Orientation abroad

So it has officially been two weeks since I left the U.S., although nothing really seems official: it feels more like a haze. So much has happened already and it is still only orientation, so I’m pretty exhausted. And you know me (which I hope you do and aren’t just creeping on my blog. Although, that would actually be cool. Stalkers are welcome). What was I saying? Oh yeah, you know me: I’m obnoxiously loud and energetic, so it takes a lot for me to be exhausted.

So here’s a rundown - an extremely abridged rundown. (I know you’re wondering “is that possible?” because my stories tend to be detailed down to how many minutes it took me to eat a gelato -around three, if you’re wondering - but I’ll try.)

So I left the U.S. at 6 p.m. on Jan. 25th and arrived at 6 a.m. on Jan. 26th in Heathrow (the International London Airport for all of you less cultured people. Just joking!). I didn’t sleep on the flight. I had an entire row of four seats to myself, and while everyone was watching movies, I was laying down, thinking, “suckers, they’re all going to be tired when we get there.” Well, in about two hours, I was the only person awake on the flight - the entire time.

When we got to the hotel, they told us that the rooms wouldn’t be ready until 3 p.m., so we were left to explore London on our own. I fell asleep in the luggage room downstairs. The next day, we had a tour and our tour guide was a Harry Potter enthusiast-I now know which bridge the Deatheaters fought on and where Luna Lovegood auditions took place (who, by the way, my tour guide thought they did an excellent job of casting). After that, were left on our own for the rest of the day. My newfound friends and I decided to explore London (a.k.a we found a Fish and Chips restaurant).

Later that night, we went to an ice bar. It was pretty cool because I got to wear an Eskimo suit and chew my glass. We then went to a bar called Strawberry Moon. The English men are respectful: they only stare at you. Italians? Different story. But I’ll get to that later.

So we had to wake up at 5:45 a.m. for our flight to Pisa the next morning and then had an hour bus right from Pisa to Florence. Can I just suggest something to the British Airways personnel? PLEASE HAVE MORE THAN ONE PERSON CHECKING IN 139 PEOPLE.

Florence has been amazing- ridiculous double deck clubs, a beautiful city with a beautiful river, amazing gelato, nice restaurants (fine, I’ve only been to two, because when I find something I like, I stick to it), Italian accents everywhere and really cool kids on my program. Oh, and the hotel we are staying at for our two-week orientation in Florence is off the hook! Two things: blackout curtains and a heated bar where the towels are kept, so they’re always hot. The only things I care about in an apartment: bath and beds. Check.

Ok now for the Italian men. Let me just preface this by saying that a policeman (so sexy - definition of "Italian Stallion") came to talk to us and said that the national sport of Italy is “women.” And then he said, Italian guys will touch you and catcall you on the street but this is not sexual harassment, they are only “playing with you.” Um, ok policeman. He then said “they will try to use free cocaine to get you back to their apartment - but NOTHING is free.” Hahahah yes cocaine would definitely do the trick for me. Not.

Anyway, back to the boys at the clubs: how about you DON’T physically harass - okay, I’m sorry - “play with me.” In American clubs, you tell the boys to go away and they do. In Italy, not so much. They come back. With friends. It IS the national sport and all, so I understand. I literally resorted to smacking them and mocking their accent.
An Italian guy: “wherea you goinnn?”
Me: “Toa thee bathroooom, eh?”
Not going to lie, it’s kind of fun.

And the guys on my trip aren’t much better. They’re actually worse. Because they pretend to save you and then make their move. And I’m like “you’re not even Italian, get away!”

Italian classes started and it’s four hours a day from 9 a.m. -130 p.m., with a half hour break and a 15-minute break. It’s long, but I’m learning so much. I feel fluent - until, you know, I step out on the street and no one understands what I'm trying to say.

In the past two weeks, I went on excursions to Pisa, Venice and Sienna, climbed the Duomo (the wrong way down - which isn’t easy to do on a narrow staircase when out-of-breath people are climbing up) and went on a tour to see Michelangelo’s David. It was a very cultural experience. My friend Lily Dicker (yes, that’s her real name, but I guess I shouldn't be talking) and I were scheming how to sneak in and out of a gelateria while the tour guide was talking on our way to the museum. Then when we got there, we ditched the group, saw the David and left. In and out in five minutes. But we did get the gelato. Score.

I now have two more days in Florence, which is sad because I feel like I live here. BUT, I go to Rome on Saturday and get my apartment, which is very exciting! I made a close group of friends and we’re spread out around the city but we’ll make it work.
Shout-out to Lily, Hannah, Courtney, Jamie, Kim and Kelsey. (What would my blog be without the shout-outs?)

LOVE AND MISS YOU ALL tutti i giorni (everyday)!! Yes, I learned another phrase!