Alriiiiiighty. Seeing as my last post was in May, I realise I
have a lot to catch you all up on – a daunting task, to say the least. Having
to look through my photographs, organised by month, to even recall what events
of significance happened and when, is a good indication of how much has
happened in the past 5 months. (Feel free to rouse through my photo albums at
your own leisure, my Facebook photos are public. http://www.facebook.com/#!/meg.davidson.528)
I am struggling to conceptualize how to compose a single
blog post that contains all that has happened recently, so I thought that
perhaps the best mode of moving forward would be to do a short reflection on all
the places I had been in each month, followed by a personal reflection of the summer
as whole.
JUNE: I
left school a few days early and made my way to London for the wedding of a dear family friend. Marly, somebody I consider
to be a second mother, is one my own mom’s childhood friends, and her husband,
David, best friends with my mom’s siblings, too, growing up. Their whole family
has always been part of our lives, their son, Michael (groom), having come to
Cape Town for a year during his medical studies, and other son Justin having
joined us even in France on a family trip back in 2007. Also, they introduced
me to teriyaki chicken sushi. MY GOD. Proper the most delicious thing I’ve ever
eaten in my life. EVER.
Although the wedding was the primary reason for my visit, I
was absolutely dying, ‘plutzing’ if you will, for a piece of home – family, Judaism,
English, and some loving. I was welcomed with open arms by my mom’s first
cousin, Steve, and his family. Let me tell you something about Sir Steven
Carson –not only are his accent-impersonations and Xhosa-jokes unparalled, but
he has a heart big enough for everybody who deserves a place.
I was so fortunate to be able to see two of my friends from
back home, Kate and Nicky, both calling England their home this year – needless
to say, we made Strawberry Moon jugs our bitches. I also saw my friend Ari from
JHB, took him to an Italian restaurant and showed off my skills, yielding free
limoncello. Yes, Meggi-Jean, you go girl.
I absolutely love London – the pace, the people, the accent
(ti prego) and the general friendliness. Having come from northern Italy, where
the people are notoriously “Germanic”, should we say, being greeted in London with
smiles and affection was a complete change, and I accepted without hesitation.
I did, however, falter on my return – 1) having become
re-accustomed to being treated as an adult, having been given the liberty and responsibility
to return home when I pleased, to go when and where, with whom I wished. 2) Having
experienced again what it was like to be with family and friends – a comfort I did
not even realize how much I missed – knowing that I would not receive the same
treatment back in Italy.
On my return from London, I got to see a good friend of
mine, Daniel, from SA. Although our time was short, it was again lovely to have
another little taste of home. (Don’t read into that too much.)
JULY: Something
I was looking forward to since the day I left home – reuniting with my best
friend, Gabriella Nadine Stein <3. We took ourselves off to Lido
di Jesolo, by suggestion of one of my Italian friends, with the
preconception of it being a bit of shithole (by suggestion of another of my Italian
friends.) Listen, our accommodation was shabby, to be generous – ONE PLUG in
the entire room (a serious problem for two 18 year-old, 21st century
girls like us) with BlackBerries and iPods and hair straighteners and the likes
and NO fan/air-conditioner (a sin in 40 degree heat). A shower that was just… Christ,
I don’t even know. I can’t even describe to you how useless it was. One of 2
absolutely retarded showers. The other in our hostel in Milan would run for 15
seconds on the push of a button, and then stop. So you stood there, pressing
pressingpressingpress… AURGH. Frustrating.
Anyway, we were together, and we were ecstatic. We discovered a night-bus that ran
10pm – 6am, for 5 euro in a hop-on-hop-off capacity. WHAT A BLOODY TOWN. We
partied night in, night out, never returning before sunrise. Batting off the
boys, donning the flats, and waving around South-African banknotes to prove our
identity. (yes, that is us dancing on stage at 0:16 - 0:18 - TOTAL YOLO moment.) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ya9-mR-zw40
After 3 days of that, we bussed into Venezia, eventually found our B&B (excluding breakfast, would
you believe) in a tiny little side street, not shown on the map. Having been
before, we ventured together to the touristy places: Rialto Bridge, asking for people to take repeated photos of us, Piazza San Marco, watching orchestras do
performances outside their respective restaurants, the Jewish Quarter, feeling
awks in little shorts and singlets in the BOILING heat, and pointing out all
the chabadniks, because we can.
Having been told that Venice is seriously lacking the jol, Gabi and I made it our mission to
just go out one night and make friends. We immediately came across a bunch of
okes from The States, Australia and New Zealand, and how did I start the
conversation, you ask? Well, it makes things very easy when they’re carrying
around 2l bottles of Coca-Cola in mano,
HONING of whiskey. These boys, of mixed ages and hotness, were a group of
unicyclists, yes, the one-wheeled ones, on a tour. LOL. Unicyclists. Anyway,
they were great fun. Make friends mission: complete.
That week with Gabi is something I will never forget – in
fact, I opened my cross-word book today and found her neat, left-handed
calligraphy had filled in one of the harder ones. I miss her every day, and can’t
wait to make more memories and have more travels with her.
AUGUST: In
August, I was invited to attend a Rotary-organised camp for the short-term
exchange students based in Sarzana – a little town near La Spezia (in the
region of Liguria, near Tuscany). Being the only one on long-term, and the only
one who could speak Italian and English understandably, I was elected
translator. Through this, and just my aura of awesome, I ended up making some
incredible friends with the Roter-act students (those after high-school – 30 years
of age). I consider the friends I made in Liguria to be among my closest
friends I have ever had.
My host-family in Sarzana was the first host-family I’ve
ever felt REALLY close to, like a real part of the family. After the end of the
two-week camp, they actually invited me to stay another two weeks. I was
sincerely distraught to say goodbye to them, but we have maintained a relationship,
and I hope to see them very soon J
I’m not sure if it’s the ocean or the tap-water, but the
people in Liguria and the people of Bergamo are a different species. I feel a
bit like a stranger in my own skin in Bergamo, whereas the people in Liguria
feel a bit like Cape Tonians – chilled out, friendly, attentive and willing to
compromise.
The group that arrived for the camp was like a bag of mixed
nuts: (not in an allergy sense, in the sense that they’re all different, but
all crazy. Maybe I took the analogy a bit far.) Two from England, one from Belgium,
Turkey, Israel, Taiwan, South-Africa (that would be me), and one from the Czech
Republic – each one was an irreplaceable facet of the group.
The places I was exposed to were truly unbelievable – the cinque terre, a recommended bucket-list
addition for every person on this Earth. Via
dell’amore, I must admit I even shed a tear. Florence, Pisa, Spezia, Porto
Venere… all places beautiful, and all filled with memories.
Another thing I have to admit was greatly appreciated with
the clubbing scene – known to all as a lover of all things music and
dance-orientated, I was so grateful for having the opportunity to go out with
my friends on a close to nightly-basis to some of the most beautiful clubs I
have ever seen.
SEPTEMBER: With the arrival of September, came the arrival of my
parents. FINALLY. Although I knew it would be a bit of a struggle returning to
my parents’ no-shit tolerance, I was so happy to have them. Although I tell
mostly of the highlights of my year abroad, I have suffered some SERIOUS downs,
and my parents have been there to encourage and coax me through at every
crossroad, and I cannot ever fully explain my gratitude to them.
We met in Milan as per my request to meet the Rabbi and
Rebbetzin Hazan – two people who have extended such kindness to me this year.
On a relatively regular occasion, they have invited and hosted me with no
question, fed me possibly the best combination of traditional Jewish, Italian-inspired
food, and introduced me to some of the most incredible Jewish people from all
over the world, with most of whom I remain in contact.
When my parents and I reflected on the Shabbos dinner from
the previous evening at the Hazan’s home, I wasn’t surprised to hear that they
understood how I could feel so close to them, how much they cared for and about
me and my well-being, as well my Jewish enrichment.
We continued our travels together in a MONSTER of a car
(like a sexy mini-bus) to visit my home-town and my second host-family. We then
drove up to Lake Como. Living relatively near, I have been fortunate to have
visited lake-side towns like Lecco, Bellagio and the likes. We stayed ON the
lake, and made our way across for the 3 days with the ferry - truly one of the
more beautiful areas of northern Italy. It just so happened that a friend from
home, dearest Alon Bedell, was able to come visit for a night. Needless to say,
parents loved him. We caught up for hours talking about the lack of memories
from December-January holidays, and the news of those friends most dear to us
on their travels or their varsity-lives.
Then, to Verona. I
can say, with full confidence, that Verona is my favourite city (in a tourist
capacity) in Italy. Firstly, and for me, probably the most importantly, the SHOPPING?! Holy mother. Paradise. The
architecture and beauty of the actual city speaks for itself – so rich with
history and each building with a story reaching centuries old. Juliette’s
balcony, for example, almost as romantic as you could imagine (except for the
abundance of Asians snapping piccies and the Germans toddling around in a
sinful socks-and-sandals combo.)
We stayed in a home-cum-b&b in Valpolicella – one of the most famous wine regions of Italy. It was
absolutely exquisite, and the woman who owned the residence was like a little
fairy, running around in flowy clothes baking fresh bread and providing only
the best advice and compliments.
We continued into Croatia – Mom driving, Meg choosing music,
and dad guiding us with the Tom-Tom (forever mistaken.) The first two days were
spend in Trogir – an island near Split (which we also went to visit). Although
there is more to tell, I wish to skip forward two days, to going to fetch my
sister from the airport in Dubrovnik – yes, I cried when I saw her, and no, I’m
not ashamed to say so.
The Davidson-clan, reunited after 8 months.
We travelled together through Dubrovnik, Split, Hvar, Plitvice and then, returned back to the
land of more expensive petrol and for me, at least, less strange language.
(Croat, wtf?!)
Venezia again.
This time for Rosh Hashans. We went to shul. That’s about the extent of what
happened.
And then, I came back, without them, the following morning. Che palle.
So, that was my summer. If you have any questions, please go
ahead and email me on meganjeandavidson@gmail.com
and I’ll respond in my next post.
Thank you to all readers who have encouraged me to continue writing, even though sometimes I might be uninspired to update, it is cathartic for me too.
[I would like to dedicate this post to Brice Silbert, one of my peers at Herzlia, who suffered from Cystic Fibrosis and succumbed exactly a week ago to his illness. Rest in peace, Brice.]
Sending love and light.
