~ Carolina ~
Studies say that the Italian men are the most romantic and passionate men in the world. Definitely a good catch. Well, not according to my sister, Clara, who couldn’t be happier marrying her ‘Welsh prince’, after they ‘found’ each other on the Internet! Or Beth, who visits her Pakistani boyfriend twice a year, no matter how troubled things are in that country. My middle sister, Laura, and her “very Brazilian” husband are so happy together and one of my best friends wouldn’t trade her ‘Japanese cutie’ – as she calls him – for any Latin lover in the world.
As for me, well… that seems a totally different story. I‘ve always been a hopeless romantic; I’d always believed in fairy tales and princes with white horses. I thought love had come to me. Once. Twice. Third time is a charm? No, not for me. I guess my Prince Charming’s white horse always got distracted by something – or someone – else on the way. So, here I am. Doutora Carolina Cappucci. “Hopeful-Dreamer” could be my middle name. Twenty-six years old. Single. Just graduated from Med school. Probably doing the craziest thing in my life – as my father keeps on saying – after six years in university, endless nights surrounded by books, dead bodies and wounded people. I just need a break. I AM GOING TO ITALY!!!!!
~ The beginning ~
How did it all happen? Well, I’m going to tell you everything, but without many details, because the sooner I go through this part, the better I feel (meaning, the less guilty I feel).
So… it all started three months ago. I was with my friend, Lisa, on holidays in Campos do Jordão. It’s a town in the mountains, one hour from São Paulo, with European-like houses and atmosphere. It was the beginning of June and the combination “chocolate fondue and wine” is a must have in such cold nights. Also, a great place to see beautiful people – I mean, cute guys.
I’d known Lisa for about three years. Clara, my oldest sister introduced us, and after she got married and moved abroad, Lisa and I kind of comforted each other and started spending time together whenever we could. We mostly travelled together. She is this little cute woman, a couple of years older than me and has peculiar background. Her father is from Thailand. Her mum, Chinese. She was born in Paraguay and has lived in the U.S., Spain and now lives in São Paulo, Brazil. She’s a primary school teacher. She is sweet. And she is fun. God, she is fun!
So, as usual, we were talking about life, career and love. Also, as it was common those days, I was crying over that stupid Jean. I told her I was tired of studying, sick of all the ordinary in my life. I wanted to do something different. Then, she said:
‘ Hey, you been taking Italian lessons, right?’
‘ Yeah’, I said, playing with a strawberry in the melted chocolate, while looking at a very cute boy that had just arrived. ‘But I’m just in the first semestre of the course. Why?’
‘Well, I’ve been looking for jobs abroad. I don’t know, change things a bit. My dad’s been nagging me again about getting a boyfriend, you know, his kind of boyfriend, obviously, and it’s doing my head in. So, yesterday I came across this ad on the Internet. It’s for English teachers in Naples, Italy. I applied for it. For both of us.’
When she said that, I rolled my eyes up, thinking: ‘Oh, there she goes again…’ I looked at the cute boy and smiled one of my biggest smiles. My mouth went down like a sad clown’s when I saw the gorgeous blond that was all over him.
‘Never mind. I bet his feet smelled anyway,’ I mumbled.
I turned my attention back on to Lisa, who continued:
‘What did you just say? Well, anyway. I know you’ve never been a teacher before, but your English is brilliant. The money is really good, we’ll have our weekends free and we will be in Europe! For a year! What you think?’ she asked, casually taking a sip of her wine.
She always did that. Teased me. She was the adventurous one. I’ve always been the ‘boring’ one. So said she. I prefer to call it careful. Sensible. I told her I was going to think about it, but didn’t give much thought to that. I thought it would be a bit too much and would make my parents go crazy at me.
Before I go any further with this craziness, let me just tell you a bit about my family. My parents come from a poor family. Yeah, I guess I can say that. My dad used to polish shoes to help his mum bring up nine children. He only got to finish high school and is a self-made man. He started his own business with a lot of hard work and sacrifices, so for him, getting me and my sisters through university had always been a matter of honour. For him, all the three of us would have been doctors. My mum. My mum, as my dad, only finished high school. She then worked as a teacher, but quit when I was little, so she could “look after me better”. Those were her words. After I was in school, she worked with my dad in their shop, but she’s never been an independent woman, if you know what I mean. And because I am the youngest and the only daughter living at home, we are pretty much attached to each other. Yep, I meant exactly what I said: attached. Sisters, I have two. My oldest sister, Clara, is an English teacher (my dad nearly lost all his hair when she quit Law school to become a teacher) and she lives in Wales with her Welsh husband. She is the adventurous and the traveller of the family; very laid back and open minded. A bit crazy and carefree sometimes, I’d say. My mum has always encouraged her (maybe because she couldn't do the same herself?). My middle sister, Laura, is a very strong woman. She is a vet. She spent a year and a half in America at the end of her undergraduate degree and she is a very secure person. Very independent, she knows exactly what she wants. She’s focused, organized and because of that she can be a bit harsh when giving advice or expressing her opinion. She is happily married, has got the most beautiful blue-eyed baby boy in the world, her own house and sometimes I’m jealous. Shame on me.
Anyway, going back to the subject of quitting Medicine and going to Italy to teach… We had a Skype interview with the school owner and, what are the odds… One month later, actually, five days before my graduation, we both got an email saying we’d got the job.
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