Why I love Italia

Today, my Italian class went on a field study instead of having normal class. Yesterday we watched some documentary in class and today, Gitti (la professora) took us to see the places that were in the film. We did some fruit, bread and cheese testing at a local organic spot and some other things but the best part was when she took us to the SEX SHOP!

yes, like it was nothing. no biggie at all. First, she pointed it out to us while we were walking and then said "Let's go in." We all gave each other awkward stares and proceeded to follow her lead. I also learned the word for handcuffs yesterday during the movie- macette- so when we were in the store I saw handcuffs and a whip and asked Gitti if she owns any of these. She said yes, but for her students and I followed with, "yeah right, Gitti you know it's for your marito" (husband). She laughed, made a little facial expression and said "Si." The fact I can have sex conversations with my 51-year-old Italian professor is like a gift from God because I'm passionate about the subject. Then Gitti made us ask the owner of the shop questions in Italian. Everyone was so embarrassed... except for me, of course. Yesterday in class we also learned how to say 'to fuck'- scompare. I swear teachers in America get fired for this kind of stuff.

We went to a music school after and in the street Gitti got hit by a car so she flagged down the driver who rolled down her window and Gitti gave the lady a little piece of her mind. Hilarious. We all kind of just stood there like "is this really happening?" and then Gitti walks back to us with the infamous Italian expression "che pazza!" which means "what a crazy ass lady" - something along those lines. Then these male music students approached our group, asked us what we were doing tonight and Gitti tried to get us to give them our numbers.

This is everything that's wrong yet so RIGHT with this country. I think I must have been Italian in a past life.

And it hit me like a ton of bricks

I'm in SCHOOL.

It's 12:30 on a dreary and cold Tuesday night/Wednesday morning and I am studying for two midterms I have tomorrow. They're two of those classes where you really think the information is interesting but the material is so dense and you start wondering why didn't I start this earlier... oh if I just had one more day! The good news is that I think I did pretty decently on my economics midterm today and even if I didn't my grades don't affect my GPA. I also had a pretty awesome weekend in Madrid, dipping my virgin feet into new experiences, some for the first time and some for the first and last time.

But sometimes bad news accompanies the good and I did get some bad news this weekend. I received word that one of my classmates at Hopkins, Miriam Frankl, was involved in a fatal hit-and-run while crossing the street at one of our apartment complexes just off-campus. I didn't know Miriam but I can't even begin to describe how incredibly sad I was to hear this. It wasn't the kind of sad that makes you sit at home and sulk all day like I'm sure it was for those who knew her well, but the kind of sad that gets you thinking about your own life and the lives of those you do love, and how that could have been me or one of them. If it was me, then I wouldn't have to worry about it because I would just be dead but my parents and the rest of my family would have to deal and it's painful to imagine that situation. It was real for Miriam's mom and dad. I read articles about how her parents flew in from Chicago to be with her when they pulled the plug on life support and my God, how long that flight must have been and what they were thinking in the duration. The thought of going about your normal day, taking a few steps off the sidewalk and BAM! that's it. Miriam had siblings, and that could have been my sister or one of my closest friends from home. I think one of the things that complexes me most was how the driver didn't even have the decency or the dignity to stop and try to do something about the situation he helped to create- that's where my hostility comes in.

The death of my classmate is like dejavu to me. Four years ago, my junior year in high school, another classmate of mine died in a car accident over Spring Break and I had the same sentiments, not knowing Adam well either. Time is the healer of all things and eventually my grief passed but there were always reminders of his death, notably the memorial t-shirts we were allowed to wear in his honor and memory even though I went to a school that required uniforms. Then at graduation his diploma was presented to his family and flowers stood in his would-have-been seat at the ceremony. It's been a long time since I've thought about Adam but little reminders like this bring them back. I also lost an elementary school friend this summer to a pointless, brutal stabbing and even though I hadn't seen Brandon since the last day of 5th grade, news of his death was so painful. When my mom and I went to his service about a week or less before I left for Rome, the boy that stared at me in the picture was the 20 year old version of the 10 year old boy I had grown up with. I wished in that moment that I had made an effort to keep in touch with him throughout the years but it was too late. I know it sounds so cliche' but I think sad times like these really reinforce in us to live life to the fullest because we never know when our time is up. It may be much sooner than we think.

That thing...

For the first time ever I think, I'm feeling a bit homesick...

I've lived out the high of having the opportunity to live in Europe and now that I'm so accustomed to my amazing new life here I am starting to miss all things American. For example, being able to fluently communicate in my native language. Jesus Christ, I MISS ENGLISH! It's not like I don't hear enough English everyday because I go to an American school with American people and take English classes but that little bubble is only contained within the tiny building on Lungotevere Tor di Nona, 7. When I first arrived here, it was okay that I wasn't a fluent Italian speaker... I had only taken 4 semesters of Italian and hadn't spoken it for 4 months before I got here. But now I'm stuck in this internal dry place where being here, I've learned and relearned SO MUCH and it's that dark place where you realize that no matter how much you know, you'll never know it all. Mikki was here last weekend and we were expressing to each other our language woes and insecurities. We finally agreed upon that wise saying (even though we say it differently):

"The more you learn, the more you realize that you don't really know anything"

I think it's also the fact of feeling slightly out of place. Obviously I scream AMERICAN because even freaking tourists come up to me and start speaking to me in English. I've been asked 3 times- once by a fruit vendor, once by a police officer, and once by a typical street lurking creep- if I'm Moroccan and countless times I've been greeted with the beloved phrase "Hola" (ew pet peeve). I can look American, North African, or hispanic in Italy but I can't just look like an ethnic Italian. There are more of them here than you think.

It's a strange feeling, being homesick, because this is the 5th semester I've lived away from home but the first time I'm experiencing it. This may sound bizarre but Baltimore is such a subtle difference to Los Angeles compared with European cities. That's not to say I don't miss good ol' Bmore though, because I do. Every time my mind wanders to school I think about my job (which I love!) at the recycling center and tutoring the elementary school kids at Harriett Lane. I think about crazy times in Charles Commons 810 and all the people and all the drama and how Italy really needs to consider cheeseburgers with fried onions and sour cream. I think about what the weather must be like there because not until yesterday did it drop below 80 here. I really missed the 4 seasons because we don't get that in SoCal either. I thought about all the great times I had last year during intersession, driving around an empty campus in 16 degrees and coming back to my roommate Evalina and watching reruns of Platinum Weddings in the evening, or of my 4th grade tutee LaKayla who always had a comment on my appearance. "Courtney, why you always wear sweats? You look so OLD!" It's funny you don't realize how much some place becomes a part of you until you're not there any more. It's fine in the summer because I'm not SUPPOSED to be in Baltimore then, but now that I keep up with all my friends from school on Facebook, thoughts like these arise.

I don't take for granted Study Abroad, I know it is a luxury opportunity afforded to me for which I am deeply indebted to my parents and I don't take it lightly but I guess what I really mean is I wish I could be in 2 places at once....

Venezia (Venice if you please)

Wrapped up another weekend trip yet again this past Sunday but this one was with 28 other IES study abroad students as the school sponsored it. It was a long trip, but definitely worth it. We got to Venice around 2pm or so on Friday, dropped off our stuff at the hotel right outside of Venice in an area called Mestre and wandered around the "main island" for a few hours. I bought a fabulous mask because I've always wanted one and my friend Shannon and I checked out a lot of small gift shops that carried glass made at one of the neighboring Venetian islands. We met everyone else for dinner at 8 and the food was plentiful and pretty good.

Saturday we had a 7:30 wake-up call and we all ate breakfast at the hotel. We took this ferry to San Marco to see the church. It's pretty much the most touristy part of Venice.

My favorite part of San Marco was the tour we did of the palace of the Dogi. He was basically like the elected president back when Venice was the shit aka the world's wealthiest city (It's still part of Italy's wealthiest region). They turned it into a museum and I got to see a chastity belt from the 15th century in person! Our guide was really dramatic and interactive and it was pretty fun. She told us this funny story about how the husbands of these women would go away for 6 months at a time so about three months before they left, the women would get really fat, get fitted for their chastity belt, lose all the weight while their husbands were gone so they could slip it off, and then get really fat again before they returned so it would be nice and snug. She also gave us a lesson on inheritance during the Venetian empire when the world was cut out for first sons and daughters and how your life was chosen for you. If you wanted to be with the one you loved you became a nun/priest and your lover became the other because priests were allowed inside convents at night with no questions asked so basically convents were safehouses for illegitimate couples in the act! Hilarious this woman was. I also learned some of the ways to identify artists by the repetitive clues they left in their paintings.

We then went to the island of Murano on Saturday to see a demonstration of glass-making and then to Burano where they make lace. I've seen glass be made before in Canada but it's such a cool process I didn't mind seeing it again.

Saturday night was pretty fun because they had a mini-Oktoberfest by our hotel. I met some locals and some Americans which were both entertaining and ate too many crepes.

Sunday we got up super early and waited 40 min for the bus to take us to the port of this canal where we took a 4 hour boat ride. I was too tired, hungover and cold to really enjoy it. The guide was energetic but too loud. We had the boat to ourselves for half of the trip but later, these old French tourists joined us so they had to guide in two languages. After the trip we went to lunch and everyone was exhausted but IES insisted taking us to see another villa, one belonging to some famous Italian architect. After that side trip, we bussed back to Rome which took about 6 or 7 hours including two stops. It was one of the quietest bus rides I've ever been on because everyone was sleeping. They dropped us off at the school which sucked because I had to walk 20 minutes to the subway with all my stuff. I got back to my apartment at about 11pm and hit the sack immediately!

Rome is Home

This weekend I didn't have any travel plans so I decided it would do me some good to stay put in Rome and get to know the city better. After all, I did choose THIS PLACE to study for a reason. So glad I did because Rome is amazing and the places I went to I simply don't have time to go to during the weekdays. We only have class Monday- Thursday so most of my days I'm in class until 5 or 6. I really hate how the scheduling is done at the school because sometimes I have 3 hours in between classes which isn't enough time to do things outside the school without feeling rushed but is also too much time to just linger.

Most of my weekend was dedicated to visiting the sites of Ancient Rome because I've always been fascinated with the Great Roman Empire since my World History class in 10th grade. I had my Rick Steves travel guide explaining all the details of the ruins I saw and it made it even that much better. The inside of the Colosseum was cool but I was a little disappointed to find out that only about 1/3 of it is original since a lot of the original building was lost to earthquakes or looted. My favorite parts were Julius Caesar's temple where they burned his corpse and people today still place flowers marking the site and also the courtyard where he was assassinated. I mean, who can forget "Et tu, Brute?" I think those words are the essence of Rome and it was a little odd standing in the same vicinity where they were uttered. I also really, really enjoyed Palantine Hill (especially the throne room) where the old imperial palace used to be and many emperors used to live, and the old Vatican Treasury room. It was a great experience getting lost in this city because I saw some places that I otherwise would never have seen, places that are extremely sheltered from Tourist Rome. I attempted to visit the Jewish Museum because I love Jewish history and there are a lot of Italian movies I love on the deportation of Italians during the Holocaust, notably La Vita e' Bella (Life is Beautiful) and La Finestra di Fronte (Facing Windows), but it was closed so I'll have to go back another day. I also got to see a ton of parks and churches that were stunningly beautiful and have absolutely no comparison in the US except for maybe the Washington National Cathedral. And I thought St. Jerome was a beautiful church.

Saturday night I went to dinner with two of my roommates and Katharine to this place we thought was Sicilian but when we got there actually discovered it's Sardegnan (Sardegna is another island off the Italian peninsula). My other roommate, Leighton went to Oktoberfest this weekend in Munich which I'm still really jealous about, and yes, the real Oktoberfest, not the shitty frat party imitations. Camie had been to this restaurant 5 years before and raved about it naturally exciting the rest of us. It didn't disappoint! SO... MUCH... FOOD! First, they brought a basket with about 10 different kinds of sausage, 4 plates of different cheeses, all kinds of marinated vegetables and breads, 3 different plates of pastas, wine, dessert and of course shots of limoncello to digest it all. We went back to the apartment of one of our ISCs and shot the breeze with some beautiful Italians who were telling us all these stories from their summers. Even funnier when you're buzzed!

I didn't leave my apartment Sunday because I was dead tired. I threw together pasta from things we had in the fridge and cupboards and it was actually pretty good. I'm skipping class in the morning on Wednesday to see the pope (tickets reserved!) and we're having a small dinner party at the apartment later that night so things to look forward to! This weekend I'm also going to Venice on a sponsored field trip. I'm grateful I don't have to pay for this trip because Venice is expensive!!! Anyways, life is good and I'm so blessed!

Weekends = Exhaustion

I made it back to Rome about an hour ago from Cinque Terre, Italy. I went with my roommate Camie and also Kathryn, who lives about 15 minutes from us. We left Friday morning and took a 4 hour train to Pisa to see the Leaning Tower. Seeing the tower has always been a Bucket List goal of mine and sitting on the train that morning was a weird feeling to think that I would be seeing it in a few hours.

We finally got to Pisa and followed Rick Steves' (he is a very famous Europe travel guide writer) advice to take the LAM Rossa line to the tower. We did that but got the Pisa suburb countryside tour included in our bus fare and then we got cursed out by an old crazy Italian lady IN ITALIAN because I put my backpack on my seat while I went to ask the driver what stop to get off on. I'm not exactly sure what she said but I'm sure it wasn't nice. About 45 minutes later, we got off the bus right in front of the tower. Breathtaking! We did the whole tourist thing, taking pictures with tower, holding it up, blah blah blah. The good thing about Pisa is that there is nothing to do but see the Tower so three hours after arrival, we were on our way an hour northwest to Cinque Terre. (Galileo is actually from Pisa which makes it a little more cool because Galileo is THE MAN!)

Before I proceed, a little background on Cinque Terre. CT is not a city but a string of 5 consecutive towns on the coast of Northern Italy and is pronounced "chink-way/ tair-ay." It literally means 5 Lands in Italian and each town has its own accent so residents of other towns can detect which land one belongs to. We arrived in the third town, Corniglia on Friday night and it was already pitch black outside. We met a nice couple from Chicago by the train station that showed us how to get to our hostel because the shuttle buses were done for the night. They walked us up the 378 steps to the top of our hill and pointed us in the direction of Corniglia Hostel, where we had a reservation. This is where the excitement started!

Apparently, once we arrived at the hostel in Corniglia, I was informed that I had booked our hostel for Sunday, not Friday, and they couldn't squish us in because it was full. Great. So the attendants referred us to a hostel in Levanto which is outside the Cinque Terre and luckily they had room. The hostel room was very clean with a private bathroom and even though it was a 6-bed, the 3 of us had it to ourselves. That night it rained cats and dogs and from the continental breakfast on Saturday morning, our planned hike wasn't looking good. We heard that the trails could possibly be closed due to the weather but we had no choice but to go see for ourselves because checkout was at 10:00am. When we stepped outside at checkout I said a little prayer and asked God to spare us the rain since we had come so far. After that moment, the rain was never a problem.

We took the train into Monterosso, the fifth most northern town of the Cinque Terre and started our hike. I'm glad we went North to South due to the fact that the first two hikes were definitely the most difficult. We stopped in Vernazzo (4th) for lunch and gelatto and made it to Corniglia (3rd) before taking the train to Riomaggiore (1st) where we stayed for the night. The trail from Corniglia to Manarola (2nd) was closed for the day due to the rain but we wouldn't have had time to hike it anyway because we had to check-in to our suite by 6pm. The hikes were demanding but an amazing experience and accomplishment.

On Sunday, we got out on the trails by 8am and made it from Riomaggiore to Corniglia heading north this time, completing the 7 mile hike between the 5 towns. Once we made it to Corniglia we turned around and started heading back in the direction of Manarola because we were determined to cliff jump before we left. By this time it was 10am and the storm clouds were rolling in. We found a small cliff, maybe 15 feet or so high and figured this was the only opportunity we would get. It had a ladder built into the rocks so obviously it was meant for deep sea swimming but Camie checked out the area before we decided to jump any cliffs. When the coast was clear, we went for it and had a blast. We all jumped twice and then it started to drizzle which wasn't a problem but the lightning was.

We hiked back to the Manarola train station and took the train to the La Spezia train station where we caught our train back to Rome. It was a great weekend and my back is killing me but totally worth it. Make sure to check out the pics on my Facebook album. I'll probably just scamper around Rome next weekend...

Monday Funday

Today was the first day of classes. I had Italian Economy within the European Union, Italy and the US, and Italy and the EU today, all of which are either econ or IR classes but will fulfill requirements for my major. My professors seem very knowledgeable which is wonderful because the EU is something that really intrigues me.

After class I took the Metro (subway) to Santa Susanna which is a small but BEAUTIFUL church for English mass. It is the only day of the week I can make it in time for mass because other days I don't get out of Italian until 6. It was my first time going to church in English and I wasn't that impressed with the priest. His name was Father Greg and he was clearly American but he didn't seem very devoted and after the final prayer/ blessing he skiddadled like there was no tomorrow. He obviously didn't care to meet new faces. Anyway, there is a used book stand by the church and I bought my first Italian novel for 5 euro. I was really enjoying my alone time in the city so I decided to go to the Spanish Steps because it's my favorite place in Rome to people-watch. I met these four Canadians probably in their sixties at the train stop who asked me how to get to Piazza Spagna. I love when tourists ask me questions on the street because it makes me feel like I don't stand out as one of them. At first I didn't know what the guy was talking about because he pronounced it like it would be read in English- "Spag-nuh"- but then I gave the group a lesson in Italian 101 and told them in Italian it is pronounced "Spawn-yah." I then proceeded to tell them about the two times I was in Canada and what I did there. One of them asked me if I now lived in Rome and I said I did not feeling the need to divulge I have only been here two weeks and only until the middle of December.

I led my Canadian friends to the steps, snapped some photos for them and sent them on their merry way. I sat on the steps observing the large group of Australian students, probably high schoolers posing for their picture among all the lovers, both Italian and foreign. Then I was approached by Felice, a nineteen year old Roman native I would come to find out, who told me I was "byooo-tee-ful" in his adorable little Italian accent. Needless to say, we're friends and I invited him to the discoteca on Wednesday night at midnight. He wants to go to Campo di Fiori before that which is this small piazza with lots of bars known for its high volume of Americans but we'll see about that. Last time I went drinking before a discoteca it was no bueno (that's Spanish). Enough about Felice (which means "happy" in Italian- yeah, weird). We'll see how that pans out at a later date.

I got back to my apartment around 8 to the smell of my roommate Camie's stirfry. It was amazingly delicious and about 12 people came over and indulged, including Elly and Izzy (our Italian life-savers). Thank God we have at least one great cook who lives here. When everyone left, Camie made crepes with nutella and banana which were equally as amazing. Everyday I'm here is like eating in heaven and I haven't gained any weight due to all the walking and shuttling around.

GREAT day today. I'm making plans for the weekend to go to Cinque Terre with Camie and our friend Kathryn which should be really fun. We watched this video on Youtube called "Cinque Terre cliff jumping" which we totally plan on doing and the train we're going to take to get there apparently stops in Pisa for an hour and a half so hopefully we'll be able to see the Leaning Tower. Things are looking good. I hope they stay this way!

Weekend in Firenze

I got back to my apartment from my short weekend in Florence about 3 hours ago. Great trip!! I loved the smallness of the city so that it was very do-able in a day and a half and I didn't feel like I was missing anything when I left because I had seen everything. Florence certainly doesn't have an American equivalent city that I can compare it to.

My friend Tina, who lives down the street from me got a cab to the main train station at about 5:20am on Saturday, in time for our 5:57am train that took 4 hours. It was my first time meeting most of the other girls who I think are great. In total, there were 7 girls and 2 boys. Everyone slept on the train there. When we got to Florence, we took Bus 12 all the way up to our hostel. The hostel was quite an experience because it was comprised of tents that each had 3 beds in them. It sat at the top of one of the hills of Florence, Piazza Michelangelo, and the view down on the city was absolutely beautiful. We walked down about a quarter mile of extremely steep steps into the city center and did the whole walking tour of Florence with the help of trusty maps we picked up at the train station. The size of the Duomo in person is overwhelming, so much so that you can't get the whole cathedral in a picture unless you're standing about a mile away from it. We went to the Accademia Gallery where the original statue of David is housed. I'm not really a fan of museums especially when they cost 10 Euros but I really wanted to see David and didn't expect him to be so big, which is kind of ironic because yes, it's true... the boy is small even in person. While we were waiting in line to get in, everyone illegally signed their names/ their soroity/frat letters on the doors to the museum. The rush of that was exhilirating to say the least.

We also checked out the leather market which for those of you who don't know, Florence is one of the best places in the world to buy leather and for cheap. It was pretty extensive but not quite what I expected. I didn't buy anything because nothing really caught my eye but almost all the other girls did. While they were shopping I bought gelato which was the first gelato I've had that I've actually ever liked. We stopped at a few more churches, none of which I remember the names but one that apparently holds the tombs of Dante and then we headed over to the Ponte Vecchio which is a bridge that has shops on it, most of which are unbelievable jewelry stores and cater to some of the world's wealthiest people. I was so proud that the group could see so many things on our own based off of a 3 euro map and it made me regress back to when I was younger my mom used to make us take organized bus tours when we went on vacation and my sister and I would be the ONLY kids among a group of old people, median age 65. Ugh... bad memories.

After around 6 we decided to head back up to the hostel so we could watch the sunset over Florence from up top. On our way back up we bought 4 bottles of wine, cheese and salami which was a great choice. Hiking back up the steps as you can imagine was killer but totally worth the experience to witness Florence transition from day to night. We sat on the steps with a crowd of about 50 other people for about 2 hours and completely went through all the food and wine while being serenaded by a 3-person American band during the sunset. There was a bass player, a flute player, a guitar player/ singer. Everyone was so drunk and happy-go-lucky that it amazes me how simple sitting on steps and watching the sun disappear into the night could be the best part about a trip. It was beautiful!

When we got back to our hostel which is about a 5 minute walk from the steps, I decided it would be a good idea to chug half a bottle of limoncello before dinner. I was so drunk I don't remember much of what happened in the hours to follow. Somehow we ended back down in the city and we went to this one bar called Zoe which we were promptly kicked out of for not drinking enough. If you think that's funny, you'll find it even funnier that 30 min later we got kicked out of an outdoor wine bar for the same reason. I can understand though. Whatever. I know we also tried to go to this outdoor club or "lounge" called Flo that these two old Italian men told us about and which happened to be next door to our hostel, but by 12:30 the line was insane and you could see from the sidewalk how packed inside it was. I know NYU has a program in Florence so I'm pretty sure there were mostly Americans inside. I ended up not going to the bar that 6 other people went to for unknown reasons but I heard it was a blast and I'm sad I missed out.

We took the 3:15p train back to Rome and arrived at 7. The beds at the hostel were fine and I was also really tired and drunk but I wouldn't want to do the whole outdoor adventure again, though I'm glad I tried it. I'm more of a hotel and personal bathroom kind of gal. Something about coming back to Rome was so refreshing, like I knew it was home. It was the way I feel when I come back to LA from school and just the sound of the city is so reassuring and rejuvenating. Florence was amazing and I'm glad I got to see it because it was good times but I'm also so glad I get to call Rome home for 3 more months and now comparatively I understand why it's labeled "The Greatest City in the World". I would have to agree.

Thank God for Italian Hospitality...

I've been in Rome for 10 days now and just today did we get internet in our apartment. I don't even know where to start for this blog. I guess I'll start from the beginning and just list the important things- I got to the airport at LAX and saw a girl from my high school, Jen, standing in the baggage check-in line in front of me. It took a second for it to dawn on me who she was but when I saw her I was like "Jen?" and she gawked at me for a full two seconds and said "Oh my God? Courtney?!" I don't think I had seen her since high school. Turns out we were on the same flight to London and once we got there we went our separate ways, Jen to a semester in Madrid. I'm glad I saw here because her dad carried my 45lb bag to security for me after the handle broke at check-in.

By the time I got to Rome I had been up for about 24 hours. I don't know why I didn't sleep on the planes, I just stayed up watching movies and House. I saw The Soloist for the first time which was borderline disappointing. At the Rome airport one of the program interns gave me a packet which explained what to do once I got to my apartment and then I split a cab with this boy named Avatar who lives a few km away. I recognized my street from Google Maps but all the apartments kind of looked the same. The cab driver dropped me off (after he told me my Italian was very good) and pressed the buzzer to have someone let me in but nobody responded so I figured my roommates were just out to dinner or something. Finally someone came out of the building and I lugged my 100lbs of luggage inside and up the world's tiniest elevator to my floor. I rang and rang the doorbell but no one answered. I saw on the paper I was given a number to my Italian Student Companion but of course my dad had already turned off my service so I couldn't call a soul. That's when the "What the fuck do I do now?" (excuse me) switch turned on in my head and I sat on my bags for about 5 minutes trying to come up with a game plan.

I then decided to schlep my bags back in the tiny elevator (Thank God for the elevator in all its minuteness) and go back down the empty lobby. I threw my bags in the corner with the intention of walking outside but then I remembered I had no key. Luckily, I saw a girl about my age leaving the building and I didn't know what to say or how she could help me but I figured it was my only chance to ask someone for anything. "UHHH scusa, hai una telefona posso usare?" I don't even know how that came out so fluently but the girl looked at me and said "Si" all confused. When I looked back at the paper with the number on it my heart sank yet again because all I saw was a strew of numbers and symbols and had no idea which digits I actually had to dial so then my instincts kicked back in. I just handed this girl the paper thinking she would understand it. Then she pointed at the address and said something to me in Italian I didn't understand but I figured since she was leading me outside and her mom was following us with my bags that I obviously was at the wrong address.

In all my retardedness I thanked the girl and her mother profusely and the buzz at my actual residence worked. My roommate Camie let me in the front door and this guy and his wife/girlfriend/ mother/ I have no idea because I didn't see her face helped me load my bags in the identical tiny ass elevator not to mention with two extra people plus their groceries. I can't even begin to explain how small the elevators here are. At the elevator in my building you can only press one floor at a time (so if I press 7 before 5 it takes you to 7 first) and even though the floor is the last one, on the top, they let me go first and helped me unload my bags. Obviously they could sense my idiot side. I hope I don't give Americans a bad rep although I'm sure plenty who've come before me have already completed that task. Proud to confirm it. Anyway, I arrived, we met the other students who live in the area and our Italian Student Companion (ISC) cooked dinner for the 14 girls who live in Pratti at our apartment that night which was really fabulous. That's my arrival story. It's one for the books. I see the girl around every couple of days and I'm so embarrassed to say ciao to her.

I have a million other things to write about but this is enough for today. My train to Florence leaves at 6am tomorrow so that'll be interesting. I'm going to dinner in about an hour with my roommates but obviously we'll be staying in tonight because they're going to a small island by Capri at the same time tomorrow morning as well. It's good because we've practically gone out every night since we've been here (que the stories). I'll blog more often now that I have reliable internet.

Ciao a tutti. A presto...

Pre-Departure Blues

Ok. Not those kind of blues, but more like Bank of America shitty customer service blues. I needed to exchange some US dollars for Euros because certain places in Europe such as taxis and street markets don't necessarily accept credit cards. I also know that banks generally have better conversion rates than airport currency exchange windows so last Friday I went to my bank (Bank of America) to purchase 500 Euros at a cost of $750. Not terrible. The lady tells me that they should be there within 3 business days and they would call me when they arrived.

Wednesday rolls around. Then Thursday- still no call. I don't know about you but I can never, ever speak with an associate at a Bank of America because they always manage to transfer me to "Bob" in India who can't really tell me whether the money has arrived or not. So since I have no luck calling, I was going to wait until Friday to go down to the bank but my dad convinced me to go today instead just to get the status. Good thing I did because not only were my Euros not there, they hadn't even been properly ordered (even though I had a receipt and a charge on my account) so Currency Exchange hadn't even processed the order almost a week after it had been placed.

Luckily for me the same lady at the bank who had taken the order was there and she remembered me so the confusion wasn't totally lost in translation. She apologized (it was definitely her fault) and told me she could place the order today but because it was after X time it wouldn't be processed until tomorrow and they don't do weekend deliveries so the earliest it could get there would be Monday. Now the catch is that I leave on Monday and I refuse to press my luck that closely for something I already paid for. It is BofA afterall, so if they say Monday they probably mean sometime between the following Thursday and never. So the next best option was to drive down to Beverly Hills, the only bank in the region that keeps euros and pick them up there. The lady then informed me that THAT Beverly Hills bank closes at 3:45 everyday. I looked at my watch and it was pushing 3:40. At this point I was already frustrated so I told them forget it, just reverse the charges on my account and I'll conveniently drive 5 min to the airport instead of waiting until the next day to drive 25 min to Beverly Hills and wait in Friday bank chaos for some money that I had tried to responsibly order way ahead of time. I couldn't even get Bank of America to ask the Beverly Hills branch to put the euros on hold so I can just walk in and pick them up. I figured that the money I would save by using the bank system rather than the airport wasn't worth the hassle.

The story isn't over yet. I drove to the airport which really is only 5 min from this bank, the airport traffic wasn't even partially as horrendous as it normally is which was good. I parked and went down to the Arrivals level of the international terminal. Luckily there was nobody at the window so I walked right up. It cost $798 for 500 Euros which is slightly more than the rate at the bank. I gave the cashier guy, whatever you call him, my debit card and it was denied with the message "Amount too high." I knew it definitely wasn't an insufficient funds issue because I had checked my balance that morning but apparently it's one of those Bank of America anti-fraud or theft securities which definitely didn't help the situation. I only have two accounts but both with the same bank so I told the cashier man to give me a second and let me call my bank (Oh God).

I went to sit in the chairs where people wait to pick up their friends/ family members and as I'm calling the Customer Service number on the back of my card I notice the BofA ATM machine. So I had an idea to try and withdraw the $800. I withdrew $500 from one account and tried to withdraw the rest from the other but it wouldn't let me saying I had already maximized my daily withdrawal limit. I can appreciate the steps the bank takes to protect my account but in that moment, that was a different story. Of course when I went back to the window to purchase as many Euros as I could with my $500 there was a line. The people in front of me were helped and then this foreign man with absolutely no regard for lines tried to butt in front of me. I said "I'm sorry were you next?" and he said "Oh, go ahead." Yeah. Thanks buddy. How kind of you. Now I know in different cultures, matters pertaining to personal space are regarded differently but this is also why I think it's a good idea to research your destination before you get there and learn about accepted customs. While it was my turn at the window which was actually more like a counter, this line-jumper man stands right next to me ( YES! RIGHT NEXT TO ME) so that our elbows are actually touching and starts fidgeting around counting his money while I'm trying to make this transaction. That's kind of like someone at an ATM coming up and standing directly next to you and pulling out their debit card because they know they're next in line. Or like, I know this doesn't apply to me and may be more extreme, but someone standing two inches behind you at a urinal because they've got next dibs. That 5 feet of personal space courtesy rule obviously doesn't apply in the international terminals of US airports. I was really about to say something until I realized where I was and wondered where in the world could this actually be considered okay?

The point of the story is that Bank of America sucks saggy balls and truly inconvenienced me without much remorse. I'll have to buy the remaining 190 Euros on Monday but then I got In-n-Out after I left so my afternoon balanced itself out.