The View from the Boat

Obsessed with helping me feel at home, the Mother introduced me to a few more of her friends who had daughters around my age. One, who soon became a close companion, informed me of a local designer shoe store but warned that they are so gorgeous I would not be able to leave without a pair! That'll help me find my feet :) Over another restaurant dinner we were greeted by the Father's business partner, family & their Australian Au Pair who hadn't been there long either. She was fun, confident & knew much more Italian than me! Thankfully, she appears later in the story too.

With weekends still being leisure time (school holidays) we make the most of it & set across the waves for Ponza. A beautiful island best viewed from the sea. Little mosaic houses line the 'porto' creating the left overs of an original fishing town, with formations of rocks that create little nooks & crannies, ready to delve in to.

As we sail past the port I teach the children the lyrics to 'Little Boxes', which they pick up with ease but apparently I can't sing?! Hmmmm. The engine stops as we drift in to a little bay & we race into the water with our flippers (not easy to run in!) & snorkels.

A boat full of Italian tourists trails past us at regular intervals, around the Natural Arch & then on to another sight. I feel secretly pleased that in-between these trips we are in solitude (the VIP access) & this is where we remain; making speedboat trips out to explore caves & coves, beaches & bays. We sail from one to the other, roping up & swimming into the warm rock craters, dipping our eye-masks into the water to see millions of colourful tiny fish scattering around, darting in & out of their hiding places. No wonder Nemo got lost!!

We dine at sea, by only the light of the boat & stars above, listening to Lucio Dalla. The table is crowded & we all dive in to plate up, the Buffalo Mozzarella disappears almost instantly & the parents & I pass round a bottle of Lazio red wine.

Once I've tucked the children into their cabin beds, exhausted, I curl up on the deck sofa & fall asleep. The Mother wraps a blanket around me as I have just done with her children & retires to the below deck. The following morning, by gentle rock of the boat & the crisp sea breeze, I open my eyes to the most beautiful view. The view from the boat.

Back on dry land, I carefully open the box lid & glow when I remove the cherry-red, patent heels that fit as though they were made just for me. I slide my feet into them Cinderella style & fasten the straps. The Mother has offered her Ralph Lauren bag with matching deep red buckles for me to venture out for the evening.

The Aussie & I meet at a local Irish pub then head to the Beer Fest tent in the city center. Weaving through the lederhosen dancing around the room & taking in the live band music, smell of Bratwurst, tankards clinking, chatter & laughter... we make our way to the bar. Beer in hand, we locate a bench near the door so we can smoke & start discussing life. I am pleased to find someone who enjoys food, drink & travel as much as I do. We arrange to meet weekly.

I experienced my first tropical storm at 3am. The tear of thunder & flash of lightening had woken me with a fright, making me shoot out of bed to join the Mother on ensuring a full house lock down. I was thankful we were no longer on the boat but it signified the beginning of change...

...Term time!

Early starts, having to dress the children before they were even awake, constant nagging whilst I tried to get them to eat their breakfasts (what ever I had prepared deemed not good enough) before setting off for the walk to school. A walk that should have taken 5/10 minutes... that in reality took half an hour! It's as though they were walking backwards! I know the Italians do not rush things & everything happens 'DOMANI' (tomorrow) but this was taking it to the extreme!

Although a housewife, the Mother was hardly to be seen around the home & they began to rely on me 100% to be there for the children 24/7. To clean on the cleaners' days off, do daily chores, to collect the children from school, cook them lunch, ensure they had completed their homework before play time, take & collect them to & from their activities (with constant arguments & tantrums on not wanting to go, using petrol paid out of my wages), entertain them until dinner, cook them dinner, make sure the house was tidied after them (they couldn't even put their own shoes away!). Ensure they were bathed & ready for bed by 8pm, but then not let them go to bed until 11pm.

It wasn't what I had agreed to... but I had to think about the positives. 

Of which I had only tasted!

You lose. You gain

Weight isn’t the only thing I start to gain... I begin to collect friends, develop my language, the relationship with the children blossoms & I improve my cooking skills (if you can call them that!). I learn how to completely slow down; to lose the haste & order, I relax in to life… start living the Italian way. 

Friends make time to meet even if there's no actual time to meet! Standing, they talk fast between large swoops of coffee, gulp water & before you know it, with a kiss on each cheek they've parted. I quickly learn there's always something to do or someone to see as I am taken here, there & everywhere (shown off really). Family & friends are welcoming & without fail, I am always fed. Quick! Feed the skinny white girl!

An Aunties’ 50^th lake house party reveals an entire garden buffet featuring REAL lasagne (as apposed to the ‘sloppy mess’ we have in England), pasta, pizza, Nutella, pistachio cake. Eventually I manage to escape the feed hungry Aunts by rowing out on to the lake for a few hours with their daughters.

And this is when I discover the family I live with have a yacht! 

As though my every wish is answered, 2 days later we are packing our belongings & collecting Marquises' famous Buffalo Mozzarella on route to the vessel.

We set sail to Ventotene, a small island off the coast of Latina.

With the bay nearing, Captain Italian Dad switches off the engine & releases the anchor. I peep over the edge like an excited school girl & stare into the crystal like water to see the seabed miles beneath us, clear as day. I can’t wait to get in! The children position the dresserelle ready for us to dive bomb, disturbing the sea life below but I am soon given the snorkel & flippers & assigned to jelly fish watch instead.

As wrinkled as old ladies & tired of bobbing in the waters we climb aboard & sprawl across the top deck reading to one another in our native languages until falling asleep...

I forget where I am when we are awoken by a beautiful blue & brown sailing boat tying up to us. A dark tanned belly of a man steps overboard with his home cooked fish pasta in hand, causing the boat to dip; family friends joining us for lunch. He pours his deep red wine & tears the fresh bread ready to share with us. The Buffalo mozzarella is on the table, so is the ricotta, more Nutella, prosciutto, tomatoes, olive oil and plenty of water. A sea feast!

Later we cruise in to the port & zigzag our way from the dock towards the top of the island until we reach a sign. I move its overgrown plants aside to read ‘'il gardinio De ventotane'. The garden of Ventotane... We walk inside to a beautiful al fresco dining area full of tables, overgrown vines wrapping themselves around pergolas drooping over the diners as their chatter carries through the 'garden', terra cotta pots growing basil & thyme line the perimeter. Coupled with a view of the horizon & the faint sound of waves in the distance this place is a taste of paradise. Only to be backed up by its understanding of local food. I start with Parmigana, follow with the catch of the day, Monk Fish & finish by sharing a mouth-watering chocolate pudding which oozes when I dip my spoon in to it. I swill around the rest of my wine before I walk the children back to the boat. On the way we stop to watch a group of locals dancing in the piazza...

I could grow used to the casual ways, as though suspended in time, no restrictions or cut off points, just enjoying the gentle rock of living, like being on the boat.

As we sail away in the morning I position myself at the bow, feet dangling either side. A pang of regret, loss overcomes me & I beg the paradise island to let me return one day (in a Jack from Lost kind of way!).

I glance at my wet feet as I turn my head towards the direction we’re headed & spot a school of Dolphins weaving through each other at the tip of the boat, playfully jumping as though trying to nose-but my tootsies.

No wonder Italians enjoy life so much!