More time in Italy for less time in IL. How's that sound, Angela?
Well, the decision was made for me last Saturday morning when my flight out of Milan was cancelled.
Cancelled.
Yes, cancelled.
Really cancelled.
It took me a little while to process the information, so I figured I'd give you the same opportunity.
There I sat at approximately 5:30 in the morning, about to leave for the airport, when I found out that the reason I wanted to go to the airport had just disappeared. Shoot! So I got on facebook and found that the only person I knew in the US that was on was a girl who used to be in the high school youth group I helped out with in Evanston. I asked her to call my home phone number and ask my Dad to go online. Ha! It must have been a funny conversation. In any case, my Dad came online and we tried to figure something out. There was, of course, not too much we could do, so after a little while I headed off to the airport. I waited in line for about an hour at the service desk of the airline for my flight, where I was told yes, my flight was cancelled, and they could not help me here. I had to go to the ticket counter for the airline. I got there and had the chance to wait some more. At one point I thought, "Well, my flight to Germany would be taking off right now." Later, I thought, "Well, my flight to Germany would be landing right now." Later, I thought, "Well, my flight to Philadelphia would be taking off right now." I finally got to the front of the line and talked to a man who told me that every flight that day was cancelled for that airline. Since every flight the previous day had been cancelled as well, they had to help a lot of people. He said every flight the next day (Sunday) from anywhere in Europe to anywhere in the United States was booked to the hilt, and there was absolutely no chance I could make it on any of them. He was able to get me a seat on a plane the morning of the 20th, however. I REALLY wanted an earlier flight. Any earlier flight. I didn't want to be the obnoxious customer who caused problems for the poor guys who had to deal the frustrated people who had been waiting in line for four and a half hours. There were a few tears begging to get some fresh air, and I figured they couldn't hurt my cause. So I let the man behind the counter see the heroic effort I was making to not melt into a puddle of tears and hoped he would magically be able to find a quicker flight. It didn't work. I collected my little piece of paper with my new flight information and made my way to a seating area, where I instantly melted into a puddle of tears.
Okay.
Next I thought to myself, "I'm in Milan for 2 more days. It's a good thing I have an apartment here. Oh. To bad I don't have enough money to buy a ticket back into Milan. Since the airline got me into this mess, they should take care of this problem." I glanced back at the line I had just stood in for... what was it? Oh yeah--four and a half hours. I decided to go back to the service desk. I was talking to a person within ten minutes. She told me she couldn't help me; I should go to the ticket counter. Cool. While I was there, I picked up a copy of my flyer's rights. I sat back down in the seating area and burst into hysterical tears. There was a couple kind of near me, and I think they were saying a romantic goodbye. They left to do that somewhere else. I sat for a minute going on less than 6 hours of sleep in the past 3 days, and having eaten nothing that day except one packet of crackers. I looked at the line--maybe it was smaller. I dragged myself back into line, plopped down on the floor leaning against my luggage, and started writing a blog I knew I would not be able to post until I returned to my apartment. Did that, and then closed my eyes, making sure to remain in physical contact with every piece of luggage I had with me. I dozed off and only woke up when the woman behind me asked me to move forward. Very refreshing. This time the line took me less than two hours to get through, and when I got to the front, I was able to get a round-trip ticket to the city from the airport. AND I read in my handy-dandy flyer's rights that I was allowed to make two phone calls. Sweet! Free calls to the US! I called home and left a message explaining all the updates, and then called my mom's cell phone. I knew odds were small that she would pick up, since she never gets to her phone in time for the first call and only finds it for the second time someone calls. I was right. It's nice to know that some things don't change, no matter how many months you've been away from home. :)
So, I caught the bus back into Milan and made my way to my apartment. Unfortunately, I had turned in my keys, the doors were locked, and my roommates were not home. There is a window in the hall that my old roommate liked to have open for circulation. I warned her that it would be easy for someone to simply climb in from outside, but she would still frequently open it. I guess she opened it one last time before she left, because it was a crack open. I lugged all my luggage through the window and then locked it. Whew! Looooong day. My roommates were quite surprised when they came back and found me back in the apartment!
Tomorrow, I go home for real! (I hope.)
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Pair-ee!
“Paris” in French. At least the way I speak it.
Sunday was our wrap-up day, our last day together. It was also the first Sunday of the month, which, fortunately for us, meant that the Louvre was free! We spent most of the day there, and enjoyed part of one wing. Seriously, that place is huge. I saw the Mona Lisa, which I really enjoyed since I have been taking a class on Leonardo da Vinci over the semester, and the Mona Lisa was (of course) one of his paintings that we paid special attention to. Kind of funny—there was a huge crowd pushing to see and take pictures of the Mona Lisa, which is behind bullet-proof glass and has an entire wall all to itself. Right in hallway outside, passed by unnoticed by most of the people who at that point are only excited to see da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, are two more da Vinci paintings. One is another portrait of a woman. He only completed four portraits of women in his life, and one is in a place where it frequently gets ignored by people rushing to see another. Weird. We also saw the Venus de Milo, and other famous pieces of art. Did you know there is an entire exhibition on the history of the Louvre? There is! Actually, there are more than one: History of the Louvre 1, the Medieval Louvre, and History of the Louvre 2. What kind of museum needs three different exhibitions just to cover its own history? Pretty cool, I think anyway.
After that, the plan was to visit the Champs-Elysees and get crepes as an early celebration of my birthday. We decided, however, that it would be a good idea to check first to find out when the last night bus or first morning bus ran to the airport Becca and I were flying out of early in the morning. We went there first and found out that the first bus in the morning would cut it too close for us, and the last bus at night departed in about half an hour. We went on a hasty quest to find crepes, but it was Sunday night and most places were closing. We did manage to find a bakery that was starting to close, but the woman was kind enough to let us in and patient enough to remain very pleasant as we took our time ooh-ing and aah-ing over the baguettes and French pastries. We had to get both. Yum. Then came a hurried goodbye, and Becca and I were on the bus to the airport, ready for a night of talking, paper writing on her part, and hopefully some sleeping on mine. We found a good spot for the night and got settled in, and then an airport employee came over to tell us that if we were not on the next flight out, we would have to leave because the airport was closing. What?! Airports close? Who even knew? With some help from the information desk, Becca and I navigated our way to the cheapest hotel in the town outside of Paris where the airport was located. Thanks, RyanAir. I’m sure hotels in that town love you. That was Sunday.
Becca wrote her paper and I caught a few hours of sleep before we got up to catch the earliest city bus to the airport. It didn’t work; we missed it. I was kind of concerned I would miss my flight if we had to wait an hour for the next bus, but the clerk at the hotel was just getting off work and offered to drive us! How kind. We made very good time, and were well in time to hang out at the airport because our flights were delayed. Mid-Monday found me flopping into bed and falling into a deliciously sound sleep.
BAM! …We’ll always have Paris.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Parigi!
"Paris" in Italian.
Friday morning Marie and I woke up bright and early, meaning about 9, and enjoyed breakfast before heading out to meet up with Becca. After a long and somewhat trying ordeal, BAM (Becca, Angela, and Marie) was reunited! And I had my bag, which someone had thoroughly gone through and taken the 50 euros I had put in there. Bummer.
We hopped on the metro and hopped off again at a certain stop--I don't remember how we chose it; there was nothing famous there. But we ate some food (French food... yum) and wandered around for a while. We saw a cool old church and were enchanted by cute little outdoor food markets. We spent a long time in an antique store before we went to meet up with Jean Francois, the man at whose house were staying.
Friday morning Marie and I woke up bright and early, meaning about 9, and enjoyed breakfast before heading out to meet up with Becca. After a long and somewhat trying ordeal, BAM (Becca, Angela, and Marie) was reunited! And I had my bag, which someone had thoroughly gone through and taken the 50 euros I had put in there. Bummer.
We hopped on the metro and hopped off again at a certain stop--I don't remember how we chose it; there was nothing famous there. But we ate some food (French food... yum) and wandered around for a while. We saw a cool old church and were enchanted by cute little outdoor food markets. We spent a long time in an antique store before we went to meet up with Jean Francois, the man at whose house were staying.
It was a cool antique shop.
His house was so cool! His wife and mother-in-law were in Morocco when we arrived, so we had dinner with him and his son. The son's name is the French version of Julian, which I don't know how to spell, and he was about our age. Really cool family. Jean Francois traveled from France to Nepal more than once when he was younger on an autocycle! An autocycle is essentially a bicycle with a small motor over the front wheel to make it turn. Top speed? 15 mph. There was room for one small bag behind the seat. He's got lots of stories, and lots of really cool unusual instruments hung on one wall of his house. Some of them he bought on his travels, and others were given to him as gifts. We asked him how, since he only had one little bag with him, did he get all those large and awkwardly shaped instruments home? He said whenever he got one, he would ride to the nearest airport, find someone who was flying to France, and ask them to take the instrument and mail it to his address! Every single instrument arrived safe and sound. Isn't that incredible? That was Friday.
Saturday was our outside day and the timing was a little unfortunate because it was also the coldest, most precipitous day we had in France. Oh, well. We wandered around an area that Jean Francois recommended, and another that Marie's guidebook said was "the ageless Paris of poets and songs" or something like that. It was pretty cool, but very cold. We saw Notre Dame, which was beautiful. A mass started while we were in there, which was interesting. Tourists walk around the perimeter of the church while those participating in the mass do so in the middle.
Our last visit that day was... the Eiffel Tower! Wow. I've always heard that it's so beautiful and so big and so much better than the pictures, but I was still blown away!
It was gorgeous! Becca and Marie are both dating people, and at one point they turned to each other and said that they wished their boyfriends were there. I came up with the brilliant idea of taking a picture of them kissing nothing in front of the Eiffel Tower and then showing their boyfriends and saying, "Look! I was thinking of you at the Eiffel Tower!" I know, I know, I'm brilliant.
Saturday was our outside day and the timing was a little unfortunate because it was also the coldest, most precipitous day we had in France. Oh, well. We wandered around an area that Jean Francois recommended, and another that Marie's guidebook said was "the ageless Paris of poets and songs" or something like that. It was pretty cool, but very cold. We saw Notre Dame, which was beautiful. A mass started while we were in there, which was interesting. Tourists walk around the perimeter of the church while those participating in the mass do so in the middle.
Notre Dame! And a Christmas tree with blue lights.
Our last visit that day was... the Eiffel Tower! Wow. I've always heard that it's so beautiful and so big and so much better than the pictures, but I was still blown away!
The Eiffel Tower!
It was gorgeous! Becca and Marie are both dating people, and at one point they turned to each other and said that they wished their boyfriends were there. I came up with the brilliant idea of taking a picture of them kissing nothing in front of the Eiffel Tower and then showing their boyfriends and saying, "Look! I was thinking of you at the Eiffel Tower!" I know, I know, I'm brilliant.
And then we went to space! Just kidding. This is the Eiffel Tower from underneath. Doesn't it look like it belongs in space though?
Black and white photo except for the golden tint of the lights of the Tower. That's right.
That was Saturday.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Paris!
Aah, Paris...
Where to start? Well, there was some rough weather in Paris the day Becca, Marie, and I were supposed to fly there and meet up. In fact, when I took off from Milan, the ground was covered in slush, it was sleet/snowing, and there was a murky sort of pre-dawn haze. When I landed outside of Paris, I looked out the window and it looked almost exactly the same! Since Marie was flying into a different airport than Becca and I were, we decided to all meet at Becca's and my airport and then head off to our hostel together. Well, the weather wasn't so great, as I said. I was the first to fly in, and I made it just fine. Marie's flight was delayed several hours, and she had quite an adventure navigating her way to the airport where I was waiting. Becca called to say her flight had been cancelled and she would fly in the following morning. Marie finally made it, we joyfully hugged, and then left the airport to catch the hour and a half long busride to the center of Paris. Where she had just come from. Funny--the airport was very small and not very well heated, so I sat there for over 12 hours wearing several layers of clothes along with my hat and coat, and fairly frequently went to stand in the bathroom for a little while because it was the only warm place I could find!
When I got on the bus, the driver stopped me and told me I had to put my bag underneath. I did, and then got back on the bus and he tore my ticket. Marie tried to follow, but he said the bus was full and she had to take the other bus. Oh, no! We're finally reunited after months of being apart and a very long day just waiting and struggling to meet up with each other, and now we have to ride on separate buses and hope we meet up all right on the other end? We didn't know how soon the second bus was going to leave or anything, so I rushed back down, and we stammered that we were traveling together and had to ride the same bus. The driver looked at me and handed me back the other half of a torn ticket. I hoped it would work but wasn't sure if it would. I didn't want to have to buy another expensive bus ticket. It worked, and it wasn't until I got off the bus in Paris and went to pick up my bag that I remembered I had left it on the other bus. Shoot! We went to the little ticket stand to ask about it, and the man said to return the next morning. At least I had my toothbrush and toothpaste in my purse and had layered on the comfy clothes I was going to wear as pajamas on top of my regular clothes while--get ready--"chilling" in the airport all day. That's right. Wordplay.
Marie and I found our way to our hostel, which was really cool. I think it was two really old buildings built right up against each other which had been connected and then turned into a hostel. Cool atmosphere. Also, breakfast was supposed to be 5.50 euro extra, but the guy at the counter said it was included in our surprisingly low room cost! It was a dorm-style room, which I had never stayed in before, so Marie and I shared a room with two other girls, and during the night found out how the hostel keeps costs so low: they don't heat the rooms very much. But not all the beds were being used, so I grabbed a lonely blanket and made it through the night just fine. That was Thursday.
I will write more, but that's all for this post. The internet at my apartment is broken, again, so I am using a friend's computer at her apartment. It's very generous of her, and I don't want to wear out my welcome, so to speak.
Au revoir!
Where to start? Well, there was some rough weather in Paris the day Becca, Marie, and I were supposed to fly there and meet up. In fact, when I took off from Milan, the ground was covered in slush, it was sleet/snowing, and there was a murky sort of pre-dawn haze. When I landed outside of Paris, I looked out the window and it looked almost exactly the same! Since Marie was flying into a different airport than Becca and I were, we decided to all meet at Becca's and my airport and then head off to our hostel together. Well, the weather wasn't so great, as I said. I was the first to fly in, and I made it just fine. Marie's flight was delayed several hours, and she had quite an adventure navigating her way to the airport where I was waiting. Becca called to say her flight had been cancelled and she would fly in the following morning. Marie finally made it, we joyfully hugged, and then left the airport to catch the hour and a half long busride to the center of Paris. Where she had just come from. Funny--the airport was very small and not very well heated, so I sat there for over 12 hours wearing several layers of clothes along with my hat and coat, and fairly frequently went to stand in the bathroom for a little while because it was the only warm place I could find!
When I got on the bus, the driver stopped me and told me I had to put my bag underneath. I did, and then got back on the bus and he tore my ticket. Marie tried to follow, but he said the bus was full and she had to take the other bus. Oh, no! We're finally reunited after months of being apart and a very long day just waiting and struggling to meet up with each other, and now we have to ride on separate buses and hope we meet up all right on the other end? We didn't know how soon the second bus was going to leave or anything, so I rushed back down, and we stammered that we were traveling together and had to ride the same bus. The driver looked at me and handed me back the other half of a torn ticket. I hoped it would work but wasn't sure if it would. I didn't want to have to buy another expensive bus ticket. It worked, and it wasn't until I got off the bus in Paris and went to pick up my bag that I remembered I had left it on the other bus. Shoot! We went to the little ticket stand to ask about it, and the man said to return the next morning. At least I had my toothbrush and toothpaste in my purse and had layered on the comfy clothes I was going to wear as pajamas on top of my regular clothes while--get ready--"chilling" in the airport all day. That's right. Wordplay.
Marie and I found our way to our hostel, which was really cool. I think it was two really old buildings built right up against each other which had been connected and then turned into a hostel. Cool atmosphere. Also, breakfast was supposed to be 5.50 euro extra, but the guy at the counter said it was included in our surprisingly low room cost! It was a dorm-style room, which I had never stayed in before, so Marie and I shared a room with two other girls, and during the night found out how the hostel keeps costs so low: they don't heat the rooms very much. But not all the beds were being used, so I grabbed a lonely blanket and made it through the night just fine. That was Thursday.
I will write more, but that's all for this post. The internet at my apartment is broken, again, so I am using a friend's computer at her apartment. It's very generous of her, and I don't want to wear out my welcome, so to speak.
Au revoir!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Un buon weekend
“A good weekend.” Yup, Italians use the word “weekend” too.
Last Thursday morning brought with it an old friend, Becca, and a new friend, Juliet. I study with Becca in Chicago, but this semester we are both studying abroad and she met Juliet at her host school. Much to my delight, they both came for a visit this weekend. We tried to work out the rendezvous point online before they flew out of their country because they wouldn’t have internet access after they left and we would not be able to call each other. (Even so, I gave them my phone number. You never know when it’ll come in handy.) Unfortunately, when I told them where to meet me in the train station, I was not remembering exactly correctly the layout of the station, so the staircase I directed them to did not exist. Oops. We looked for each other for rather a long time before they called me from a pay-phone they found and we were able to talk; we found each other soon after. It was the beginning of a fabulous and memorable weekend. I introduced them to Italian cappuccinos and marochinos. We visited the Castello Sforzesca and a few museums inside, one of which houses the "Pieta Rondanini," Michelangelo's last sculpture--unfinished--before he died, and a room painted by Leonardo da Vinci. I took them to Chocolat, the best gelato place in Milano, and the only place I've found that sells lemon-basil gelato. Holy smokes--so good. The Duomo was a given, and we picked up some good luck by spinning three times with our right heels in a hole in the floor of the center of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II--kind of like a fancy-pants Italian shopping mall right next to the duomo. It has Prada, Louis Vuitton, Dolce & Gabbana, McDonalds... you know, all the major players.
The Pieta Rondanini. It depicts Mary taking Jesus down from the cross, but when you walk around it, it looks like Jesus is carrying Mary's weight. Notice Mary has part of a second face.
Leonardo da Vinci's "Sale della Asse." So intricately detailed.
Us! ...and the duomo.
We had pizza, handmade in front of our very eyes and cooked in a huge wood-burning oven by men who were very happy to be able to speak Arabic with Becca. The last night and pasta with pesto and traditional Milanese Christmastime bread/cake, panettone. The pasta was orrecchiette, which means "little ears" because it's shaped kind of like little ears! It was absolutely lovely to be able to catch up with Becca and just spend time with her. I really appreciate sharing space with someone. Even if we're not talking, we're together in the same place at the same time, and that experience cannot be reproduced or simulated, no matter what kind of communication technology is available. It reminds me in a way of what a famous fiction author described as "kything." (Anyone? Anyone?) I think sometimes more goes on than meets the eye.
It was hard to say goodbye.
I will leave you with a couple public transportation Funny Moments:
1) One night, Juliet and I went out to get a bottle of good ol' Italian wine, and after a successful pickup, we returned to the sidewalk and looked back to see the bus we wanted to take a block behind us, doors already open. We knew we couldn't run back a block and catch it before the doors closed and the bus started moving, so we started running forward, hoping to make it to the next stop in time. Facing the street on the sidewalk ahead of us stood a woman. She glanced over, saw us running in her direction, froze for a second, and then turned and ran the same direction we were running! Juliet and I were a little confused but we kept on going. When we were close to the stop, we stopped running, and the woman stopped at about the same time we did. We got on the bus, and I don't know if she did or not; I lost her in the group of people at the stop. Strange.
2) In Chicago, if the doors of the L start to close and something blocks them from closing all the way, they bounce back open. Good system, I think. Well, I was in a hurry at one point, and ended up running to an underground metro train. Juliet was going to visit a friend in Florence for a day, and she had forgotten some readings for class that she wanted to read during the train ride. We were at the train station and I didn't know if we could go back to my apartment and make it back before her train left, so I decided to go back myself. That way if I couldn't get back in time she would still be able to catch the train she had bought a ticket for. So I was rushing to the right metro line and saw that the train was there right then. The doors started to close as I was sprinting towards them and with every thought focused on making in inside that train car, I dramatically leaped forward. I'm sure it looked so cool that if it was in a movie, I would be an action hero flying forward in slow motion. Right up until the doors closed on me. Really hard. And didn't bounce back open. I had my head, one shoulder, and one leg inside the train, some squished internal organs, and the rest of me still on the train platform. There were a few men standing in the train close to the door I was stuck in, and their shocked faces would have been really funny if I had had time to enjoy them. I saw the man standing closest to me instinctively jerk forward to try to help pull me into the car, then hesitate as if unsure what to do. I clearly wanted to be on the train, but it most likely would have been easier to extract myself if I just went back onto the train platform. The doors were really tight, and he could probably see that either direction I went would end up being painful, so he didn't want to touch me. But there was no way I was not going to make that train. I weaseled my way forward, and if it was in a movie, I would be a cartoon squeezing my way forward through something so tight my eyes would be bugging out of my head. But I made it! I got through and stumbled forward as the doors snapped shut like the jaws of a predator angry that it lost it's prey. Even though the episode happened very quickly--within a few seconds--literally everyone within line of sight was staring at me, and there were a few mouths agape. I do love a dramatic entrance. I popped back up into a normal standing position, flashed everyone a smile to show that I was not hurt, and calmly walked over to a pole to hold onto for the ride. All the seats were filled and honestly, who wants to lose their balance while standing on public transportation? That would just be embarrassing.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Non mi legga chi non e matematico.
The above is a quote from one of Leonardo da Vinci's notebooks. As my well-educated and intelligent readers probably know, Leonardo kept many notebooks throughout the course of his life, in which he made many sketches and wrote many interesting things from right to left. Why from right to left? No one knows. The translation of the quote is roughly "Let no one read me who is not a mathematician.
I don't know how he would feel about me reading him, much less quoting him.
This is unconnected to anything else, but I want to say it. Star Wars was on TV today. "The Empire Strikes Back," to be precise, dubbed in Italian. I did not watch very much, but I did notice that everyone's voice was different except for R2D2 and Chewbacca. I wonder why they didn't translate those character's lines into Italian.
Last night I attended a concert at another university in Milan. It was done by two women, an Israeli woman and a Palestinian woman, who each sang a selection of their own songs and then performed together. It was amazing--my favorite things I've done in Milan thus far. The experience meant a lot to me before the concert even started, because my friend had given up her ticket so that I could go. That immediately gave the free concert a ton of value. It was supposed to start at 9:00, and at about 9:30 the audience broke into applause. The girl next to me (a friend of the friend who gave up her ticket) explained to me that clapping is a way for the audience to communicate they are tired of waiting and want the show to start. My first thought was that timetables for showtimes must be quite different in Italy than in the US if there is a ubiquitously known way for the audience to communicate impatience. Oh, those cultural differences. My second thought was "Really? 30 minutes?" I'd estimate an American audience would have clapped in 12 at the latest. The Palestinian Mira Awad was the first performer, and she was positively entrancing. She sang acapella mostly in Arabic, and a little bit in English. She sounded wonderfully Middle Eastern, and at one point the man accompanying her on djembe had a solo, and she did some lovely dance moves. I have a friend who once spent a summer in Palestine, and when she came back she tried showing me some dance moves she saw there at a wedding. I had an idea of what they should look like, but had never seen them look so smooth and beautiful as when this woman who had spent her whole life there did them. After a while the second singer, internationally known Israeli singer Noa came on. I used to think J.R.R Tolkien was exercising his imagination when he described Saruman captivating people by putting them under the spell of his voice. When Theoden, king of Rohan, resisted his voice and spoke, everyone around thought his voice sounded horrible--unrefined and foolish. Now I think Tolkien heard someone like Noa and wrote about his experience, adapting it to fit the story. Seriously, her opening song was 10 or 15 minutes long, and she thanked the university for hosting the concert, as well as the audience for coming, and then introduced herself and her band members. With each introduction of course the audience applauded, and I literally felt like one of those poor sucker soldiers riding with King Theoden who just wanted him to shut up so they could continue listening to the enchanting voice of Saruman. The main difference is that Noa is not a wizard gone bad.
Here are a few pictures I snapped of when they were singing together. I also really liked what the lighting designers did. Every song had a really different look.
When we left, the girl I was with (who is a jazz singer and attends at least a couple concerts every week) said that Noa "is a Singer, with-a the big S!"
I must say I agree.
I don't know how he would feel about me reading him, much less quoting him.
This is unconnected to anything else, but I want to say it. Star Wars was on TV today. "The Empire Strikes Back," to be precise, dubbed in Italian. I did not watch very much, but I did notice that everyone's voice was different except for R2D2 and Chewbacca. I wonder why they didn't translate those character's lines into Italian.
Last night I attended a concert at another university in Milan. It was done by two women, an Israeli woman and a Palestinian woman, who each sang a selection of their own songs and then performed together. It was amazing--my favorite things I've done in Milan thus far. The experience meant a lot to me before the concert even started, because my friend had given up her ticket so that I could go. That immediately gave the free concert a ton of value. It was supposed to start at 9:00, and at about 9:30 the audience broke into applause. The girl next to me (a friend of the friend who gave up her ticket) explained to me that clapping is a way for the audience to communicate they are tired of waiting and want the show to start. My first thought was that timetables for showtimes must be quite different in Italy than in the US if there is a ubiquitously known way for the audience to communicate impatience. Oh, those cultural differences. My second thought was "Really? 30 minutes?" I'd estimate an American audience would have clapped in 12 at the latest. The Palestinian Mira Awad was the first performer, and she was positively entrancing. She sang acapella mostly in Arabic, and a little bit in English. She sounded wonderfully Middle Eastern, and at one point the man accompanying her on djembe had a solo, and she did some lovely dance moves. I have a friend who once spent a summer in Palestine, and when she came back she tried showing me some dance moves she saw there at a wedding. I had an idea of what they should look like, but had never seen them look so smooth and beautiful as when this woman who had spent her whole life there did them. After a while the second singer, internationally known Israeli singer Noa came on. I used to think J.R.R Tolkien was exercising his imagination when he described Saruman captivating people by putting them under the spell of his voice. When Theoden, king of Rohan, resisted his voice and spoke, everyone around thought his voice sounded horrible--unrefined and foolish. Now I think Tolkien heard someone like Noa and wrote about his experience, adapting it to fit the story. Seriously, her opening song was 10 or 15 minutes long, and she thanked the university for hosting the concert, as well as the audience for coming, and then introduced herself and her band members. With each introduction of course the audience applauded, and I literally felt like one of those poor sucker soldiers riding with King Theoden who just wanted him to shut up so they could continue listening to the enchanting voice of Saruman. The main difference is that Noa is not a wizard gone bad.
Here are a few pictures I snapped of when they were singing together. I also really liked what the lighting designers did. Every song had a really different look.
Their first song together.
I think this was during the song "There Must Be Another Way" which was really powerful as a duet between an Israeli and a Palestinian. Beautiful. If I wanted to get really symbolic here, I could talk about how the light that look like an eclipse. An eclipse--temporary and holding the promise of full light in the future. If you care to give the song a listen, here's one version:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RN8B1xvCxI0&feature=related
This was their last song. Here's the two of them performing it in Rome a while ago:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iukOKO-6R0
There have been a few changes to the song since then, making it more equally split between the Hebrew and the Arabic, but this is more or less what they sang.
I must say I agree.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Today Was A Day.
The title is a tribute to my friend Becca. She is one for calling things what they are.
Today I had a field trip to MediaSet, the major television broadcasting company in Italy. There are six Italian channels--three public and three private. MediaSet controls the three public ones, and is owned by Berlusconi, the president of Italy. Berlusconi... hm. I will refrain from commenting at this time.
Anyway, my class got a tour of several studios and editing rooms. It was a blast--so interesting! In one studio, the cast of one show was practicing. We couldn't stay very long, but they were all dancing, and it was fun to see a little piece of the process. Also I want to dance. I have been craving swing with Joshua, salsa with my Dominican friends, tapping in WA musicals. Like "Singin' in the Rain." That tune's been going through my head quite a bit recently.
Tomorrow I am going to a concert with my friend Esmeralda, who studied at my home university, and at whose university I am now currently studying! What are the odds, huh? Actually, the performance is by two women who perform duets together--an Israeli Christian and a Palestinian Christian. I am excited to go experience that with Esmeralda.
That's the update! And this is the view of MediaSet from the street.
Today I had a field trip to MediaSet, the major television broadcasting company in Italy. There are six Italian channels--three public and three private. MediaSet controls the three public ones, and is owned by Berlusconi, the president of Italy. Berlusconi... hm. I will refrain from commenting at this time.
Anyway, my class got a tour of several studios and editing rooms. It was a blast--so interesting! In one studio, the cast of one show was practicing. We couldn't stay very long, but they were all dancing, and it was fun to see a little piece of the process. Also I want to dance. I have been craving swing with Joshua, salsa with my Dominican friends, tapping in WA musicals. Like "Singin' in the Rain." That tune's been going through my head quite a bit recently.
Tomorrow I am going to a concert with my friend Esmeralda, who studied at my home university, and at whose university I am now currently studying! What are the odds, huh? Actually, the performance is by two women who perform duets together--an Israeli Christian and a Palestinian Christian. I am excited to go experience that with Esmeralda.
That's the update! And this is the view of MediaSet from the street.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Feeling sunshiny!
Today was gorgeous and sunny and every time I walked outside I started grinning like a fool. A happy fool--that's me!
P.S. The quote a couple posts ago was from Agatha Christie's "The Man in the Brown Suit." Good book.
P.S. The quote a couple posts ago was from Agatha Christie's "The Man in the Brown Suit." Good book.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
I'm Singin' a lot these days.
Rain, rain, rain. It's been raining for about three weeks straight. We did have one day of sun last week but other than that, the weather has been taking after me when I watch a sad movie: slow constant tears with occasional dry patches and somewhat more frequent torrential bursts.
That's the big update. There's not too much new stuff going on, other than the fact that my Italian final is next week. My question is this: why, because Italian is the most immediately beneficial class I'm taking right now, is it the only class to end weeks before all the other classes? I'm also sad to see it go because it's my favorite class! I never knew learning a language could be so fun.
My friend Ben is studying in Austria this semester and came over for a visit last weekend. I got to play tour guide and show him around Milan, which was fun. I have another friend who is studying in Northern Ireland this semester who is coming to visit next weekend, and I can't wait to see her! We'll have to do our best impersonations of the accents of locals in our respective study abroad locations. My favorite thing to say in an Italian accent is something I heard an Italian say while in Germany. "Why there are no Starbucks in Italy? It is because Berlusconi! He say no Starbucks. But why? Why?! Where is the Starbucks?"
So fun. Ask me to say it for you when I get back.
That's the big update. There's not too much new stuff going on, other than the fact that my Italian final is next week. My question is this: why, because Italian is the most immediately beneficial class I'm taking right now, is it the only class to end weeks before all the other classes? I'm also sad to see it go because it's my favorite class! I never knew learning a language could be so fun.
My friend Ben is studying in Austria this semester and came over for a visit last weekend. I got to play tour guide and show him around Milan, which was fun. I have another friend who is studying in Northern Ireland this semester who is coming to visit next weekend, and I can't wait to see her! We'll have to do our best impersonations of the accents of locals in our respective study abroad locations. My favorite thing to say in an Italian accent is something I heard an Italian say while in Germany. "Why there are no Starbucks in Italy? It is because Berlusconi! He say no Starbucks. But why? Why?! Where is the Starbucks?"
So fun. Ask me to say it for you when I get back.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Will somebody please feed me grapes?
...I've decided to become a Greek goddesss.
Last Thursday, some friends and I flew off to Athens to experience Greece for a few days. Wow. First of all, we were flying out of three days of nonstop rain and into beautiful summer weather. We negotiated the Greek metro system and made our way to the center of the city, where our hostel was. Before finding the address, we found it quite necessary to find some genuine Greek food, so we sat in the square and ate the most delicious gyros I've ever tasted. Apparently Greek food prepared by professionals in Greece is better than cheap American knockoffs. Go figure.
After we settled into our rooms at the hostel, we met in the lobby to ask the desk attendant what a good thing to do would be before dinner. Since it was already dark, we didn't want to wander willy-nilly or do anything that would take too large a chunk of time. The woman at the desk and Shea, a traveling Canadian who had been in Athens a couple weeks discussed the best things to do and suggested we go see the Acropolis, which is lovely when it is lit up at night. There is a high section of rocks which offers a wonderful view of both the Acropolis and the city of Athens. Shea, who was about our age, had been there before and was willing to show us the way. We ended up hanging out with him at the Acropolis, during the long search for the perfect restaurant, and during dinner. It was nice to be with someone who was at least a little more familiar with the streets than we were. After dinner, we just went back to the hostel and hit the sack.
Friday was Ruins Day. We started with the Acropolis and saw the theatre of Dionysis, the Pantheon, and an abundance of other glorious ruins. So fun! I just couldn't get over the fact that I was in Greece, looking at ancient ruins, and walking where Socrates and his buddies hung out. I've never felt so connected to Greek mythology. I do love mythology. One unfortunate thing was that we got to the place where the original olympics were held and Zeus' temple just a little bit too late, and the entrance was closed. It wasn't too bad, though; we could see everything through the fence, so we took some pictures and went to watch the sunset on the rock formation we had been to the night before.
Saturday was Island Day. We took a ferry to Aegina, which was about an hour away. We spent some time swimming and taking pictures, and then half the group went to go eat expensive food, and the other half went to wander around the port city. Guess which group I was in? I'll give you a clue from a book I like: "I had the firm conviction that, if I went about looking for adventure, adventure would meet me halfway." (What's the book? No looking it up on the internet. I want to hear all your guesses! I do believe I have already quoted it in an earlier blog.) We ended up on a peninsula facing west in time for the sunset. Aah... so beautiful. One girl really wanted to get some seafood before we caught the ferry back to Athens, so she picked some fried "small fish" to go. They were indeed small (each was about the size of my pointer finger) and fish. Whole fish. Bones, brains, eyeballs, they had it all. And we ate 'em. Not my favorite, but I'm glad I tried it. The whole group met up on the ferry, and I taught them the game "signs" during the voyage back to Athens. That night we had dinner on a Greek schedule--we got to the restaurant at around 11:00 at night. One girl turned 22 at midnight so we sang happy birthday, and the waiters came out with free desserts!
Sunday morning there is a famous huge flea market in the center of Athens, so we checked that out. There were beautiful dresses for sale which weren't too expensive, and I really liked one of them. Imagining myself in it, I totally looked like a Greek goddess. Then I tried it on over my clothes, and I found I did NOT look like a Greek goddess. I looked like a tourist wearing a dress that was... clearly not too expensive. And that was that. There were some really funny flea market stands, if I can call them that. They were more blankets on the ground with stuff on them. I'm pretty sure that some of the stands were selling completely stolen merchandise. My favorite one was featuring a small selection of jewelry and a worn out pair of shoes to represent fashion, and one scratched keyboard as the sole representative of technology.
The flight back was smooth, except for the brief episode when one girl misplaced her passport. We made it back just fine, however, and flew from sunny warm Athens to chilly, recently drenched Milan. Ah, well. Back to classes and everyday life in my Italian adventure!
Last Thursday, some friends and I flew off to Athens to experience Greece for a few days. Wow. First of all, we were flying out of three days of nonstop rain and into beautiful summer weather. We negotiated the Greek metro system and made our way to the center of the city, where our hostel was. Before finding the address, we found it quite necessary to find some genuine Greek food, so we sat in the square and ate the most delicious gyros I've ever tasted. Apparently Greek food prepared by professionals in Greece is better than cheap American knockoffs. Go figure.
After we settled into our rooms at the hostel, we met in the lobby to ask the desk attendant what a good thing to do would be before dinner. Since it was already dark, we didn't want to wander willy-nilly or do anything that would take too large a chunk of time. The woman at the desk and Shea, a traveling Canadian who had been in Athens a couple weeks discussed the best things to do and suggested we go see the Acropolis, which is lovely when it is lit up at night. There is a high section of rocks which offers a wonderful view of both the Acropolis and the city of Athens. Shea, who was about our age, had been there before and was willing to show us the way. We ended up hanging out with him at the Acropolis, during the long search for the perfect restaurant, and during dinner. It was nice to be with someone who was at least a little more familiar with the streets than we were. After dinner, we just went back to the hostel and hit the sack.
The girls in front of the Acropolis at night.
The bathroom door at the restaurant where we had dinner.
Friday was Ruins Day. We started with the Acropolis and saw the theatre of Dionysis, the Pantheon, and an abundance of other glorious ruins. So fun! I just couldn't get over the fact that I was in Greece, looking at ancient ruins, and walking where Socrates and his buddies hung out. I've never felt so connected to Greek mythology. I do love mythology. One unfortunate thing was that we got to the place where the original olympics were held and Zeus' temple just a little bit too late, and the entrance was closed. It wasn't too bad, though; we could see everything through the fence, so we took some pictures and went to watch the sunset on the rock formation we had been to the night before.
The Theatre of Dionysis.
The Pantheon!
"Grecian urn 1..."
Dear Mom, thanks for homeschooling me well. Thanks to you, I saw these and knew they were Greek Doric columns with fluting. How many kids who went to other schools would've remembered that after a dozen years?
I think McDonald's is stalking me. In every country I go to, I look over my shoulder and there it is.
Enjoying a Greek sunset.
Eating little fishes.
Sunday morning there is a famous huge flea market in the center of Athens, so we checked that out. There were beautiful dresses for sale which weren't too expensive, and I really liked one of them. Imagining myself in it, I totally looked like a Greek goddess. Then I tried it on over my clothes, and I found I did NOT look like a Greek goddess. I looked like a tourist wearing a dress that was... clearly not too expensive. And that was that. There were some really funny flea market stands, if I can call them that. They were more blankets on the ground with stuff on them. I'm pretty sure that some of the stands were selling completely stolen merchandise. My favorite one was featuring a small selection of jewelry and a worn out pair of shoes to represent fashion, and one scratched keyboard as the sole representative of technology.
The flight back was smooth, except for the brief episode when one girl misplaced her passport. We made it back just fine, however, and flew from sunny warm Athens to chilly, recently drenched Milan. Ah, well. Back to classes and everyday life in my Italian adventure!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
A Quick Little Note
Sometimes I carry a water bottle around with me. There aren't really public fountains around and water is never free, and I think it's good to stay hydrated. So I have this black metal water bottle with capital letters "DDB" on it.
One morning, I went to a bar near my house to a get a little coffee. Side note--a bar is, of course, what Americans consider coffeehouses. Yum. When I put up my water bottle on the counter to have my hands free to pay, the guy behind the counter looked at my water bottle kind of funny and said something in rapid Italian that ended with the word "doping." I was confused, so he repeated what he had said; he asked me in Italian if I was "doping." I looked at him for a few seconds with an expression of I'm sure must have been something between confusion and incredulity. To clarify, he said slowly and clearly "energy drink" in Italian. I replied--in Italian, woohoo!--that there was only water in my water bottle. He repeated "energy drink," and the guy at the counter next to me chipped in with "Drugs. For the athletes." I asserted a couple more times that I was only drinking water. "Ho l'acqua solamente. Sempre l'acqua!" I don't think they believed me. They continued to debate whether it was an energy drink or steroids in my strange black container for liquids. On that note, I decided it was time to go catch my train.
One morning, I went to a bar near my house to a get a little coffee. Side note--a bar is, of course, what Americans consider coffeehouses. Yum. When I put up my water bottle on the counter to have my hands free to pay, the guy behind the counter looked at my water bottle kind of funny and said something in rapid Italian that ended with the word "doping." I was confused, so he repeated what he had said; he asked me in Italian if I was "doping." I looked at him for a few seconds with an expression of I'm sure must have been something between confusion and incredulity. To clarify, he said slowly and clearly "energy drink" in Italian. I replied--in Italian, woohoo!--that there was only water in my water bottle. He repeated "energy drink," and the guy at the counter next to me chipped in with "Drugs. For the athletes." I asserted a couple more times that I was only drinking water. "Ho l'acqua solamente. Sempre l'acqua!" I don't think they believed me. They continued to debate whether it was an energy drink or steroids in my strange black container for liquids. On that note, I decided it was time to go catch my train.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Vino Bianco and the Olive Harvest
If you have a romanticized idea of harvesting olives in which you go to a mountain overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and spend a weekend picking olives and taking breaks to go photograph a picturesque house in ruins overrun by flowering vines and watch the sun sink into a sea of color illuminating the silhouettes of mountains... keep that idea. It is entirely correct.
This weekend my friends Angela and Niki accompanied me as I headed back to my Italian home region of Liguria. We arrived in Genova in the late afternoon and after we got off the train, I realized it was a different station than the one where I wanted to get off. Not a problem--we just took the opportunity to walk around Genova a little bit more as we wound our way to my relatives apartment. We had fun meandering and trying genuine Ligurian focaccia, which is different and utterly superior to focaccia from anywhere else. I had fun playing tour guide and showing off all I knew about the city. We eventually ended up at the home of my relatives, where Irene was waiting for us with tea, biscuits, sweets, and special breaded olive-meatballs from the south of Italy. We spent the night in Genova, and in the morning drove to Chiavari, stopping at Boca____ (I can't remember the end of that word--I'll have to ask Irene and get back to you) and Camogli. At Boca____ we got gelato and climbed to a beautiful lookout point with an almost 270 degree view of the sea. Best pistachio gelato of my life. So good I almost capitalized it just now. At Camogli we walked around, saw the lighthouse and the old cannons in front of Castello Dragono, literally Dragon Castle. It might have been a surname, but I hope not. If I owned a castle, I would come up with a kickin' name for it.
We eventually arrived in Chiavari and made our way to the olive grove where Irene's father Franco and her brother-in-law Davide were working. Had been working, I should say. It was about 4 in the afternoon and they had been there since early in the morning. Franco was very happy to see us. Let me instruct you in the ways of olive picking: you isolate the end of a tree branch, track it to where it forks from a bigger branch, and make a gentle fist as you run your hand down to the tip of the branch, causing the olives to fall to the ground where you have a net set up to catch them. Then you gather the net, pour the olives into a bucket, reset the net under another tree, and do the same for all the trees. After that, you empty the buckets into a primitive filtering machine that separates the olives from most of the leaves and twigs you may have inadvertently gathered with the olives. I don't think there are any other steps between that and taking the olives to the people who have machines to press the olives into oil, but I don't think there are. The last step, of course, is to enjoy the fresh, high quality olive oil you toiled for. And that's how it's done, folks.
We only worked for a few hours; at around 7 we had to pack up and call it a day because the sun set and we couldn't work in the darkness. That night, we had dinner in the home of Irene's cousin Francesca, who was one of the girls I went hiking with in the Alps. The thing is, I could understand the girls at that dinner better than I can understand anyone in Milan! I didn't think there was that much of an accent difference, but apparently my unconscious ear is more discerning than I realized. Interesting.
The next morning we woke up and spent some time seeing Chiavari and eating focaccia on the way to the train station to drop off Niki, who had to get back to Milan to meet up with her visiting parents. Angela and I met up with Irene and her uncle Vittorio and headed back to the garden to pick more olives. When we got there, Vittorio broke out the pandolce (sweetbread) and white wine. It was actually really funny to be caught between Franco the olive harvesting machine and Vittorio, who loved to invite people to take breaks. Vittorio wanted us to try the wine and the bread, and sit and talk, and take a picture together, and happily enjoy each other's company while not picking olives. Funny stuff. Two different, fun, mutually exclusive ways to spend a weekend. Vittorio actually had to leave before too long, which was when we started to get most of the work done. We finished working a little earlier than Saturday because Franco and Davide had not gone to mass that day and they had to catch the 6:30 service. Angela and I caught a ride back to Genova with Irene and caught the train from there back to Milan.
A lovely weekend--you should try it sometime.
This weekend my friends Angela and Niki accompanied me as I headed back to my Italian home region of Liguria. We arrived in Genova in the late afternoon and after we got off the train, I realized it was a different station than the one where I wanted to get off. Not a problem--we just took the opportunity to walk around Genova a little bit more as we wound our way to my relatives apartment. We had fun meandering and trying genuine Ligurian focaccia, which is different and utterly superior to focaccia from anywhere else. I had fun playing tour guide and showing off all I knew about the city. We eventually ended up at the home of my relatives, where Irene was waiting for us with tea, biscuits, sweets, and special breaded olive-meatballs from the south of Italy. We spent the night in Genova, and in the morning drove to Chiavari, stopping at Boca____ (I can't remember the end of that word--I'll have to ask Irene and get back to you) and Camogli. At Boca____ we got gelato and climbed to a beautiful lookout point with an almost 270 degree view of the sea. Best pistachio gelato of my life. So good I almost capitalized it just now. At Camogli we walked around, saw the lighthouse and the old cannons in front of Castello Dragono, literally Dragon Castle. It might have been a surname, but I hope not. If I owned a castle, I would come up with a kickin' name for it.
We eventually arrived in Chiavari and made our way to the olive grove where Irene's father Franco and her brother-in-law Davide were working. Had been working, I should say. It was about 4 in the afternoon and they had been there since early in the morning. Franco was very happy to see us. Let me instruct you in the ways of olive picking: you isolate the end of a tree branch, track it to where it forks from a bigger branch, and make a gentle fist as you run your hand down to the tip of the branch, causing the olives to fall to the ground where you have a net set up to catch them. Then you gather the net, pour the olives into a bucket, reset the net under another tree, and do the same for all the trees. After that, you empty the buckets into a primitive filtering machine that separates the olives from most of the leaves and twigs you may have inadvertently gathered with the olives. I don't think there are any other steps between that and taking the olives to the people who have machines to press the olives into oil, but I don't think there are. The last step, of course, is to enjoy the fresh, high quality olive oil you toiled for. And that's how it's done, folks.
We only worked for a few hours; at around 7 we had to pack up and call it a day because the sun set and we couldn't work in the darkness. That night, we had dinner in the home of Irene's cousin Francesca, who was one of the girls I went hiking with in the Alps. The thing is, I could understand the girls at that dinner better than I can understand anyone in Milan! I didn't think there was that much of an accent difference, but apparently my unconscious ear is more discerning than I realized. Interesting.
The next morning we woke up and spent some time seeing Chiavari and eating focaccia on the way to the train station to drop off Niki, who had to get back to Milan to meet up with her visiting parents. Angela and I met up with Irene and her uncle Vittorio and headed back to the garden to pick more olives. When we got there, Vittorio broke out the pandolce (sweetbread) and white wine. It was actually really funny to be caught between Franco the olive harvesting machine and Vittorio, who loved to invite people to take breaks. Vittorio wanted us to try the wine and the bread, and sit and talk, and take a picture together, and happily enjoy each other's company while not picking olives. Funny stuff. Two different, fun, mutually exclusive ways to spend a weekend. Vittorio actually had to leave before too long, which was when we started to get most of the work done. We finished working a little earlier than Saturday because Franco and Davide had not gone to mass that day and they had to catch the 6:30 service. Angela and I caught a ride back to Genova with Irene and caught the train from there back to Milan.
A lovely weekend--you should try it sometime.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
It's about time!
Sorry it's taken me a while to get back to this, folks.
I feel I'm settling into a nice rhythm in life here in Italy and at the university. Classes, coffee with friends, church, seeing new places, trying new things, you know. La dolce vita.
I will tell you the thing that has made me the happiest in the past several days. I was at a house party the other night and before I left I went around to the girls who were staying longer to make sure they were okay and could get home all right. Some people at the party were a bit drunk. One girl who I have a couple classes with but have never hung out with stopped me and said, "I want to tell you something. I don't know what it is, but you have this light inside you. I don't even really know you, but you're so full of light I feel like I just love you!" And she gave me this big hug. I'm so happy about that! I have been praying specifically that I would be a light to the people around me, and was really encouraging to hear that exact word echoed back to me.
I got two new apartment-mates today! Does it seem like I'm constantly talking about roommates coming or going? It sure does to me. Hopefully, this is the last change, and the four in the apartment now will stick it out together until the end of the semester. The new girls just arrived from China and seem very nice but find it difficult to communicate too much in English. I feel bad, I'm going to have to ask for their names at least one more time. My ear is not at all used to picking up and remembering Chinese names! One of the girls said that my pronunciation was really good, though. Hooray! I do love accents.
Remember the "never ending process" from an earlier blog? I have to apply for a permit of stay, and it's a long and complicated process. I went back again yesterday. My appointment was at the police station for about 8:20, so I got there at 8:05, hoping to avoid having to wait for too many people, and found out that the office didn't open until 8:30. Hmm... After I got in and waited for a long time (but not as long as last time) I was called into the office. The woman and I went through my paperwork, and I entered all my fingerprints into the computer. Then her computer died or something so we waited for it to shut down all the way and power up all the way so she could pull up the program again and I could enter my fingerprints. Since it was my first time applying for a permit of stay, I also had to enter my fingerprints into a different machine connected to a different computer. Apparently they changed the password on that computer, and after a few failed attempts to log on, she got someone from a different office to tell her what it was. Then she failed to log on again and we had to wait for the person from the other office to come enter it for her. Then I could enter all my fingerprints--again--along with my entire handprints. I amused myself through the process by replaying the scene in "Men in Black" when Will Smith becomes J and has to burn off his handprints and fingerprints. I found out that I didn't have copies of everything I needed. They told me to turn in the originals, so I brought the originals (of a letter from the school saying I'm a student, a receipt from the post office during an earlier step in the process, etc.). Turns out I should have brought copies to turn in. After we finished everything else, the woman told me where a copy place was so I went, made copies, and came back. I waltzed through the waiting room and into her office, dropped off the paperwork, and tangoed out of the police station. No, I didn't waltz or tango. That would have been interesting, though. I walked 20 minutes to the train station, got on the train back home and thought "Wow, I'm really glad I can go back to sleep now. I wonder if Angela and Molly are still sleeping." The party I mentioned earlier was the night before and some girls slept at my place instead of traveling all the way back to their apartments. And I had gotten 4 hours of sleep, thanks to my morning appointment. Before my station, I got a call on my phone. It was the woman from the police station. She had forgotten to have me sign something. Could I please come back right now and sign it? I sighed and told her I'd be back in about an hour, then made my way to my apartment. I got the girls some breakfast, and then as we all waited together for the train to the station in Milan, I thought "Well, at least it's warmer now than it was at 7:15 this morning." I made my way back to the police station, marched through the waiting room, and waited in the doorway of the woman's office until she was done with the person that was in there. You know what I had to sign? A printout of my fingerprints. Yup. At least now I think the process is almost over. I only have to go back to the police station one more time, and it's just to pick up my permit.
Last night a couple girls came over and we made foccacia! So fun and so delicious. I need to make it every once in a while so that 1) I can enjoy eating it, and 2) so that I can engrave the recipe in my mind. I want to be able to make it once I'm back in the good ol' US.
I feel I'm settling into a nice rhythm in life here in Italy and at the university. Classes, coffee with friends, church, seeing new places, trying new things, you know. La dolce vita.
I will tell you the thing that has made me the happiest in the past several days. I was at a house party the other night and before I left I went around to the girls who were staying longer to make sure they were okay and could get home all right. Some people at the party were a bit drunk. One girl who I have a couple classes with but have never hung out with stopped me and said, "I want to tell you something. I don't know what it is, but you have this light inside you. I don't even really know you, but you're so full of light I feel like I just love you!" And she gave me this big hug. I'm so happy about that! I have been praying specifically that I would be a light to the people around me, and was really encouraging to hear that exact word echoed back to me.
I got two new apartment-mates today! Does it seem like I'm constantly talking about roommates coming or going? It sure does to me. Hopefully, this is the last change, and the four in the apartment now will stick it out together until the end of the semester. The new girls just arrived from China and seem very nice but find it difficult to communicate too much in English. I feel bad, I'm going to have to ask for their names at least one more time. My ear is not at all used to picking up and remembering Chinese names! One of the girls said that my pronunciation was really good, though. Hooray! I do love accents.
Remember the "never ending process" from an earlier blog? I have to apply for a permit of stay, and it's a long and complicated process. I went back again yesterday. My appointment was at the police station for about 8:20, so I got there at 8:05, hoping to avoid having to wait for too many people, and found out that the office didn't open until 8:30. Hmm... After I got in and waited for a long time (but not as long as last time) I was called into the office. The woman and I went through my paperwork, and I entered all my fingerprints into the computer. Then her computer died or something so we waited for it to shut down all the way and power up all the way so she could pull up the program again and I could enter my fingerprints. Since it was my first time applying for a permit of stay, I also had to enter my fingerprints into a different machine connected to a different computer. Apparently they changed the password on that computer, and after a few failed attempts to log on, she got someone from a different office to tell her what it was. Then she failed to log on again and we had to wait for the person from the other office to come enter it for her. Then I could enter all my fingerprints--again--along with my entire handprints. I amused myself through the process by replaying the scene in "Men in Black" when Will Smith becomes J and has to burn off his handprints and fingerprints. I found out that I didn't have copies of everything I needed. They told me to turn in the originals, so I brought the originals (of a letter from the school saying I'm a student, a receipt from the post office during an earlier step in the process, etc.). Turns out I should have brought copies to turn in. After we finished everything else, the woman told me where a copy place was so I went, made copies, and came back. I waltzed through the waiting room and into her office, dropped off the paperwork, and tangoed out of the police station. No, I didn't waltz or tango. That would have been interesting, though. I walked 20 minutes to the train station, got on the train back home and thought "Wow, I'm really glad I can go back to sleep now. I wonder if Angela and Molly are still sleeping." The party I mentioned earlier was the night before and some girls slept at my place instead of traveling all the way back to their apartments. And I had gotten 4 hours of sleep, thanks to my morning appointment. Before my station, I got a call on my phone. It was the woman from the police station. She had forgotten to have me sign something. Could I please come back right now and sign it? I sighed and told her I'd be back in about an hour, then made my way to my apartment. I got the girls some breakfast, and then as we all waited together for the train to the station in Milan, I thought "Well, at least it's warmer now than it was at 7:15 this morning." I made my way back to the police station, marched through the waiting room, and waited in the doorway of the woman's office until she was done with the person that was in there. You know what I had to sign? A printout of my fingerprints. Yup. At least now I think the process is almost over. I only have to go back to the police station one more time, and it's just to pick up my permit.
Last night a couple girls came over and we made foccacia! So fun and so delicious. I need to make it every once in a while so that 1) I can enjoy eating it, and 2) so that I can engrave the recipe in my mind. I want to be able to make it once I'm back in the good ol' US.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
What Dreams May Come
Last night I had a dream in which I baked many delicious desserts for some kind of fundraiser. The most popular were the lemon meringue cupcakes. Now I want to bake, bake, bake! Unfortunately, I lack ingredients and equipment. But I'll have a few things to try come December in the Rak kitchen.
Thursday night after class I went with a friend to where her host family lives in Como Lago, a small town on a lake about an hour by train north of Milan. It was gorgeous! The combination of the mountains (these are called the "pre-Alps") and the water of the lake reminded me of Liguria, the region of Italy that contains Genoa and Cinqueterre, only this was a slightly smaller scale. There was a traditional boat there that reminded me SO much of the boat that sank in "Anne of Green Gables," leading to Gilbert's rescue of our red-headed heroine.
A funny thing... Before I speak, Italians almost never assume I'm an American. Most of the time they think I'm French. I wonder why. Maybe they think I look like I can bake delicious pastries. Hmm, baking... After I speak, of course, they figure me out pretty quickly. BUT, the other day, I ordered a cappuccino and sounded so Italian, the guy making it for me was really surprised when he found out I wasn't! Look at me, pickin' up the accent.
Thursday night after class I went with a friend to where her host family lives in Como Lago, a small town on a lake about an hour by train north of Milan. It was gorgeous! The combination of the mountains (these are called the "pre-Alps") and the water of the lake reminded me of Liguria, the region of Italy that contains Genoa and Cinqueterre, only this was a slightly smaller scale. There was a traditional boat there that reminded me SO much of the boat that sank in "Anne of Green Gables," leading to Gilbert's rescue of our red-headed heroine.
A funny thing... Before I speak, Italians almost never assume I'm an American. Most of the time they think I'm French. I wonder why. Maybe they think I look like I can bake delicious pastries. Hmm, baking... After I speak, of course, they figure me out pretty quickly. BUT, the other day, I ordered a cappuccino and sounded so Italian, the guy making it for me was really surprised when he found out I wasn't! Look at me, pickin' up the accent.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Hello, Germany!
Friday night I grabbed a purse and headed off to join 150 students going to Munich. I was running about 15 late thanks to a slow train and was a little concerned I would miss something important, but I had nothing to fear. I arrived, met up with some friends, and stood around for an hour before we were able to load onto the buses and wait there for another hour. Finally we left and drove through the night through Italy, Switzerland, and Germany until we reached Munich at 6:30 in the morning. We hung out by the buses and had breakfast before we walked over to Oktoberfest and the group I was with started waiting in lines. The way things work at Oktoberfest is there are many different tent/buildings, each serving a different kind of beer. You wait in line until you can get into a tent, grab a seat if you can find one, and enjoy beer and food until you want to go to another tent. There is also a whole carnival connected, so you can go on rides if you want. Which seemed a little funny to me considering how much beer was being consumed. If you need any extra help throwing up...
Anyway, my group spent a couple hours waiting in different lines and then leaving them. Let me just say it's much better to say what you want to do when someone asks you than to say you're up for anything and then complain about what you end up in line for. The group lost someone, and some people went to go find her, and then others went to find them, and after a while my friend Angela and I figured we had become a group of two. It was perfect! We wandered around looking at things for a while, made our way into one of the tents and wandered around it for over half an hour looking for any available seats before we left. After that, we went to get brats. Gloria and Carla were with me then, along with the ghosts of brats eaten at Bass Lake. After that, we decided to leave Oktoberfest and have adventures in Munich. We quickly ran into a few Italian guys who were desperately searching for a Starbucks. There are no Starbucks in Italy, but one of these guys had studied for a while in London and apparently got to really like Starbucks. He was pumped to have the chance to find one in Munich. I thought that was funny. Angela and I spent most of the day wandering Munich. We tried on clothes in a secondhand store, admired the jewelry in an antique jewelry store, and had a snack in nice park we found which we found out later was called the "English Garden." It was surrounded by all kinds of fancy-pants stores like Gucci, Ralph Lauren, Prada... you know, the stuff you find in Milan, as well as some really upscale German stores. We wandered freely, and when we decided to go back, we asked people which direction Oktoberfest was, and one woman said it was impossible to walk--it was too far! We asked someone else, and he said it was in that direction, if we wanted to walk all night. We got there in about half an hour. There were flowers growing out of windows in a lot of the buildings--it was gorgeous and I loved it! When we got back to Oktoberfest, we slipped into a seating area right away just before the guards closed it off so not too many people would flood in, and found people leaving a table. It was a little astounding how easy it was this time to get a seat, when we had tried for hours earlier and not been able to! So we sat, and Angela ordered a beer. They brought her the full liter, so we had an excuse to stay a long time. Some guys sat down at the table with us, and after a while a guy walked up--a stranger--who apparently had to leave immediately but had half a beer left and instead of wasting it, gave it to our table so one of us could finish it. The people around me all had their own beers and there was no way I was going to drink a half-finished beer that some stranger dropped off, but it was nice to put in front of me and hold every once in a while to validate sitting at the table so long. The guys (who were Italian, by the way; we couldn't stop running into Italian men in Germany) left, and a couple girls sat down. They were really nice, and they were the only Germans we interacted with at Oktoberfest! Hmm. One funny thing about the day was that there were stands all over selling stuff that made sense like glazed nuts, brats and other sausages and huge pretzels, but there were also a ton of stands selling heart-shaped gingerbread cookies of various sizes with words written in frosting on them. They were on ribbons, and people hung them around their necks like huge pendant necklaces. It was so funny! Couples would buy them for each other, parents would buy them for children, and people would buy them for themselves. One woman we saw had three around her neck: small (the diameter was maybe the same as a grapefruit), medium (the size of a small dinnerplate), and large (you could lie a baby on it if you wanted). She had adjusted the lengths of the ribbons the hearts were hung on and proudly arranged them so that there was no overlap. She looked like she had a gingerbread torso.
It was a little tough finding our way back to the buses since it was about 10 minutes walking away from the festival, we had been led in a large group early in the morning, and no one told us we would need to find our own way back alone or in small groups in the darkness. We eventually made it back about half an hour late after getting a little lost. It didn't really matter that we were late, though, because none of the trip leaders were back yet. It was about two and a half hours until everyone made it back onto the buses and we were able to leave. I got back to my apartment at about 7:30 in the morning and flopped into bed.
Several hours later I woke up, showered, and journeyed forth to find a church I've been wanting to go to for a couple weeks. I found it after getting a little lost and felt bad for walking in late, but hey--I wasn't about to turn around and go back to my apartment. I love the church! I'll admit, I'm a little spoiled when it comes to worship, but I love their emphasis on prayer and how the sermon was chock full of Scriptures. There's a Bible study that meets Tuesday nights, and I'm looking forward to checking it out. And guess what? One girl from the church goes to the university where I am studying, and it turns out she lives in my apartment building two doors down! As we were riding the train together, we found out that one girl she became friends with at the university last semester is the sister of a girl I hung out with in the Dominican Republic! What are the odds, huh?
Anyway, my group spent a couple hours waiting in different lines and then leaving them. Let me just say it's much better to say what you want to do when someone asks you than to say you're up for anything and then complain about what you end up in line for. The group lost someone, and some people went to go find her, and then others went to find them, and after a while my friend Angela and I figured we had become a group of two. It was perfect! We wandered around looking at things for a while, made our way into one of the tents and wandered around it for over half an hour looking for any available seats before we left. After that, we went to get brats. Gloria and Carla were with me then, along with the ghosts of brats eaten at Bass Lake. After that, we decided to leave Oktoberfest and have adventures in Munich. We quickly ran into a few Italian guys who were desperately searching for a Starbucks. There are no Starbucks in Italy, but one of these guys had studied for a while in London and apparently got to really like Starbucks. He was pumped to have the chance to find one in Munich. I thought that was funny. Angela and I spent most of the day wandering Munich. We tried on clothes in a secondhand store, admired the jewelry in an antique jewelry store, and had a snack in nice park we found which we found out later was called the "English Garden." It was surrounded by all kinds of fancy-pants stores like Gucci, Ralph Lauren, Prada... you know, the stuff you find in Milan, as well as some really upscale German stores. We wandered freely, and when we decided to go back, we asked people which direction Oktoberfest was, and one woman said it was impossible to walk--it was too far! We asked someone else, and he said it was in that direction, if we wanted to walk all night. We got there in about half an hour. There were flowers growing out of windows in a lot of the buildings--it was gorgeous and I loved it! When we got back to Oktoberfest, we slipped into a seating area right away just before the guards closed it off so not too many people would flood in, and found people leaving a table. It was a little astounding how easy it was this time to get a seat, when we had tried for hours earlier and not been able to! So we sat, and Angela ordered a beer. They brought her the full liter, so we had an excuse to stay a long time. Some guys sat down at the table with us, and after a while a guy walked up--a stranger--who apparently had to leave immediately but had half a beer left and instead of wasting it, gave it to our table so one of us could finish it. The people around me all had their own beers and there was no way I was going to drink a half-finished beer that some stranger dropped off, but it was nice to put in front of me and hold every once in a while to validate sitting at the table so long. The guys (who were Italian, by the way; we couldn't stop running into Italian men in Germany) left, and a couple girls sat down. They were really nice, and they were the only Germans we interacted with at Oktoberfest! Hmm. One funny thing about the day was that there were stands all over selling stuff that made sense like glazed nuts, brats and other sausages and huge pretzels, but there were also a ton of stands selling heart-shaped gingerbread cookies of various sizes with words written in frosting on them. They were on ribbons, and people hung them around their necks like huge pendant necklaces. It was so funny! Couples would buy them for each other, parents would buy them for children, and people would buy them for themselves. One woman we saw had three around her neck: small (the diameter was maybe the same as a grapefruit), medium (the size of a small dinnerplate), and large (you could lie a baby on it if you wanted). She had adjusted the lengths of the ribbons the hearts were hung on and proudly arranged them so that there was no overlap. She looked like she had a gingerbread torso.
It was a little tough finding our way back to the buses since it was about 10 minutes walking away from the festival, we had been led in a large group early in the morning, and no one told us we would need to find our own way back alone or in small groups in the darkness. We eventually made it back about half an hour late after getting a little lost. It didn't really matter that we were late, though, because none of the trip leaders were back yet. It was about two and a half hours until everyone made it back onto the buses and we were able to leave. I got back to my apartment at about 7:30 in the morning and flopped into bed.
Several hours later I woke up, showered, and journeyed forth to find a church I've been wanting to go to for a couple weeks. I found it after getting a little lost and felt bad for walking in late, but hey--I wasn't about to turn around and go back to my apartment. I love the church! I'll admit, I'm a little spoiled when it comes to worship, but I love their emphasis on prayer and how the sermon was chock full of Scriptures. There's a Bible study that meets Tuesday nights, and I'm looking forward to checking it out. And guess what? One girl from the church goes to the university where I am studying, and it turns out she lives in my apartment building two doors down! As we were riding the train together, we found out that one girl she became friends with at the university last semester is the sister of a girl I hung out with in the Dominican Republic! What are the odds, huh?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
October sent a greeting card, and I want apple cider.
That's the way it always works, doesn't it? At least for me. As soon as winter starts to wave hello, I'm going to want hot chocolate. I think the main difference between those two seasonal beverage cravings is that my title is in an iambic meter.
Sunday evening. Milan. Fashion week. What to do... what to do? FASHION SHOW! Yes folks, that's right. I went to a fashion show the other night. It was hosted by Vogue Italia (one of the top--if not THE top--fashion magazines in the world) and was the only free fashion show of all the big ones. There was a big stage set up in front of the Duomo, and there were benches set up like auditorium seating over half of it, splitting it longways. Important-looking people were allowed to sit down on the benches, and we, the unimportant public, were allowed to stand on the ground and look up at the stage. It was probably four or five feet above the ground. My friend Angela and I got there early and snatched some spots close to the front, and watched the lucky sitters find their seats. The stage was between the people sitting and the people standing, so we faced each other. People watching is really fun when you speculate what the heck people were thinking as they chose their sometimes crazy outfits for a high fashion show. The show was just what you would expect. Ten or fifteen models would walk across the stage and back, then the designer would come out and take a bow, and then the next set of models for the next designer. There were maybe six designers and the show lasted around 40 minutes.
Classes started Monday. I always have a little bit of a hard time getting into a school rhythm. I hate giving up the freedom of summer and having to show up at the same place at the same time week after week, and buckling down to do homework when I finally get time that I should have free. For some reason my Italian class didn't really feel like school. Oh, well. Mondays I am in a class on Leonardo da Vinci, who spent much of his career in Milan. I think it will be a good class. Most Wednesdays instead of class, we will be going around the city and seeing Leonardo's art. He has paintings around the city, and there is a whole museum dedicated to his science and technology ideas and inventions. Mid-October my second Italian class will be starting. There are going to be two teachers; one will be Manuela, who taught my first one, and the other is unknown. I'm pumped to have Manuela again. She's great. Tuesdays and Thursdays I am in a class on the history of Italian cinema, and how it influenced and was influenced by Hollywood, and a class on everything behind high fashion. Its history, philosophies on it, and marketing strategies employed to make people think they need it. We watched a movie the first day on Valentino, a major designer in days gone by, and towards the end of his career he had a major party. Ironically enough, at least a couple of the people shown at the party or interviewed were people that Angela and I saw at the show on Sunday! They sat front and center of the seated people, and we were center and nearly front of the standing people, and we noted that one woman was wearing a purple jumpsuit made of silk or something, and another wore big sunglasses during the whole show, and took them off when the show was over, which seemed like funny timing. Maybe it's her signature, because she also wore big sunglasses during the evening while indoors at Valentino's party.
In other news, I get to skype with my lovely sister soon and I'm PUMPED! Nothing like a little chat across thousands of miles.
That's all for tonight. Buona notte!
Sunday evening. Milan. Fashion week. What to do... what to do? FASHION SHOW! Yes folks, that's right. I went to a fashion show the other night. It was hosted by Vogue Italia (one of the top--if not THE top--fashion magazines in the world) and was the only free fashion show of all the big ones. There was a big stage set up in front of the Duomo, and there were benches set up like auditorium seating over half of it, splitting it longways. Important-looking people were allowed to sit down on the benches, and we, the unimportant public, were allowed to stand on the ground and look up at the stage. It was probably four or five feet above the ground. My friend Angela and I got there early and snatched some spots close to the front, and watched the lucky sitters find their seats. The stage was between the people sitting and the people standing, so we faced each other. People watching is really fun when you speculate what the heck people were thinking as they chose their sometimes crazy outfits for a high fashion show. The show was just what you would expect. Ten or fifteen models would walk across the stage and back, then the designer would come out and take a bow, and then the next set of models for the next designer. There were maybe six designers and the show lasted around 40 minutes.
Classes started Monday. I always have a little bit of a hard time getting into a school rhythm. I hate giving up the freedom of summer and having to show up at the same place at the same time week after week, and buckling down to do homework when I finally get time that I should have free. For some reason my Italian class didn't really feel like school. Oh, well. Mondays I am in a class on Leonardo da Vinci, who spent much of his career in Milan. I think it will be a good class. Most Wednesdays instead of class, we will be going around the city and seeing Leonardo's art. He has paintings around the city, and there is a whole museum dedicated to his science and technology ideas and inventions. Mid-October my second Italian class will be starting. There are going to be two teachers; one will be Manuela, who taught my first one, and the other is unknown. I'm pumped to have Manuela again. She's great. Tuesdays and Thursdays I am in a class on the history of Italian cinema, and how it influenced and was influenced by Hollywood, and a class on everything behind high fashion. Its history, philosophies on it, and marketing strategies employed to make people think they need it. We watched a movie the first day on Valentino, a major designer in days gone by, and towards the end of his career he had a major party. Ironically enough, at least a couple of the people shown at the party or interviewed were people that Angela and I saw at the show on Sunday! They sat front and center of the seated people, and we were center and nearly front of the standing people, and we noted that one woman was wearing a purple jumpsuit made of silk or something, and another wore big sunglasses during the whole show, and took them off when the show was over, which seemed like funny timing. Maybe it's her signature, because she also wore big sunglasses during the evening while indoors at Valentino's party.
In other news, I get to skype with my lovely sister soon and I'm PUMPED! Nothing like a little chat across thousands of miles.
That's all for tonight. Buona notte!
Friday, September 24, 2010
A beginning, an ending, and the never-ending process
Let's start at the (very) beginning.
1. Name the movie and the character who...said...the above quote.
Classes commence on Monday. Being very on top of things in an Italian sort of way, the international office emailed me yesterday--Thursday--to let me know which classes I am registered for on Monday. Unfortunately, my level of Italian is not good enough for the class I was most excited about (think Italian language class + Italian cooking lessons with a famous Italian chef), so the international office threw that one out and registered me for a class I neither signed up for nor want. So I'll have to clear that up. Besides that, I'm excited to go start my semester!
The end of all things
2. Name the book (or movie) and the character. This one's a little tougher, huh?
My Italian class has ended. I took the final today. I was a little late for it, but I'll get to that story in a minute. Does it feel too soon for me to take a final, since I just wrote about taking a midterm? Yeah, I feel the same way, but take it I did. Speaking of the midterm, I got it back a couple days ago. I felt like I did pretty well on it, so I was eager to get it back. When I finally had it in my hands and looked at the 2 circled on top, I hoped the exam was not out of 100. It was not. The grading was as follows: 0-very bad, 1-pretty good, 2-very good. I didn't even know you could grade like that. I kind of what to become a teacher now just so I can get really creative with numbers and grading.
Never-Ending Story--I mean process
3. Name the mov... oh wait, I just did.
During orientation at Universita Cattolica del Sacro Cuore, the people helping the international students explained that we would all need to apply for a permit of stay. They even had a session the next day to help us fill out the long and very complicated paperwork, and told us we had to just turn it in to the post office. Just turn it in... yeah right. I went to the post office at the same time as one other girl, and we were there for almost an hour. We waited to be helped and then my number was called to counter number 2. At counter number 2 was Santa Clause minus the coat, hat, and presents. He hums more in real life than in all the movies. Okay, okay, it wasn't Santa Clause, it was just a jolly look-alike. What really clued me in was the fact that this guy moved way too slowly to be able to make presents for every kid in the world in a year, even if he did have elves to help. Anyway, I thought I would be done with the application after turning it in. Nope. Santa set up an appointment for me at the police station to finish the process. The appointment, as it turns out, was for today. The same day as my final exam. I told my teacher, and she said I could come late and stay late if I needed to, but since my appointment was set for an hour before the exam and the police station is about a ten minute walk from the school, I was hoping I would not be too late. Foolish thinking. I showed up early (Dad, are you proud of me?), let them know I was there, and sat down to wait with several other people. About an hour later I called my friend to ask her to tell the teacher I would certainly be late, but didn't know exactly how late. It was hard to tell since I was not able to track any progress. I spoke slowly and annunciated clearly when I said, "Niki, can you please tell our professor that I will be late to our final exam? I'm waiting at the police station. My appointment was for an hour ago, and I don't know when they will be able to see me." Figured it couldn't hurt. You never know if an English-speaker with some influence is within earshot. Shortly after that I was called into the office, where the woman told me that they could not process my paperwork today, so I should come back for another appointment on October 15th. Yippee.
In other news, fashion week is starting in Milan, and there are lots of tall skinny people wearing cool clothes walking around the city. As I walked with my friend down the street, we passed in front of a large building, and lots of important looking people were in front of it, apparently waiting for one or more vehicles to pull up. There were the people who looked important because they were wearing fancy suits, and the people who were wearing casual clothes but looked important because they had laminated badges hanging from their necks. There was a section designated for the press, and there were some expensive cameras in that section, lemme tell ya! I wonder what was going on there, and who they were waiting for.
Oh, man. It's raining outside and now my ceiling is leaking. Drops are unrhythmically slapping the tile floor. I guess the only thing to do in this moment is to put a bucket under it and go make some tea.
1. Name the movie and the character who...said...the above quote.
Classes commence on Monday. Being very on top of things in an Italian sort of way, the international office emailed me yesterday--Thursday--to let me know which classes I am registered for on Monday. Unfortunately, my level of Italian is not good enough for the class I was most excited about (think Italian language class + Italian cooking lessons with a famous Italian chef), so the international office threw that one out and registered me for a class I neither signed up for nor want. So I'll have to clear that up. Besides that, I'm excited to go start my semester!
The end of all things
2. Name the book (or movie) and the character. This one's a little tougher, huh?
My Italian class has ended. I took the final today. I was a little late for it, but I'll get to that story in a minute. Does it feel too soon for me to take a final, since I just wrote about taking a midterm? Yeah, I feel the same way, but take it I did. Speaking of the midterm, I got it back a couple days ago. I felt like I did pretty well on it, so I was eager to get it back. When I finally had it in my hands and looked at the 2 circled on top, I hoped the exam was not out of 100. It was not. The grading was as follows: 0-very bad, 1-pretty good, 2-very good. I didn't even know you could grade like that. I kind of what to become a teacher now just so I can get really creative with numbers and grading.
Never-Ending Story--I mean process
3. Name the mov... oh wait, I just did.
During orientation at Universita Cattolica del Sacro Cuore, the people helping the international students explained that we would all need to apply for a permit of stay. They even had a session the next day to help us fill out the long and very complicated paperwork, and told us we had to just turn it in to the post office. Just turn it in... yeah right. I went to the post office at the same time as one other girl, and we were there for almost an hour. We waited to be helped and then my number was called to counter number 2. At counter number 2 was Santa Clause minus the coat, hat, and presents. He hums more in real life than in all the movies. Okay, okay, it wasn't Santa Clause, it was just a jolly look-alike. What really clued me in was the fact that this guy moved way too slowly to be able to make presents for every kid in the world in a year, even if he did have elves to help. Anyway, I thought I would be done with the application after turning it in. Nope. Santa set up an appointment for me at the police station to finish the process. The appointment, as it turns out, was for today. The same day as my final exam. I told my teacher, and she said I could come late and stay late if I needed to, but since my appointment was set for an hour before the exam and the police station is about a ten minute walk from the school, I was hoping I would not be too late. Foolish thinking. I showed up early (Dad, are you proud of me?), let them know I was there, and sat down to wait with several other people. About an hour later I called my friend to ask her to tell the teacher I would certainly be late, but didn't know exactly how late. It was hard to tell since I was not able to track any progress. I spoke slowly and annunciated clearly when I said, "Niki, can you please tell our professor that I will be late to our final exam? I'm waiting at the police station. My appointment was for an hour ago, and I don't know when they will be able to see me." Figured it couldn't hurt. You never know if an English-speaker with some influence is within earshot. Shortly after that I was called into the office, where the woman told me that they could not process my paperwork today, so I should come back for another appointment on October 15th. Yippee.
In other news, fashion week is starting in Milan, and there are lots of tall skinny people wearing cool clothes walking around the city. As I walked with my friend down the street, we passed in front of a large building, and lots of important looking people were in front of it, apparently waiting for one or more vehicles to pull up. There were the people who looked important because they were wearing fancy suits, and the people who were wearing casual clothes but looked important because they had laminated badges hanging from their necks. There was a section designated for the press, and there were some expensive cameras in that section, lemme tell ya! I wonder what was going on there, and who they were waiting for.
Oh, man. It's raining outside and now my ceiling is leaking. Drops are unrhythmically slapping the tile floor. I guess the only thing to do in this moment is to put a bucket under it and go make some tea.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Traveling here, traveling there... Angela's traveling everywhere!
While I was living with my lovely relatives in beautiful Liguria (the region of Italy that contains Genoa, Chiavari, and Cinqueterre, for those of you "in the know"), I traveled quite a bit around Italy. Joshua and I visited Florence with my cousin Tomaso and his girlfriend Laura, we explored Venice by ourselves, and experienced Rome with Tomaso. We also saw the area around where we stayed. Joshua and I headed out to Cinqueterre for a day to hike through the five towns strung out along the Mediterranean coast, and we saw Zoagli and Rapalla. I'm feelin' pretty good about seeing Italy. Now to expand my horizons a little bit...
The first weekend in October I'm off to Germany; Oktoberfest, here I come! One of the international student groups at my university here planned a trip which involves leaving Friday night, arriving in Munich Saturday morning, leaving Munich late Saturday night, and being back in Milan by Sunday morning. Whew! Long story short, I'm going to Germany for a day for 36 euro! Pretty excited about that.
At some point in October, I'm back to Chiavari for an olive-picking weekend with the relatives! I can't wait. We will harvest the olives that grow in their very own olive grove, and then send off the olives to be made into olive oil. Honestly, how cool is that? They get olive oil made from what they've grown and picked themselves. And this year I get to be part of it!
I've been to Rome, as you know. Tell me, what would bring a nice historical balance? Let's see... "the ______s and the Romans"... If you just shouted "Greeks!" in your mind, you are correct! This November I'm jetting off to Athens with some friends during fall break. I'll be honest: when I came to Italy, I never thought of taking a trip to Greece, but now I feel a dramatic rush of excitement in my stomach whenever I think about it!
Later on in November or December, I'll fly away to a city lit with enchantment and laced with romance... Paris! There some starlit evening, I'm going to meet my beautiful friend Rebecca, who is spending the semester studying in Northern Ireland, and my lovely friend Marie, who is teaching English in Spain this year. We have been eagerly anticipating this reunion since before we were even apart. (We shared an apartment in Chicago last school year.)
Holy smokes, this sounds like SO much traveling! I guess I've never looked at it all at one time before; it seems a little different when it's spread out over five months. I want to take advantage of every opportunity I have while I'm here. In one year, will I be able to hop on a plane to Athens for a nice little trip? Heck no! Now's my only chance!
Tomorrow I get to go to the police station for the next step in the process of applying for a permit of stay. So laborious and confusing! I spent way too long filling out the ridiculously complicated paperwork before spending a tragic amount of time at the post office, where I had to turn it in. I foolishly thought I would be done when I turned all my paperwork in, but no. I need to go in tomorrow. My friend went today and it took three hours. Hopefully since she was in a different city, it won't be the same. It would be great if Milan processed people faster, especially because after my appointment, I have to take the final exam of my Italian language class! Speaking of which, I should really go study more and then get to sleep. Good luck, me!
P.S. Soon I'll try to figure out how to post pictures. I don't see anything that seems easy right now.
The first weekend in October I'm off to Germany; Oktoberfest, here I come! One of the international student groups at my university here planned a trip which involves leaving Friday night, arriving in Munich Saturday morning, leaving Munich late Saturday night, and being back in Milan by Sunday morning. Whew! Long story short, I'm going to Germany for a day for 36 euro! Pretty excited about that.
At some point in October, I'm back to Chiavari for an olive-picking weekend with the relatives! I can't wait. We will harvest the olives that grow in their very own olive grove, and then send off the olives to be made into olive oil. Honestly, how cool is that? They get olive oil made from what they've grown and picked themselves. And this year I get to be part of it!
I've been to Rome, as you know. Tell me, what would bring a nice historical balance? Let's see... "the ______s and the Romans"... If you just shouted "Greeks!" in your mind, you are correct! This November I'm jetting off to Athens with some friends during fall break. I'll be honest: when I came to Italy, I never thought of taking a trip to Greece, but now I feel a dramatic rush of excitement in my stomach whenever I think about it!
Later on in November or December, I'll fly away to a city lit with enchantment and laced with romance... Paris! There some starlit evening, I'm going to meet my beautiful friend Rebecca, who is spending the semester studying in Northern Ireland, and my lovely friend Marie, who is teaching English in Spain this year. We have been eagerly anticipating this reunion since before we were even apart. (We shared an apartment in Chicago last school year.)
Holy smokes, this sounds like SO much traveling! I guess I've never looked at it all at one time before; it seems a little different when it's spread out over five months. I want to take advantage of every opportunity I have while I'm here. In one year, will I be able to hop on a plane to Athens for a nice little trip? Heck no! Now's my only chance!
Tomorrow I get to go to the police station for the next step in the process of applying for a permit of stay. So laborious and confusing! I spent way too long filling out the ridiculously complicated paperwork before spending a tragic amount of time at the post office, where I had to turn it in. I foolishly thought I would be done when I turned all my paperwork in, but no. I need to go in tomorrow. My friend went today and it took three hours. Hopefully since she was in a different city, it won't be the same. It would be great if Milan processed people faster, especially because after my appointment, I have to take the final exam of my Italian language class! Speaking of which, I should really go study more and then get to sleep. Good luck, me!
P.S. Soon I'll try to figure out how to post pictures. I don't see anything that seems easy right now.
Friday, September 17, 2010
First work, then play
Can an exam rightfully be called a midterm if it is after only one week of class? Apparently, yes. This morning I had a midterm for my Italian class. Pretty sure I owned it. The hardest part for me is listening comprehension, which is kind of funny because I'm naturally an auditory learner, and I've been in this country listening to the flow of the language for a month and a half. We'll see how I did sometime soon, I hope.
This afternoon, a few friends and I headed over to the Milano Film Festival and watched two groups of short films. Some were funny, some were sad, most were just plain confusing. Well, not plain confusing--artistic confusing, if you know what I mean. A couple were in English with Italian subtitles, a few were in Italian with English subtitles, and several were in different languages with both English and Italian subtitles. One of my favorite parts of the experience was after one short film about a father and a son going fishing on a lake. There seemed to be one story being told by the voice-over, and a similar--but different--story being acted out alongside the voice-over. Maybe the young man killed his father at the end, I don't know. Nothing was very clear. The director came up at the end and said how the main theme of the movie was about how when a boy grows up, he reaches a point when he has to resist the authority of his father. After this "war" the boy is free to become mature and grow into a man. He spoke in English because his Italian was not very good, and someone translated for him. He asked if anyone had any questions, and a woman near the back stood up and asked a question in Italian. I couldn't be sure, in fact I was nearly certain that I had misunderstood, but I thought that in the woman's question there was something about speaking and cats. My suspicion grew stronger during the pregnant pause as everyone turned to the stage to see the response and the interpreter hesitated, not knowing what to say. Finally the director apologized for not understanding Italian, and the woman repeated her question in heavily accented English. Yes. It was indeed something about speaking and cats. The director started to explain how he did not like to use dialogue very much in his film and the woman cut him off to bring the conversation back to the cats speaking. Heads in the audience swiveled back and forth as the silence grew and everyone wondered how the director would respond. "I'm sorry... I don't know what cats you're talking about..." he stammered. The woman just repeated her question, repeating "the cats, the cats!" a couple times. The swiveling heads stopped swiveling as people began to feel awkward looking at the director or the questioner. There was another woman on stage, a mediator or MC of sorts. She broke into what was becoming the third uncomfortable pause, thanked the director for his film, and started the applause to accompany them offstage. As far as I could tell, the woman in the audience was entirely genuine in her question about the cats. Maybe she was referring to a different movie she thought he also directed or something. All I know is nobody knew what the heck was going on, and the confusion and awkwardness in the room was so thick I could've cut it with a knife. I felt a little bad for the director, but holy smokes--it was hilarious.
This afternoon, a few friends and I headed over to the Milano Film Festival and watched two groups of short films. Some were funny, some were sad, most were just plain confusing. Well, not plain confusing--artistic confusing, if you know what I mean. A couple were in English with Italian subtitles, a few were in Italian with English subtitles, and several were in different languages with both English and Italian subtitles. One of my favorite parts of the experience was after one short film about a father and a son going fishing on a lake. There seemed to be one story being told by the voice-over, and a similar--but different--story being acted out alongside the voice-over. Maybe the young man killed his father at the end, I don't know. Nothing was very clear. The director came up at the end and said how the main theme of the movie was about how when a boy grows up, he reaches a point when he has to resist the authority of his father. After this "war" the boy is free to become mature and grow into a man. He spoke in English because his Italian was not very good, and someone translated for him. He asked if anyone had any questions, and a woman near the back stood up and asked a question in Italian. I couldn't be sure, in fact I was nearly certain that I had misunderstood, but I thought that in the woman's question there was something about speaking and cats. My suspicion grew stronger during the pregnant pause as everyone turned to the stage to see the response and the interpreter hesitated, not knowing what to say. Finally the director apologized for not understanding Italian, and the woman repeated her question in heavily accented English. Yes. It was indeed something about speaking and cats. The director started to explain how he did not like to use dialogue very much in his film and the woman cut him off to bring the conversation back to the cats speaking. Heads in the audience swiveled back and forth as the silence grew and everyone wondered how the director would respond. "I'm sorry... I don't know what cats you're talking about..." he stammered. The woman just repeated her question, repeating "the cats, the cats!" a couple times. The swiveling heads stopped swiveling as people began to feel awkward looking at the director or the questioner. There was another woman on stage, a mediator or MC of sorts. She broke into what was becoming the third uncomfortable pause, thanked the director for his film, and started the applause to accompany them offstage. As far as I could tell, the woman in the audience was entirely genuine in her question about the cats. Maybe she was referring to a different movie she thought he also directed or something. All I know is nobody knew what the heck was going on, and the confusion and awkwardness in the room was so thick I could've cut it with a knife. I felt a little bad for the director, but holy smokes--it was hilarious.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Hooray for new things!
First things first. I am staying in the beginner-est language class. I spoke to my professor, as I mentioned before, and she spoke to the professor of the other class, and then we re-spoke. (Does anyone reading this like making up words as much as I do?) The conclusion: without having studied Italian before, the accelerated class would probably move too quickly for me, so I am staying in the slower class. My professor offered to provide me with extra worksheets and exercises that are a little bit harder than the rest of the class will get, and correct any writing in Italian I feel like doing. It's very nice of her to give herself the extra work so that I don't feel like I'm not getting as much out of the class as I could be. And this way I am able to help the other students in my class, which I like because 1) I generously enjoy helping people, and 2) I selfishly enjoy feeling smart. Call me crazy for that second one.
The new things...
I got an Italian cell phone! The school sets up an account with a phone company over here to make it as easy as possible for international students. Unfortunately, I cannot make calls from my phone. When I try, I hear a recorded woman's voice throwing Italian words at me as fast as possible. Now I get to back to the phone store, wait in line again, and try to communicate enough to have them fix whatever is going wrong. So much for easy.
Also along the communication lines, I bought a headset. Yup, that's headphones and a microphone, so for those of you who have skype... Just wanted to throw that out there.
New roommate! When I arrived at my apartment, the person who brought me said my (unspecified number of) roommates would be arriving probably in a week or two. With no word or notice after that, someone walked into my apartment through the door I had locked and plopped her stuff down on the floor. I showed her around, we discovered her key to the front gate did not work, and she chose a bed in which to sleep off her jetlag. And then there were two. I guess we'll see how many more saunter into my--our--apartment in the next few days/weeks.
Tomorrow is a long class day. Normally class is from 9:30-11:00, and then 11:30-1:00. Tomorrow we're tacking on a 2:30-4:00 session, and then some students from my class and I are grabbing dinner with a couple native Italian speakers (friends of one girl's host family) to practice Italian and study for our midterm exam on Friday. Whew! I have a feeling I'll be using that handy-dandy Italian-English dictionary I bought today. (Another new thing!)
I am happy to say that I am getting to know some of the people here better. There are some friendly and interesting girls who seem to be as happy to spend time with me as I am to spend time with them, and I've stopped having to exchange names with people that I'd already met before. Some of you reading this may know that I believe I have "one of those faces." People are constantly telling me that I look exactly like their best friend, cousin, or famous person. Last night a couple girls I had talked with two or three times bestowed upon me the knowledge that I looked "SO much like" a girl they knew from home. Except, they clarified, she was a "Jesus freak." I smiled big; I have more in common with that girl than they realized.
They'll catch on.
The new things...
I got an Italian cell phone! The school sets up an account with a phone company over here to make it as easy as possible for international students. Unfortunately, I cannot make calls from my phone. When I try, I hear a recorded woman's voice throwing Italian words at me as fast as possible. Now I get to back to the phone store, wait in line again, and try to communicate enough to have them fix whatever is going wrong. So much for easy.
Also along the communication lines, I bought a headset. Yup, that's headphones and a microphone, so for those of you who have skype... Just wanted to throw that out there.
New roommate! When I arrived at my apartment, the person who brought me said my (unspecified number of) roommates would be arriving probably in a week or two. With no word or notice after that, someone walked into my apartment through the door I had locked and plopped her stuff down on the floor. I showed her around, we discovered her key to the front gate did not work, and she chose a bed in which to sleep off her jetlag. And then there were two. I guess we'll see how many more saunter into my--our--apartment in the next few days/weeks.
Tomorrow is a long class day. Normally class is from 9:30-11:00, and then 11:30-1:00. Tomorrow we're tacking on a 2:30-4:00 session, and then some students from my class and I are grabbing dinner with a couple native Italian speakers (friends of one girl's host family) to practice Italian and study for our midterm exam on Friday. Whew! I have a feeling I'll be using that handy-dandy Italian-English dictionary I bought today. (Another new thing!)
I am happy to say that I am getting to know some of the people here better. There are some friendly and interesting girls who seem to be as happy to spend time with me as I am to spend time with them, and I've stopped having to exchange names with people that I'd already met before. Some of you reading this may know that I believe I have "one of those faces." People are constantly telling me that I look exactly like their best friend, cousin, or famous person. Last night a couple girls I had talked with two or three times bestowed upon me the knowledge that I looked "SO much like" a girl they knew from home. Except, they clarified, she was a "Jesus freak." I smiled big; I have more in common with that girl than they realized.
They'll catch on.
Friday, September 10, 2010
2 days of class. Yeah, I speak Italian.
Two days of class down, two weeks to go until regular semester courses begin. I spent a little time looking at an Italian language textbook before I came to Italy, I've been here hearing the language for a month, and I speak a little Spanish, which helps. In short, the class has been easy for me thus far. Almost too easy. I spoke to the professor after class today and I'll go to this class on Monday and then we'll talk about possibly moving me up to the accelerated beginner's class for Tuesday. For a class that's less than two and a half weeks long, I don't really want to take too long before switching. So--by Tuesday I'll know whether or not I'll switch.
Last night was "Vogue's Fashion Night Out" in Milan. Shopping centers and big shopping streets were packed and the fancy-schmancy stores stayed open very late and held special deals. A group of us dressed up and went to be a part of the excitement. We walked for a ways, and the first store we entered had a famous (not to me--I don't remember her name) designer who signed some t-shirts and was surrounded by people packing in to buy a t-shirt or get a closer look at her. We spent a few minutes watching, grabbed a free mini-sandwich, and continued on our way. We spent the more time at Mac makeup than anywhere else. They had employees ready to do some free makeup on people, so a few of us took advantage of the opportunity. I told the artist to do whatever she wanted with my eyes, figuring she knew better than I what would look good. I chose... wisely. I had no idea purple and green could be used together so tastefully. I looked pretty and dramatic by the time she was done. Only a couple people could go at a time, so while we waited, the rest of us enjoyed complimentary glasses of white wine, and some cookies served by a model. The model was wearing gold-accented makeup, and her eyelashes were curled the wrong way! So weird. Instead of curling up towards her eyebrows, they were curled down over here eyes and the tips had gold mascara on them. It was kind of riveting. I wonder how much it impaired her vision. We also visited Ralph Lauren, the house of Armani, and Prada, to name a few in the "Golden Quarter." Most of the big name stores had servers walking around with trays offering people complimentary drinks. I think this should be done where I shop in the US; I bet people would start viewing Goodwill differently.
Some observations about Italy:
1) The birds have good aim. While looking out over the sea from a Portofino vantage point with Gloria, Luke, Joshua, and some Italian relatives--Irene, Tomaso, and Giovanni--BAM! Right on my head, in my hair. While walking in Venice with Joshua, BAM! Hair again. Double points for the bird, though, because he also managed to get Joshua's arm. While walking to my Milano apartment today, bam. (<--that one is smaller.) This one needs to practice more because he misjudged my walking speed and just missed my head. Actually caught the heel of my flip-flop as I was stepping on the ball of my foot. What are the odds?
2) Every region has so much regional pride. They say, "Well, in THIS region, we do/say/eat this. It's very particular to this city/area/region." Very cool, but occasionally I question it. Really? Is saying "allora..." during any pause in the conversation or before you start to speak really particular to the speech patterns of people in this city? Because that has been very common in every city I've been to in Italy. Hmm.
3) Nothing can get in the way of true love. Especially not age differences. 'Nuff said.
NOTE: I'M SORRY FOR ANY CONFUSION THIS LAST OBSERVATION MAY HAVE CAUSED. I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH ANYONE IN ITALY. THE AGE DIFFERENCE IS ONLY UNIMPORTANT IN THE MINDS OF MEN OF DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT AGES THAN ME. THE FOLLOWING STORY IS AN EXAMPLE.
Which reminds me... After a confusing visit to the bank yesterday, I stopped back in today to tell them that I would actually not be opening an account there. The man I spoke with yesterday looked disappointed but was quick to tell me how nice it was to meet me. The bank teller (who unlocked the door specially for me since I arrived before they opened for the afternoon) abandoned his desk to come talk. When he heard the news, he sounded a pained "Ohh..." and pretended to pull out his hair. I'm sure they do that for everyone, though.
And starting tomorrow--my first weekend in Milano!
Last night was "Vogue's Fashion Night Out" in Milan. Shopping centers and big shopping streets were packed and the fancy-schmancy stores stayed open very late and held special deals. A group of us dressed up and went to be a part of the excitement. We walked for a ways, and the first store we entered had a famous (not to me--I don't remember her name) designer who signed some t-shirts and was surrounded by people packing in to buy a t-shirt or get a closer look at her. We spent a few minutes watching, grabbed a free mini-sandwich, and continued on our way. We spent the more time at Mac makeup than anywhere else. They had employees ready to do some free makeup on people, so a few of us took advantage of the opportunity. I told the artist to do whatever she wanted with my eyes, figuring she knew better than I what would look good. I chose... wisely. I had no idea purple and green could be used together so tastefully. I looked pretty and dramatic by the time she was done. Only a couple people could go at a time, so while we waited, the rest of us enjoyed complimentary glasses of white wine, and some cookies served by a model. The model was wearing gold-accented makeup, and her eyelashes were curled the wrong way! So weird. Instead of curling up towards her eyebrows, they were curled down over here eyes and the tips had gold mascara on them. It was kind of riveting. I wonder how much it impaired her vision. We also visited Ralph Lauren, the house of Armani, and Prada, to name a few in the "Golden Quarter." Most of the big name stores had servers walking around with trays offering people complimentary drinks. I think this should be done where I shop in the US; I bet people would start viewing Goodwill differently.
Some observations about Italy:
1) The birds have good aim. While looking out over the sea from a Portofino vantage point with Gloria, Luke, Joshua, and some Italian relatives--Irene, Tomaso, and Giovanni--BAM! Right on my head, in my hair. While walking in Venice with Joshua, BAM! Hair again. Double points for the bird, though, because he also managed to get Joshua's arm. While walking to my Milano apartment today, bam. (<--that one is smaller.) This one needs to practice more because he misjudged my walking speed and just missed my head. Actually caught the heel of my flip-flop as I was stepping on the ball of my foot. What are the odds?
2) Every region has so much regional pride. They say, "Well, in THIS region, we do/say/eat this. It's very particular to this city/area/region." Very cool, but occasionally I question it. Really? Is saying "allora..." during any pause in the conversation or before you start to speak really particular to the speech patterns of people in this city? Because that has been very common in every city I've been to in Italy. Hmm.
3) Nothing can get in the way of true love. Especially not age differences. 'Nuff said.
NOTE: I'M SORRY FOR ANY CONFUSION THIS LAST OBSERVATION MAY HAVE CAUSED. I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH ANYONE IN ITALY. THE AGE DIFFERENCE IS ONLY UNIMPORTANT IN THE MINDS OF MEN OF DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT AGES THAN ME. THE FOLLOWING STORY IS AN EXAMPLE.
Which reminds me... After a confusing visit to the bank yesterday, I stopped back in today to tell them that I would actually not be opening an account there. The man I spoke with yesterday looked disappointed but was quick to tell me how nice it was to meet me. The bank teller (who unlocked the door specially for me since I arrived before they opened for the afternoon) abandoned his desk to come talk. When he heard the news, he sounded a pained "Ohh..." and pretended to pull out his hair. I'm sure they do that for everyone, though.
And starting tomorrow--my first weekend in Milano!
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