Anyway, I feel different after my trip to Italy.

I loved it there so much, and I think I loved it because it’s similar to Mexico. And I know I always said I don’t miss living in Mexico, but I lied. The truth is that, deep down in my heart, I think I actually do. I miss the food, the people, and the little things that make the place magical. But I also love living in the States. “You can’t have it all Aidee.” Whatever.

So yeah, I loved Italy, I was there one time before but I never appreciated it as much as I do now. It was the best trip of my life. Way too awesome. I may move there. Seriously.

What is so magical about that small boot shaped country? Well my dear I don’t think one post will answer this question. But I can try to print my deep love for them and the reason that now I call it my second home. So dramatic; so Italian!

The Italian culture is revolutionary, yet in many ways unchanging. The combination of tradition and the modern European life makes perfect sense.  Italians seem like they have it figured out. Kind of like the French, but Italians with big, huge smiles. Italians seem happier. They may be bullshitting me and everyone around me and pretend very well. It was something beyond a nice smile, it was that their energy was much lighter. It felt like they where more ready to let go of control and enjoy life. And just enjoy.

Before my trip, I was reading that Italy is the #1 favorite country for Americans to visit. Also, in that same article it was revealed that the #1 reason to visit Italy was their food. I find this fact hilarious. In truth, I did enjoy the inexplicable  and magnificent scenery, the art and their history. But I took as many pictures of the food I was eating as Michelangelo’s paintings. I have so many pictures of cappuccinos with chocolate croissants it’s ridiculous, but they always look so perfect. Worthy of taking a picture.

Their exquisite food  with their incredible art and history makes it all THE perfect destination. And Italians take it to the next level with their very pleasant personalities. That is why I fall for them. The people are ready to help and to be cordial, not in the fake way just to do it to get good karma or because they are getting paid for it. They are truly nice from their heart and you can feel it. Their positive attitude is reflected in every corner every day.

Their attitudes are contagious.

And I came back a little bit more like them. And that is just a present for me to enjoy.

I am trying to learn as much Italian culture as possible, you know, for that trip that I am going to take next week. I’ve been in Italy before, but that was 4 years ago, so obviously I don’t know anything about their politics anymore. I just didn’t keep up. You know, other countries are very aware of American politics.

If you have been in other countries and tried to speak to the locals you know what I am talking about. They know a ton of facts about the US. Foreigners are well informed. Like sometimes they even know more about our politics than we do. Or at least that is how it seems.

So anyway, I was reading that this guy the Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi, is a piece of shit. But let’s first say that I love Italian last names and for the longest when I was single I thought I was just going to marry an Italian boy for the last name, but the PM’s last name is ugly and it doesn’t sound sexy it all. And if you happen to have that last name, never mind then.

This dude has endured 105 judicial probes and trials and 2,500 court hearings and spent more than 300 million euros in legal fees defending himself against allegations of tax fraud. bribery, corruption, and more.

Signore Silvio is a very sick man, and you should not be friends with him or anybody that looks like him. The Prime Minister paid to have sex with a minor, a young Moroccan dancer whose stage name is Ruby Heartstealer. That’s right, she got an English stage name. I think that is totally dumb because she could had some very exotic name but I guess having a name in English is exotic because she lives in Italy. DUH!

And of course like any sick man, he has his nasty followers. There are some statistics saying that 61% of the Italians would vote for him in the next election. The majority of those people share his conviction that the Democratic Party is riddled with communist, or who admire him as Italy’s ultimate self-made man and model of virility. Blah!

Yeah, you got it. We did it. The super star and I finished our third week as Vegans with a sincere enormous smile on our faces. We feel so happy we decided to stay Vegan until we go to Italy on March. And now you are like “if you are so fucking happy why are you going back to be vegetarian when you go to Italy? “

See truly I don’t want to eat any cheese, eggs or butter over there, but I know it’s likely  to happen, because I will be in Italy and with certainty I won’t have my familiar Vegan foods.  I know I will be hungry looking for Vegan foods to eat and I will smell the freshness of some pasta with parmigiano reggiano and then I will be screwed.  I will eat it and then I will be like so crazy on my ass because I didn’t keep the Vegan me. So since I can read the future, I will try to stay as Vegan as possible during Italy, but if I get hungry and I want something that has eggs, butter, or cheese I gave myself permission to have it.

I don’t see myself asking if the Pizzelles are made with butter? I am scared somebody just would straight up slap me on my face. So yeah, Zabaglione here I come!

No guilt. After my trip to Italy  I am back to being a 100% Vegan.

Anyway, my third week as Vegan was pretty awesome. I was that annoying extremely happy person that wanted everybody to be Vegan. I could NOT stop talking about it. Yeah, pretty annoying for all the meat eaters. I was feeling way too good to keep it quiet. You know I felt light and sexy and I wanted all the girls to feel just like me.

It was so easy, too. Eat a ton and feel gorgeous? Pretty simple right?

The guy that rocks my world and I had to adjust and eat just french fries a couple of times when we where out in restaurants with friends and family, but nothing major. I always had apples and  some Vega snacks in my purse. We where less strict the third week. We had beer and more sugar than what we should have had, and maybe some bread with unknown ingredients. Apparently the bread didn’t have any animal products but it was loaded with other unrecognizable million things. So not so fresh, but tasty some how. A pure creation of chemicals.

Anyway, did I tell you I feel great. I know I did; I can’t stop talking about it. Annoying, I know, and I don’t care, I am way too happy to stop my ludicrous self from telling everybody. My skin is so much better. And I feel more energetic and balanced. Before we started the 21 days we measured our bellies just to have a point of comparison and I lost 4 inches around my belly and the man of the house lost 11 inches.

WOW! We ate so much food, and all so good. I was on a non-diet and I lost inches. I call it karma. You do something good for the planet and then you get healthier. That was my Christmas weight. I always gain weight in November and December. It’s like a tradition between me and my body. It has been hard to take it off the healthy way in the past. Usually by March I am back to my normal self. This time was different, just in 3 weeks and I was back at it.

In my life I have done so many diets. From Weight Watchers to eating 500 calories a day to eating no carbs to not eating at all. I have so many diet books, I have done it all. I have never been over weight, but because of the media and the way society presents the so called “examples” to follow, I always felt the necessity to be skinnier. I was a calorie counting machine. I have gone to the doctor and taken pills to lose weight. And truly NO diet worked in the long term. They would help me go back to a size 0 jeans and then the next day the diet is over I will jump to a size 7. Not very healthy.

I gave up dieting and weighing myself for my own mental health about 3 years ago. Now I am a healthy size. I would never weigh myself or diet ever again. I am done with that. That is a door that I am happy to say I closed. I love me too much to reduce myself to a number. We all have different body types and there is no way I can fit the same number of somebody that it’s my same height. My body is so unique, I can’t put a weight number to my body to define my health.

My reasons for changing my life style to a Vegan life stye was for ethical reasons. I believe I can survive without causing any pain to any living creature. When I started I never intended to lose weight. My main goal was to live as peaceful as possible. I had read the benefits that come with living a Vegan lifestyle but my motto came from doing good for the planet.

So yeah, three weeks free of sugar, coffee, and alcohol. We did it! You know we had some moments we didn’t follow our 21 day kick start but we where 98% on it. So let’s call it a success!

Let me tell you, the best thing wasn’t all the energy we got from it, losing weight, clear skin, better moods or learning new recipes and ingredients. The best thing was this awakening inside of my heart, where new ideas and goals flourished. So Veganism lit a spark of possibility inside me that I haven’t seen in a while.

There are moments in my life when I close my eyes and I can see the person I want to be, but I am not there yet. Well part of that persona I have invented in my head is here now. After trying many times, after forcing it many times, I am here and my exhausting excitement is just pure joy of contentment. Finally, part of that person I imagined is here. Another chapter of my life I can close and move on. I am a Vegan and I am walking into the world with my quiet confidence and passionate love for animals.

I can keep talking to you about this awesome new feeling for hours and pages until you tell me to shut up because you are so bored of me saying the same thing over and over again, or because you are so annoyed with me.  So I must stop now.

I am going to Italy in March with my lover and I am learning Italian. Not really. I have some podcasts downloaded on my phone, but I never ever listened to them. It’s fun to learn a new language. I know that because English is my second language, and it was fun to learned it. It’s still fun to discover new words.

I love languages. I think they are just alluring. I am subscribed to the Italian Groupon just because I like to get Italian e-mails. And I once had an Italian girl student in my yoga class and I have to admit, when I found out she was Italian I got a happy feeling in my belly.

I think Italian and Portuguese languages are so similar to Spanish, and it would be really easy for me to just learn them.  Actually, I know for a fact Portuguese is easy to learn for me and it would take no time to speak it, because I kind of have learned in the past. Yes I did, I forgot it all now. But I can claim that in the past I had a conversation in Portuguese (Lets call it Portuspanish).

See I went to Brazil  for a while some years ago. And I stayed with a non-english speaker family and I communicated just fine. I learned some simple words, I  had my dictionary on hand all the time and before I knew it I was having serious conversations about politics and emotional girl stuff over the greatest pedicures ever.  By the way Brazil has the best beauty treatments, the best part is the prices. So cheap you would want to have a pedicure every day.

Anyway, my portuguese was pretty good and I am proud to say there where no caipirinhas involved. Because we all know alcohol helps when speaking another language. But to your surprise I don’t think speaking a language under the influence of anything counts. So this goes to my sister-in-law, you don’t speak Chinese. I know I have spoken many other languages under uncountable tequila shoots and late nights. Usually alcohol tends to help to speak a new language. Like my Romeo, his Spanish gets sooooooo much better when he has a few Margaritas on him.

I miss Brazil. I think I have said this in a past blog. One day I may buy a home down there. Now I am getting all melancolic about Brazil and the family that I stayed with. Brazil is amazing. It’s my favorite country, oh wait I love Peru, too. Never mind about favorites, I love too many places to have just one. Talking about places and languages I should be learning French, too. Remember I am a bit obsessesed with France.

I have this very active and powerful sensation inside of me that is calling me to learn French, Portuguese, and Italian.

OMG, OMG, OMG! I have a brilliant idea! I should first learn Italian. This time for real. That is what I am going to do, I am going to study Italian. By March I will be able to ask for a doppia caffe latte. Actually I was able to ask for that when I was there last time.  Oh, I want a doppia caffe latte now. It’s like a latte but bolder and full of flavor, so strong that after drinking it you may just want to start running in a maratton. Literally.

I learned how to ask for a doppia caffe latte the accidental way though. I asked for a latte and all I got was steam milk. Then later that night I talked to one of the locals. And he explained to me how to ask for it, he also recommended to ask for doppia caffe latte.  Brilliant!

Anyway, I am serious about learning Italian. I will learn some charming phrases and then maybe I can have political and girly conversations with the locals.

I can’t wait to go to Italy. Italy has LOVE written all over. It’s like Italians where born all ready in love. The energy there is so liberating. You see people kissing everywhere. Italians don’t care about showing public affection, you see them kissing in every corner, like Starbucks here in the United States. Italians don’t care about arguing in front of you either. I love it.

And yeah you should be thinking to go somewhere this year, somewhere exciting, because every country opens the door for a new you. A better you. And now for me,  lesson #1 from this Italian book I got a year ago. Oh it’s about time.

Arrivederci and grazie for reading my blog!

Like seriously, I can’t understand how some girls even dare to say that all they have as friends is boys. Boys are OK as friends, but I truly feel that they do want to sleep with you. There are some exceptions, but not many. My brother implanted that thought with me since I was little. He would say “he is not your friend, he likes you.” Anyway, no matter where I live, I always have an awesome group of girlfriends. They are always funny and smart and just the best of the best.

For example, today during my lunch I was convinced and determined to convince them that I had some kind of obsessive disorder. The fact that one of my girlfriends is a school psychologist and right away she dignosed that I don’t really have OCD. Of course, she was right. Still, like a lot of people, I have some pretty funny obsessive tendencies.

I obsess about any and everything. Like there was a moment in my life where all I ate was cabbage, then watermelon, then cucumbers. When I like something I just can’t see things any other way. Oh, let me mention the time I was dating my man and we where in the car and I got all frantic and crazy because he suggested that I was drinking too much diet coke. This was a total addict’s behavior.

Another time was when I decided that my favorite color was pink. I was two years old then, My mom painted the walls of my room pink, my covers where pink, the blinds where pink, the curtains where pink, too. And all my clothes had to be pink – that changed when I turned 8. But my room was still pink until I was 24, and that is when I got married. Obviously my husband would not accept a pink room. I do have a pink bathroom now though. Did I mention that I moved several times and I tried to change my room theme and it never worked? It always ended up being PINK, and I’m not talking about a nice pastel pink. I’m talking about a bright shinny pink.

Just now I’m obsessed about talking about my room. I can’t stop. My obsession with pink stopped a little once Victoria Secret decided to launch their name brand PINK.

I know stories about my mom’s father, my grandfather, being very particular and meticulous about certain things. Like checking if the doors where closed 20 times or washing his hands over and over again and calling one of his seven kiddos to close the faucet. Of course back then nobody new he had a disorder.

You know back in the day doctors where not aware of any brain disorders with the same degree of certainty as today. You couldn’t be diagnosed with something like that. People were either crazy or not. I never got to meet my grandfather. He died 7 years before I was born. But I do hear stories about his “crazy” behaviors. By the way, I also have a little bit of Alzheimers. And to prove that, just now I wanted to write the name of my abuelo and I couldn’t remember his name. Word. My grandfather from my dad’s side had Alzheimers.

I have all kinds of undiagnosed disorders. I also have Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, especially if you are giving me directions to go somewhere. I would nod my head like a Bobblehead car toy and pretend very well that I’m listening on the outside but on the inside all I’m thinking is “look at the shinny object behind his/her head”. My brain shuts down.

I have to mention one of my brother’s other teachings about dating. His theory was that I should simply nod my head everytime I was going out for a date and pretend I was listening while I look the boys in their eyes. That stoped me from talking like a crazy lady. Because that is what I do. I can talk for hours, nonstop, And I don’t even need anybody to talk to or it doesn’t even need to make sense. For all of you men out there that I once dated and thought I was very interested in your conversation, you’ll be sad to find out now that it was all part of my brother’s teachings. I may not have been listening.

Anyway, right now my new obsession is France. I’ve been eating beignets and a small café crème for breakfast almost every day for the last two weeks. Right now I’m wearing a shirt that has a picture of the Eiffel tower , I’m reading two books about French women. And I so want to wear a scarf around my neck, start smoking long cigarettes and talk about how many lovers I’ve had.

How very French of me, right?