Just Dive Into It...

Fun rolled on after our experience at the spoontino. Sunday was our day off along with the hottest and nicest day we have had since I got there. As result we met up with a few people from the fiesta the day before at the ocean for a primitive BBQ. With swim trunks on and towel on shoulder I was excited to get to experience once again what the Mediterranean waters would offer me. The last time I took a dip in the waters were in the greek islands and it was beautiful. As we parked we did our 10 minutes walk to a hidden location only known by locals. The beach was actually a slew of medium to small sized rocks. Yes, barefoot in rocks is not as enjoyable as beach sand that pampers your pups. This wasn’t going to take away the fact that I was soaking up the sun and going to be hopping in that crystal blue water. After the greetings and cheek kisses I departed with the kids to the deep end of the rocks where it is safe to cliff jump. Something told me “Brian, feel the water, you have been sick already, you don’t want to get sick again do you?” you see how well I listen. I actually did feel the water, but everyone knows that the toe or finger test is not a realistic test to tell how the rest of your body will fair against the cold. Take the temperature of cold water with your finger and subtract it by 20 degrees and you are in the range you should expect. After I did my false litmus test I got ready for my dive. Orlando went head first off the medium size jump. It seemed that as he hit the water he was out of the water just as quickly. Can’t be that cold, I touched it with my finger. I was at one of the higher jumps in the area. Took a couple steps back and got my wheels revving like they did in old cartoons. Jolting forward I planted my left foot, jumped, throwing my hands in front of my head and going head first just as Orlando did. As my foot left the rocks I immediately regretted my decision to dive. I have never been one to let my head explore something that I have never explored before. At this moment it was a moot point. I had to go all out or take a nasty belly flop that would most likely leave me hospitalized and not ever having kids. Luckily for me water moved away as I hit it so I didn’t hurt too much. It could have been a little kinder with its temperature though. I understood very well how Orlando felt as he touched the water. Daggers, fire, ice, pain, headache, no breathe, goose pimples. Needless to say I got ready for round two. This time I wanted proof of this happening. Orlando took the camera and we did this again. His timing was a bit off to the point I was always in the water when he took it. If I had to guess how many times I had to jump off the rocks I would say 20 times to take a good shot. By that time I was numb and feeling didn’t affect me anymore.

The rest of the day was full of eating, soccer and wine. 6 hours later we drove home in smiles.

Moral of the story, SMILE!!!

Spoontino

Spoontino. I am not sure if that is the correct spelling of the word but I found out what it means on Saturday. After work we headed home to clean up and get ready for some kind of fiesta. A shower and a drive later we were at a neighbors olive orchard walking up to his house. Quick side note, it would seem that every place in Bosa is up a hill. If you go up a hill chances are you will have to go up another hill just to get back to where you came from. I feel like it is the old saying “I used to walk 10 miles in the snow to school every day uphill both ways.” Bosa somehow makes that possible. We arrive to the peak and we are warmly greeted by a large group of well spirited people. By spirited I mean they had delved into the spirits of wine already and gave many of the kisses. I have been mostly familiar with females giving me kisses on the cheek before, so it was somewhat an awkward experience when I got one from a couple of the natives. I wasn’t quite sure how to react when they shook hands then pulled in, closed eyes, puckered lips. If they were going for my trap I dodge a bullet but still left me wondering where I was. Immediately Kurt and I put together the Slack Line and the people came. I felt like Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams, “If you build it they will come” but it was actually “if you build a line out of rope, people will walk on it”. Eventually the purpose for our visit had appeared. The host had slaughtered one of his sheep and cooked nearly the whole thing for us to eat. As they were cooking people were sitting around a large table made of scrap wood and blocks talking and laughing back and forth. Imagine any Italian movie where a foreigner goes to visit a family dinner and that is where I was. There was some English that was spoken like “you like cheese?”, “you like wine?”, “you play guitar?”. After dinner was served 2 guitars a banjo and a drum came out. I couldn’t believe how good these guys played together. The first song they sang it seemed like the guy was just coming up with lyrics off the top of his head. I was very impressed. I gave a standing ovation alone. The next song came and it was right then that I found out that 1. the chords that the three guys were playing were exactly the same for the next two hours 2. he was playing pop songs that everyone knew so it was a little less impressive 3. He made the dogs bark at his voice so it must not have been good for their ears.

The night time was quickly approaching and Michael and Silvia was telling the kids that they were going to be leaving soon. Nahima was even sitting there in a chair crying out of tiredness. She would just yell out “MOOOOOOM” with tears in her eyes. Silvia would turn around and say “soon”. I felt their pain, if I was her age I would be creating a big fuss as well. The only reason I didn’t was because I am “grown up” even though all I wanted to do was say “I WANNNNNA GOOOO”. 7 hours at a spoontino is a bit of a day.

Moral of the story, if 1 door opens so do 10 others. Which do you pick???

Virus

I am sorry for my inconsistency with my latest blog posting. For the last few days I have been doing quite a bit that is worthy to write about but just couldn’t find the time to sit down and write a Brian worthy blog post.

I hit the trifecta yesterday. I wish I was talking about basketball because I have been itching to get back into playing. Nope, the trifecta is the 3 fun sicknesses. First I was not doing well with a cold that made my eyes pop out the sockets. Early march near my birthday I was incapacitated by a fever that reminded me why I don’t like fevers. Today though, my stomach decided that the virus going around would be a good candidate for keeping things interesting. I woke up this morning like I do any morning. Put my corn flakes and pineapple juice down the hatch and went to work. It wasn’t until we were half way through pruning that I started feeling a bit funny. Not funny like “how do you catch a unique rabbit? Unique up on it!”(I deliver it better in person). Mr. stomach was doing some flips and turns that dropped me to my knees and said “Oh no I don’t feel to swell”. Yes I did use the word swell, I am bringing it back. I still had two hours of work to push through before we were finished for the day. I was not a happy panda at all. We finally get home and I have only 2 feelings. I will not go into detail, but they involve relieving pressure in my stomach and intestines.  In the midst of blowing chunks all I could think of was how much I miss my mom holding my head back like a pez dispenser to allow easy flow. I really don’t understand what it is that has made my immune system go from awesome to on holiday.

Moral of the story, eat your vitamin C.

The Slack Line

Today was what I like to call fantasmic. We went to work today as usual by going to the coffee shop to get Kurt and Michael a cup of coffee and me a glass of milk. I knew that during my sleep that the Arizona Wildcats were playing the most hated team in all levels of basketball; Duke. At one point during the season Duke was ranked number 1 and was seeded number 1 in the bracket. I anxiously sprinted to the only spot in Bosa that has internet. My gut feeling was telling me not to worry, but who doesn’t when you are an Arizona fan that has been accustom to disappointment. I checked the scores and gave not a double look, not a triple look but a quadruple look. In my expert opinion Williams is a beast and has possibly jumped to my Arizona all time all star team. The rest of my day was filled with smiles and jitters. I couldn’t wait to get to my computer and watch the highlights and get giddy again. But I did have to wait. After work we took lunch and set up what I have been waiting for for over a month. The entire family went outside and started scoping places to set up the beautiful slack line. Our first attempt was to make the line as long as possible which was close to 20 meters(over 60 feet). I was first up on the line. My thoughts on the matter was that I am pretty athletic and have pretty good balance, this should be a challenge but doable. Man was I wrong. I put one foot on the strap and it started shaking back and forth like an earthquake. I had barely but any weight on the thing and it was moving like it was bull trying to shake me off in a rodeo. The rope won. All the others had very similar outcomes. Distorted bodies and eventually flailing arms and ungraceful dismounts. The hardest part was the landing. We seemed to place the rope right above a pile of small rocks that poked up just high enough to hurt but low enough that you can barely see them. I am laying down right now feeling like a got a foot massage from a boxer. Back to the story. Someone eventually tried using a stick as a crutch. It worked very well. Eventually we were able to walk back and forth on it with most of our weight on the stick. Cheating. We took the stick away and we were back to be bucked off. A curious thing happened though, we were getting better. Someone would walk 2 steps, then 3 steps, then maybe even 4. It was sooooo much fun I couldn’t believe it. Kurt and I joked about how the family was using the slack line. They were all like little kids that don’t believe in rules and waiting for turns. Orlando was the worst. He would go and fall down and hop right back on 5 or 6 times. This often upset Nahima to the point of crying. Silvia would even push others out of line and use her mother status to jump spots. Today was a good day.

Moral of the story, if you think you might be good at something, you wont be.

We Running This Town...

I recently was asked “Brian, you must be in excellent shape you are doing with all your running, right?” This is a complicated question with a complicated answer. I will try to make my answer as concise as possible. No. I guess it wasn’t that complicated. The last time I had a good run was the day after my birthday, which by my calendar was almost 20 days ago. In my defense I haven’t had a day off that was sunny since then. And I don’t like running. It is more the heavy distaste for running then anything. I have realized though that I am in need of physical activity along with the clipping of branches. The clipping of branches is a pretty fantastic workout for the hand though. I am gonna be able to give a iron gripped handshake soon.

Silvia has taken an interest in handstands. This is 100% up my alley. I even have plans in the next few days to construct a handstand apparatus for us to use. For me being upside down on my hands is as natural of a feeling as being “upright” on my feet. This will sure beat having to kill my knees with running.

The package I have been waiting for has come in the mail today. SLACK LINE. I am not sure how well my first attempt will go but I expect a horrible face plant that will most likely be captured on video and uploaded to YouTube before I get a bag of ice. Stay tuned for the next episode “Brian On A Rope”…

Moral of the story, body odor is the fragrance of forgetful people…

Upside Down And Inside Out...

The weather is changing here in Bosa. When I got here each morning when we were picked up and each night when we were dropped off it was cold enough that a jacket was needed. With the exception of today the weather has drastically changed to be just below perfect. Walking out in the morning in a long sleeve shirt and a slight brisk coolness kissing the cheeks(on the face). After morning tea it is already warm enough out to start disrobing. I have yet to be comfortable enough to express my true nature in the form of nakedness, still too cold for that… Silvia says that in the next few weeks it will be our first chance to take the first “bath”. I never really noticed her smell before, but if she hasn’t had a bath since I have got here then someone needs to give her a lesson in hygiene. She actually does clean herself, but she was referring to take a dip in the ocean. The last time I was there it was pretty cold and made hairs grow when I stuck my little toe in. It will still be cold, but the sun will be giving off more radiation to warm us after we get out of the water I guess. What I am really trying to convince Michael of is to construct the slack line over the ocean so that we can try to walk across and then if we fall you freeze to death. SILVIA YOUR UP FIRST. The most exciting thing about summer at the beach is that the Zipp family knows where the cliff diving and rock jumping areas are. When I dove off of water falls in Switzerland it left a void in me that can only be filled by more jumping. I also can’t wait to practice my front and back flips. I just know once I am not going to turn all the way and there will be a belly flop. That will mark the end of flipping off of rocks and mark the start of me crying.

Moral of the story, water isn’t as soft as you might hope when you are free falling.

Xroads...

I have come to my proverbial crossroads of my life. Decisions need to be made that will forever affect my future. Good vs. evil, left vs right, peanut butter vs jelly. I am beginning to become restless in the town of Bosa. A lack of excitement and fun activities has left me slightly unmotivated. When this happens change is in order. But let’s analyze the situation. I have been here for 2 months loving the family and everything they have done for me. Not much to do in Bosa right now. In about one month the sea will be swimmable and the beaches will be beachable. There is surfing that can be done and dolphins to see and possibly play with. A couple other factors to think of; leaving for most of May to hang with the parental, couple weekend trips between now the parents, friend visiting in June, and last someone from my helpx site asking to become a travel partner. For the most part I like traveling solo, but it has become apparent that having someone to share some of the experiences would be pretty cool to have. Worst case scenario is that I make a friend along the way and we have some good good times.

Input on the matter would be greatly appreciated…lend your words to the typer and tell me what you think.

Moral of the story, if you are a bigot against spigots then that is spigotry…

Get Your Swagger On...

Today was quite an eventful day. It was the day I got my swagger back and lost it in a flash. For quite a while I really felt the pressure of being the outsider in this town of Bosa. This morning though I woke up and just felt like a million bucks. The most judging glances couldn’t tear me down anymore. Intimidation was long gone and confidence was back in session. I was walking around in my dirty clothes, smelling like yesterdays work, bed hair going each and every way and had a smile on my face. Too cool to care at this point. After Michael, Kurt and I were done in town getting our morning drinks we took off to work. We have really gotten into a good groove of me initially cleaning a tree up, Kurt coming to make some big cuts, then Michael doing the fine pruning that only years of experience would be able to see. My job of cleaning entails me to clip off all little baby branches off the trunk and main branches. The middle of the tree we try to open up to sun light, so I timidly cut what I think would be a good few branches to be gone but leave the main cuts for Kurt. To do this it is imperative for me to climb trees all day to reach those reachable by giraffes only. There are some dangers to climbing into the trees. First there are ants that come out whenever one climbs on top of their nest. I have been bit a few times and retaliated appropriately with bad name calling and the shaking of the fist at them. Another danger are the leaves. Sure they seem indifferent to my presence, but the amount of times that they have attacked by sticking themselves in my nose, eye ear and mouth makes me believe differently. Last one that happened to me today is gravity. In the midst of being in a relatively tall tree I was doing some cuts and jamming out to my music. I slid my foot thinking there was a branch that would grow there for me to place my weight on. Instead my foot slid off completely and I lost my balance and fell back in slow motion. As I fell back I spread my body in all directions. I hear that wind resistance will decrease my velocity, even if only a couple yards off the ground. Don’t worry though, the stump of the tree caught by right butt cheek as 3 of my limbs somehow got caught on other tree limbs. I felt distorted like a Picasso painting. A little blood and butt rubbing later I was back in the tree clipping and saying goodbye to my swagger.

Moral of the story, GO ARIZONA WILDCATS…

Love Lost...

To be bitten by the bitter bug that is love. Orlando has swooned and been swooned by one of his female classmates. This 13 year old man acted upon his feelings with a one Christina.  For a whole 2 weeks he had a companion to share his hopes and dreams with. Stolen glances and “accidental” brushes upon each other were no longer longings of desire. Orlando reached inside and pulled out his inner Casanova and with all his charisma and suave he swept this young temptress off of her feet. It wasn’t until recently that Orlando felt the sting only a woman can inflict. His heart scarred forever with the deep wound that all first loves leave. I am sure he is thinking back on all the fond memories that they shared over the 14 days that seemed to be their eternity. With all of his sorrow he confided in his mother how his relationship had come to the tragedy of love worthy or Romeo and Juliet. After his heart felt words I asked Silvia to explain exactly what would leave Orlando to be broken into the pieces that she had obviously shattered. Silvia told me that they were in a relationship from texting each other and talking on facebook. From the information I gathered stolen glances never happened. Passionate kisses or hand holding was not a part of their relationship.

I am not really sure what to make of what the world is coming to. Texting and facebook has replaced much of the personal touch that humans use to desire. I am sure that this is not an isolated case here in Sardinia. I am not going to quit my facebook or stop emailing or texting, but from now on I plan on trying to make physical connections with people instead of the connections that the web makes. Electronics have their place in the world, but it has in many cases regressed our human race.

Moral of the story, it’s not a real hug unless it lasts 10 seconds…

Dont Be Such A Prune...

Initiation is over and I have now been accepted into the brotherhood. What on earth am I talking about? Well it would seem that after the hours of picking up branches and burning them, moving rock, wheel burrowing, and weeding I have reached the promise land. Sir Michael has moved to a different parcel of land that he takes care of and needs help with pruning. I was pretty concerned since this is his lively hood and each snip of the clippers is either helping or hurting the tree being pruned. Massive trees with branches flying in each direction felt quite a bit overwhelming. I learned things that I can use now when pruning my own trees at home. We started my the trunk and he told us that all the main productiveness happens on the outside of the tree. So most all branches that are on the inside that don’t get any light are just taking up nutrients that can be used for making smooth olive oil. Next that each branch has about 3 years that it has good production. After that it is useless and also takes up energy, get rid of it. His main rule is that if you take the branch closest to the trunk, that is going to be the oldest one and it probably can go. Once you get to the fresh ones that aren’t interfering with other branches don’t go any further. At my parents house we often prune to increase the aesthetic look. I had never actually considered how cutting a single branch can affect all of the ones around it and the tree in general. For example, by cutting a branch not at the knot, then you are in essence stimulating it to grow a few branches from where you just cut. After one tree he let us go loose and we did some on our own. At first I was pretty timid with the cuts I was making. A few leaves here, a branch there. But then I would look back and he is taking off huge trunks that “needed” to go. I loosened up a little bit and started fluttering my clippers. 4 hours later we had done about 8 or 9 trees. 170 to go. Looks like I am going to be getting great practice at what could be my back up career plan. Brian Halbach: expert olive tree pruner… has a ring to it.

Moral of the story, all stories have morals.

A Moment In History...

150 years ago Italy was unified to be the boot it is today. A simplified story of it is that a bunch of guys with silly hats walked from the south of Italy to the north saying “hey wanna be a unified country?”. Some of them had to spit off and swim to Sardinia, but eventually the great country you see today is due to their persuasive abilities and long legs. As a way to commemorate these soldiers of unity, old men dressed in the funny hats carrying flags walk up the street and meet in the main piazza. While there they create a little border for the speaker and a wreath. Outside of the border are other old men who usually would be standing around gossiping anyway. This event just brought more gossip to a central location. As the ceremony took place I noticed that not a single policeman or soldier was dressed in the same garb. Hats would be different, jackets, gloves, shoes, pants, pins and buttons. I am not saying they just went to the thrift store to find whatever they could, but I wouldn’t be surprised either. A couple people were called up to speak in front of the amassed crowd of geezers. Since I didn’t understand what he was saying I couldn’t help but to picture one of the guys accepting an Oscar during his speech. “This is so unexpected, it wasn’t me who actually unified Italy but I live here so I would like to thank my mom and dad and Billy(pointing to someone in the crowd) for believing in me.” Then the music starts to get loud as the sign to get off stage. The whole event took maybe 10 minutes from start to finish. When it was done the old men stayed right where they were and kept gossiping like nothing had happened.

Moral of the story, don’t get in the middle of an old man and his daily news…

I've Gotta A Feelin

Today was a sensory overload for all 6 of my senses. Yea I have a 6^th sense and it was buzzing like Spiderman. But let me paint you a picture of what was so mind blowing to me that it was worthy enough to write a blog post about it. I guess I am not too picky when it comes to what I write about. I wrote a post about not being able to walk on wet rocks around the city, but you catch my drift.

After lunch I was on duty to drag and burn. Michael was pruning his last few trees on his land. The day had been very windy yet slightly warm. I don’t know if there is anything that feels so nice then a slightly warm wind that just whizzes past you and flutters your hair in the wind. If you are bald I am sorry. Almost as soon as I got my inner caveman coming out to create fire it started to rain. The rain drops were sound worthy. They were big enough for making “Plop” sounds on every surface. This was the peak of my blowing of the mind. All at once I was getting a warm wind from one angle, cooling plopped rain drops from another side, and a raging fire burning furiously in front of me. If that wasn’t enough to make me wonder what dimension I was in, the smell of burning olive trees with that sweet smell of rain on fresh dirt was throwing me for a loop. Finally I was watching the rain through the sun’s light that was glowing brilliantly over the ocean. All while I am trying to Glee this moment coming up with songs that go along with my situation. The best I could think of was CCR “have you ever seen the rain coming down on a sunny day”, Bob Segar “against the wind”, James Taylor “I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain”. My shovel became my microphone and the dogs my audience. It truly was a magnificent feeling I had that day.

Ancora Per Favore...

The Zipp family has been absolutely wonderful to me over the past couple months. Being with them each day for hours and hours has made Kurt and I honorary members of the family. Along with being family members, we have developed routines and taken in Italian habits. The most noticeable time that I see this happen is during our dinner time each night. It is almost a joke to Kurt and I that we know exactly what is gonna happen right before it will happen. Let me take you through one typical night at the Zipp residence.

Michael tells us he will pick us up at 8 outside our house. So he is there at 8:15 while we are waiting outside in the cold pissing and moaning about how this is the last time we are going to wait. Once we get in the car we forget what we are mad about and are just happy to be eating soon. Three minutes later we are at the house and walking through the door. We take our shoes and coats off and head to the kitchen. Orlando is usually to the right lost on facebook. To make him mad I usually stand right behind him and ask if each girl on there is his girlfriend(only once I was right, but that’s worthy of its own post). Nahima runs up to Kurt and I and says “GIOCI CARTA?” which means “you play cards?”. She sets it up as her mom yells at her not to play on the kitchen table, but we do anyway. We go through the motions of playing this card game similar if not the exact same as UNO. Michael is usually lost in that nights soccer game with a tall German beer. The fun really starts when Silvia is ready to serve the food.

“Vi e tavola” or “go to the table” is the first warning that the children get before the Italian fury is unleashed. Luckily for Nahima she enjoys eating like I do so she doesn’t need to be told again. The teenager on the other hand hates food and listening to his parents. To reduce the amount of yelling involved I usually physically pick him up from and carry him to his seat. If there were shackles I would use them. Depending on the day of the week we will either talk or not talk. How much the kids annoy their parents will determine if there will be a smile on their face as we eat or not. Now when we eat I have learned the delicate art of eating spaghetti without causing a mess or slurping up long dangly straws. I watched as others did it and slowly caught on, but now I believe I am pretty much a professional at it. When one plate of pasta is done Silvia jumps up and steals your plate before you have time enough to lick your fork clean. Forget about portions, you have simply have to take it. Now once I have finished all my food there is usually some residue on the plate. I swear that if a single drop of olive oil is left on the plate, world war 3 will happen. The end of the meal is taking bread and sponging up every little bit until the plate looks like it went through a power dish washer. Mean while Orlando is trying to get out of eating, Nahima is kicking Kurt, Silvia is yelling at the kids to stop, and Michael is watching his game. I get a front row seat to the chaos at the Zipp’s house.

Moral of the story, If you have nothing nice to say, then say it in code.

Up Up And AWAY

For the past few days I have been going against my natural tendencies. The ugly head of stress had popped its head into my life. It felt like how imagine a cat feels when you pet its hair in the wrong direction, confused and wanting to bite something. When I came to Italy I had questions about visas and what I had to do to stay here for a year. Official websites and internet threads told me I couldn’t. Seasoned travelers disagreed and had a clever approach to sidestepping the visa. I have 90 days to be in the EU per entry, so the loophole is to leave the EU and come right back in. This seemed simple enough but this is where the “stress” snuck its way in. Things to think about; anything north is going to be cold, anything south is north Africa and war torn, west is Mexico, money, distance, which country would be fun to visit for a couple days. My initial thoughts were to go to Switzerland because I loved it so much the last time I visited. Problems; too cold, too expensive, peak season for tourists, might not stamp the passport which is what I need most. The other options were Turkey and Croatia, but both were upwards of 500 Euros round trip. That would be the most expensive bit of ink I would have ever known.

With time dwindling down until my much needed departure, my head was drunk with confusion and angst. I don’t know how to plan. Other people do that. The invisible hand was petting my fur wrong. My usual method to deal with these situations is to wait. Waiting has been my best tool in figuring out problems and this was no different. Today Michael picked me up in the morning and with a bright German smile he said “I solved your problem”. I love problem solvers. What did Michael have for me? The solution to my problems in the form of a plane ticket. He didn’t personally buy my ticket, but he did discover a 1 day deal going on with RyanAir. The advertisement was six Euros for a flight to certain destinations. He did some finger magic on the keyboard and he might as well have pulled a rabbit out of a hat with the trick he showed me. Ten Euros later I had round trip tickets from Sardinia to Oslo, Norway. Never did I think I would go to Norway in the…Wait it is gonna be freezing… I filled the air with my concern but Michael dismissed it saying I could borrow some of his winter clothes. WIN…

Moral of the story, why act when you can wait…

Come On Now...

I am not sure if you readers are aware of this, but I am not a wizard when it comes to correct grammar. When you are over the shock of this please continue reading… Like I said, I am not a wordsmith, but I sure get upset when other people, you are naturally born American, corrupt their sentences with specific words. I am not going to name any names, but a specific American that I am living with is doing this and is sending me right off of my rocker. First I must say that Australians can get away with this because they are just so darn cute, like a teddy bear. Canadians also have a free pass to do this, cause they’re Canadians. But other than that, most people should not be using “eh” for every sentence blurted out. This non specific American will say things like “I think there should be a cup of coffee on the stove…(pause, pause, pause) EH?” Nearly each time he says it I mentally squeeze a lemon in my eyes. Are you asking a question or giving a statement? Go get your Canadian citizenship and come talk to me…

The roommate has developed something new to say that makes no sense either. He didn’t gradually build up to this habit, it all kind of happened in a flurry and hasn’t stopped since. The word “yet” seems like such a peaceful yet bold word that has a demanding presence. Though when used wrong can seem like it and the person involved has developed a case of turrets. It was on Thursday that he said “is it Thursday yet!” Ok lets think of this… he was well aware of the day and said stated it was Thursday in question form. No jeopardy here. If he had forgot to use certain inflection in his voice to make it a question there is no need for the yet. Yes I know “yet” can be substituted for “still”, but in this case, it just makes someone sound ignorant.

I am sorry for the person blasting post about this, I had to share it to get it off my chest.

Moral of the story, When you need to get something off your chest, start with taking your shirt off…

Lesson Learned

Good news and bad news. Good news is that I am quickly picking up more Italian so I understand it better now. The speaking is still a bit on the rough side. But now I am picking up little words that make sentences complete. The glue if you will. Bad news is that I have only learned what the parents talk about to their children. Each day we all have the same routine and the kids get rambunctious each day. When the shenanigans start, mommy and daddy start using their words. And these words I now understand. “Come here”, “go to bed”, ”brush your teeth”, “don’t put that in your mouth”, “STOP” are just some of the regular phrases used each night. But if I were to give them justice, I would write them like Yoda speaks do to the crazy sentence structure people who are in Italy use. So “your mouth in don’t that put.” There we go… It was when I was sick that I realized I am never going to get anywhere without learning more than just the parenting basics. My fever partner Nahima decided to bring out her school books and tutor me 1 on 1. I had graduated from level 2 and now she was taking me through her next level. I had a hard time coloring inside the lines and understanding the concept of sharing, but the rest of level 2 was easy. If level 3 is any harder they might need to hold me back. Practicing new Italian words will be an everyday activity…I hope…

Moral of the story, no one looks smart doing a tongue twister…

3 Is A Crowd

The town of Bosa has return back to its normal quiet town once more. The thousands of visitors that came for carnivale have left and now only leave our population of 20. This gives me more room chances to analyze the Italian people in their natural habitat. I usually sit on the benches in the park and speak to myself in an Australian accent like I am observing wildlife. “CRIKEY, the alpha male is buying a gelato for what looks like a female in heat from another grazing area. This is the mating process among the teenagers of this species. In the bush we call it givin ‘er da old romp around.” What I noticed recently is that no Italians will attempt to walk anywhere alone. Conclusions could be reached to why this happens. 1. Body warmth in the winter. 2. They think that they are in a horror movie. Those that break from the group die first. 3. They enjoy peoples company. I am most tempted to claim number two as the winner, but other hints show that the third is the most viable option. People don’t use cell phones much here. The people they walk with don’t need to be texted each day the new lol or what happened last night. Italians love to talk, a lot. From hanging out with Silvia(a full blown Italian), she will get stuck in one spot for an hour talking about god knows what. I think there are only so many combination of words until conversations start repeating. Last clue, nothing else to do in Bosa during the winter. The town is as dull as a (insert your own dull object here) during winter so talking and walking is the next best option. I am just gonna have to conclude that this little social phenomenon is a part of the culture.

Moral of the story, Sex in the City is not for men.

The Fever...

My brush with death in the form of a fever left me learning some important life lessons. When one has all day to be in bed in pain and agony, the only thought that pass through the overheated brain is “WHY?”. The fact that I came up with so many different reasons only tells me that I was overdue a good fever. I got up the day after my run and was not feeling my best. A little light headed, eyes hurt, always cold, just overall blah. I pushed though and went to the Zipp residence to work anyway. As I get there Silvia looks at me and says “You are sick, your eyes have glass on them, lay down”. Only parents would know that glass forms on eyes when sick. The rest of the day I stayed right there on that couch and tried to sleep. Majority of the time I placed my scarf over my eyes because the light through my eye lids was still hurting my eyes. It was during my refuge inside my scarf that the first few thoughts of why came to me. “You ran 8 miles yesterday without building up to it, you are dumb.” And “you played thumbs wars with Nahima who had a fever right before eating, so dumb.” These probably are the “realistic” reasons why I might have gotten sick, but idle brains wander. 5 at night I was taken back to my house and I stayed in bed for another 18 hours without anyone or anything disturbing me. Between sweat outbreaks my brain started feeding me new material to think about. “This is payback for those times I pretended I was sick for mom so I could stay home and watch my favorite movie 20 times in a row”. Or “if I am sick now, then someone else in the world is getting over a horrible sickness and I am helping them…give it back to them…”, “I have used too much good karma, now it is time to even it out”.

The next day was a useless day of zombie walking and hourly naps. My fever had burnt itself out but my body was still feeling the aftermath. The real kicker though was the 2^nd day after the fever. My whole body felt like pins when I used it. Each joint, each muscle, each organ just felt rusted over and was in need of a good oil up. With no jiffy lube around Kurt thought it would be good to make me use the sledge hammer to knock in some posts. This ended up being the worst idea possible. Each swing brought the pain. The sudden jolt of hitting something that sends vibrations through my body really brought the pain. My ego told me “WWJD, what would Jordan do? JUST DO IT!”

Moral of the story, if god gives you lemons, squirt it back in his eye and take his fruit basket.

The Run...

The day after my birthday I decided to do something I hate doing. Running. I cannot see the fun in releasing so much energy without a specific purpose like in a sport. 9:00 I left my house for the beach. The body, I think likes to play a joke on my brain sometimes. Then part way though realizes what a bad joke it is playing. The legs try to move but they feel heavy, the throat breathes in and out flem instead of oxygen, and no matter how fast I try to run it will be slower than an old lady with a walking cane. I ran for what felt like 30 minutes to get to my destination. If I was at all confused about the season or temperature of the water, taking a nice look at the naked beach quickly informed me. Without a sole on the beach but me, I was able to walk around shirtless without having self conscience feelings overwhelm me. After a quick stretch my ego told me I could reach the next beach which was only about 10 minutes away. “Eye Of The Tiger” came on and I was off in a slow hurry. I am not quite sure what is so special about a tiger eye. Is it different then a lion eye or house cat eye? But if rocky can get beaten to a pulp and still come out on top, then I too can run my body to a pulp. Ten minutes later I was at a beach area shared with two other fishermen. As I got their I was greeted by one man with him whipping out and peeing in my direction. I was going to reciprocate the gesture, but I thought he might have just had to drain himself. I sat on the beach and stretched a bit deeper and longer. Half an hour passed of me getting the overwhelming foreboding terror that awaited me. The Return Run.

It wasn’t so much a struggle this time around. My body learned its lesson not to play jokes on itself. I got back safe and sound at around 11 during the morning and felt great. I figured I ran about 8 miles total that day. For those who want to try to run a marathon without practicing, don’t do it. I know what I ran wasn’t a marathon, but it wasn’t around the block twice either. The rest of the day I was completely drained of energy. This leads me to my next chapter…The Fever…

Moral of the story, if you talk to a mirror, you are still talking to yourself.

B-Day?

The day has finally arrived. The anniversary of my mother telling my dad NO MORE CHILDREN! A quarter of a century ago I was hanging out breathing a watery substance when I was told by my mother and doctors I couldn’t loiter any longer. Born as an obese baby with nearly 0 muscle, there was no way I was gonna attract the other babies in the hospital. Fast forward 25 years and here we are, Mr. Brian Halbach in Bosa Sardinia doing alright. As much as it is suppose to be a day of appreciation for me being born, it is more a thank you to those who made me. Luckily for me, the town of Bosa held a party in my honor and called it carnival. The day started out great with sunshine and smiles. We did some work outside and got our fair share of vitamin D. Lunch was tasty and so was dinner. Silvia made a cake that was just to die for. It was time for craziness and excitement, or so I thought. Silvia took me to her friend Lelo and Maria’s house for some pre wine partying. Our next door neighbors were also there with their ten year old son. We were welcomed with open arms and kisses on the cheeks. Not the kind of cheeks that dogs kiss when they greet each other though. We sat down and the drinks and conversations were flowing with the excitement of the Mississippi river. If you do not understand this reference then ride the Mississippi and try not to fall asleep. For nearly 2 hours the Italian adults talked among themselves in their native language. You know how people often say “I wish I were a fly on the wall for that”, well I got to be a fly without the wings and sticky 6 legs. Not as much fun as you might think it would be. The funniest part was the son was drawing anything he could see and was looking for his next subject. His parents willingly offered me to his artistic eye. I thought why not, I haven’t moved for 1 hour, might as well stay like this and get a ten year old to tell me which facial characteristics stick out the most. 45 minutes later there is a picture of me with a droopy eye, big ears, and super weak arms. The picture is actually much better then I let on. I will try to post it at some point.

Midnight was reached and it was time to go see the rest of Bosa. We walked through the town in the bitter cold. The streets were packed with thousands of people dressed in crazy crazy outfits. Unlike American Halloween, sluttiness and pop culture isn’t the key ingredient to costume cooking. We walked around and found the block party where a DJ had the crowd bouncing. Silvia and I stood in the back kind of dancing and checking out the crowd. People came up to her that she knew and got lost in conversation. I figured this was my perfect chance to get away and get some good ole fashion dancing in. I squeezed my way into the crowd and tried to start moving. A crowd is like an undertow, you fight it and you will get tired and die. I let the people push me to and fro until I was near the stage. After a little dancing on my own it was time to go to sleep. At my age you just can’t stay up all night like you can when you are 24.

Moral of the story, be glad you don’t remember your birth, it would probably traumatize you.

Not today...

Though this does count as a blog post, I am not actualy posting what i want. Last night I got a feverand measured it o be 38.6 degrees f. 36 is normal, so if I tke about 3 and double it and add 32 the 98.6 then I have a fever of 136.8 degrees f. That cant be right...Either way i am boiling inside my head. I would usually write something clever and catchy but i get lost mid.........thought. Be prepared, there wil be a flurry on eir way as soon as my eyes dont fel like they are going to pop out of my head.

Moral of the story, dont get sick...

Carnivale

I prepared you for carnivale, but it was I who was not prepare for the festivities. All week the pot has been boiling with excitement throughout the town as tourist slowly amass. Thursday was finally the day the town burst out with its glorious beginning to this year’s carnival. At ten in the morning festivities began with a town parade. It was quite an arrangement of themes that trampled down the town’s cobble stone streets. Every child in town that is old enough for school was in the parade with their class dressed in some kind of costume that matched a certain theme I can only imagine the teacher had selfishly picked. Where is the democracy among 1^st graders? Lady bugs, Marry Poppins, mice and rats, world ethnicities, royal families. These were among just a few of the many different themes shown. A couple rouge paraders had some pretty clever outfits. My two favorite were Berlusconi and his mistress and the town mayor being protected by a fake security guy(funny because no one was trying to get close to the mayor). Each of the classes created a float that was hauled by a vehicle. Inside the vehicles were usually 2 men that were doing a social service to Bosa. Once in a while the truck would stop and they would hand out little cups of wine to whomever stepped up to bat. Of course they took a few shots for themselves. There is nothing like a drinking driver and a drinking back seat driver among a completely packed crowd. Nothing can go wrong in this scenario. I guess nothing can go wrong because this is a yearly occurrence. Enough practice drunk driving and you have to be good at it, right?

The next night got a whole lot weirder for me. After working that day, we went down to the main square around five at night and stood our ground. Quickly crowds gathered as if gravity had shifted to my body. People were hovering all around me with anxious eyes. A part was wondering if the Bosa people had thought I was gonna give them a show as the new comer in town. Luckily just as I was about to fart the alphabet the show started. “Show” doesn’t do justice to what I saw. There were five or six different groups of dressed characters playing roles and creating a spectacle. The first was a group of guards and flag throwers making nice sounds and aesthetic acrobatic throws with their flags. The rest of the “show” was different men dressed as sheep, goats, herders, boars and maids acting out different parts of an old story that represents what carnivale really is. The costumes were just so intricate and wonderful that you can tell that this carnival really means something to this town. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

Moral of the story, if you cant wait, then go to sleep.

And So On...

Throughout my time spent in Bosa and abroad in general, I hope to be introduced to new fun activities. The aforementioned bucket list will be amended time and time again. Maybe by listing them to the public at large, others might be inspired as I am to give it the old college effort. Today’s amendment was introduced to me a couple weeks ago but never was thought of again. As I was doing birthday shopping with Silvia and Nahima for her little friends party, the cute girl behind the counter asked me in good English, “have you ever surfed before?” Taken back that someone in this town spoke English, I blurted out gibberish, but turns out I said yes through the sounds I made. She then told me that she there is a kite surfing school there during the summer that I could attend. At this point I was getting over the shock of speaking to a local and was able to comprehend what she was saying. Lets analyze what her offer was. She wants to take me to a school to learn how to use a kite. I love kites. Who doesn’t? Not very good at it, but am willing to learn. She also wants to teach me how to surf. Sure I am pretty pro at it since I have done it a grand total of 3 times in my life, but a little de-rusting couldn’t hurt. Now combine them. This sounds like a multi tasker’s dream. I get to stand on a board surfing and flying a kite? Well, miss shop keeper, challenge excepted and one more bucket list item to add and check off. Shakira will not be able to resist me.

Moral of the story, rapping isn’t for all of us, neither is wrapping…

Keelin Over

Today I started to create my bucket list. I do not believe there should be a certain age to figure out things you want to do before the ticker stops ticking. I like to think of it as my grocery list for life. A few tomatoes with a loaf of parachuting would make a great life salad. So far I have only thought of a few things that have made it. 1^st of all I want to make an instructional video on how to move hips like Shakira. This would then introduce me to Shakira and thus making me her husband. A more realistic activity on the list is to do actual rock climbing. I have done wall climbing and struggled terribly at it. Turns out german farm boys weren’t taught climbing technique when throwing hay bales around. But I want to go out into the wilderness and really have some fun in nature. The other activity that was introduced to me today was slack lining. For those of you who do not know what slack lining is, it is taking 2 elevated points and connecting a rope to them. The game is not to see if you connect the ropes to the points, but to walk across it. During my tenure at the U of A I saw slack lining done on a regular basis as I walked to my car. This is an account of what went through my mind whenever I saw someone taking part. “Barney would not survive in the Jurassic era…Oh its them again. Only hippies do that silly sport. I bet they smell like hippies. YES, it looks like he is about to fall…FALL. Dang it, he made it.” But then deep in my gut all I wanted to do was go over there like a 5 year old and say “MY TURN MY TURN!”. It was today that my perception of the entire hippie sport world was colored in gold. Michael bought a magazine about slack lining at the market. I was trying to comprehend the Italian articles, but it was useless, the pictures appealed to all ADD that I had in me. Men and women walking on ropes across beautiful canyons smiling. Which the smiling affect is unfair. Nearly anyone can get me to want what they are selling with the smiling affect. Someone smiling while being amputated. They are having fun, sign me up, how many limbs can I get rid of. Well, seeing these gleeful people doing this activity instant made me realize I now have something to do with Shakira.

Moral of the story, when it rains, it pours, either way a pancho will keep you dry.

Its Raining Right Now

I forgot exactly what it is like to play by ever changing rules as you go along. When we are 8 to 12 we realize how games should be played. We also know that every game we play we should win at. Naturally as a youth we bend and add rules. You can almost win by default by confusing the opposition with these rules. A rule can transform from “you have to throw it with your hand” to “you have to throw it with your bad hand”. Then it is eventually turned into “you have to throw the ball on fire out of your nose near a starved lion”. Then at age 12 all creativity is lost and for some reason growing up means reading the directions. Well I happen to fall into the rabbit hole of an 8 year olds imagination. Mind you, this all occurs with limited communication. Little Nahima asked me “gioci volleyball?” which loosely translated is “get yo ass outside to play volleyball!”. What she had set up was 2 squares composed of bamboo sticks side by side similar to a volleyball court but shrunk down to about 15% of its size. Now when you think of volleyball, there are usually two things you think of; a ball and a barrier. Rubber orange ball, check. Barrier…ummm…the barrier she had set up was not even as tall as the 3 inch grass plot we were playing on. My initial reaction was ahhhhhh yeah spike city on this girl. Before I left Tucson I was perfecting my volleyball skills at my old high school. LETS DO THIS! I had forgot that the rules had yet been explained. I pushed it up in the air and she spiked it back to me over the nonexistent barrier. 1 point her. Touché Nai, we are playing hard ball huh? She served this time. She threw it up to herself and spiked it right into my square. 1 point Nai. Ahh playing dirty, I can do that. My turn…I throw it up and spike it hard at the ground by her feet. Dirt clouds filled the air and thunder boomed the valley. 1 point for me, right? Nope, turns out as the ball was in the air, Nahima had entered in the rule book “people named Brian must serve up cup cake balls every time”. I give her a cup cake shot but just out of reach of a good hit back. She used all her might and hit it out of both of the squares nearly to the other side of Bosa. 1 point Brian. Nope, if it goes out of the squares, no one gets a point. You can make your rules little girl, but I will use wisdom. Found out wisdom has no match against 8 year olds. I got right on the line and as she tried to spike my feet I hit the ball out of bounds just like she had before. 1 point Nia. What, WHAT??? Now I know how Mike Tyson felt when he bit the guys ear off. This went on until someone got 30 points. The last rule on the list is “Nahima wins”.