Caffeine Deprived But I Survived

O captain, my captain must've been on a mission because the plane arrived an hour early, landing at a bright and cheery 6:45 AM Rome time. My body thought it was 1AM New York Time, aka bedtime. No such luck. The fatigue is hitting me like a brick. I have been awake for at least 36 hours. Also, as of writing this sentence I have no caffeine in my system, which is probably half the problem.

Getting to the plane was pretty straightforward, despite the fact that two TSA agents asked me to verify my birthday because I looked too young to be born in 1995. I may look like an unaccompanied minor, but I can legally play the lottery in 50 states, thank you very much. Also, instead of asking me to verify my birthday, wouldn't it be more effective to ask me to name all of the Backstreet Boys? Seems like a more entertaining option.

The plane ride was bumpy ("pockets of air"), I couldn't eat any of the food (but thanks for the water and bread, United), I couldn't sleep (old man farting in front of me), and a woman tried to set me up with her 21-year old son (he's super into swords and he's single, obviously). But despite all of that, I arrived safe and sound.

The cab driver's name was Marco. I had to restrain myself from saying "Polo" whenever he answered his phone. Apparently talking on the phone and driving is pretty kosher in Italy... but then again so is horrible driving etiquette. Marco wore a three piece suit despite of the 80 degree forecast (he was going to sweat anyways... he's Italian) and he drove a shiny black Mercedes. While driving on the highway, people kept looking in the back of the car expecting to see someone important but nope, just a sweaty, disheveled, and caffeine deprived girl. Hello, Italy, this is what an American looks like.

Everything from the most recent 12 hours is kind of a blur thanks to jet lag. At 8AM I arrived at the dorm, unpacked, showered, and napped for 3 hours because my eyelids wouldn't stay open. Don't know how, but I woke up, and stumbled upon a grocery store which sold mostly American food. Thank you globalization, couldn't have done it without you.

I located a coffee bar, chugged a double espresso, and ate some weird Italian version of a Taylor Ham Egg and Cheese. It wasn't quite the same as Ronnie's Bagels, unfortunately, but staying awake through lunch was an accomplishment in itself. I went for a nice stroll around town before I got too sweaty (it's because I'm Italian. It comes with the territory).

Now I'm off to kill three hours of time before I'm forced into ice breaker exercises. It's like freshman year all over again, minus the go friars chants. And what's the fun in that?

Ciao,

Sue :)

P.S. I am not responsible for any stupid grammatical errors. Direct your corrections towards jet lag.

Ah, the motherland. 

 Oh Yes, le Holiday Inn and le McDonalds. So cultured 

Pre-Departure Jitters

Hello, whoever decided to click this link! (So basically, Hi Mom, Dad, Michelle, and Gen.)

I'm about to embark on a month long journey to Italy to study art and architecture. The itinerary includes: Rome, Pompeii, Paestum, Naples, Siena, Florence, and Assisi. Thus the Civ tutor qualifications continue to build up. My upcoming journey will be my second trip to Rome within the last ten years. I'm very excited to see Italy as a slightly taller and substantially more mature woman.

Maybe I'll remember to blog regularly, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll find a cute Italian boy with a good last name. Maybe I'll reject him because I love the US far too much to compromise my lifestyle. Maybe I'll find out why my ancestors left Italy in the first place. (Why would anyone want to leave a country that has a designated nap time?)

Packing is going swimmingly because I never unpacked from college. All I had to do was airlift moderately-clean clothing from one suitcase to another.

One special aspect of my packing process, however, includes a lot of allergy management precautions. For anyone reading this who has the privilege of eating without restrictions: pat yourself on the back and go eat some Trail Mix. Not only do I have stunning looks and modesty, but also pretty substantial pollen, fruit, and nut allergies.  On a day to day basis, I don't even think twice about my allergy management: it's something I've always had to do since age three. However, skimming the ingredients of a PopTart box is a far cry from gaining food security in a nation where hand gestures are the main form of communication. Managing my allergy will definitely be a challenge, but I'll make it work somehow.

Scary stuff aside, pre-departure also consists of memorizing Italian phrases that might help me get by. I have my ancestors to thank for our family's swift Americanization. The only Italian words I know are curse words, pasta shapes, and the lyrics of Volare. So if I'm in a jam, I can either let my angry Sicilian show, or I can ease the tension with some Italian folk music.

It's about 36 hours before I board a plane, so I'm off to pack as many granola bars, Gatorade, and Pop-Tarts into my suitcase as possible. I wonder if I can get french fries through customs..? Stay tuned.

Ciao,
Sue

August 2006

I'm long overdue for a post-braces photo on the Spanish Steps.