Italia = amore o ossessione?

I have 236 pages of reading tonight to complete for my classes tomorrow and I have read maybe 97 pages or so. I am so easily distracted and I have one obsession driving me crazy right now: Italy.
Instead of doing the reading I was assigned as homework, I have spent the last couple of hours reading, looking, etc about Italy...more specifically Rome. Maybe it doesn't help that I am reading Renaissance literature this summer and am studying the Italian Futurists in my "Avant-Gardism" class. Maybe all this love of Italy is birthed from the fact that I cannot get away from it. She is everywhere but then again she is here by choice, she is not forced upon me. After all, I have chosen to double major in Italian.
Did the whole universe conspire to this love? Was that fateful day in which I left to what I thought to be "randomness" to learn a new language predestined?
I cannot say. All I can say that that July of 2009 when I pulled "Italian" from my plastic bag, I was somewhat relieved that I wasn't going to have to learn a whole new script for Arabic. I remember immediately going to Livemocha and beginning my Italian "courses." Arguably we could say that Italian is so similar to Spanish and this has greatly facilitated my learning of it but I was also rather obsessive in my learning. I used to listen to the radio constantly, watched movies, tried to read in Italian--I am still amazed now when I listen (much less frequently) and I understand. I can understand! Isn't that amazing? Furthermore, people understand me! I speak and they understand me! I am by no means fluent but I am still amazed. I am amazed that what was once undecipherable is now intelligible language. Is it this that made me fall in love? Have I replaced all sense of romantic love into a country? It is possible.
I often say I am glad I am not Italian and I am very serious when I say this because if I was I probably would not love Italy as I do. The beauty of Italy is that it is not my own but foreign. Even in all of its foreignness it is mine because she has it all: art, food, language, music, landscape. She is not mine by obligation, she is mine because I have chosen her to be my lover and she always welcomes me with open arms. She does not stifle me. She accepts me with all my virtues and faults. And I have proof she loves me back because even when I visited her in winter she provided me beautiful sunny days and only rained the day of my departure.
Le sigh.
Do not ask me why I love her because I cannot tell you why. I just feel it. You know that sensation, the one that gives you butterflies in your tummy, that makes your chest ache, that makes you smile immediately at the thought...Italy is this to me. I cannot help but think of Carrie Bradshaw (sorry for those who never saw Sex in the City) and how she describe New York City as her lover. I understand now fully what she meant. The idea of Italy is so powerful in my mind, the ideal portrait of the Old World still living. Granted all of Europe contains this element but in Italy it is different. Maybe her landscape often reminds me of California and there is some comfort in that. Maybe it is the fact that the art I have loved from my childhood is housed in the Uffizi in Florence. Maybe it is the incredible diverse amounts of cheese and wine. Maybe it is the people and their melodious language accompanied by hand gestures. Non so e non posso spiegarlo, solo so che l'ho nel cuore.

Tis the night before my birthday...

On the eve of my twenty-nineth birthday I cannot help but to reflect on my life, about the things I have done and the future that awaits me. Sure, there are plenty of things in my life that I could have done without or that I could have done better but all-in-all, I have very little to complain about and as for my future, although it is more uncertain than say that of a Pre-Med major, I am lucky to have the opportunity to learn.

Every morning during my commute to Davis, I listen to NPR. I listen to the news and as of recent, the news is dominated by the revolutions in the Middle East. I am proud that there are revolutions occurring...people standing up for what they believe in. Yet, that is easy to say from my privileged position. I hate hearing about the current violence, the suffering of innocent people. I hate knowing that for some right now, a peaceful sleep does not exist and turmoil dominates daily life. I hate there is nothing that I can do to change it. Today it is Libya dominating the media, but it would be naive of me to ignore the fact that there there is pain and suffering happening around the globe--injustice and exploitation of people to help maintain and perpetuate my way of life. It is easy to complain about simple things when there is little to complain about.

For those that know me, and know me well (or maybe those that have caught me in my rants), know my political opinions about our form of government and the downfalls of our capitalist society but yet, I have to admit that I l am fortunate. I am thankful for the opportunity to receive a higher education...the opportunity to talk!

Today after my "Great Cities" class, I had an insightful and satisfying conversation with my professor. As I walked away in the downpour to my car parked about 1.5 miles (2,4 km) away, I kept thinking how amazing it is to discuss ideas! Furthermore, to have someone knowledgable on the subject to give me input. This is not an opportunity given to everyone and I recognize this. I could not find the room to complain despite being cold and being soaked from head to toe. I could not find the capacity to complain that I had to put my last $20 into my car tank as I drove soaking wet to the gas station. Even know as I write this, I cannot find the words to complain that I have to study for my Italian exam tomorrow. Passato Remoto is nothing compared to the thought of having a war breakout just outside my door.

There is a point in this blog...I swear!

So ok, I hate...no loathe that I am turning another year older. I don't like that I am going to have to collect some change from around the house to fill up my car with gas again here soon. I don't like that my favorite pair (and second to only pair of jeans) are about to have a hole in them. There are plenty of things that I don't like about my life and I am unsatisfied about but I have very little room to complain. I have a roof over my head. I have food on the table. I have clothes to wear. I have the chance to get an education. So what if I have an Italian exam tomorrow and I am not adequately prepared? There are people dying out in the world, don't have a place to sleep, don't have food, etc.
Everyday I want to wake up and feel fortunate, I want to feel empathy, I want to live and learn, I want to love, and I want peace.

I am not saying the status quo is ok, there are plenty of things that can be changed right here but I am fortunate and from my position of privilege, I cannot complain! Things could be much harder. I could be in Iraq, the Congo, in the slums of India, let's not to go so far, the slums of Guatemala. I am thankful. I repeat one hundred times: I am thankful.
What will I do with this marvelous opportunity in my life? What will I do with the privilege given to me? I must be the best I can be. To make other's sacrifice's worthwhile. I cannot change the world but I will do everything in my power to make the world a better place, beginning with me.
Here is to another year...Happy Birthday me.

Addition at 19.55:
Yasmin was curious as to what I was writing and asked me to read it to her (occasionally she likes me to read my term papers to her too, hahaha). Afterwards she said that it was really moving and yes, she actually used the word "moving." She said that she also wishes there was less violence in the world and said, "We need peace not war so everyone can be happy." And there it is: Se lo capisce una bambina, il mondo completo devi capirlo. :)
Ok, now I must really study for this exam tomorrow. Arrivederci!

Hymn of a dying cynic

 Sometimes I like to write s*#$&@ poetry too.

Hymn of a dying cynic

Fiery intoxication of the best and worst kind.
I feel you seeking me
your eyes search for answers
underneath the surface.
I have become a splinter
lurking within the shadows of your thoughts
where you decorate my image with the thirst of desire.
I make you suffer a bittersweet agony
you hope to deny.
But I don't understand this reasoning
I say, if you feel it
let love intoxicate,
suffer its feverish chills
let it infect every last inch of your being
soak its venom right into your soul
let it kill you
and bring you back to life
turn life into poetry.
Your love has already begun to saturate my veins
she inspires the muses and awakens my soul
My once empty canvases
that lay like carcasses on the bedroom floor
have sprung to life
filled with vibrating colors and music.
Sweet love, take me further
push me off this cliff and see me fall
watch my body twist in sweet agony.
Let me house you in the temple of my loins
cradle your insecurities
wrap you in the cloak of my love!
Share this agony with me
so in turn we can both be captives of the same affliction.

October 7, 2010 © Mariana Moscoso

The little ham known as Yasmin...

It is an understatement if I were to say that my daughter, Yasmin, is entertaining. I have to say that a little part of me rejoices every time she asks me to take her photo because I know I am guaranteed to have fun doing it. Even after a long day of shooting for business, I still found the inspiration to photograph her. She's such a little ham, don't you just want to eat her up?

The things I do when I am in love...

There always comes a moment when the desire to create becomes more than just a desire, it is an uncontrollable need. My hands have been rather useless to me, well, that's not entirely true. My hands help me everyday throughout this existence I perpetually live in, doing wonderful things such as playing with my daughters toes or scratching an itch but this is nor here nor there. My point is: I came to the point that I needed to do some art with my hands!
People always mock me because I collect the weirdest things. I save almost everything I deem "important" from bus passes, museum tickets, to random pieces of paper. You call it trash, I call it gold. Now, when I travel or I am experiencing something important, I really save odd things like tea bag wrappers and napkins. When I was on my vacation, I saved boarding passes, advertisements, and maps (a little secret: I love maps). When I got back, I placed all my "trash" into a box because I knew that same day I would use it. I have many boxes like this...things I am saving because one day it will be handy to me. Many of these boxes have remained untouched for years.
Lucky for this little vacation box, I am in love and when I am in love, I need to create. My dormant hands grabbed this vacation box and a dusty blank canvas and began to magically lay pieces into shape. Now, I'm not saying this is a grand masterpiece, nor do I expect it to be hanging at the MoMA someday but this was exactly what my hands were craving to do. Now my hands are satisfied and my passionate heart are content.

This is my tribute to my giro in Italia!

P.S. In case you are wondering who (ok, ok, what) I am in love with, does the subject of this collage give you an idea?

Finalmente: Roma!

As I have aforementioned, I did not take many photographs as one would expect in Europe. But I did take many more in Roma than I did the other places. I have to admit that I had a rather difficult time scraping up the courage to look at these photos. A part of me didn't want to mutate the image of my mind of Roma with actual images of Roma. Nonetheless, I feel a longing that I cannot put into words when I see these photographs. I am in love with La Città Eterna. But this you already know from my previous blog about Roma. So here I am exactly 40 days later after leaving Roma posting these images and without further ado, my version of Roma, in chronological order (except for the last image):

First things first, Musei Vaticani

Don't ask me why but I love photographing police officers. Remember the one I took in Masachapa?

Can you see my reflection?

Basilica Papale di San Pietro in Vaticano

I climbed stairs...and then more stairs but I eventually got to this...

the ceiling inside the Basilica and I also saw this...

Piazza di San Pietro

Seeing the city from so high above was so amazing. I could see many of the famous spots of Roma.

The best shot I got of Pietà

La Fontana di Trevi

The fountain that has shaped my childhood dreams.

During the day...

and at night. Yes, I went twice. Actually, I went four times!

Il Colosseo

La Porta Portese

The Roman flea market and I found many treasures that I brought home with me.

He was the most interesting character that I met in Roma. He would not let just anyone buy his stuff. I don't understand why but he was extremely particular to who could even look at the vintage photographs that he was selling. I was part of the lucky few allowed to get near. I bought some amazing vintage photos for €20.

Yes, all of this was for sale.

Leaving the Fiumicino Airport (again) after a missed flight

La strada: compilation of shots while roaming the streets of Roma

Piazza Venezia

I love the look of this man. I love and hate this McDonald's sign but then again, it is the very spirit of Roma that I love: the clash of the ancient with the modern.

Behind the Pantheon

Piazza Navona

And now, my absolutely favorite photo of Roma. It symbolizes all that I love about Roman culture and its inhabitants. If I think one photo I took can portray the spirit of Roma the way I see it, this one would be it.

Manco Roma...ma presto bellissima, siamo insieme.

More Ometepe

The last day on the island of Ometepe consisted of visiting Ojo de Agua, which is a quaint location where one can bath in natural spring mineral water (got that?). Anyway, it's a beautiful location and as you can see, the water is crystal clear!

Masachapa, Nicaragua

There is nothing like spending a few days by the beach. My family and I rented a beach house with five bedrooms for three days in Masachapa. It is an adorable little beach town that survives solely on the local fisherman. It was probably the most relaxing three days that I had had in a very long time. I spent hours just on the beach or in the ocean bodysurfing. I met a lot of interesting people while there and I will give little captions about them below their photo.

This is where I sat to view the Pacific Ocean when I didn't want to be in the sun anymore.

My father

These are guys that I met as I was walking along the beach. The guy with the pink shirt, Marco, is a local and he was interested in who I was and what I was doing there. Turns out, he spoke a little English and was having fun speaking to me in English instead of Spanish.

This is the busy beach during the early mornings to sell the fish caught very early morning.

This man was the guard of the watchtower I took this photo from. We had an excellent conversation about the environment and socialism (Nicaragua is a socialist country).

The amazing view from the watchtower.

Fried fish bought from the beach that morning.

A marimba band we hired to play music for us for an hour!

I love his passion!

The men in blue...look at these very serious poses.