I don't even know where to start, usually I am so on top of things with my communication and writing and planning ecc. ecc. I guess I should include every eensy detail of my past days? Shall I?
A quick note--I am still really really super amazingly fabulously and ridiculously jet-lagged. It won't go away I'm just so tired. I think it's probably because I'm still on American time and I wake up thinking that it is 2 AM but it is actually 8 AM and time to mi sveglio (throw myself out of bed) as I wonder how I got here and sometimes groan at the fact that I have to switch from English-thinking-sleep-set into Italian speaking bumbling American who stamps her ticket on the bus when everyone else just tries to get a free wide (and I'm still wondering what these people are up to...why am I the only ticket stamper!?). Wow I just re-read the last sentence...wide...I try to get a free wide. Amazing, I've turned into a lisper and I haven't even been gone for very long. Beh'
So I left my house on...I think it was a Thursday, and it was! A gloriously hot and sunny American Thursday full of heat and haze and that horrible bug that you appreciate only for the first few weeks of summer--the one that makes that "it's really hot out here, you should not sit outside for long" sound--my mom calls them sewing needles. After a frantic morning of "wait there are three different suitcase measurements on the Al'Italia website" (of which none were specified) and a horrible heart-pounding "my suitcase is too heavy" realization, I was off to New York in my dad's little car. And it hadn't really hit me yet--this thing called travel and being actually independent. We drove for 5 hours, southward and into New York City (honestly why do people live there--sorry New Yorkers) and we finally made it to JFK. At this point I wasn't even taking any actual observations I was just thinking planeplaneplaneplaneIdon'tknowanyonethiswillbeawkwardIhateflyingmyItalianisn'tgoodenough. I got my boarding pass, brought my suitcase to a guy that was flipping out on the guy in front of us "sir, sir we have a lot of bags here, you just wait a minute, you just wait a minute, can't you see how many bags we have here, just wait". But most of the people traveling were Italian because this was an Italian airline and this baggage guy was New York to a T, so most of the people got confused which resulted in yelling by the Newyorkese and annoyed hand-gesturing on the part of the Italian passengers.
I had two pieces of greasy pizza from Sbarro with my mom and dad and they were obviously sad that I was leaving, which sadly annoyed me a bit because I was already feeling stressed out. (Sorry mum and dad, I didn't mean to be grumpy with you!) I guess it's hard to miss me during the summer when I'm bumming around the house making polenta and chocolate mousse and sleeping with my windows open and forcing them to recycle and nagging them about every single thing because I like to manage la casa when I'm home. So I went through security and started noticing people with tickets like mine, and I didn't have the courage to go up and creepily say "I've been watching you for about 15 minutes and it seems to me like we have the same ticket" Good first impression there. Really smooth and normal and non-threatening--"I've been following you. Where are you going?"
I got through security and aimlessly wandered towards my boarding gate. On the way I bought a Vogue magazine and a water bottle...but honestly I was really watching all of the European travelers--they looked so cool and natural; they do this all the time. At the register another true New Yorker was giving a little old French lady a really hard time and the poor woman is looking at me for help, but alas I don't speak French and she's oh-lo-lo-ing and I was hoping to try and help her but it didn't work. Also, please excuse my tense changes, I'm very much in Italian mode and I'm thinking in more Italian grammar structure than in English.
So I sat down randomly and pretended to be reading my magazine but really I was searching for other BUers, apparently like myself. We found each other eventually. It took a bit and a BU sweatshirt (well done Alessandra!) to bring many of us together in one area. And even then we were separated--mostly by school because people only wanted to talk to people they knew. But there were a few adventurous types. Honestly, let me tell you that meeting your travel family/classmates in an airport is super-awkward. Really very strange way to meet people. First impressions are all skewed and you don't really know what to say because you have so much ahead of you and so much that you need to leave behind (cue dramatic music...maybe opera?).
We boarded the plane at 9:45...maybe. But we got on the plane, definitely did that. Unfortunately we were all scattered next to strangers, which made the trip even better *cough* I mean cheaper. I sat next to two male "friends" as they called themselves when they introduced themselves to me but I think that they were lovers and it kind of weirded me out that they couldn't just say "oh me and my partner are traveling". I did talk to them for a while because I was squashed in the window seat (oddly more comfortable than the aisle) and discovered that they were going on a cruise to Africa--che exotic! The plane ride, like most plane rides, was dull and awful. There was a lot of turbulence too which really freaked me out as I slid side to side in my seat...it must have been the hurricane winds. Arrived in Rome around 12 PM Italian time...6 AM American? So I had been traveling for 5+8ish hours=13 so far. At this point it still hasn't hit me that I'm in Italy; my brain is in denial. We, meaning collectively the whole group of BU kids, staggered aimlessly and then directly to our boarding gate for our Venetian flight. Boy was it hot in that airport--lots of people sweating and running for planes and many making out. Bienvenuti.
Let me just add in a quick interjection here. The student group is, so far as I see it, split between many factions of people. You have the "whatever" people, the "I want to learn Italian" people, and the "I'm only here for the alcohol" people. Some of the groups overlap, and there are a few people that I like very much, a few that don't talk to anyone but their other friends and some people are just "too cool". It seems stupid, but I'm here for the Italian (and the alcohol--seriously, just kidding).
Boarded our second flight of the day (god I hate flying). We were delayed on the runway. When I got on the plane I walked by two seriously creepy Italian men--just like creepy Americans, but braver. And as my row number approached I was walking towards them and thinking (nononononopleasepleasepleaseplease) and what do you know, I was in the row behind them instead of jammed into the window seat next to them. A woman dressed from the pages of Vogue and her adorable daughter (though very bratty--she slapped her mom in the face a few times and I had to stop myself from laughing/scolding her) sat next to me. Once the mom--si chiama Roberta--found out that I was English, there was no going back. We spoke English for quite a bit, and she asked me where I was going. When I said that I was studying in Padova she dramatically said the following--"oh but only if you were studying in Rome I would hire you to tutor this one--she needs somebody who speaks English to watch her." Me-taken aback because it was very direct, but also flattered by such a fabulous offer. She and her husband obviously had money because they 1. Lived in Rome 2. Could hire me as an English nanny and 3. Spoke French and English, amongst other languages, very very well. Interessante. I still don't feel like I'm in Italy--I just feel like I'm stuck in a very bizarre in-between world.
Our flight is delayed on the tarmac for one-five-oh minutes, as the pilot said. We took off I don't know when. I got to Padova and went through security again. Didn't have to present my papers or passport, just walked right off the plane (very very vigilant in that department). Got on a bus, drove to Padova. So at this point I had been traveling for about 17 hours. Add 30ish minutes to that. Now I'm in Padova freaking out about meeting my host family and wishing that I was at home rolling around lazily in bed as my packed MHC bags sit on the floor around me. But no, this is real life and when you do something there is no wishing yourself back to your comfort zone. Bongiorno a culture shock.
I met my host mother--such a sweet and lovely person. They honestly matched me well. She is a teacher and loves many of the things I love too--books and bicycles. My only qualm is that I live further from the center than the others, which is a bit of a pain. But oh well. She drove me home and we spoke in Italian (ahhhh). We clumsily lugged my intensely heavy (pesante) bag up to the attic where I live. It's not bad like it sounds. I have a bathroom and a desk and a skylight. The stairs are very difficult and interesting, I will take a picture eventually. Also, you must remember that space in Italian homes is conserved very well--I like this idea a lot. Houses are too big in America, just drive past the one that is being built in Sheldonville...it is so big, you could put about maybe 20 people in it. Che ridicolo! Stupid really. We have beautiful open land in the United States, we should keep it that way.
Together the two of us had cups of tea and pear pie con crema (cream). It was very nice and I almost put my face in it as I nodded in and out of the conversation. But she insists that my grammar is good, so I will believe her. So sweet, glad she cares.
Actually right now I am exhausted, I'll have to pick up on this tomorrow or the next day or the next day or the next day. Goodnight all.
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