First Week

Allora…

I love it. Italy’s crazy, it’s completely different, it’s divided, it’s incredibly individualistic but some how it makes sense and just works.... almost like when you play Jenga and you take that piece out from the bottom and think that eveverything is going to fall over.. but it still stays up... imagine that and then put it on a country scale... see what I mean?

Some of the biggest successes of this week have been; registering at the University (which was no small task considering I got my foot in the door of the International Relations Office right as they were closing; even though I needed to leave the office again to get some photos taken, the lady behind the counter took a “smoking break” at the same time, and proceeded to help me fill out immigration forms well passed when the office closed …at 11:30), surviving an Italian post office and getting my temporary Permesso di Soggiorno (essentially an excuse to pay 50 Euro to the Italian government for another official document; again being petrified that I would just get my foot in the door), getting a cellphone (all of which in Italy are prepaid with special SIM cards which serve as the phone’s memory and can be transferred from phone to phone)… and finding an apartment (again thanks to the help of student service offices at the University of Bologna....check it out Via Acri 9, Bologna Italy). The apartment is huge with 8 students.. all international/ doing exchanges with one Italian; everyone knows how much I expound about and live vicariously through the movie L'auberge espagnole.. so seeing this made my heart jump for sure.

Linguistically, I’m pretty comfortable now; there are some times when I feel totally spaesato, but for the most part I can manage… winning Trivial Pursuit and watching Momento in Italian (and being able to actually follow the film) really helped boost my self esteem. Montreal (heart; sigh) was a good training ground for not being spooked by people speaking a language other than English around you and mastering the art of pretending to understand everything even though you man understand only a third of what’s going on. There are times where I’ll be mid sentence thinking in Italian, conjugating verbs in the past imperfect tense, only to find myself ONLY thinking in French…this makes for fun times, especially when I’m trying to ask for more water and all that comes out is “est-ce que vous pouvez…shit… ummm…mi potresti…?” At least they can’t tell I’m…which one.. French or English?

There is a sense of organized but absolute chaos here that bewilders me and many other foreigners (specifically from North America) as everything and everyone is always a little late, no one parks correctly, stores and municipal offices close at ridiculous hours. I guess this is to be expected of a place where the mullet and bright, metallic Nike sneakers are the going trend…but hey, it’s home for now.

I pretty much hit the ground running here, so I’m sorry to those of you with whom I’ve neglected to keep in touch. Ciao for now! Sorry if this is more of a summary... I'll find more interesting stories to keep you guys busy in your procrastination on the other side of the Atlantic.