Not in Rome and still at home

Well, I'm managing to emerge from my process of reimmersion long enough to update this blog, of which I've become quite fond. So. Transformation. I have a different view on transformation since I've been home for a scant three days. Though I didn't feel as if I was changing in any way while I was in Rome (other than becoming more adept at map reading), now that I'm back in NYC and at work, I feel altered in a wonderful way, more expansive, more relaxed, more aware of what I love about NYC, about the people I work with. It is so nice to be able to live in a paradise-like city such as Rome for several months, and not feeling sad upon returning. I like my life, my apartment (especially my apartment compared to the plaster-dust-covered, chipped-crockery and stained comforter filled miniscule flat in Trastevere. I feel as if I'm living in the lap of luxury, with all my things around me.

I also feel so happy to be at work--the fact that the people at SELF enabled me to go on this fantastic trip makes me feel very grateful (a key factor in happiness, research shows) and overflowing with good will. And I got such a warm welcome--hugs, kisses, beautiful flowers--it felt wonderful. Because they let me go, I was able to come back feeling fulfilled and rested and happily ready to bust my butt for them, in the best possible way.

In case this is becoming annoyingly Pollyanna-ish, I will try to strike a lighter note with the following reflections:

Differences between Rome and NYC:
1) NYers stand on subway platforms obsessively checking their CrackBerry's, emailing their bosses. Italians stand on subway platforms obsessing checing their cell phones for text messages about where to meet for a coffee.

2) NYers are scheduled to the gills, several weeks in advance. I was most guilty of this. Italians tend to play socializing more by ear, inviting each other to "stop by for a coffee some time" or issue a dinner invite at the last minute. It helped me feel a bit looser and hopefully will help me refrain a bit from planning every minute of my time.

3) The strawberries in Italy are small and sweet; the strawberries in NYC are large and tasteless.

4) Coffee, restaurants, bottled water are all cheaper in Manhattan than in Rome, all thanks to the Euro.

5) You will never see an Italian man wearing khaki shorts and sneakers with sweat socks. No. Not done.

6) You will never see an Italian women doing errands on a Saturday in sweats, with unbrushed hair and no makeup. Or in khaki shorts and sneakers. Schlumpy-ness reigns on the Upper West Side!

One big lesson I learned: The most gratifying, fantastic thing about this whole experience was asking for a leave--something that was going to inconvenience my coworkers--and actually get it. Asking for things is very difficult for me, especially when someone might be inconvenienced, and that has really gotten me into trouble in romantic relationships. (Translation--I turn into something just short of a doormat.) This has taught me a lesson, in a tangible way, that sometimes, when you ask for things, you get them, because the people around you want to help you feel good or support you. I hope it makes it easier for me to identify what I want and ask for it in love, and in life.

Buona notte!
Paola, at home, tho not in Rome. (I'm not sure I can drop my Italian moniker. Thoughts?