Damn. I've been in this country too long.
Let me explain...yes, yes, hold your horses...I'll get to the Miss Italia thing from the last post.
When you are a foreigner in a foreign land you have certain freedoms. If you weren't born in the country you've chosen to live in, no matter how long you are there you can get away with a lot of things you wouldn't normally be able to in your own mother culture. I'm not talking about robbing a bank or speeding, you still get busted for those types of things (although in this country, apparently you can park illegally if your car has foreign plates because the system doesn't know where to send the ticket). I'm not talking about breaking the law but rather doing things that are, well odd or even down right weird, or rather shameless.
Of course, the natives notice when we foreigners do strange things but then they just write it off -- "she's American", they reason. As if that explains everything. There's a small community of Italians here, known as my friends, who have a really strange and completely wrong idea of what an American is because they're basing it on their only two known examples...David and me.
So I'm explaining all this to get to the Miss Italia thing.
Yesterday, after finding out about the celebrity sighting in Maberga (and after blogging to you guys about it) I grabbed my camera and the dogs and we ran up the hill.
Of course I realized that Miss Italia and her entourage were going to know that I'd heard they were up there in Old Maberga from neighbor Oreste, whom they'd just met, and that's why I'd come running like some foolish, amateur paparazza to get some stupid amateur photos of the beauty queen. But "who cares?!" I thought, "They can blame this foolish behavior on my being a foreigner - an American, even! For all they know, we have no pride. That's cool with me. Let them think we're all shameless idiots and in the mean time, I'll just ask if I can get a nice photo of Miss Italia to share with my blog."
So I ran all the way up there, breathless with camera set, dogs ready as props...and...and... I chickened out. I didn't ask for a photo.
I felt like a shameless idiot. I've been here too long. I've grown shame. Next thing you know I won't be wearing my potato printed sheet skirt in public any more. Damn.
So the foolish (and cowardly) girl who ran a kilometer up hill with her dogs to ask for a photo of someone who's not actually all that famous instead pretended to be on a walk with her dogs and, um, making photos of them?
I know. I know. It's embarrassing. And I didn't just toss the ball a couple of times either. I stayed there a LONG time, still pretending to play catch, hoping to get the opportunity for a photo without having to ask, you know, on the sly.
Here's what I got...(Anybody remember the movie Fletch?)
These are her photographers...
'Course I also got some nice photos of the dogs...
And this crocus...
And neighbor Oreste's nice pumpkin...
Naw, I haven't been here too long. For one thing, I haven't yet started taking this view for granted...
Oh yeah...I also snuck this photo of them leaving as they drove past my house, obviously while hiding behind the beads of my front door.
I hope they didn't see me.
On a completely unrelated note - although not totally unrelated since I feel shame for having overlooked these family members again this year...I'd like to wish a big Happy Birthday do all fellow Cornwells with September celebrations, past and future:
sister-in-law, Rosanne - Sept 14
brother-in-law, Paul - Sept 15
myself, Lynn - Sept 16
dog, Ruffino - Sept 18
brother-in-law, Kevin - Sept 26
sister-in-law, Florence - Sept 29
Wow. That's a lot of Cornwellian celebrations. I hope you all had/have great birthdays full of family and friends...or alone, if you prefer.
Here's what I did on my big day because the rain squelched my outdoor dream day...
Yeah, it's a fort. Here's the inside...
Anyway, hope the rest of you Cornwells have/had as cozy of a day as I did. Happy Birthday, everyone.