The tale of Ciao bella..

Now this is ‘bello’

She waved as she approached, dissecting me into hundreds of minuscule pieces. ‘Ciao bella’, she grabbed me and fleetingly touched my cheek to hers, lips pursed and then with the other cheek she repeated the ritual.
‘Ciao Mara’, I responded. I hadn’t seen her for a few weeks. ‘Quanto sei bella’, she stood back and continued to dissect me, ‘you are BEAUTIFUL’. I was always taken aback by the word ‘bella’. It seemed to be used so effortlessly and in my mind was not a good ‘truth’ indicator. People who barely knew each other would tap cheek to cheek and say,’ ciao bella’. Do you really think that I am bella? I asked myself time and time again. Do you really think that it is wise to call a person you have just met and do not know bella? How language differs country to country. In English, it would be highly unusual to address someone with ‘hi beautiful’. Even people who know you would think it strange!
I felt a tinge of embarrassment whenever anyone said ‘ciao bella’. I really didn’t know how to take it and it took me a decade to become acquainted with it’s usage. Needless to say the words didn’t slip off my tongue very easily.

A controversial gypsy life in Rome

A sea of cobbled streets

The gypsy’s perspective is one that is not acknowledged on the cobbled streets of Rome.They are regarded as beggars and thieves. Maybe this is a fragment of what their lives might resemble if we were to walk in their shoes:

NAME: Cosmina
AGE: 40
Mother of four children
Lives in a caravan in the outskirts of Rome.
Gravely ill with MS (undiagnosed)

” I can hardly take a breath under here. The black hood covers my head as I inhale the filth of the cobbled road beneath me. The winter chill has possessed my bones and I am chronically sick. I have walked kilometres in the last few days. What I own is on my back, my feet are worn and dirty. They jeer me you know, they think I am vermon, they don’t know where I have come from and how much sufferance I endure. To them I am faceless, the beggar with no identity. Some toss me a few coins, others ignore me and one or two tut-tut as they pass. I hear them beneath my layered rags. I hear the words, the blasphemy. My numb hands rolled into fists are practically lifeless but my hearing is faultless.
When approaching footsteps hasten I know they will not stop or look my way but when the footsteps hesitate and then slow to a halt I know there is a chance the odd coin will be thrown my way.
They don’t know where I have come from and how much sufferance I endure”.

A tale to tell…transfixed by beauty

Santa Prisca, the Aventine church in Rome

“If I stood in one spot for this long there was a reason. Studying the oil painting, in the small and humble church of Santa Prisca in Rome, was mesmerising. I was transfixed, the detail in his cumbersome hands, the pain, the anguish and the solace in his virtuous face. How could it be that there was pain and solace? Broken fingernails caked with dirt and hardship. Yet his face was serene, perfect even as his head tilted upwards. I was the intruder as I stood unable to shift my gaze from the beauty before me.
The chatter of a group of tourists broke the silence. The adolescents whispered and sniggered behind faces that quite simply were unable to appreciate the significance or majesty of what was before them, juxtaposed by the modesty of the tiny church the oil painting was a masterpiece, hopefully one day they would recall the importance of their brief visit.”

Hello world! Fairy size accolades

It is so exciting to be able to write on my newly created blog. I love writing, I find it relaxing and a divine way to unwind through words and contemplations.

Did I mention I have just completed a novel memoir? I am really excited about it. Firstly, I am jumping out of my skin because as I sit immersed in a sea of paperwork, I have actually finished it! Secondly, it has taken me over eighteen years to complete it (I am being truly, madly and honestly serious) and thirdly I am wishfully hopeful it will be published by a publishing house large or small.

I am going to sit back and absorb the silence in the air and in my typing finger tips as I inhale the excitement of ‘finishing something’. There is a sense of achievement and solace in completing something you have wanted and worked on for many long hours. I am going to take a moment to wallow in my own accolades (though fairy size they may be).

Words, without them there will be no more stories to tell…..