A Vietnamese dinner--in a Portuguese restaurant in Astoria

"Getting fragged." That term means "getting killed" and it's the slang the troops used in Vietnam in '65. I had dinner with a friend I met a few years ago in Jamaica (the island, not Queens)and we had a really interesting conversation. I learned so much about him that I hadn't known before. He is in his early sixties, a retiree of OTB, grew up in Bed-Stuy; we have very different backgrounds but we really connect as friends, and did from the moment we met. In any case, I discovered that he had been drafted and fought in Vietnam, in Penang (I think) in 1965, just as the war was heating up. He said he hadn't talked about it in 30 or 40 years, it was so traumatic. He described being in a field at night, knowing an attack was coming because you could smell the opium they were smoking. Then they'd just attack with bombs, artillary--he saw people being killed and of the 500 men who'd gone out in his company, only about 200 came back alive. Sounds like he had a serious case of PTSD--he said that no one was in control, everyone's goal was simply to survive, and get as wasted as possible so you could forget where you were because it was so terrifying. He told me about seeing napalm being used (he said if you were down on the ground in an attack you'd be "incinerated" and agent orange. He told me about a very short, underage Polish boy who'd lied his way in and was the pet of the company--he always lagged behind because he was so small but everyone loved him like a little brother. My friend said he had a lot of bravado and felt like he had something to prove, so he signed up for the 101st Airborne--the people who jumped out of helicopters on to the tops of the trees and into the jungle. He was killed 2 weeks into leaving basic training. My friend said "It was 40 years ago but I can SEE him like it was yesterday." He said that a lot of deaths were caused by our own fire because the people in charge were so inexperienced that they would often give incorrect coordinates so our helicopters would fire on us instead of the VC, as he calls them. He also said Vietnan was a beautiful country, especially Penang. He remembered coming back to Brooklyn after basic training in his uniform and have a woman on the street shout at him: "Baby killer!" It was so amazing to hear what feels like history to me in such a personal and immediate way, and the similarities to Iraq are truly striking. Sounds like the same kind of chaos, the same kind of "unintentional" build-up of troops. I was mesmerize. My friend's 89 year old Jamaican mother died 2 weeks ago, and they were very close--he said she was always cooking up akee and jerk fish--so we went from talking about that death to Vietnam. Intense, but I feel as if I've really gotten to know him better and understand his life a bit more. He's in a good place now, but I think post-war, he had a really hard time of it. He said that you couldn't apply for a job and tell people you were a Vietnam vet--people assumed you were an addict. And, he added, you usually were.

In any case, I woke up feeling extremely down in the dumps this morning, and wasn't looking forward to schlepping out to Queens, and I'm so glad I did. We had a sad conversation, but it felt very rich and genuine and it felt good to make a connection and get out of my head. I have to force myself to go out and interact when I'm feeling down because I inevitably feel better afterward; I find interacting with other people mostly energizing.

So, this day which started as a Bad day has morphed into a Very Good day.
Ciao,
Paola
P.S. That's little Mira, above, in Montauk this weekend. She is recently five.

Happy Birthday to me!

Today is my 44th birthday, a nice even number, smack in the middle of my life. (I could see living to 88, most of my grandparents did.)
Life is good.
Shared the weekend with friends at our favorite Montauk digs, the Sunrise Guesthouse. The forecast was forboding: thunderstorms from Friday afternoon to Sunday. Never happened. We spent the entire time on the beach, going for walks and swimming (water was warm and not too rough). Had lobster at Duryea's a dockside byob place on a bay, ate pancakes and ice cream cones, did yoga on the sand. (It was very SELF-y in some ways--and un SELF-y in others, I must admit.
This weekend has some pain in it, because my birthday (or the night before) was my anniversary with the ex. But I felt surrounded by people who cared about me, grateful for the found-sunny weekend, and excited about the next few months finishing up the book. I'm actually almost there--I have 28 essays in! Need to buckle down and finish up, but it feels like pleasure, not business.

I would like to find love this year, or at least get to flirt a lot!
Ciao amici--
Paola

A meeting of the minds, in suits! (bathing suits, that is)

Yesterday, a group of SELF editors convened at a sun-filled spot to engage in some very SELF-y activities: workout, play tennis, run, swim laps, eat salads (and dessert!), read, talk, gossip about celebs and appreciate each other and the magazine we work for. It was extremely energizing, and relaxing. A good way to work-and-play on a summer day.

Ciao!
Paola

Wanna read about the day from the perspective of SELF's editor, Lucy Danziger? Check out her blog.http://www.self.com/livingwell/blogs/editor/

That gratitude thing again

I had an amazing talk with a friend in D.C. tonight. I was feeling blue all day, bruised (a bit) by reentering the dating fray, and even a beautiful run around the reservoir in Central Park couldn't cure me. Then the phone rang, and it was my friend, who had wise and comforting things to say about breakups. He reminded me that breaking up doesn't mean the love never happened, and that nobody can take that away. He said how lucky I was that I've been able to experience transcendent love several times in my life when some people never feel it once. It sounds a bit basic, but I realized that it was a nicer way of looking at the breakup--through the prism of what I gained rather than lost. (It's that gratitude thing again--it's the hot new emotion among happiness researchers.) And I gained a lot, including things that enabled me to come up with a book about sex (Behind the Bedroom Door) and spend two months working on it in Rome. The absence of it is hard, but now I will hopefully get to experience it again, for the first time, and there is nothing quite like that. I look forward to it.

Ciao!
Paola

P.S. I'm showing off by posting the picture of clouds, above, that I took in Cinque Terre--I thought it was pretty transcendent!

Home improvement

I got a burst of energy this weekend (perhaps because I slept til almost noon on Saturday, and fixed up my apartment. My friend Millicent helped me hang several prints I'd gotten in Europe and rearrange others, then I made a major impulse buy. There is a great new furniture store on around 100th and Broadway with fair-trade furniture. Really unique and beautiful stuff from recycled wood. So I got a chest of drawers/hutch type thing and I've decided I'm going to leave it mostly empty now. I need to make room for another person in my life, so we will see who (or what )fills it. It also feels very luxurious to have a bunch of unused storage space in a New York City apartment. I also rearranged the office portion of my bedroom, moving the bookcase and some photographs. I'm very happy with all the results.

Also hung these two very special photographs I bought in Berlin side by side over my dining room table. They remind me of stained glass windows, only they are fragments of photographs taken by the artist, pieced together. The more you look at them, the more you see.

It's nice to now be surrounded by so many reminders of my trip--Vernazza and Siena in the bedroom, a little more Siena over the couch, some Berlin in the dining nook, with a final large Berlin print from the Bauhaus museum to follow in a few days. It felt very important to make a post-breakup change of significance around this place.

Going on a date with a new guy tonight. Two in one week--I guess I'm really dating. I don't know whether to say YIKES or YIPPEE!
Ciao--
Paola

Mia and Paola

I went on a date tonight!!! So wild and odd and strange and a little scary and sad but also somehow fun to be dating again. That is all I'll say. (There are eyes on this blog, even if only a few pairs of 'em.) Then I got to come home to my cozy apartment and hang out with my friend MP (aka Mia), who is in from Andes (in the Catskills) for the night. And debrief about the date!!! What could be better?
Buona notte amici!
Paola

Only Connect

Major weekend this past weekend. My best friend got married. And is having a baby. Major life milestone--for her and for me, since she is my travel buddy and go-to girl for all of life's crises and pleasures, big and small alike. It obviously brings to mind that I am beginning again, relationship-wise. (That's Pam, me, Pam's sister Reesa and our friend-from-Houston Bettina.) But the nice thing about being boyfriendless (for the moment) is that I have really connected with friends in a way that feels meaningful. I have more emotional energy to devote to them--and to devote to myself and my life. Have had several long, wine-filled evenings with old friends and it was nice to talk about everything going on in my life rather than just focus on The Relationship. It's very easy to forget how good it feels to hang with your closest friends when you're coping with the ups and downs of love.
In any case, amo mi amici!
Ciao--
Paola

Working late and neglecting the blog!

Wow. I feel as if I am truly back in New York, Italy glow starting to wear off a tad. I've been in the office til 10:30, two nights in a row, starting to dip my toe into the dating world (which, unfortunately, doesn't always feel exactly fun) and am generally a bit grumpy. Grrrr. But I have been getting to wear my new glasses at work a lot, doing all that computer work. Much as I love SELF (and I do!) I don't like working 12-hour days--I'm glad I have to do it only rarely.

The book, however, is going great. I got an amazing, amazing essay in from Pari Chang today, a former student who ditched her lawyering job to write full time. (She wrote about making that transition in SELF a few months ago). And I got another essay from a writer I met in Rome, Ethel Smith, a professor at a college in West Virginia who is writing a memoir about being a black woman in Berlin. Her essay is going to be extremely interesting--it will examine some race and class issues in a pretty surprising way. The book is so much fun--it is pretty much all pleasure. I feel so lucky to be able to do it. Working with all these great writers is amazing, being able to get personal fast (which I always love), getting to think and write and edit. About sex. What could be bad?

Ciao amici!
Paola

A weekend in the Catskills

Spent the weekend in my good friends' Matthew and MP's house in Andes New York, with Caroline and John, and Connor, 9 months. Connor is talking already: His first 3 words were "hi" "book" and "exactly" which he pronounces exSACK...
Very, very, VERY cute. Needless to say, we got him to say it over and over and over again.
We did lots of porch sitting, as we always do, gave each other career pep talks, dreamed about taking cool trips together and enjoyed the usual debauchery of a summer weekend, including lamb burgers and Ben & Jerry's peanut butter cup ice cream. I love it so much, I can't keep it in my own house, but I was very glad to see it in someone else's house--and partake!

My book was born on this very porch, above, with the encouragement of the folks above, two years ago already. Long live the off-road girls (and their guys!).
Ciao!
Paola

An utterly narcissistic entry

I just got a haircut tonight, and I have no plans, no one to see it but the doorman. So, before it gets all mussed by rain and frizzed by humidity (I have Jewish hair), I thought I'd document the "salon blowout" look, as SELF would term it.

On a more serious. intellectual note (for you mom and dad), this blogging thing, far from making my life feel more isolated and solo, is actually making life feel richer for me for a number of reasons. First, there is the simple pleasure of writing every day, which is something I have never been able to do--it has been years since I've done my own writing in a regular way. To me, diaries have always seemed too annoyingly self-conscious. I'm already thinking my thoughts, I KNOW what I'm thinking so why write it down? Whereas blogging is about talking to other people, whether one, ten or two hundred. I like writing for an audience; it makes it feel more like a job, except without the pressure for perfectionism. The medium of the blog has helped me give myself permission to be imperfect, which I know sounds kind of cheesy, but it's been incredibly freeing creatively. The other wonderful thing is that I've started documenting much more with photography and it's really fun--people seem to like my photos and it's not a way I ever expressed myself before. So it's nice to be flexing a new creative muscle. But mostly, it's because the blog makes me frame my life in a positive way (because I don't want to be whiney and morose and negative for an audience) and by framing it that way, it suddenly becomes that way. Classic cognitive therapy. I feel as though I'm looking at everything more closely because I know that I am going to document it, so I have to remember, plus figure out the more hopeful take on it. And then I FEEL more hopeful.

Plus, it's so wonderful to have an almost daily account of my Rome trip, with photos and commentary. It allows me to hold on to the joy of my trip longer. And I feel as if it helps the people I'm close to, far and near, feel more connected to me, which makes me feel more connected to them. So, thanks for reading, whoever you are!

Ciao,
Paola

Happy Fourth of July!

Enjoy lounging, loafing, beaching, barbequeing, firecrackering and celebrating. Don't forget to use sunscreen!
Ciao!
Paola

I love summer in NYC....

...especially when it's a perfect summer evening like tonight. Sun setting over the Central Park reservoir. I feel so lucky to live in a place where I can work late if I need to and still get home easily and fast enough to do an errand and be on the reservoir doing a sunset run by 8 pm.

The only downside: It is so absolutely perfect and beautiful and balmy outside that it makes me wish I had someone to share it with (other than friends and family). Oh well, I am going to try to enjoy where I am now and be open and see who/what enters my life. That sounds so uncharacteristically Zen of me--maybe I'm turning into Elizabeth Gilbert!
Ciao amici!
Paola

My boyz

Spent a lovely weekend at my sister and brother-in-law's house in the Berkshires. (My cuter-than-ever nephews, clowning around, are pictured above.) Die-hard beach person that I am, you can't argue with perfect weather and a hike to a beautiful waterfall (Bash Bish Falls, if anyone is interested. Gorgeous).

After the hike, we went out for pizza--the first time I've eaten pizza since I've been back from Italy. BLEEEECH! Not to be a prima donna, or anything (hey, just realized that that is an Italian phrase--maybe I DO want to be a prima donna), but you just can't compare Italian pizza to American pizza. Granted, this pizza came from upstate New York rather than New York City or the boroughs, but still.

Here are the problems with American pizza:

The crust is too thick and not the right consistency. In Italy, one person can easily eat the better part of a pie because the crust is so delicate and thin and light, with just the right crunchy but chewy consistency and amount of salt.

The sauce is way, way, WAY too sweet. In Italy, fresh tomatoes, lots of garlic. No sweet sauce.

The cheese is too thick and goopy. In Italy, the mozzarella is incredibly fresh and not glopped all over the pizza so it pulls out from your mouth in a long rubbery string.

There are no real spices. In Italy, you can taste all kinds of delicate flavors as well as the true flavors of the crust, cheese and tomato and basil.

In short, in American, pizza is fast food. In Italy, it is a wonderful meal. At least to me!
Ciao!
Paola