#27 La Mamma and the Ladybird (English)

It’s been over ten months now since I quit my fixed job and booked a ticket to Naples. Enrolling myself in a small language school in the heart of this chaotic city was the only, and at the same time most concrete, plan for the future I had. In fact, it was pretty scary to give up all the certainties I knew and I would be lying if I said I never had doubts or felt some fear. But as the months passed by, my feelings grew stronger and stronger, leaving me with only one right thing to do: to follow my heart. 

No matter how crazy it might sound, these little speckled red insects that kept popping up were a confirmation to me that I was making the right choice

On one of my last days at the office, I left the building at the end of the working day. Almost immediately, a ladybird came and sat on my arm to stay right there. It would only be the first of a whole bunch of ladybirds that would come to me. From that moment until the moment I actually got on the plane to Italy, they kept appearing in completely random places: in my friend’s backyard when I was discussing my upcoming adventure with her, on a little bench by the canal in Amsterdam while calling a good friend, and during my evening walks in nature. No matter how crazy it might sound, these little speckled red insects that kept popping up were a confirmation to me that I was making the right choice. 

My mom would never even consider moving abroad, or to move away from our big family. And yet she seemed to understand my decision perfectly last year

Yesterday it was Mother’s Day, la Festa della Mamma, in the Netherlands as well as in Italy. A perfect opportunity to put the spotlight on la mamma today. My dear, caring mother, who, when I was just in kindergarten and came home with our teacher’s instructions to come to school dressed up as an American Indian because of a theme outing the following day, got behind her sewing machine late at night and turned an old blouse of hers into a beautiful dress. My mother who, even though she doesn’t like driving in the dark, avoids highways at all costs and can’t handle the car’s navigation system, came to pick me up from a city further on as I had taken the last train home but accidentally missed the station where I needed to get off because I had fallen asleep. My mother who sewed velvet princess dresses everyone was jealous of for me and my sister and who’s always in the mood for our mother-daughter shopping days (as long as I’m driving) and treats me to lunch. Who overcame her fear of flying for me and came to visit me twice in Rome, and who shows up (with cleaning supplies) as enthusiastically as ever every time I’m moving houses again. My dear mum, whom I actually don’t really resemble at all in personality. My mom would never even consider moving abroad, or to move away from our big family. And yet she seemed to understand my decision perfectly last year. When I told my friends or colleagues about my plans again, I could often see the doubt in their eyes. Are you really going to do this, Anne? My mother didn’t share that doubt at all. All she said was that she was sure I was going to have a wonderful time in Naples. 

This time, however, she looked at me a little longer and said: “Something is not right. I don’t know why, but to me you are a Maria. It just feels that way”

Once settled in the Southern Italian city, I had Italian classes on a daily basis taught by super enthusiastic teachers. One of them was Rosa, who with her forty years of age still had the spirit and doll face of a twenty-year-old girl. She was such a type who knew all her students personally – it didn’t matter whether they were 17 or 70 years old – and greeted every one of us with a radiant smile each day. And yet I had been part of her class for three weeks already when she still welcomed me with “Buongiorno Maria!”. Once again, I started to laugh, the name Anne somehow didn’t resonate with her. A little strange, because Anne (or Anna as everyone calls me in Italy) didn’t seem such a difficult name to remember, especially when you consider that she effortlessly pronounced the exotic names of my South Korean classmates and the fact I had celebrated my name day in her class only a week earlier. This time, however, she looked at me a little longer and said: “Something is not right. I don’t know why, but to me you are a Maria. It just feels that way”. Suddenly something started to dawn on me. I told her that both my mother and my mother’s mother were called Maria. Her face lit up right away, that had to be it!

And yet it was my mom who managed to dispel all my doubts with just a few words

Last week, in which the Italians were given more freedom of movement but in which a phone call to the Dutch embassy also made clear how much uncertainty still exists, doubts started to rise again inside of me. Had it been the right decision to move to Italy? Is it still realistic to continue building on my dream in a country that was already unstable but is now plunged into what seems a merciless recession due to the corona situation? Wouldn’t it be better for me to, like my friends in the Netherlands have done, buy a house and start building a stable future here? Most likely, my mother would have done the latter herself. And yet it was my mom who managed to dispel all my doubts with just a few words. Because she knows me and my aversion to a predictable lifestyle so well by now, that her words that I would be unhappy knowing I was ‘stuck’ here, hit the nail right on the head. One way or the other, after a while in the Netherlands I would become restless again, she told me. Exactly what I needed to hear at that moment.

Quickly, I opened the image of her little daughter who was looking with curiosity at something that sat on her finger. Crawled, actually. Guess what?

With renewed and positive energy about my Italian adventure, I was outside painting my grandmother’s old chair the next day when suddenly a swallow pooped on my shoulder. When I shared this incident on Instagram a little later, someone immediately responded: “Ah, un segno di Dio!”, A sign from God! Apparently, it came from the movie ‘Under the Tuscan sun’, in which an old Italian nonna shouts this line when a pigeon poops on someone’s head. I smiled. Because even though I’m not looking forward to any more showers of bird droppings, I interpreted it as a sign that I once again had to keep following my heart and not to be distracted by fear and doubts. The ladybirds however had not been around since a long time already, I thought without paying any further attention to it. That same afternoon I texted a dear Italian friend (who’s a mamma herself) to ask how her twin girls were doing. As a reply she sent me a photo of one of them. Wait, did I see that right? Quickly, I opened the image of her little daughter who was looking with curiosity at something that sat on her finger. Crawled, actually. Guess what? It was a ladybird. And that’s really all I need. The wise words of la mamma with the occasional ladybird spontaneously showing up (the pooping birds could be left out in the future) make sure that even in these super insecure corona times I don’t let fear get in my way and that I always follow my heart. On to a new chapter in my adventure.