Traveling Wind

Wind,

You wave all the world’s seas with your whisper,

Mediterranean waters move like monks mediating in your marvel,

You awaken sleeping Cyprus trees who have fallen to rest in fall,

Monkeys limbo through their newly luscious leaves, no longer weak and crisper

Your beautifying breath kisses my cheeks into a ruby rose,

My face full of budding love and life,

You kiss even my nose,

Like Father nature kisses his wife,

Gently,

You shuffle through the Swiss Alps,

And through every mountain peak

You are eager energy, your energy never weak

You rush over the world, over me, over my scalp

Filling my mind with your mystique,

Existing before ancient Greek

You are not scared of time,

Wind, you are a world wonder.

I wish to be you wind,

To awaken myself to all the world,

To wherever I may blow through,

I will travel like you wind, untrapped by windows,

Qui io vengo (here I come)

To softly sail or to enthusiastically escapade,

Lets go wind,

andiamo. (let's go)

-Carolina Dominguez

Monday, February 21, 2011

Al'Italiana!


Waking up at 1:16 in the afternoon. I woke up. What usually comes after waking up? Breakfast. It’s Sunday. Everything in Bologna is closed…including the school cafeteria, which is not really a cafeteria but a line-through restaurant.
Today this was not the case. There was indeed breakfast. Can you believe that three Italian guys here at Collegio Alma Mater, Stefano, Alberti and Vittorio cooked all morning and afternoon a special pasta from Vittorio’s region of Umbria and dessert cannolies of Sicily made with ricotta cheese, pistachio and chocolate!? Three Italian men on a Sunday morning turned afternoon cooked for twenty people. Sincerely, this was the best pasta I have had yet in Italy. But I still can’t get over how three guys cooked and it wasn’t a barbeque. On a Sunday morning. (Stefano did say he was “stanchy” (tired) from cooking. All I ever see him do is sleep and eat. I see him in the mensa, and on occasion the palestra. But still, he cooked and baked his cannolies).
I strolled in just as the pasta was being served. Alberti and Stefano laughed as they served my plate and gave me plenty of pasta and told me it was going to help me grow. After everyone devoured their pasta, Stefano shared his stuffed cannolies. Delitzioso! We all helped clean the basement kitchen. Breakfast was served al’Italiana. I got two fifty-cent espressos and was more than satisfied to go and finish writing my English Paper on Ungaretti’s poem “Il fiumi.”
…and do hand-wash laundry in the sink for an hour. Just two save four euros on laundry machines which could be better used on cappuccinos. 
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