Shit! I can't help but curse, excuse my badness, when I came across my friend's blog about Turin, Italy (I also used her picture here).
You know, Italy is one of my most coveted cities to see before I die. Torino should be included. From Godfather to Sophia Loren to Vatican to Michelangelo to almost everything Italian and all the things in-between AND including my desire to see relatives there.
You read it right!
For your information, my great grandparents (bless their souls where ever they are) constantly reminded me and all relatives of the whole Dolotina Clan (very Italian, the clan) and insisted that our roots came from Italy. A vague story of an Italian assistant of a Spanish priest was brought to Bohol and stayed in the municipality of Dauis in Panglao Island. That Italian (nobody could tell his name except the Dolotina or Dolthina surname) ultimately settled in Dauis and got married. As to why the Spanish friar brought him to Bohol, nobody cared.
When I was young I thought Italy was just a walk away for how could those Italian genes came to Bohol way back then without walking or the least ride a bus in case they were several miles away. The word Italy was constantly playing in my mind especially when the Clan would meet every year to celebrate everything Italian in us. We (they, specifically) would brag about our sharp noses and beauty queen materials (lately there have been beauty men, err excuse the term, my dear relatives, I was only referring to those Dolotina men among the Clan who won in male beauty pageants [double ewww]).
But I wonder where are the Italians genes amongst us now. Maybe I should go to Italy.