Here is what my life has been like for the past week, mas o menos, going backwards:
Sunday
Ben and I started the day by going to eat a proper English breakfast, commonly referred to as the “fry-up.” I had never heard of this label before, but you really don’t need much imagination to figure out what it entails. It is a glorious breakfast which consists of fried-everything. I chose the plate with a fried egg, mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon, sausage, toast, and one exception- baked beans. Ben had mostly all that in addition to hashbrowns and “black pudding,” which is potentially the most misleading name for a food ever. Black pudding is little round black cakes of fried pigs’ blood. They were alright.
I had forgotten how much I missed real breakfast, as Italy only does coffee, due to the standard 4-course lunches. Then we bundled up and spent the large majority of the day scootering around London together. We drove over the London Bridge, around Chinatown, Parliament, SoHo, Hyde Park, Piccadilly Circus, stopping a few times for a break. We eventually ended up at The Apollo theatre to see if there were any cheap tickets from scalpers for the Sarah Silverman performance that night. There weren’t, but we ended up loitering around the Guest Tickets section for a bit after spotting Keanu Reeves and having my photo taken with him (NEO!!!). He’s hot. Ben also spotted a variety of British comedy writers he loves and had me take photos of them together. They were weird.
We walked outside for a breather after all our celeb run-ins and debated giving up on the show, where upon a nice man walked up to us and gave us a standing-room comp’d guest ticket he wasn’t going to use, for free. We then decided the cost of 1 other ticket split between us was totally worth it, and ended up seeing Sarah Silverman perform live. She’s hilarious.
Drove home and successfully cooked dinner by ourselves (a feat that is entirely worth mentioning) albeit it being grilled ham & cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Ate off a shelf and watched The Wire. More laughing at ourselves. We’re awesome.
Saturday
Saturday, I worked at a little cafe down the road (details to follow about this on the subsequent days below) for a whopping 5 GBP/hr (about $8.70). This, my first day there, ended up being apparently one of the busiest Saturday afternoons they had ever had. My back began to ache towards the last few hours, but all in all, it was pleasant-and-easy-enough work. One nice gentleman struck up a conversation with me about Austin, and after sharing this with Toucan the owner (not kidding) she shared her opinion that he is a Russian spy. I had one embarassing moment in which I was attempting to take someone’s order, but not only were they a low-talker and I could barely even make out the first part, “Veggie,” but for the life of me, I could not understand his accent and after 3 “sorry, could you repeat that?” pleas, the man next to him told me “Lasagna.” Other than that, things went smoothly, Toucan and I made nice small-talk after the cafe calmed down, and I made about 6 quid in tips ($10.50) in my four hours of work- pretty good for a country that doesn’t require tipping, though Ben tipped quite a lot considering he only ordered a hot chocolate. Boyfriend duty.
Saturday night we met up with some of Ben’s friends in Camden, the hipster/indie district of London, and it was half fun half not. It was a bad decision on my part to wear completely unsupportive ballet flats for a night out after having spent 4+ hours on my feet earlier that day. We ended up bailing after a failed attempt at some popular indie club/ex-palace or something, and picked up some KFC to go. Again, we are awesome like that.
Friday, Thursday
My memory starts meshing days right about now. Thursday is when I found the cafe job. I was walking around the neighborhood, with the intention of getting take-away Chinese food for lunch, only to see a “Closed” sign on the door. However, a few stores down, I saw a cute little cafe sign in chalk talking about homemade soup. I looked in and saw a small, cozy little place with dark wooden furniture and cute decor. About 20 minutes after that, I had a part-time job there. The owners are a couple who run the place along with some part-timers for help. One of these other employees had been wanting to cut-back on her working hours, and I happily offerred to fill in as I am quickly running out of money to live on. I said I had no cafe experience, but I could guarantee I was a fast learner, and I’d spent plenty of time in numerous cafes studying during university. I told them my story, and they told me to come in on Saturday.
I want to eat everything I see at this cafe. Not only do they have delicious and expensive Italian coffee beans, but they have a fantastic little menu which includes the best-tasting fresh salads, homemade lasagna, quiche, soups (I had sweet potato- delish), jacket potatoes, grilled sandwiches and INCREDIBLE HOMEMADE CAKES. And of course croissants and all that. Saturday after work, the owner sent me home with 2 bags full of croissants, pain au chocolats, and quiche, since they wouldn’t be fit to serve on Monday. It’s not the most glamorous, but it’s easy, it’s SOME income, and in a way, it’s kind of cute and bohemian, no?
Wednesday
First full day in London! Met up with Ben and some friends at a pub after he got out of work to watch the Englad vs. Someone soccer/football match. It was the first time I’d watched an entire football match and I ended up getting a little into it after awhile. The pub was great. The whole thing reminded me a lot of how we watch NCAA Football at over-crowded bars, with beer everywhere, shouting and cheering, etc. etc., except the backdrop here was much prettier. Pubs > bars, so much more aesthetically pleasing.
Came home and stayed up with Ben to watch the final presidential debate at 2am London-time. Brits are obsessed with American politics. Can we blame them?
Tuesday, Monday, etc.
These were my last few days in Italy, and I hate to disappoint, but they were not at all bittersweet. I was ready to get out! Ben flew in to pick me up and help me carry my luggage around, and we had a great time drinking as much Salento wine and eating as much southern-Italy pizza as we could fit in our tummies.
Little Giulia handled it all surprisingly well, but then again, she’d had a number of au pairs previously and was probably well-prepped for this by her mother. The day before I was scheduled to leave them, Giulia and I were hanging out on some steps at a field, where she was quietly drawing with her favorite markers. I asked her, “Are you sad I’m going to be leaving?” and, in her thoughtful and honest little way, she replied after a short contemplative pause, “Not yet.”
My last Giulia story will be this:
That same day, a little earlier, we were at the house working on her homework. The assignment was to draw the members of her family, “from biggest to smallest.” She drew herself, and then looked up and asked me, “Can I draw you too?” This was not only touching, but I am tickled to know her teacher will receive this assignment and wonder who the hell “Ashlee” is.
Upon dropping me off, Stefania, G’s mother, stepped out of the car to say goodbye. She told me she couldn’t say it in English, and then told me a bunch of things in Italian, but because she was rushing through it, I could only make out a few bits and pieces. One part I understood was when she told me I was a very good person, that she thought I had been very good for Giulia, and that I would be great at whatever I did in life. She cried.
Aldo, G’s dad, helped me carry my luggage from the car. As we walked he told me I could always look them up if I ever wanted to come back to southern Italy, and I told him the same for the U.S. if they ever make it over, regardless of how many years it is from now. When we said goodbye, he smiled, gave me a big hug, and said in his heavy Italian accent, “It is good to have a friend in the world.”
This, I think, hits the nail on the head.
