A Quick Summary, With More to Follow

            So it has officially been a week and a day since I’ve arrived in Italy, but much longer since I’ve even thought about writing something on this blog. Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve often thought of writing blog posts as I stroll beneath the porticoes of Bologna, but I’m usually too busy running off to the next adventure to take the time to sit down and record anything. For this, ti chiedo pazienza; that is, please be patient. Living in a foreign country leads to a lot of things, one of which (inevitably) is a certain decrease in your dependency on technology. This post will sound rushed because I’m tired and it’s late and there’s just too much to tell. I will post more detailed things later!

            But guess what? I MADE IT. Because I have a mother who thinks of all the possibilities (such as sudden, monstrous snowstorms that would block the airspace between Norfolk Airport and New Jersey), on January 6, my parents and I drove from Virginia Beach to the marvelous urban center of Newark, New Jersey. For those of you who are familiar with my past experience with Newark airport and its surrounding areas, you know that I was extremely apprehensive about flying out from there. For those of you not familiar with the story, just know that it involved a particularly heinous forced-stay at an Econo-Lodge right by the airport in which my roommates and I spent a majority of the night hiding in our motel room’s bathroom, clutching a Bible and a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

            But we arrived in Newark with no trouble on Sunday night and stayed there in a hotel. My flight left the next day at 6 pm, which gave us plenty of time to putter around and attempt to take just a few more things out of my two—yes, count ‘em TWO—suitcases, which will certainly be over-weight and exploding on the flight back home. Instead of mentally accepting the fact that I was saying goodbye to my parents and countless other friends and family and wonderful people in my life for the next five months, I distracted myself with little observations about the airport and my flight. For example, German tourists are crazy. They wear shorts and t-shirts, even though it’s below freezing outside. Also, there’s a sign on the conveyer belt while going through security that asks you to please refrain from sending infants and small children through the x-ray scanning machine, which can only mean that someone has indeed attempted to do this at some point in America’s history of airport security.

            I flew on a Lufthansa plane, which quite literally changed my life. You mean I don’t have to eat rubber “steak”? I can have a healthy meal of roasted chicken and sautéed vegetables with real silverware, all served to me by very well-dressed, good-looking and bilingual German men? Oh, and a hot towel before dinner? Yes, please. All of it.

            The nice thing about my flight was also the fact that I was sitting in a crowd of other ECCO students. We immediately recognized each other as fellow international explorers and then, upon doing a headcount, also realized that our ECCO program this year would in fact be an all-ladies affair. That’s right—no boys. I am overall a fan of level-headed boy logic in life, so this was somewhat of a disappointment for me, but I can assure all you curious readers at home that after a week with the girls in this program, I am more than happy with the friends I’m making!

            After a quick stop in Frankfurt, we finally made it to Bologna, where the skies were a dull grey and the rain a slow drizzle. We got our housing assignments and I was placed in a studentato called Forni, just about 5 minutes from the city center; it’s an all-girl’s dorm that is reserved for students with very high grades, so there’s a lot of quiet studying going on 24/7. There are seven of us Americans here in Forni, while the majority of the rest of our group is housed in Ghigi (a co-ed dorm), which is far away and requires an understanding of the streets to reach, so I have yet to visit it.

            On the third level of Forni, we have my apartment! It has two bedrooms, with two roommates in each, which are connected by a bathroom and a kitchen. When I first entered, I was struck by how bare it was. I had forgotten how Italian homes are very white, very clean, and not always extensively decorated. But as you can see from the pictures below, I’ve tried to make it my own (a trip to IKEA is also in the works, so expect more room renovations!).

The Kitchen

The Bathroom (surprisingly spacious, but the shower is a challenge)

My bed area! 

My side of the room

            I have one roommate and two house-mates. My roommate is Viola, and she’s from Albania and speaks Italian so fluently that when she told me where she was from, I didn’t believe her. She’s adorable and hilarious and wonderful. She’s studying to be a pharmacist and is obsessed with How I Met Your Mother.

            Then there is Marta, on the other side of the apartment. Marta is Italian; her family is from Puglia but she grew up for the most part in Torino. She’s basically the mom of the house and is incredibly sweet and is studying to be a social worker. She also bakes ALL THE TIME, which obviously adds to her welcoming personality.

            And then there’s Letizia, who is from Cameroon, and who first introduced herself to me by stating that she is studying mechanical engineering, is fluent in French, Italian, English, and a native Cameroon dialect, and these silverware right here? The red ones? Yeah, those are hers. Don’t touch them.

            Obviously, Letizia occasionally intimidates me. She’s also a little difficult to approach and get to know, but I swear, I’m really trying my best.

            Overall, I love my roommates. The ones I see the most are Marta and Viola and I feel like we’ve really started to talk like friends, not just as roommates. We of course speak only Italian…but I also tend to use crazy hand gestures and weird noises (like an intense game of charades) when I don’t know a word. We’ve now gotten to the point where we’re comfortable using sarcasm around each other, which is wonderful. I was at first nervous that Viola would hate me, since when I first found out where she was from, she asked me if I knew anything about her country. I vaguely remembered something involving the Ottoman Empire and later the Nazi regime, but very little else. She asked if that was all I knew, and because I’m a bit of an idiot, I told her that in fact I did know something: didn’t Lord Voldemort hide in Albania for thirteen years after he attempted to kill Harry Potter, until he could return to power? Viola stared at me and said very simply: “Oh. I hated those movies.”

            You are all laughing right now and I am too, but to be honest, I was excruciatingly embarrassed in the moment. Clearly, these are not the sort of things you tell your foreign roommate if you want to attempt to impress them with your international knowledge of the world. I highly recommend cutting down on Harry Potter references.

            But regardless of this fumble, Viola seems to like me, along with Marta. We’ve eaten a few meals together and planned even more, so I’m really excited for this semester with them. I’m also convinced that I will learn the Albanian language by the end of May, in addition to Italian, because Viola talks in her sleep a lot. In fact, she’s talking as I write this right now (it’s almost one in the morning and I should be asleep like her). I have no idea what she’s saying, but apparently, something is really funny.

            The grey skies have remained consistent and I’m told we won’t really get to see the sun until March. It’s been snowing the past few days here, wrapping Bologna in a thin blanket of white. I’m really glad I brought rain boots, because the marble sidewalks are incredibly dangerous when covered in sleet and snow and I'm a klutz, so I'm constantly on the verge of falling in a disgraceful heap in front of Italian women who saunter by in their high-heeled boots.

            But the city is simply spectacular. I feel like I could explore Bologna forever. There are so many twists and turns as you go down the alleyways—so many side-streets and shops and medieval towers. Most of the walls of the buildings are either a burnt red, a deep orange, or a sort of dark gold and the pictures I’ve taken so far really don’t do it justice.

La statua di Nettuno!

Look at that color <3 I'm in love.

Some of the porticoes

Random canal discovery?

Of course, tagliatelle al ragu' (more pictures of this will DEFINITELY follow)

            I have so much to write, so many stories to tell. Tomorrow I will give you a much more detailed description of my classes, plans for the semester, and what I’ve been up to, but I felt that it was high time that I post something to let the grandparents know that I’m alive. If you’re still reading this, thank you! I promise the posts to follow will be more interesting, with more pictures and more stories about my blunders through Italy…like how I’ve accidentally been using a soap dispenser on the sink that apparently belongs to the bidet, which is where I found it when someone cleaned the bathroom and put everything back where it was supposed to go. Think about that for a second and enjoy the thought of my look of horror when I realized why my ‘hand-soap’ guaranteed a “very clean wash” and was dermatologist-approved.

A dopo, ragazzi!

Danielle

© Copyright Danielle DeSimone. 2013.