Day Whatever

Time doesn't seem to exist here. At least probably not until classes get going.

We had our first day of orientation today, and I think I became physically exhausted from too much sitting. Sitting? Really? SITTING. Claudine, Bernadette, and Julia and I have basically been walking four or five hours a day for the past three days and sitting for about the same amount of time today and listening to an overwhelming clusterfuck of information, despite the fact that our resident director - let's not be subtle about this - is a straight-up hottie / could be a watch model / the consummate GQMF, I was finding it difficult to stay alert. I mean, I had coffee, for crying out loud. I never have coffee. I can't tell the difference between a standard American coffee from Caribou and one from Italy. I'm sorry if that's sinful or something. People are always raving on and on about how amazing it is and I'm all: 


I need to get more cultured. It's a good thing I'm here, I suppose.

C, B, and Julia had our first interaction with legit and potentially pervy Italians last night. After dinner at this pub-style restaurant (where we met a really interesting English guy who, during our conversation, randomly wanted to give us what was left of his weed because he couldn't take it on his flight back to London), we decided to explore Bologna a bit more and had beer and coffee (guess who had the beer?) at a random outdoor bar-ish type thing. Very classily, and since the tables were very picnic-y, we decided to all four of us sit on one bench facing the sidewalk and people-watch.

This obviously drew some attention.

A pack of boys stared quite a bit as they walked by - we quickly avoided their gazes:

-Shit, they're coming over here. 
-Dude, just don't look.
-Just look down, you guys.

Fortunately they passed on. However, about ten minutes later, they decided to come back up the street and this time, they did indeed invade our personal space. They bought some sodas and then:

Possiamo sederci? (Can we sit down?) - A pointless question, really, because it's not like they weren't inching closer and close regardless.

Our reaction:


We were extremely creeped out, especially since, at first glance, the boys were kind of fugly.

We let them sit down though, a.k.a. they sat down even though we didn't really give a definitive answer, and immediately started spewing Italian at us until we basically shouted "AMERICANI" so they would shut the hell up. They introduced themselves Andrea, Andrea (yeah, two Andreas), Massimo, Luca (looked like a turtle), and Sebastiano. They turned out to be around our age and, slowly, tried to get our names, what we studied, why the hell we were in Italy instead of America, which is, in their opinion, way better, told us they were in the military, tried to speak English to us (they sucked), and then tried to get our numbers. And instead ended up giving us theirs and we're never going to call them. Well, maybe. One of them, I decided, looked like Cristiano (omg his name is even like Cris's: Sebastiano) Ronaldo, so...

HA and then when they were leaving, we were all really surprised by the whole Italians-kiss-on-the-cheek thing. It came out of nowhere. We all knew it happened, but haaale. So for a brief couple of minutes, we cheeked with each of the five boys. We thought they'd go the short route and kiss only the girls they thought were cute (that's what I'd do), a.k.a. C, B, and Jules, but no, they made the full round. It was...an experience.

My mother's opinion on the whole kiss-on-the-cheek thing and why Americans don't do it:

Los gringos aquí son fríos. Como hielo. -Mi madre

The streets in Bologna at night are fairly empty compared to what I was expecting. Then again, the majority of the students have yet to arrive. The ones that don't live in Bologna, that is. That's good, 'cause I'm the fraidy-cat of the group and I get freaked out by lonesome dark streets. Because they never bear danger or precarious situations. People never get raped in dark alleys, that's ridiculous!!!!!!!



I'll try to post pictures soon. I'm too lazy to carry Xabier Esteban Ferrara around. Bitch is heavy, too much junk in the drunk, Mr. Dunkin' Donuts. Plus, I don't really know how Italians would handle stalker pics. I think us Americans have more of a stalker mentality.

I miss being on the internet a lot. YEAH OK THAT'S A DEPRESSING THING TO SAY but I do. I feel like I'm missing out on a bunch of football news. For example: Barcelona signed Mascherano? And sold Ibra? WHAT? And Robinho to Milan? And Huntelaar to Schalke? And Camo to Stuttgart? And Treze to fucking Hercules? And Ronaldo and Lass are out injured, as well as Benz? Hellllll, maybe it's a good thing I'm out of the loop. Football stresses me out.

Well, tonight we have our official "welcome" dinner at some restaurant. The good part is, I IS NOT PAYING, so I will order the most expensive thing on the menu, per favore.

Hopefully the next post will contain pictures. If I'm up for it. It's weird not having a camera phone, or internet on my phone, or anything on my phone except a really pixely menu, and Sudoku (which I just realized I'm awesome-ish at)...omg I'm a spoiled brat.

Didn't realize that until coming here.

The apartment search begins tomorrow. I'm taking it slow, I don't care what these pendejos say. I'll gather info one day, call the next, and see apartments after that. I have almost two weeks, that's plenty of time to be patient and calculated about it. Meanwhile other people, who, granted, have been here for a few more days than I, have already seen apartments and met with people and do nothing but brag about it.

Kill me. 

THIS BLOG IS NOT FOR GOSSIP. So that's where that stops.

Going to dinner then...

Traveling

While I was waiting in Frankfurt for five hundred hours for my aereo to Bologna, I started thinking of what I had seen throughout the day, what I'd experienced traveling-wise that I hadn't before, and what stupidities I could say about it. Here's some of the stuff I wrote down. Disclaimer: I had been awake for about 12 hours straight at this point, lugging around about 150-lbs' worth of luggage and trying to figure out how to both navigate an airport and keep on the lookout for hotties I could maintain awkward eye contact with (some of this stuff is from the past couple of days as well).

• I have some insane control over my body. I'm Spider-Man. After he gets used to his web, is what was on my mind the entire time that I was waiting for my flight in Frankfurt. I was attempting to nap, all the while being able to watch my stuff so no one tried to take advantage of my comatoseness and attempt to steal my ever-important stash of plastic tampons. In order to do this, I had to assert some sort of control so that I could make myself wake up every like 5 minutes or so and verify my stuff was still there/that I didn't accidentally fall asleep for 5 hours and miss my flight. Knowing Italians (how very little I know them), I highly doubt they would wake me up like this one girl on my flight to Atlanta was once we started boarding. Especially considering that today, while we were walking around central Bologna, some poor blind guy ran into a post while attempting to cross the street and no one even turned an eye or tried to help him the rest of the way. True story.
• People ride bicycles in the airport. Inside the airport. I don't know if this is an exclusively German thing, but it was both ridiculously hilarious and dangerous. I was almost run over multiple times. The bikes did have bells though...but not everyone used them.
• My flight attendant was this adorable gay German guy. I was in love with him, he was so sweet. Am I positive that he was gay? Absolutely not, my gaydar is horrible.
  
• I forgot to take drugs before the long international flight. Still cliffing myself about that one.
• Oceans is probably one of the most beautiful films I've ever seen. That is, until they show freaking sharks de-finned and thrown back into the water like trash and the filmmakers decide that it'd be artistic and profound for them to show the poor shark sinking into the dark, dark depths of the ocean. Maybe that's why I couldn't sleep.
• I can't speak a word of Italian.
• Aisbnbiiiaihgozoijosirjha. Could probably pass for a German word. I have intense respect for people who take time to learn that language. It's almost as weird as Basque. It seems incredibly complicated, I would never have the patience for it. Plus, it makes people sound angry when they speak and I'm all about the peace.

• All of the pages on the Internet have switched automatically to Italian. NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• People wear flip-flops. And shorts. And they are far from shy about showing skin. We were lied to. I've been frantically searching for decent sandals that won't murder my feet for the past 2 days to no avail. I thought Milan was one of the fashion capitals of the world. We're only two hours from there, you'd think some of that shit would reach us.
  
• Europe, a.k.a. Italy, the organization of its cities, reminds me of Little People, Big World. Except for more like, Little People, Little World. Everything is so close together, I feel like there's barely space for people to breathe. Screw this analogy. In a piazza is one of the few places where you can actually see the sky. I miss corn fields and actual space. Having a yard but not really using it but just being happy to know that it's there just in case...
• I DON'T KNOW ANY VERBS!!!!!!!
• Saw a guy at the airport with shiny Converse. If I ever date a guy who wears shiny, metallic Converse, shoot me and convince me to turn lez, that is just insulting to your masculinity.
• Unless you're traveling for business, why would you wear stilettos while you're traveling? Are you stupid?
• I'm quite certain this one couple was in 2 out of 3 of my flights. Russian spies.
• I love watching couples walk around, because all you ever see is the woman talking and the guy staring off into nothingness. 

Things I'll Miss About America:

• Shitty food that slowly kills you
• The iPhone - oh wait, everyone and their cat has an iPhone. Worldwide. I'm surprised I've even seen iPhones here, considering they cost almost €600. I bet Maddox Jolie-Pitt has an iPhone
• Real Madrid games in the morning vs. late at night. I like having my whole day ahead of me so then I can purge my mind of the memories of a horrible game, if necessary. (Our first game of the season just finished. We drew 0-0 and played like crap. Granted, it was a rough game, away, against a good team that's even better at home, so it was positive in that sense. It could've easily been a loss for us had it not been for some good saves from our ever-brilliant goalkeeper. When I go see them live, all them bitches better be on their a-games and Jose better be wearing a black suit).
• Tall guys. A rarity here. 
• Wearing pajamas to the grocery store
• The Kardashians
• Giant cars. Trucks. Hummers. Slowly murdering our planet.
• Pennies. 
• I miss fat people. I miss having fat people everywhere around me. This may be crude for all you softies, but I like feeling good about my size - a rare emotion for me. I have a Latina's ass and my hips don't lie; Italians being so fit and wearing such tight clothes (even when they shouldn't...that takes confidence I don't quite possess) does not help my self-esteem issues. I guess I'm one of those vile people who thrives off of other people's misfortunes. Crucify me.
• Not having to wear a watch and instead having to go frantic trying to search for a clock or some indication of time. The Italians seem to never have schedules, or clocks, and are never in a rush, always relaxed and "in the moment." Us Americans love being busy-bees (although we apparently have a reputation for being lazy), and wandering around without concrete tasks is kind of strange for us. That will all change come Tuesday, though. And I can't even justify wanting to sit around and veg out because I've only been here for two and a half days. Ugh.
• People speak too many languages here. Just stick to one and stop showing off. Please be less civilized so I can feel somewhat less intimidated about being able to speak every language I attempt to speak, poorly. Is that too much to ask?
• Matthew Fox's hair needs to be at least two inches long at all times. This has nothing to do with anything except for my strong desire to see him wet and sweaty and running through a jungle shooting things every week. 
 

• Hahahahaha I'm just kidding, pennies are so stupid.

I think that's all I have to say for right now. I'll write more specifics later. Now it's off to the shower, and to Photoshop until the Emmy's are on. At 2 a.m.

Worth it.

But if Matthew Fox loses I will kill a puppy.

BLOG.

So, this isn't going to be a srs bsns blog. This will be evident once I drop my first f-bomb.

This will just be a collection of observations and whatever idiotic comments run through my head that I don't say out loud.

This is a "no filter" blog.

Will make a real post later! Ciao putas! I don't know how to say "bitches" in Italian!