Welcome...Wilkomen...Benvenuti, and such.

As you pan into my room you'd see me here drinking my chai, eating my multigrain bread with nutella and listening to Mumford and Sons preset station, you would think not much has changed. Then you pan camera left and you see a door leading into a hallway...wait does she live in something bigger than a tiny studio....you see 4 double closet doors approximately 14 feet tall...confused you pan right and see large windows....you zoom in and see a lego stack of pastel colored buildings and light blue grey sky...you also see an odd dividing line in that sky that becomes a darker blue...wait, I recall seeing that before...oh ya, its the ocean, but this time, the mediterranean.

The lack of updates is by no mistake...I figure why start with an intro and just get right into this post...To say the last few months have been a whirlwind would be an understatement, posting was simply not something I wanted to add to the mountanouse to do list, non the less expose you all to the clusterfudge that was my mind.

But now I am here, all the wiser and all the more european. The road to get here, the triumphs and "discoveries", the fevers and fights, the crying and the laughing were all worth it. Though I have already began my personal journey, I begin my proffesional one March first, and couldn't be more excited.

Some of you who avidly follow my constant updates of facebook (joyously may I add) are completely in line with the program...others feel as if I skipped a crucial pivitol chapter in this story. To catch you up and avoid posting a link to my facebook note, I will post my lovely alumni profile from the Paul Mitchell the School Newsletter.

::switching gears::

Now we all know that being an italian-american doesn't necesarily make you any more italian then the cast of the Jersey Shore, and luckily they lack the charecteristics of true italians, except maybe the loud think. I felt as if I had a pretty good advantage, many things that were done in my household growing up, even down to the way of thinking....were never "American". I thought...I have family there, I speak the language and I've been to europe many times and even backpacked on a budget, I got this move down.

But you can always count on the underestimation of an international move to shake your core beliefs of who you are and what matters.

The culture shock was inevitable and for now still seems mysteriously appealing, though when you speak to other italians they long to "catch up" with america...thing is I think they have it right here. Take today for example, in past trips I remember nothing being open on Sundays, nothing, this coercing you to stay home with family, or enjoy nature, or sleep (or I suppose to your catholic duty, or something). Other than the church bells, the cities develope an odd hush which is joined by the wafting smell of various foods and the slap of a carpet being cleaned off the side of a balcony; the same balcony where friends who have survived 6 decades of friendship, a new millenium, wars, the invention of internet, 3 popes and the Jersey Shore great each other from across a stone lined walk way/street/parking lot. Today I am given until 1pm to grab groceries from my local tiny super market called "Margherita" a chain branch of a larger super market known as "Conad"...this too being a "newer" developement here.

The next year (and maybe more?) of blogging, my life line to america, will be filled with the cultural awakenings, life lessons learned, and experiences had, like having a housekey the size of your hand and an elevator the size of a phone booth. I invite you all to take this journey with me. Send in your questions, comments and/or reservations for my sofa bed.

p.s. to my future professionals from Paul Mitchell the School Sherman Oaks who asked if they could have a place to send in questions and they could be answered in written from, pictures and possibly a vlog....this would be it...miss you guys!

NicolettaLaBionda@gmail.com

Ciao,

Nicoletta

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