I Have a Blog?

For a while there, I was doing really well keeping up with this business. Don't crucify me for having a life*.



I'm trying to remember what I even wrote about the last time I blogged, but even reading through that horribly-written post doesn't trigger any memories. That was exactly two weeks ago. I know that because I just looked at my calendar.

I was supposed to start my class today (well, yesterday), and I just found out I got the time wrong. It goes from 9.00-11.00, not 11.00-13.00, therefore my wonderful plan of waking up at 9, showering, getting dressed, watching The Office and then making my way downtown (walking fast), has been suddenly and cruelly shot to hell.  I feel bad. But not bad enough to show up to my first Italian lecture an hour late. Obnoxious.

My roommates are missing. Luana got home Sunday night, left 10 minutes later, and didn't come back until long after I passed out after a day of too much internet, not enough studying. I found her sleeping on the couch on Monday morning, in the same clothes she was wearing the night before, as if she were afraid to tiptoe into the room and into bed at 3 a.m. in fear of waking me. Dude, when I get home at 3 a.m., I'm sorry, but I am not sleeping on the couch. And if I cannot find my favorite pajama pants, I will turn the lights on. See, in America, we get things done. I thought you Italians were supposed to be a straightforward people.

Then, the next morning, she doesn't wake up until 10.30, even after telling me the night before that she had a 9.00 class, saying "hi" for two seconds, and then leaving again. I was out all day, came home at 1.00 and she still wasn't back. Everybody hates me.

And my other roommate. Well, she left last week to tend to her boyfriend, who is apparently in need of some emotional support, as he is tending to his sick ugly fat cat. Haven't seen her for a week, and she's been saying she'll be back domani, sì, torno domani, domani torno, for the past three days. I'm beginning to think they are planning some sort of escape, in which they leave the country (or the city, at least) and leave me with €1300+ of monthly rent to pay. That would be a great con.



Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Aside from this, the roommates have been great. I'm very lucky I'm not living with crazy people. And honestly, I'd rather Lea go visit the sick cat than have the sick cat come to us. I'm allergic to disgusting things.

Apart from that bit of irrelevant information, I haven't been doing much. Pre-session courses have just wrapped up. The final assignment from my class was actually quite challenging. The objective was to "perform," I guess you could say, a mock final exam. In Italy, final exams are oral (every once in a while with a complimentary written exam, but almost always with an oral component), and are essentially the only thing comprising your final grade. That's it. Finito. If you fuck up the final exam, yes, you can re-take it, but if you fuck up the final exam an infinite amount of times, you're screwed. There's no busy-work there to pick up the slack on your big, fat FAIL. For our "mock exam," we had to come up with three questions on any random topic, anything we'd learned about in our years of education, anything we knew well, and develop three responses to them. It was a chore, to say the least, and not completely like a real final exam (for one, it was too short - finals are usually 20-30 minutes long, longer, if you're unlucky). But then it was over and I was happy.

Then came the finals. I believe I performed quite extremely very brilliantly on my two exams that are very important and nice and challenging and things (opposite day).

I'm walking around Bologna on a daily basis with tennis shoes with holes in them. I look like one of the bearded men with the labradors that like to drink beer and sleep in suitcases on my street. Or at least, I will, once I my shoes rip in half mid-passeggiata and I'm forced to walk around barefoot like an Other.

This weekend, we made a day trip to an old Renaissance town called Urbino. It's about a two-and-a-half-hour bus ride away from Bologna. I was expecting a ghastly experience like our trip to Ravenna, but it was actually really fun. I think that's due mostly to the weather; it was a lot cooler this weekend, cold and wet - much more conducive to my frigid personality. Urbino looked like a set on Monty Python. It was all cobblestone, unlike Bologna, and the whole city is literally enclosed by walls, also unlike Bologna (which technically is enclosed by walls - but it's more metaphoric now, seeing as how the walls don't exist everywhere anymore). It's very quaint, and quiet. I got to swing. And I finally got a good, classic, Italian view that all us gringos picture when we think Italy. Rolling hills, patches of forest, old houses, palaces. Yeah, I went in a palace. Meh, I'd rather go see Versailles. I know my man Louis loved his gold. There was no gold in Federico III's place. Just...old tubs. It was cool, but...just tubby.

I can't wait to go to Madrid. I've already been, but I'd like to experience the city under vastly different circumstances. A) Not jet-lagged, b) not at 95ºF in the morning, c) not with my dysfunctional family (sorry, I love you guys, and you know I had a blast, but we were in bed by like, 21.00 every night!!! And no one would go to bars with me!!!), d) not with my shit shoes. Real Madrid (I won't even talk about what a hot mess they are right now) has some incredible games coming up once mid-November rolls around. The Madrid derby, Bilbao, Sevilla, Villarreal, Valencia, and then of course, the game I'd like to say I'm going to be watching front-and-center, El Clásico in April, and I'd kill a puppy to be able to make it to at least two of those.

I'm also considering going to London for the world premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part Uno. Chances of my licking Daniel Radcliffe's pallid face: 0%, but just to be able to watch the film in London, in English, and a week earlier than all my fellow Potterheads in America (just to be a bitch), would be the highlight of my life. It's just a matter of finding someone to share a hotel room with me (looking at you, Nicola Paracchini).

I was talking to my friend Tati last night, and what she said about choosing to remain, for the most part, in Italy for first semester, is a good idea. That was my plan originally (I've stayed true to it), but I feel like time is going by so fast here - before I know, I'll be home for Christmas, and I'd hate to have to fit all of my traveling into five months. Granted, I can't see all of Europe, but is it too much of a stretch to pretend I will? People frown upon my fantastical brain, I think it's healthy. Realistically, I'd like to at least be able to see Signe, Pascale and Fabian in Norway, Switzerland and Germany, respectively. And this I can justify with "strong emotional connections", that way my dad won't freeze my accounts! Plus, Madrid and London, and Barcelona in the summer, and Greece to visit KPike. And then trips around Italy, which only cost like €3, let's be honest. That's only like, half of my life savings.



SHUT UP, CONSCIENCE!!!!!!!!!!

COMUNQUE, I'm really excited for tonight. A bunch of us are getting together and making dinner (Maried will be taking creeper pics, drinking, and setting the table) and then going to Soda Pops, one of the local bars/clubs/I don't really know what it is. Speaking of Soda Pops, I need to sing karaoke again (which Italians take really seriously. Singing a tone-deaf version of "I Love Rock 'N Roll", while entertaining in Big World, will only get you smoldering stares, judgmental reactions, smh...It's like, the difference between the American Idol contestants who show up, are prepared, and sing well, and the contestants who show up wearing a Big Bird costume and sing A Whole New World like Carrie Underwood took a severe beating to her esophagus).

To finish off, I posted this on my LJ and I figured, since it's a simplified version of things I've noticed (how original) in my month here (it was officially a month yesterday!), I'd save myself the trouble and just copy+paste it, like a boss:

"1. When talking to guys from Naples, it's not a great idea to bring up Gomorrah or the Mafia, even if it's completely hilarious
2. ERASMUS bars suck balls
3. McDonald's is actually really amazing and way better than American McDonald's. Unless you like it nasty. This is probably just me trying to justify the fact that I have McDonald's once a week. I may have used the phrase "WoW tHiS aCtUaLlY tAsTeS hEaLtHiEr" more than once
4. Old people are assholes.
5. Wearing college apparel is ew. Wearing it in public is ewier.
6. So apparently open container laws don't exist; Americans are party-poopers.
7. Italian TV is not Italian.
8. They only show the Italian teams' CL games at bars (WHAT?? WHY?? HOW ODD), so I guess they just all have to get eliminated then please.
9. People don't have children here. They instead own dogs that they put in strollers and take everywhere.
10. Bologna is like, Little Spain. Yummers
11. Italians do not like their current immigrant situation. My roommate ranted to me about it for like a half-hour the other day. Srs bsns
12. Rum and pear do NOT go together. I do not speak from experience
13. KebaP > Italian food, those damn Turks are gonna turn me into a whale
14. I wore my Spain jersey around the other day and I'm surprised I only got like 10 hurtful comments
15. Every Italian man that doesn't have a lady slobbering on his face is gay. Swear to god
16. I'm sorry but I like that in the US of America, things have the option of being jumbo-sized. Everything is mini here and I don't like it, I don't like it ONE BIT!!!!!
17. Sometimes people speak Spanish to me on the street and it catches me off-guard so I respond in Spanglishtalian
18. This shutter bsns is awesome
19. There are Roman ruins everywhere. Selfish
20. Don't ever do spaghetti with bolognese. I guess that's like, wrong or something. Dad."

K bye.

* = The fact that, as of late, my life revolves around LOST (surprise, surprise), gelato and McDonald's, will be ignored.

Jellyfish Suck

This is what I started writing last weekend in bed but never got around to finishing because I was too busy being in bed:

"Things I should've done this weekend:
    •    Look for an apartment
    •    Find an apartment
Things I didn't do this weekend:
    •    Look for an apartment
    •    Find an apartment
Shame factor on a scale of 0-10:
    •    0

Worst case scenario, I get sent home. If that were to happen, I would get an all-expenses-paid trip home (because I would not pay for it, even if Dr. Ricci gave me carte blanche to bribe me into paying) to get beat (incessant swirlies and stoning) by my parents or I'd just run away from Italy and spend some time in another Schengwheteghaehen country. Like Poland. I would go live in a former ghetto-turned-museum and I would become a self-taught pianist and I would get a nose job and I would marry a nice Mexican drug smuggler."

I pride myself on being incredibly diligent. Long story short, I did actually find an apartment. More below...

Phrase of the weekend here in Italy: "I'm so glad we're alive!!!!!"

To be honest, I don't remember the last thing I blogged about. It's been both a stressful and exhilarating week-ish. I'll try my best to recount the semi-important stuff that went down.

5/9: I have no idea what happened on this day.

6/9: Monday - we started our presession courses. My teacher's name is Christine Dodd. She's adorable. The objective of the course is essentially to somehow introduce us to an Italian-style classroom environment. Which I don't think it is, really. Considering we do some kind of role-play exercise almost every day. In my class, we're reviewing the oh-so-popular subjunctive, etc. and reading a crime/thriller novel thing. Synopsis? A female student in Bologna becomes accidentally involved in some kind of cocaine-related srs bsns and people are trying to kill her. It's probably the most uplifting literature I've ever had the pleasure of reading.

6/9-9/9: Pretty basic. Class in the morning from 10-12.30 daily, (Wednesday we had an Art History course with a Professor Benevolo, who looks Polish. To be honest, I hardly paid attention. Crucify me, house-hunting was exhausting). Found a gorgeous apartment to live in right in the center of the city. It's recently remodeled and my bedroom is fracking huge. My roommate's names are Leandra and Luana. I haven't met Luana, but Leandra is adorable and super sweet. In fact, we just had lunch together and she helped me figure out the freaking washing machine. I should not have waited to wash all my underwear at once because dryers don't exist here. So tomorrow, I will either have to go commando or wear wet undies. I will make a pros and cons list later. The apartment search was stressful, but I don't think I worried about it as much as I should have. The only reason I was able to contact Leandra was because I finally paid to use the contacting service at www.studenti.it, instead of just ogling at the pictures of the apartment and praying she'd send me a message online. I found the apartment on Thursday, essentially the last possible full day to find a place. Even walked in the pouring rain for it. Poetic.

10/9: On Friday, we had a "gastronomical tour of Bologna." The tour guide was super nice, I didn't hear two words she said the entire morning. I was too busy a) taking creeper pics, b) eating as much free food as possible, and c) taking creeper pics. That morning, Nicola, Mallory and I spontaneously decided that on Saturday, we'd go to Cinque Terre for a day and a half.

11/9: We were cruelly forced to vacate the oasis that is Hotel Holiday this morning. So now it is a sad anniversary for more than one reason. Despite the fact that the cleaning ladies would randomly barge in on my slumber, and that Mal and I could hardly keep our room organized for more than a day, and that the couple next door engaged in some very passionate love-making, and that breakfast was way too early, it was the best hotel ever. Ate a lot of kebaP and watched a lot of Lost: two of my favorite things in the whole world. In short, I moved into my apartment. Took a cab for about four blocks and my roomie Lea was a badass and lugged my 70-lb. suitcase up a decent amount of steps. I unpacked, and then met up with Blondie and the other Rican, with our backpacks that weighed as much as a fat babies, and made our way to the train station where we took a too-many-hrs-long train ride to Monterosso: and Hotel Souvenir.

I wish I would've taken pictures. Our room was a complete dump. I'm sorry, let me correct myself, we had a villa. Except for it's probably a villa that people with a low, low, low standard of living would find livable. Will Smith and the Karate Kid in The Pursuit of HappIness would've probably chosen to live in that one bathroom in that one scene instead of our room at Hotel Souvenir. It was completely isolated from the rest of the hotel, and in really bad shape. I'm being over-dramatic, but these are simple truth facts. On the plus side, however, the beds and pillows were amazing. Despite the fact that there were lizards on the ceiling nearby and the window screens were held together with several thumb tacks and that the bathroom didn't really have a door let alone a shower and that the walls of the villa were separating from the foundation and a young boa constrictor could've easily slithered through the holes. Snakes. I know things about them.

We ran the hellllllll out of Hotel Murder House after putting our stuff away and proceeded to hike the path from Monterosso to Vernazza, which was amazing. It was rough, especially the sections with the never-ending stairs, but rewarding. We went right as the sun was low, so it was cooler, and there weren't as many Australians tourists slowing down the pace. A lot more fun, despite my having the physical stamina of a 70-year-old with emphysema and a peg leg. Once we got to Vernazza, we waited for about 6 years for our train to finally arrive, after being delayed constantly for forEVER. We proceeded to buy Breezers and gelato while we waited with our urine towels wrapped around our torsos (yeah, we bought these towels and then later discovered they smelled like urine. This is not an exaggeration: they smelled very, very strongly of urine). Eventually the train showed up, about an hour late, and by the time we had all mustered up the will to shower in whatever the hell kind of shower that was, most of the restaurants in Monterosso had closed their kitchens. With much effort except for not much at all, we found a nice man that was willing to keep the kitchen open a bit longer for us, and had an average-quality dinner right on the Mediterranean Sea. I'm gloating and I love it. Then we went to hang out at this LAME-O [American] bar (we always end up at the dumbest bars, I don't know what's wrong with us), and then stumbled right into our cots at Monterosso's finest lodging.

12/9: Woke up early and realized we slept with the light on and our valuables within inches of us, and rejoiced in the fact that we had not been taken. Checked out of Hotel Never Again, picked up some breakfast and water, and proceeded to hike straight on for the next few hours: Monterosso to Vernazza, Vernazza to Corniglia (DEATH), Corniglia to Manarola, and Manarola to Riomaggiore. When we went swimming on the way to Manarola, my glorious bagno was RUINED by some asshole jellyfish who were just chilling in the water like they own~ the place. Naturally, I panicked and got the hells out, thanks to this very helpful Australian woman who decided to share with everyone and their cat her jellyfish sting story. OH BOO HOO.



We started the hike around 12.00 and finished around 17.00 (including an hour-long meal at Manarola which was incredible) and hopped on the train home to Bologna around 18.00 and made it back around 21.00. That is, after we were scolded and forced out of our seats for accidentally sitting in First Class (I love it when that happens. Seriously, you basically get a quality ride - depending on how long you go without getting caught - without having to pay a fine if you just move). We must've been too preoccupied since we thought we were on the wrong train. We were hesitant to trust the awkward Canadian boy who told us it was stopping in Bologna. He was right. Doesn't make him any less Canadian. Once I got back home, Lea and I had a long chat while we watched the Miss Italia pageant. Enthralling, really.

13/9: On Monday, more trains. We went with the program to Ravenna, a historic city (at one point the capital of the Roman Empire) that's about 90 minutes away from Bologna on the slow train, for a nice boring day trip. It wasn't boring, but staring at mosaics just isn't my thing. I can pay attention to art history and enjoy it, but only when I want to. At Ravenna, I was still worn out from the weekend, and was simply not in the mood to hear about things that happened before Iker Casillas was born. That goes for anything, though, really. As far as I'm concerned, that's when life as we know it began.

Again, my mind was mostly fixated on creeper pics and free food.

HOWEVER, I was able to purchase some books that I really wanted to read. Aka Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (the Italian and British versions), The Kite Runner, and Alice In Wonderland (of which, believe it or not, I have neither a) read the book or b) watched any movie based on the book. Crucify me, Puerto Ricans don't like Alice. I made that up). In the Italian version of Harry Potter, Snape is Severus Piton (as in "python") and Neville Longbottom is Neville Paciock. That's all I know so far. It's weird. How do the Italians sing the Potter Puppet Pals song?!?

Once we got back from Ravenna, I went over to Nicola's apartment, where we did homework and watched Lost. These girls are just incredibly obsessed with that stupid t.v. show. They need to get lives.

14/9: That's today! Didn't do much: class, lunch with Lea, the dreaded meeting on university and BCSP courses, and then we went to this amazing library in Piazza Maggiore called Sala Borsa, which means "stock exchange." Apparently the stock exchange used to be held there, way back when. In the main hall of the building, parts of the floor are transparent so you can see ancient Roman ruins that the grounds were built upon. When we meet the Mayor on the 23rd, we get to go down there. PRIVILEGED, WE ARE. After Sala Borsa, Nicola and I went to the Coop, where we bought some essentials, Lea and I had dinner, then N, M, and I watched Lost. Again. It was The Hunting Party aka Jears Fest, how can I pass that up?!?!? Tomorrow, I'm going to help Lea make me pasta carbonara. She rocks.

I've managed to steal wi-fi from some Apple network nearby. Hey, the longer I don't have to pay for it, the better...my roommate arrives tomorrow from Sicily. She better be cool, otherwise I'll just ignore her. KIDDING I'll just suffocate her in her sleep. KIDDING I'll just sleep on the window sill. Outside. KIDDING!!!!!!

Wow, I need sleep. Okay bye!!!!

You know what's weird? Time zones.

They're weird, aren't they? I think they're so weird. Someone in New Zealand is going to sleep right now as someone in Nepal is just about to get off work as I'm sitting here in my hotel room in pajamas at 13.00. In Italy. I just love to live it up, you know? I like to fill my days with special moments like these. 'Cuz, like, life isn't measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that, like, take your breath away.

Liz Lemon once said: "I spent my junior year abroad in Frankfurt! I partied so hard over there, it was crazy..." And then they show this flashback:



I just remembered something I haven't written about yet. I SAW THE INTER BUS. If you don't know what FC Internazionale Milano is, a) good for you, b) shame on you. Inter is the reigning champion in Italy's Serie A, which is their top football league. Or sorry: calcio. There's also Serie B, Lega Pro Prima Divisione and Lega Pro Seconda Divisione, Serie D, etc. etc. Basically, the last three teams point-wise at the end of a season are relegated to the next lowest division for the upcoming season. It works like that everywhere. Where was I going with this? Oh, I was explaining Inter. Well, Inter won Serie A last year, and the Champions League. They're one of the biggest, most important squads in Italy (and Europe), along with AC Milan (their town rivals. The red team), Roma and Juve. If I had to name the four biggest. So they're a pretty big deal. Bologna is in Serie A (I don't watch their games, but thank Jesus they're in Serie A) because, at some point this season, all of the teams in Serie A will be in. this. city. Whether Maried gets to see them live is a completely different story, considering she will be spending her time and energy into getting to Madrid at some point this year, but I do get to be a crazy cliche fan and stalk their team buses. Which is what I did when Inter was in town.

They were here to play the first league game last Saturday, I believe, against Bologna, and were staying at a posh hotel on via dell'Indipendenza, one of the busiest streets in Bologna. It was a clusterfuck. We had noticed a crowd when we were on the street earlier that day, we wondered what they were waiting for in front of the hotel, but it was just maybe 20 people gathered staring at this fucking wall, basically. A few hours later, it was chaotic. The cops and carabinieri were everywhere, there was basically a roadblock (people were getting angry) and there were huge crowds of people on both sides of the street, and the people on the opposite side of the street from the hotel/where the bus was parked were all trying to get onto the other side, to no avail. And then there were the people who didn't give a fuck and were just angry about the crowd. I don't know why I almost had a panic attack upon figuring out what all the fuss was about. I hate Inter. I hate it. Last year, I tolerated it because a) they were up against Barcelona for many games in the Champions League, and b) Jose Mourinho. If situation A were to come up again, I wouldn't change my behavior. But situation B is now rendered impossible because Jose Mourinho sorta kinda coaches Real Madrid. All is right with the world!!!

Once I regained my composure and remembered that the only allowable emotions with regards to this club are 1. utter disdain (no number 2), and after I snapped 900 pictures with Julia's camera, I was like, "Okay, let's get the fuck out of here, I hate this team." And that was my story. I didn't actually see any players, but I think I saw the bus driver. That's closer than most of you bitches will EVER get.

Let me say something real quick about my life the past couple of days: I am this close to moving into this hotel and dealing with these a-holes until June. (P.S. the people who work at this hotel are incredibly rude. Italians do not know the meaning of customer service. It must've been about 9:55AM yesterday when we got back from the post office. We figured, since breakfast technically isn't over until 10:00AM, it wouldn't be a problem if we grabbed a cup of water or got one last cup of coffee. It was a problem for Hotel Holiday's own Professor Umbridge. She literally (since the beverage table is essentially a closet in our super posh lobby) slammed the door closed on a girl's hand as she was reaching for the water bottle. And then started yelling at us Italian. No, bitch didn't even have the cojones to yell at us, she just yelled while she quickly tried to close up the breakfast area. If breakfast goes until 10:00AM, why are you cleaning up starting at 9:45AM? This argument is stupid. But once I get the hell out of here, I'm writing a strongly-worded entry on TripAdvisor and I am defaming aaaalllll of these bitches). If Danielle and Andrea don't like that, they can suck it and find me a place to live.

So the pizza party was last night. It was boppin'. We got there like 10 minutes late and there were about 300 empty boxes of pizza and some cold pieces. Fatties. The BCSP intern, Marta (who has the most perfect hair, I will take a creeper pic), invited a few of her hippie friends and there were also some other bros promoting some international/cultural/whateveral organizations. I have this problem where I put my e-mail address anywhere if anyone asks me to. For mailings lists and whatnot. I just can't say no and I'm not sharp enough to put a fake e-mail down. That's why I get endless online coupons from Express.

Sometimes I have these moments when I'm like, "Oh, yeah, I'm in Italy, whoops." I'll get in a daze and think I'm in America for mere seconds and then I'll hear someone blaboobering in Italian downstairs and then be like, "EFF." The past couple of days have definitely been the most difficult so far, and the stress has made me really miss home. Yesterday while I was looking at an apartment (the landlady had scheduled about 30 other people to come see the apartment at the same time, I was about to shoot her. Not to mention, she was smoking in my face and her shorts were way too small for her and she was loud and looked like a meth addict and I'll stop judging her now) we saw another person there who brought her parents with her. While, in a public setting, I was shocked and embarrassed for her, inside, I was sooooo jealous. A) A car would be really convenient. B) My parents would totally make all the decisions for me. LOOK AT ME, I'M INDEPENDENT!!! I feel like, in the scramble, I'll forget something really important that I'm supposed to be paying attention to in terms of like, official apartment business. Whereas my father would inquire upon everything, every nick and tear. He would get invasive. I suppose this is the purpose of us finding the apartments on our own and not through the program. But that doesn't make it any less annoying.

The city is beautiful though. I'm glad I'm here. I miss Walgreens and street signs but I'm glad I'm here. There are no street signs here!!!!! I knew that going in, but you literally have to be on the end of a street to know where the hell you're standing, because there's only this tiny square at the top corner of whatever buildings are on the ends of the street. Granted, after walking eight hundred miles in the past couple of days, plus the 300 miles I walked while I was here before the program start date, I have the city almost memorized, and I've lost 67 pounds. At least the main streets are easy to navigate. I hate maps. I study Google maps. I think maps are incredibly obnoxious and every time I pop one out, I want to shrivel. We're constantly frustrated by Bologna's general road system, since they're not grids. The street will literally turn maybe 10º and BOOM it's a new street name. It's a little chaotic.

Hours Later...

I lost my train of thought!!!!!

I HAD NO IDEA A REQUIREMENT FOR THIS PROGRAM WAS "MARATHON WALK ENTHUSIAST"

This is a good time for Angry!Becks:



I think if I were to add up the number of miles I've walked between yesterday and today, it would be at least 10. At least. Maybe a little less. Maybe like 7 miles. AT LEAST FIVE MILES. The sausages attached to my hips are under serious distress.

The apartment search is not going as well as I'd...no, it's basically going exactly the way I expected it to go. Who am I kidding? We've seen at least 10 apartments in the last couple of days and the findings have been nothing short of disastrous. Either the place is a) complete and utter shit for a price we'd like to pay, or b) amazing, for a price we'd never pay (and that was only one place). I suppose that's the way life works though, no?

Worst place so far: This one place. This. One. Place. It was horrendous. I'd met the girl while I was looking at ads on Via Zamboni, the University street littered with apartment ads and dog crap. She seemed nice, kind of hippie-like, but she told me I should come take a look at her place. She was renting out a bed in a double room for about €230, so I'm like, "Fuck yeah, I'll come see your place." So I went to go see her place. Immediately regretted this decision. She greeted me on the second floor of her building, holding a cigarette, and I knew immediately that these, on average, next five minutes were quickly to become no more than one and a half. Long story short: BOY, WAS I RIGHT! The place didn't really have a door...or, it did, but it led right to a balcony, which then led to a doorway into the actual apartment, from which was hanging a series of...let's call it a bead curtain but made of dreadlocks. That's honestly what it felt like. Her boyfriend or whatever was in the living room, ALSO smoking and sitting on the dish rag that they call a couch. He was ugly and I was not happy to shake his hand. The bedroom was huge, but dark, and creepy and I think the bed Bernard Madoff is currently sleeping on in FCI Butner Medium (yeah, I looked that up) is probably a hundred times nicer.

The bathroom looks like an outhouse during a WWII air raid, I DON'T KNOW, but it was nasty. The kitchen is a closet. I think the girl (her name is Eleonora - the visual you are getting is spot-on, actually) is quite desperate because she immediately bombarded me with, "So, do you like it? Do you not like it? Do you like it?" and I'm like "...Bro, I don't think a homeless person would live in this place...but yeah...I...like...it...but I'll just...I'll call you..." and then I ran the fuck out of there. Ran. I ran so far away.

And that girl had acne. From what I've observed so far, Italians don't really have acne. The fuck?

That was the worst place today. There were others that were almost as bad. I think the more I see apartments, the more I realize I want to live with boys. This makes no sense because boys are generally messier than girls, but I've just felt really uncomfortable with the girls. And the guys which I've met while searching have been really great. When I keep searching tomorrow (BTW I am upping my price and I am upping it hard. I'm upping it so hard, it's gonna need a wheelchair. Holy hell I need sleep!!!!!) I'll be less picky about gender of current inhabitants. Which is going to make my parents overcome with joy.

The BCSP is having a pizza party in 20 minutes. I need to shower. Bad.

TO BE CONTINUED...

So Last Night

Was our welcome dinner. Except for the part where I didn't get a chance to clear out the Resident Director's wallet with my ordering of some kind of obnoxious lobster dish, so. much. fun.

As of right now within the BCSP (Bologna Consortial Studies Program) Roster, we are split into two schools: a) the school who believes that practicing their Italian with the other American students will be immediately beneficial and so refuse to speak English to anyone, and b) the school of the "rebellious" homesick twats who refuse to speak Italian to anyone that does not possess some kind of authority slash anyone that is legit Italian (i.e., waiters, cashiers, stray Italian dogs, etc.)

I am proudly and forever in school B. We'll be starting actual university courses next month, and we're in the meantime expected to find apartments and begin to integrate ourselves with actual Italians. Assuming you find Italians willing to just let you waltz into their lives and introduce you to their friends and attempt to teach you how to be less gringo. I don't need to speak Italian to my American friends from day one. Once we're sure we can carry a conversation in Italian without sounding like assholes and stuttering between every word, we'll use it.

As far as my language skills is concerned, I'm a lot more confident after that creeper convo with those rapists yesterday. I could understand a lot of what they were saying. Turns out when you're actually talking to someone and not just attempting to eavesdrop on their hush-hush conversation as you walk by them on the street, you can comprehend a lot more.

Where was I going with this?

Oh yeah, dinner. My friends and I decided to avoid the people in charge (because we didn't want to feel pressured to speak horrible Italian for 3 hours straight - you can really sense that I'm trying very hard to have a fulfilling and educational experience here in Bologna). Thanks to this, we were able to order about 9000 bottles of wine. Or rather, the waiter who looked like the Terminator just kept 'em coming. No, wait, it was the other guy. The one that reminded me of an Italian Mr. Bean. Who, strangely enough, had been my waiter at another restaurant a few nights back.

I don't know precisely how many bottles of wine I had, it couldn't have been more than one, and if it was, I am extremely proud of myself for holding it together. And either I became quickly accustomed this summer to drinking - period - or I'm simply a natural, because never have I been able to literally chug alcohol without cringing. I can't even chug soda. Don't worry, Mom. It was only like a mL. Course-wise, we had bread, a pasta dish (containing two types of pasta, they were fucking magical),  a salad course, and dessert. In that order. After about a 3-and-a-half-hour dinner, instead of walking back to the hotel, we decided to walk around Via Independenza, some piazzas, and Via Zamboni: Home of the Clusterfucks.

Just read Rafa van der Vaart was sold: WHAT THE WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS EFFING INSTITUTION??????

So we walked up and down Via Zamboni. Were really tired. Skyped with the fam. Chilled with Claude. Went to bed.

We just got back from a bus tour around Bologna (I was comatose for half of it), but we went to a sweet "balcony"-type thing where we got a sweet panoramic view of most of Bologna (lol I just used "sweet" twice in the same sentence. Something to add to my list of Things I Need to Stop Doing Preferably Forever). I took some pics. Very exciting. Much joy. Babies. Candy. Synergy.

Earlier today we met our program physician, if you will. He works in various hospitals around Bologna but he's the one to call should we ever have any medical emergency that we don't need to go to the ER for. He was interesting. American, kind of crude, but in a completely amicable way. Talked to us about doin' the dirty. Apparently there are some condoms sold in Italy that come in sets of 11 and in blue, to mirror the Italian National Football Team. If only I had a shaft to try it out on.

Oh, the doc put a picture of George Clooney on his PowerPoint. I was immediately sold. The interesting part was that he said the best way for us to reach him was via text. Yeah, the shit anybody usually as old and/or older than our parents can barely do, and this doctor was much older than my parents.

This afternoon we were also introduced to our counselor person. Also American and preggo. I hope to never need counseling. Not because it'd be unfortunate emotionally, but because her office is way too far away. In the time that it would take to get there, I would probably go through all the stages of grief. After her, we met some cops. They spoke very fast Italian and basically repeated everything my mother has been telling me for the past, IDK, three years of my life with regards to alcohol, drugs, sex, strangers, responsibility, knowing your "limits", etc. Oh, and apparently pepper spray is illegal here. I guess it's a good thing I didn't accidentally smuggle it through Customs in my purse again. Put it in one of the bags I checked instead - score. All in all: informative, but all I really paid attention to were the moments when he, the other cop, and our Resident Director would all start speaking in Italian, in a very Italian manner (obv; as in, using the hand motions, being loud, sounding like they're angry but aren't really, friendly touching, etc. etc.) and all of us were just like:

Well, more like:

I need to go hit something.

A.k.a. since we're in Italy and are likely to gain 500 lbs. (I'M SORRY - KILOS), we are fighting the odds and are off to walk around Bologna. That is, until we pass out. Everyone's pretty worn out today. For no apparent reason, actually. In fact, tomorrow, I'm accompanying the gemelle on their apartment searches and this quest requires us to walk across the entire city of Bologna. Literally.

This is the layout of the city. We're situated about where the red "A" for "Adultery" is (I really have no idea where we currently are), and if you were to draw a line diagonally right through that red point and all the way across the map, that's how much we have to walk tomorrow. Within about 45 minutes.

It seems a lot farther than it is, actually, but my sausage legs are hardly capable of such a trek.

Also I'm getting a cold. For the first time in years. I LOVE CONVENIENCE!