Like a Fish out of Water...

Reporting to you, directly from Piscina Bellariva: This special communiqué will narrate briefly what three days of swimming have done for our morale. Urie, who is by American standards a good swimmer, has met his Waterloo (Get it? Water + Loo!) in Florence. The swimmers here are trained to become Olympic champs, so Urie has had a bit of an adjustment.

Not only do we walk close to one hour to get to the pool and then back (including all the stop lights), but he then faces two hours of arduous competition. My mother’s heart breaks a little when I see that few of the other swimmers talk to him. He’s the strange kid to the others.

Urie, in the Juice, with Italian Coaches (white cap)

Once in a while, one of the boys will venture to tell Urie a certain "number" in broken English  (9 x 100 m) because the coach tells him to, and the swimmer will add a hand movement to indicate which stroke is about to be performed. This works as well as can be expected, except that we have no equipment, and I’m not about to spend 300 euros for fins and paddles we have in Virginia. So at times Urie is hurting even more than he would were he fully equipped like the others are. I see him from afar biting his nails in between sets, and I find him mighty brave to even be there at all.

On progress: After day 1, Urie has dropped the jammers to wear a more contemporary (read European) Speedo (though his is far more modest than what we have had the pleasure to see).  He also has a Firenze swim cap which he really likes. It feels very natural, so he says, and he has to wear one, so why not make it comfortable? He requested I buy him another one before we come back to the USA to use in swim meets if allowed.

What I enjoy, even more than watching him swim, are the conversations we have on our way to and from the pool. Every topic is permissible, all thoughts acceptable.

Our conversation last night, as we were going to bed, reflects our fatigue:

Me:  So… are you making friends with the swimmers?

U:    Not really. But I know a few of their names.

Me:  Did you introduce yourself? (He’s learned that much in Italiano.)

U:    One of them told me his name was Emanuele.

Me:  Oh. Who else do you know?

U:    One swimmer talked to me and said, “mi chiamo Francesca.”

Me:  Is she nice? Cute?

U (confused):     It’s a guy.

Me:   You mean Francesco, then?

U:     No, he told me his name was Francesca.

Me:  You must have misunderstood. Francesco is a boy’s name, not Francesca... unless she had a sex change…

U:     Don't think so. And this other guy told me that his name was Yahoohoo!

Me:   ….. (Laughing hysterically for five minutes. Urie laughs with me but doesn’t know why, until I point out that there is no such a name in Italian for anybody, male or female, nessuno! It appears the Italian squadra is pulling Urie’s leg as he kicks his merry way from one side of the pool to the other.)

U:     Looks like I’m dealing with a bunch of joksters. Emanuele may be the only normal one. (I think he included me with the others.)

This morning, as I was drinking a cup of Orzo*  Urie came into the living/kitchen area and announced that he was going to name his firstborn Yahoohoo. I laughed so hard my drink exploded from my mouth all over my shirt, and I had to change it before class. 1-0, for Urie. (We play this stupid game where we try to make a family member lose it while drinking any beverage. Usually, it's milk, but we get extra points for hot cocoa. But then I won a bet regarding the word "adjacent." Urie owes me a gelato!) I love this boy, he keeps me laughing.

Warm Ups

*Chicory/Barley brew made of cereals; a coffee substitute.