog , where I couldn’t express myself freely and had to carefully select what and how to write?

I missed it, though. For quite some time I have been contemplating my return to the blogosphere, but it was only recently that, during a conversation with a dear old friend of mine, I got the blogging (and not only that, but that’s another story) itch.

So, my dears, here I am again… back with lots of funny and, at times, not-so-funny stories, crazy ideas, pictures ready to share with you.

The “True Moi” is back.