The Italian Tour '08

It wasn't a tour at all, actually. I visited exactly three places, all of which I've been to several times before: Domodossola, Gallarate, and Milan. But this trip wasn't about seeing Italy, it was about reconnecting with family, most of all, my grandmother, who recently spent two months in the hospital, where she nearly died. She turned 83 last Monday, and I was able to share a birthday with her for the first time in my life. Seeing her was bittersweet, as she's now forced to attach herself to this large canister which pumps oxygen through a long tube that she clips into her nose. Apparently, she's not getting enough oxygen into her blood cells, so she needs this contraption to survive. She even has to sleep with the stupid thing connected. The tube is long enough to reach her bedroom and the bathroom. The only time she took it out was to eat. This woman has survived two World Wars, the early death of my grandfather at 55, and the loss of a son, my uncle, who was only 48 when he died of a heart attack eleven years ago. She's 83 but she looks more like she's 95.

It was a stark change. I remember visiting her as a kid when she cooked dinner for the entire family, did our laundry every day, and spent every other available minute cleaning her apartment like a maniac. Getting old sucks, if you didn't know that already. Your body has a shelf life, and every day that passes brings you closer to its expiration date. It's never clearer to me than when I visit my relatives over there every few years and see how everyone has changed with age. When you see people every day, you don't really notice how time takes its toll. When you see them every few years, it's cold water in the face.

But I had fun. I spent a lot of time watching bad Italian television with my grandmother, which is about all she can manage, since she's not supposed to exert herself. You'll be happy to know that every piece of shit programming we have here has replicated and manifested itself over there like a nasty virus. They have their own version of Big Brother, their own version of American Idol called La Corrida, which was actually quite entertaining. I witnessed the worst impersonation of Madonna singing La Isla Bonita since, well, Madonna. (Of all her songs, why pick that piece of melodramatic crapola to sing?) I also watched various and sundry Oprah-style shows, including one where they set up these young, attractive men and women on dates and then report back on how they went. But that's not all. Along with accompanying video, a la The Real World, they pick out more attractive men and women from the audience to criticize the daters they're watching. Perhaps the man was too cold and unreceptive to the obvious interest of the young lady. Perhaps he had another girlfriend on the side and was only pretending to be single. Perhaps the girl went to visit said girlfriend and confront her. Maybe the man got angry because she doubted him when he told her they were just friends. Maybe after the girl left, the man took a suitcase out of the trunk of the show's Mercedes limo, buzzed his "friend" at her apartment and spent the night there. Don't be silly, nothing happened. The audience had a field day with him.

After a couple of days with my grandmother, aunt, and cousins down in Gallarate, I ventured up to Domodossola, which is a small city in the Italian Alps, on the border with Switzerland. Most of my relatives live there, and it's the place I remember most from past visits. The city -- it's more like a town, really -- is incredibly picturesque. I'm thinking about retiring there someday, maybe living there for 6 months and here for 6 months. I'll write more about it when I post my pictures. Anyhoo, every time I go there, I feel like I'm dreaming, it's so beautiful. Unfortunately, on this visit, virtually every minute was occupied with visiting cousins, second cousins, great aunts, and the cemetary where my grandfather, uncle, and great-grandmother are buried. I felt like a human pinball -- they were gratifying reunions, but totally exhausting at the same time.

I spent my last night visiting my cousin and his extremely sexy girlfriend in Milan. (This is inappropriate, but fuck it. She has these olive eyes that look right through you when she's talking to you, a cute singsong voice, and this simple, genuine sweetness about her that amplifies her attractiveness. It's all quite dizzying.) They live in a New York-type studio loft apartment in the middle of the city, which is occupied by themselves and these two yappy, and extremely possessive Chihuahuas, who are cute as hell and pee a lot (wherever they feel like it). Unfortunately, by that time, I was a virtual zombie from all the traveling, being bummed out about possibly not seeing my grandmother again, and all the Sudafed I was taking for a cold I'd acquired somewhere in my travels. I really like Milan though, it's so much like New York and it has all the best of Italy there: great clothes, great food, beautiful women, and an up-all-night vibe. I'll have to spend more time there the next time I go. Before I knew it, my cousin's girlfriend was accompanying my preoccupied ass to Linate and my vacation was over.

Now I'm back at work. Total. Buzzkill.