I never quite concluded my Italian stories for my blog. I suppose what it came down to was I wasn't interested in writing some sad farewell. Also, I get impatient with telling an entire story. As a writer, I tend towards perfectionism. While as a talker, I tend towards ad nauseam. I probably didn't even use that correctly. Look at me, fighting my perfectionism tendencies!

Leaving Italy provoked a variety of emotions. Leaving Perugia was certainly sad. I had to said goodbye to my six man crew (Amanda, Camilo, Loraine, John and Stephen), my dear friend Cat and my awesome roommate Rachel as while as all the amazing people we had met. We spent our last week together retelling Palermo stories, sitting on the steps drinking prosecco every afternoon, pretending we didn't have a final exam, bombing the final exam, skipping classes, finally going to the gelato places that were open for spring, getting aperitivo, getting dinner, getting drinks, getting in our "last" everything. Last kebab. Last pizza at Pizza Med. Last Dempsey's. Last Luna Bar. Last Velvet. Last night of ridiculousness.

Our last night before the boys left was the night my dad came to Perugia. Amanda, Loraine, John and I went down to Perugia's wine and chocolate themed hotel that Umbra had us all stay in our first night in Perugia. My dad was chipper, despite having missed one of his flights and showing up 10 hours late. My dad got a chance to talk with us a little before he convinced us to pose ridiculously next to the giant fake wooden tub used to wine making. I still need to locate those! Then we offered to drive us back to the city center. MISTAKE.

In classic form, I had almost a heart attack and my dad kept telling me to calm down. I wish I could say I had been overreacting but my friends were clearly nervous for their lives. Someone said, "What's that smell?" And Loraine said, "The clutch!" We took the wrong turn twice, went to the wrong section of the city where Loraine and John politely were dropped off. Amanda decided to stay and coach me and the driver of death (good ol' Dad) off the cliff (surprisingly apt description metaphorically and literally) and back into the city city. THANK YOU, AMANDA. It was horrifying and funny.

I'm pretty sure we spent the rest of the evening at Dempsey's. Dempsey's was, of course, full of people so there was no entertainment lacking. It's hard to remember because we went to the same places everyday for our last week. I keep confusing them. However, I do remember that I stayed with the boys, sitting outside with Stephen waiting for Camilo and John to finish their goodbyes at Dempsey's. Remember that cold little wall, Stephen? I was dying but also didn't want to go. Then John and Camilo walked me home and we talked on my steps outside my apartment for maybe two hours. It was absolutely wonderful. I remember being so sad to see these guys go. Despite all of us being completely exhausted, we continued talking and taking photos.

The next morning we all ran into each other at Umbra dropping off things and printing boarding passes. It still wasn't hitting us. John almost punched the computer when Alitalia (surprise surprise) wouldn't let him check in his and Brandon's tickets. I figured out the problem and put in his passport info, totally in denial that Perugia was coming to an end. ("Oh, I'll just help you print your boarding pass. Do you guys think on Monday we should get aperitivo?") Then we all had our last meal at Pizza Med with Loraine's mom. The boys brought in all their luggage. We looked pretty ridiculous and you could tell the wait staff was annoyed.

Ohhhhh the goodbyes. Do you remember a fun goodbye? Only to someone you dislike who made you eat gross food. "Bye, Auntie Mildred. I'll really miss your salsa chicken." No, I don't have an aunt named Mildred. I do however have a great aversion to salsa chicken, just ask my mother. Our goodbye was quite sad. It was absolutely gorgeous outside as we all hugged each other. The boys were going to Rome the night before their flights to have a last Rome trip. Camilo was headed to Geneva for his UN internship while Brandon and John were heading home. Loraine, Stephen and I were staying in Perugia a day or two more. Amanda was staying in Perugia until August. After getting second or third hugs, the three boys piled in the car, leaving us oddly silent in the sunshine. Maybe I didn't record all the details properly in my mind but that's how I remember it. We parted ways and went each to pack our things.

That night Cat and I got aperitivo and ate cookies with peanut butter for dinner. Afterwards, we met up with Loraine, Amanda, and Stephen for our last night out. We went/danced everywhere and saw everyone. We feasted at an illegal bakery. It was a great last night. My feet were positively aching. I almost walked home from Velvet barefoot, which says something for me. I went to bed, two hours before I got up to pack and clean.

It's amazing what I can do after sleeping 2 hours. I ended up staying awake the entire day, showed my dad my apartment, loaded the car, showed him my university, and brought him to meet Amanda and her beloved bunny. As we drove away from Perugia to Rome, it finally hit me. I was leaving. And I felt completely gypped out of my mourning period. It was so abrupt. I was driving away with my dad chatting with all my possessions in the trunk, never to be in Perugia with the same people ever again. It was too nonchalant of a departure from where I had lived for 8 months.

The industriousness of 2 hours of sleep is always followed by deep emotions flooding the mind. I was physically and emotionally drained but still processing the events. It was like putting all of your rubber duckies in a row while standing in a pond and saying to them "One day, this pond will become a river. Prepare yourselves!" Finally one day, the pond becomes a river and you start freaking out saying "WHERE ARE MY DUCKIES?!!" The ducks are out of your sight, but you are stuck in the middle of this stupid river alone, realizing you should have played more with them or perhaps you should have understood your warning to them better. Or maybe you should just get out of this river and find a damn towel. (I hope you followed that. I hardly did.) Basically, I was so emotional even my recollections described are absurd.

My poor dad was stuck with me, homesick, miserable, sad, angry, underslept Louisa in Rome, the eternal city... Fortunately, I managed to cheer up once we left Rome. I hate that place. We went to the Vatican to see ol' Frank. We ended up standing the sweatiest, tightest crowd of my life for over an hour but never saw him. It was not what we had in mind...

After Rome, we went to Bari which was gorgeous. I love Puglia! Hopefully, I'll write about it soon...

Sicilia, Part II

Sunday morning we woke up early to go to the Mons service. The majority of the parish is Romanian so the liturgy was sung in Romanian and Italian. Unfortunately, we had to leave after the homily because the Italian boys were meeting us to go to the soccer game. There were ten of us so we had to go early to get seats. Because of course, assigned seats don't stop Italians from sitting where the hell they feel like. Shocker.

As we approached the stadium, it felt like tailgating for a football game. John was ecstatic. Can you tell he's from Ohio? However, inside, it was completely unAmerican. They didn't even sell alcohol. When I got inside, I was relieved. I finally understand what the Colosseum must have been like. Screaming, cheering, chanting, borderline rioting fans. Thousands of them. Before the game even started. It was a crackling, electric wave of sheer adrenaline. This crowd had its own pulse. Palermo isn't even a great team. Fortunately, neither was Bologna so it wasn't a heartbreaking game. We tied 1-1.

The popsicle man decided he was going to sell his wares directly in front of us which meant we were passing back and forward money and popsicles for awhile. We didn't even get a free popsicle out of it for watching his boxes when he left! It was gorgeous weather however. Our bottle of SPF 50 was passed back and forth repeatedly.

After the game, sunburned and delighted, we walked home to eat Mons' delicious Carbonara pasta. That man knows how to please. We were supposed to explore the city center that night but we begged off, being absolutely drained. There was a lot of nap time during our trip...

Sicilia, You Fascinating Thing, Part 1.

I just spent 5 days in Palermo with my friends, visiting the orthodox archbishop.

It was an amazing vacation. Sure, there were some pains of travel. Being tired, getting grumpy, feeling dehydrated, getting frustrated when other people got grumpy. Our flights were quite early and we were required to get up at 5 for both of them.

I would easily say this was my best trip in Europe this past year. We were so lucky because our hosts were locals. The archbishop works in a language high school and teaches English. He contacted some of his former students who are our age and we hung out with them the entire time. They were so generous and so much fun!

Emilo lives with the archbishop in his bachelor pad. He is a former student of Mons (what we call the archbishop) and spoke English with us. Piero is also a former student of Mons and Laura is his girlfriend. They, along with their friends Diego and Alex, took us out to a soccer game, to the beach, to clubs, to the downtown hangout whose name I can never remember.

OH SICILY, THE FOOD. We showed up at the Mons' house and he served us stuffed squid. With great fear, I tried it... I could have sworn that I died and went to heaven. The cannoli were creamy and crunchy. We tried this one kind of donut which has the same filling as a cannoli but instead is a fresh donut. It was artery clogtastic and soul fulfilling. Arancini are a staple of the south. They are fried rice balls filled with meat ragu, spinach and cheese, or ham and cheese. The one gross thing I ate was another staple, calf lung and spleen sandwich. Ughhh. I choked it down and tried not to throw up. Fortunately, I kept it down. We ate way too well and much. Gelato was served in brioche, cone or cup. Mmm...

Saturday we went to Mondello, the beach just north of Palermo. The water was completely clear and light green/blue. It was cold but I went in anyway. Ah! So refreshing to be in the water. My pale skin was swathed in SPF 50 because the day before I got a sunburn from standing outside for maybe 40 minutes and sitting in a car for maybe an hour. I never thought of myself as a pale person but I guess I am. Unfortunately, many speedos populated the beach. I completely forgot what an eyesore Italian beaches can be. Can we make a law that WHITE SPEEDOS should be ILLEGAL? Italian men are total dandies so maybe they realize it makes them look tanner. Speedos are bad enough. White ones? I basically looked down most of the day. The Italians thought we were nuts for getting in the water but they tried to brave it haha. Afterwards we got our first arancini. Amanda got ham and cheese and I got the meat ragu one. We passed them back and forth, unable to decide which one was better.

That night we (the girls) went out dancing and then to the city pit of youth (where the boys immediately went). Palermo clubs are...CREEPY. I live in Perugia, so I'm used to creepy. But Palermo took the CAKE. I tried to go to the dance floor and Laura grabbed me and said "Look around you." I realize, finally, the dance floor doesn't have women dancing on it. It's literally a crowd of men watching, like dancing hawks searching for prey. So we had to dance near the bar which wasn't really the dance floor. Fortunately, Piero and Laura watched us and were pretty protective. After awhile, we meet up with the American boys in the pit of youth. The pit of youth is a neighborhood of abandoned buildings. There are hundreds of Sicilian young people who go there to hang out. There are food stands, live music, a lot of weed smoke and absolute chaos. It's really cool but I was very tired so I was ready to go home after 20 mins.

There is so much more to stay... To be continued!

Last month in PG!

Alas, it has finally come around. My last month in Perugia. I know I should be all sad to leave but I'm pretty pumped.

Louisa, shame on you. Happy to leave? No. Look outside, eat some handmade pasta, drink some wine...

My response: it's raining, I have enough pasta lbs. tyvm, and I think wine will mess with my cold haha. Your immediate reaction: what a grump! My retort: seriously. such a grumpy gremlin attitude.

Despite my natural ability to complain tirelessly, it's very difficult to leave Italy. I have a lot of regrets. One main problem is forgetting the "movie version of living in Italy" expectations. For example, I'm frustrated how hard it is for me to speak Italian comfortably. Because in the movie version of my life, I would be fluent after 7 months. Alas, in reality, learning a language takes a really long time. Also, I wouldn't say it comes natural to me at all, not the humility nor the knack! I'm so envious of people who grew up speaking two languages. They had to play around with languages long ago! Most importantly, I cut myself short. My doubt leads me to make dumb mistakes or give up when I am totally competent to express myself in the situation but too proud or scared to.

For awhile, I planned on staying until the end of June. That would be sufficient time, right? However, as I got closer to June, all I could think was how impatient I was to get the hell out of Europe. How I dreaded having to move into a new apartment and start from scratch socially. I found myself being tense with anxiety. I realized it was time to go home. I thought perhaps I was making a mistake, until multiple people told me they had no idea how long I lasted here/they were jealous that I could go home first. I know for certain I will return but I think 8 months in Perugia has been quite enough. I started C1 last week and I hate it. It's all lecture and I cannot translate and remember at the same time.

Though C1 is terrible, I have an excellent mini vacation to distract me coming up. My friend John's family friend is the (Ukrainian?) Orthodox archbishop of Palermo. (!!) A big group of us are going to Palermo Friday-Wednesday to visit! I'm so EXCITED! I've never been to Sicily and it'll be warm. We'll go to beach. Eat excellent seafood. Hang out with the archbishop. But most of all, we will be missing classsss!! Thrilling.

After Palermo, it'll be a week of class and then the program ends! My dad will come see me in Perugia for a day or two. Then we'll pack me up and go to Rome for the weekend. Next, Bari, methinks. Then Trieste, Slovenia, Venice. I will be flying out of Venice May 7th and LANDING May 7th in Phoenix. I'll be the girl kissing the ground crying tears of joy.

Paris: That Monstrous Dream and Nightmare

Our weekend in Paris... both a dream and a nightmare.

How did I find myself in Paris?

It was Tuesday afternoon, at 6 PM. Tuesday are hell on earth. I have class from 8 am to 11 am. Then I have tutoring with Umbra from 2:30-4:30 PM. My day is finished back at Stranieri for one last class from 5-7PM. I was a slap happy mess. I turned to Loraine and suggested going to London to eat something besides Italian food... suddenly, we were scrolling on my phone for airfares from Rome to Poland, Czech Republic, ecc... when we see Paris... where Amanda was going for the weekend to see her friend Jordyn who is studying there.

Three hours later, we had tickets to Paris, Thursday evening to early Sunday morning.

We show up... after taking a mini metro, train, bus, plane, bus, two metro trains and walking for what felt like hours in the freezing weather... at our hostel. Whew. We were a mess. On the first bus in Paris, we were sitting in front an American girl studying in Rome. She felt rather friendly and engaged a handsome Italian man next to her in conversation.

So as this conversation went on... we realize he was a speciman indeed. He was a 30 year old doctor and really close to his family, especially his 22 year old sister. He spoke pretty decent English and of course was, let's face it, possibly more beautiful than many women I know.

Unfortunately, this American girl was the stereotype that haunts every young American woman abroad: superficial, ignorant, and oblivious. She was living in Rome... spoke no Italian. She couldn't even say Italian words correctly. She WAS of Italian descent.. but couldn't remember the name of where her family was from. No, not some great-great uncle or something. She couldn't remember where her GRANDPARENTS were from. Isn't that the second thing you pack after your passport for studying abroad in Italy? Any information of your ancestry? It was maddening to listen to. No wonder we have such an terrible international reputation. We keep letting idiots leave our country.

For the first time in a real long time, Amanda, Loraine and I start speaking Italian of our own accord. To trash talk of course. What else do you do when you are angry, tired and hungry while also spending a lot of your spare time studying another language?

It gets worse. She starts talking about her nose job.

I am not making this up.

"It was the BEST decision I've ever made. Dr. Vainandsuch was amazing. He changed my LIFE!"

Loraine, Amanda and I are horrified and start listening closer...

The poor polite doctor is listening... and comments that his baby sister wants a nose job but he thinks she's beautiful and discourages her to consider surgery. (N.B. Italians have great noses. Think sexy Marlon Brando noses. Nom nom. But they look better on men, if we are being honest. This doctor has a delicious Italian nose himself.)

But the American girl tries to change his mind: "TELL HER TO DO IT! SHE WILL NOT REGRET IT."

And that was our first hour in Paris.

Though we only went a few weeks ago, it seems months ago. I want to write an honest portrayal but not ruin my own memories by reminding myself of the trials and tribulations this trip entailed. So I'm going to gloss over the frustrating bits. The nose job story survived the reality quota sufficiently methinks.

The first full day we visited the Louvre. We were there for maybe 5 hours... felt like we failed as museum goers none the less. One of my favorite paintings:

and this also by Paul Delaroche was HUGE and in the same room:

The best part of the Louvre is the building itself. It's a stunning piece of architecture and it has some of the best views of Paris. Our feet felt thoroughly pummeled so we would sit and take it in whenever we found a bench. When we got bored of dull Flemish paintings, we stood by the wind just to take it all in.

We were freeeezing our butts once we got outside. We met up with Amanda's friend Jordyn who was studying in Paris. Together, we walked through the Tuileries Garden walking towards the carousel. It was beautiful, even without flowers. Eventually, we went out of the cold and got some hot food, courtesy of Jordyn's French.

I know people always think, "Oh, Italy! Best food in the world!" I'm sorry, misguided people. You haven't tried French onion soup. It almost brought me to tears. (THAT CHEESE! The BROTH!) Nor have you tried a Croque Monsieur, vin chaud (hot wine), escargot cooked in garlic, or fresh French bread. I ordered goat cheese by accident at a tourist trap kind of place. It was creamy and delicious. I hate goat cheese. We had very many glasses of hot wine to get through the downright miserable cold.

Our hostel didn't have hot water... I braved it and washed my hair. It took 6 freezing sprays.

Saturday was long. We saw Notre Dame, Eiffel Tour, Champs-Elysees and Arch of Triumph. (I stuck with the English names. It's easier and yes, I know better.)

My French, or should I say, my Francais came back slowly. I've realized that if you spank one Romance language, you get everything else. French and Italian are half brothers. But I finally got to the point where I could order in French, understand their question and then respond "Si!" in Italian. Fail.

The Champs-Elysees was magical. It began to snow beautiful little flakes... it was the first time I had been in snow since I was 5. I kept laughing with joy because it was framing the surroundings perfectly. I struggle to find the words to describe what I saw and how it made me feel. Joy and delight are the most appropriate words I can come up with. I felt like a child so simply delighted by the sheer prettiness  of it all.

The Eiffel Tower had a glorious introduction. It was the last thing on our list. I was openly dreading visiting it. It was after 10 PM and I was completely out of steam. On the metro to the tower, two men with accordions got on. The best part of the French transportation system is all the live music you hear. Sometimes it's dreadful and awkward. (I.e. that puppet guy with all the scars on his face.)

This time, it was insanely perfect. They begin playing, something along the lines of the Amelie soundtrack... when the train suddenly comes from the underground to above the Seine. In the car windows, the tower is HUGE and GOLDEN in the window. It was a moment to be stolen by a movie. We were speechless. Those musicians knew exactly what they were doing.

I never understood those stories or novels that would be looking back on a wild crazy love affair. "It was beautiful, passionate, miserable, downright insufferable and overwhelmingly blissful," they would write.

Paris was my crazy rollarcoaster ride. A dream and a nightmare.
 

A Brief (Ha!) Encounter with Italian Medicine

Sorry, it's been awhile. I haven't felt like writing for awhile. Going back to life was rather tiring and then I got a cold... Basically, when you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all! I spared you many a complaining post.

My Italian doctor experience was comical. I went to the emergency room for a few hours, got an x-ray, etc. The main doctor I had was straight from a novel. He was short, had a very Sicilian face, wore a v-necked shirt that exposed his grizzled chest hair and a gold chain. Don't let me forget to mention his age: in his late fifties. Nor was I ever in the same room as him without three other useless people standing around. I'm not exaggerating. No wonder I had to wait so long...

...to be told "Wear your wrap... for..." (here he pauses to pick an ARBITRARY NUMBER!) "TEN days... Yes, ten days."

This is why hillbillies don't believe in modern medicine. Sometimes it's total crap. My third cousin Billy Jean Jimmy Cake could have told me that medical advice last week at the bean peeling circle. 

My first Italian exam is on Monday. I'm pretty nervous because I didn't have a chance to study yet this weekend. Eeeeekkk..

Friday was my roommate's birthday. We went to lunch and then went to a tattoo parlor for her to get her birthday tattoo: an anchor on the back of her forearm. We chatted with the tattoo artist Andrea.... poor guy. His dream is to go to Los Angeles and blossom as an artist... He also had an obsession with American "traditional symbols." Unfortunately this meant Eddie Hardyesque designs... Good luck, Chuck.

Then we got Carnivale Italian donuts called Struffoli... basically giant dough balls smeared with honey. Oh oh... so goodddd. Even though my cold made taste practically non-existent, I could tell it was good.   

From the Mixed Up Files of L. Scamperle, Hermit Esq.

It's Tuesday, about 1 pm. I've been in my apartment since Friday afternoon. I haven't lost my mind yet! I've also managed to sleep a huge amount despite minimal exercise. This morning I could barely wake up even though I was approaching Hour 11 of sleep.

I am greatly impressed/somewhat horrified. Are my homebody tendencies really this bad?! I can spend endless hours in bed and not go insane? Maybe it's the way I have fought off cabin fever with my activities.

Normally, I get stircrazy so easily. I think it's because I feel guilty for doing nothing when I am able to be doing things. However, I finally have an excuse to just lay in bed and watch tv for hours. I'm pretty darn relaxed.

"How To Not Go Insane In Confinement":

the accidental findings of L. Scamperle, Hermit Esq. 

1. Skype and talk to anyone! I really lucked out. I got to Skype with Dana, Anna AND Louise. Also, thank God for facebook chat and messages. I am so grateful to everyone who have been great correspondents, it's been essential to my sanity. I LOVE YOU ALL. 

2. Remember that life goes on... and you should maintain excellent hygiene. Cleanliness is next to Godliness. Or rather, you feel gross when you are gross. Simple. 

3. Give yourself tasks that you normally are too lazy to do. I tried to learn how to curl my hair with a flat iron. Fail. Ok, that's not completely true. I got 3 amazing curls... and then the rest looked like sad bent hair. I also did my nails! My graduation app got started. So. Much. Left. 

4. Find a TV show that lifts the spirit. I would like to thank The Big Bang Theory for keeping my disposition on the more cheerful side. Sheldon and Amy? I love you. 

5. Finally watch the movies people make fun of you for never seeing. On Day One of Confinement, I watched Super Troopers. My next movie is Shawshank Redemption... but I don't think they will have the same effect on me hahaha. 

6. Keep perspective and DON'T feel sorry for yourself. This is essential to not going insane. This week of confinement is a blink in my life, a tenth of a blink in eternity. Things have been less than ideal. I've had great opportunities to be upset... but I haven't been as emotional as I thought I would have been. 

7. Have awesome friends like Rachel and Sigrid who will bring you food. The worst part of this whole thing is feeling helpless and asking for help. Rachel has been a sweetie and brought me kebabs, haha! Sigrid brought me cookies, chips and chocolate milk. MMMmmm. I've eaten so many cookies already, Sigrid. THANK YOU. haha. No one else has come by, but if you plan on doing so and you are reading this, bring me junk to eat, haha. I will reward you someday with endless affection/alcohol. 

8. Sweatpants. Need I say more? 

Update on ankle: I haven't gone to the doctor yet. Wait! Hear my reasoning before you yell at me. Yesterday was Monday. I talked to Umbra and they said I would have to go to the ER. Yet yesterday it was raining so I didn't want to go. I knew I was going to get drenched and fall on my butt. Today is St. Costanzo, the patron of Perugia. There's a festival, no Italian school and most businesses are closed. Umbra suggested today would be a bad day to go to the ER because their staff would be limited. Alas, I am going tomorrow morning at 930 am. I have a lot of fears... for awhile there, I was excited to leave Italy but now I want to stay... argh. We shall see! I'm trying to stay positive and remember no matter what, nothing will change, only my knowledge of reality. I'm hoping to score a walking boot and no cast. Casts are the WORST! Showering with a cast is bad enough, but in an Italian shower? Kill me. 

Pray for me!