Wednesday December 29, 2010 Day 125
It seems that I am remarkably productive when I have nothing to do, no obligations to fill, and no deadlines to meet. For the first time ever, I am completely up to date on all my blog posts. There are no more that I have written, lying about unpublished, this is the most recent. I type these words not into a document to be selected later but directly into the format of the blog itself.
Yesterday, I was supposed to pick up my biological family from the train station they would arrive at after leaving the airport. Unfortunately, this became impossible when I was informed, two days ago by phone, that Massachusetts already had 60 centimetres of snow and it wasn't stopping anytime soon. The flight was, of course, cancelled.
This left/leaves me in quite the dilemma. Literally every single other student in the programme is gone, a handful back in the United States, some in France, Scotland, England, or travelling around other parts of Italy. I am too far away from town to walk (it's about 5 kilometres/3 miles) and while I could walk it, it's impractical and dangerous to return in the dark. My host mother tells me it's too dangerous for me to have a bicycle in these parts, so I really have no means of transportation. The bus is what usually trasports me but during the holiday season it comes infrequently if at all.
Because of these shortcomings I've been spending a lot of time inside. Writing and drawing have captivated my interest. I've resumed writing my novel, it's now at 21667, I'm writing in the blog now and last night, around 1:30am when I was trying to sleep, I had an idea I needed to get out so I switched on the light, grabbed my computer and typed out everything that was on my mind into an essay called "Potential" (I'll post it in the next post). Additionally, I've taken up drawing. It's very peculiar, apart from simple shell painting or necessary drawing in art classes five years ago, I don't draw. My brother was always the most artistically inclined of the family, littering the house with his creations since the age of four or five. Drawing never could hold my attention for longer than a few minutes. Now, however, because there is nothing else for me to do I began sketching in a free notebook and on that one day, the 27th, I completed five different pieces or varied styles. If you're interested they can be found on the potential post here. (Even if you're not interested, they're still there.)
I'll probably just go on drawing and writing, it would't hurt to get a little bit more in touch with my artistic side. I'm alone in the house right now, my mother's out for a few hours and I'm about to go make myself some lunch. Yesterday she warned me that she would leave and that I would have to prepare food all by myself. An hour or so ago she showed me over and over a pot of water, a bowl of pasta and a contained of pesto, instructing me that I must first boil the water then drop in the pasta, then wait and then strain it and dress it with pesto, all the while with a dubious expression on her face as though sure this couldn't work. I think I'll take a stab at it.
On a final note, due to the delay, my family found another flight at a different airport and they are scheduled to arrive in Rome on the 31st, and I am to take a train and meet them there, something I'm a bit wary of, as public transportation and I have never been good friends,but oh well, we'll just see what happens. If I never post again, please assume that I've fallen victim to the convoluted system of the subway and metro and have been dragged under to live out the rest of my days in slave labour crafting artificial flowers while I slowly go blind and mad.
Much love, Thalia
mercoledì 29 dicembre 2010
"Potential" and Artwork
Enjoy.
Potential
Growing up, whenever I got a paper, essay, project or analysis back, I would first look to the grade, usually scrawled on top in the omnipresent bad handwriting of English teachers. I had an unquestioned and unexamined belief that if the grade was less then 100 then I had messed up. Following this belief, or perhaps even the predecessor of it was the belief that if I tried hard enough, I would be rewarded with the highest grade. My score was directly proportionate on the amount of effort I put into the work. When I received 70s I was upset but not surprised, telling myself that I must not have worked hard enough, even flashing back to my working periods and admitting that I had not been efficient or even particularly laborious. When I saw that I had achieved high grades, 90s, I felt proud not (I realise now) because of the evaluation of the teacher, but the confirmation that I had indeed worked hard enough, I was sufficient.
It is currently in the wee hours of the morning on December 29, 2010, and I recently had a revelation while trying to sleep. A week ago, I received back a graded analysis, one I had done for Art History, a new subject, but not something I was unaccustomed to. Perhaps it was because my grades had always averaged around the B+/A- range, but seeing the red, circled 76 at the top was more distressing that I had thought. Everyone is stressed around the holidays and many priorities are shifted, and I am no different, certain homework took a backseat, which may have explained the grade, but this paper, and Art History in general, had been high on my priority list that week.
In vain I tried to add up how this could be. I am, unfortunately, no stranger to receiving poor marks, but as mentioned I could always previously attribute them to a reason. Every effect had a logical, explainable cause. Here, I ran into a problem. I distinctly remembered working hard on the analysis. I’d even changed topics early on to produce a stronger piece of work. I’d spent hours typing the three sheets of paper that now lay in my hands, bearing the disfiguring mark of the 76. I’d discarded several accompanying pictures because I believed the quality to be too low and had persisted until I found high quality examples to attach. I used my brief Internet time to send an excerpt to my friend for her edits and advice, all of which were positive, and now this? It didn’t sense to me then, and it wasn’t until now, a full week later that some part of my subconscious figured it out.
In order to understand my grade, such a menial part of my life, I had to dig deeply in myself and examine the truth in laws I didn’t even acknowledge as existing, so deeply were they hardwired into me. It was only then, that is to say, now, that I realised my previous faith and adherence to this law. In discovery I realised also that there must be other laws in me, uncharted and unmapped, but by whose effects and words I lived everyday. The thought was scary, and also fascinating. Even now I don’t know if it was mere folly that guided me to trust that my effort would always reward me, and vice versa, but there must be a reason I believed, or was led to believe such, and it will take a great deal of cartography to discover the other laws.
In the end, if I step back and examine my situation, I was making a mountain out of a molehill by worrying about my grade, but it is the nature of my definite rejection of the evaluation that was the mountain. It was, in some ways, much more fruitful to receive this 76 than a grade that my effort would have said, was fair.
sabato 25 dicembre 2010
Christmas Post?
Presents or not, tree or not, America or not, sanity or not, it’s still Christmas. (all of those were “not” incidentally). Yes, I write this at 5:38 Pm on the 25th of December. I promise I’m not fishing for pity by brining up my (lack of) Christmas, but I would like to talk a bit more about it.
I wrote a Christmas list this year, something that I’ve been doing on and off for about 6 years, and I’d like to share it.
Christmas List
Things I left at home
-Grey Leggings with Zippers
-Black Leggings with Zippers
-Red sweater that Tamika’s grandmother knitted for me (probably in my closet)
-Black tank top that we purchased shortly before leaving
-Any other BIG sweaters. Really big, as in any ones you don’t use that I could have
-Warm gloves
-Knitting Needles and Yarn
(Hopefully) Easy to obtain items:
-Peanut Butter
-Heat protectant spray
-$10 earbuds from Walmart or Target (long story short, the cat ate mine)
-Mechanical pencils and a pencil sharpener
-Advil
-As many New Yorker magazines as you can bear to part with
Songs:
Skinny Genes by Eliza Doolittle
Ke$ha’s albums
“This is Me” (album name) by Charlie McDonnell
Hometown Glory by Adele
Waka Waka and Loca both by Shakira
Leaving Town by Dexter Freebish
Baby, It’s Cold Outside
Bella’s Lullaby by Carter Burwell
Halo and I Hate This Part both by the PCD
Twist In My Sobriety by Tanita Tikaram
Prince Negaafellaga - Introduction (Feat.Starcrimes,A-Million)
Firework by Katy Perry
Mondo by Cesare Cremonini
Pensa by Fabrizio Moro
Insane, We Made You, Same Song and Dance, Old Times Sake by Eminem
Real Wish List Items!:
A piano keyboard so I can practice
New yarn to knit with
There it is. I organised it into the three categories I deemed most appropriate, and it wasn’t until I’d reread it that I realised something strange. Usually my “Real Wish List Items” is the longest part of the list. I usually have to restrain myself from putting down everything I want for fear of looking greedy. This year, the two items under the last category were actually the hardest to thing of. I had to think hard before I came up with them and while I was typing them I was already realising how I could cope without.
It was then that I discovered what should have been obvious for ages. I didn’t really need any of them. The majority of the items were things that would help in obvious ways, such as sweaters for warmth, or clothes I’d forgotten or even peanut butter which (like the concept of home internet) hasn’t become popular in Italy. I miss my New Yorker subscription, but not my Seventeen and Teen Vogue subscriptions. Advil and Pencils just make everyday life a little bit easier and I while I could purchase them here I happen to know that they’re cheaper in the states. And that’s it.
I don’t know whether this emotional separation form material goods is a good things, a bad thing, or even a permanent change. It may be that next Christmas my “Real Wish List Items” will make up the majority of the list and I won’t know what I was thinking this year. Similarly, I can see the pros and cons of this change. It is good in the way that I’m spending less money, and thinking very down-to-earth-ly and many religions that separation from material goods in the noble, pure way of life.
On the other hand, it’s rather depressing. This evening, for example, I am in a dark, empty house. I’m alone, and I turned off the lights to save energy. My Christmas list consists of two things and it would hardly even be an inconvenience if I didn’t get them.
On the other foot, my entire attitude might change when I see my family. Yes, I forgot to mention that, but my nuclear family is flying in on the 27th to see me here. Delightful. (!)
How meeting up is going to work out when they’re not entirely sure where the train stops and can’t call me once they’re out of the country, who knows.
Best wishes, i miei migliori auguri, Thalia
I wrote a Christmas list this year, something that I’ve been doing on and off for about 6 years, and I’d like to share it.
Christmas List
Things I left at home
-Grey Leggings with Zippers
-Black Leggings with Zippers
-Red sweater that Tamika’s grandmother knitted for me (probably in my closet)
-Black tank top that we purchased shortly before leaving
-Any other BIG sweaters. Really big, as in any ones you don’t use that I could have
-Warm gloves
-Knitting Needles and Yarn
(Hopefully) Easy to obtain items:
-Peanut Butter
-Heat protectant spray
-$10 earbuds from Walmart or Target (long story short, the cat ate mine)
-Mechanical pencils and a pencil sharpener
-Advil
-As many New Yorker magazines as you can bear to part with
Songs:
Skinny Genes by Eliza Doolittle
Ke$ha’s albums
“This is Me” (album name) by Charlie McDonnell
Hometown Glory by Adele
Waka Waka and Loca both by Shakira
Leaving Town by Dexter Freebish
Baby, It’s Cold Outside
Bella’s Lullaby by Carter Burwell
Halo and I Hate This Part both by the PCD
Twist In My Sobriety by Tanita Tikaram
Prince Negaafellaga - Introduction (Feat.Starcrimes,A-Million)
Firework by Katy Perry
Mondo by Cesare Cremonini
Pensa by Fabrizio Moro
Insane, We Made You, Same Song and Dance, Old Times Sake by Eminem
Real Wish List Items!:
A piano keyboard so I can practice
New yarn to knit with
There it is. I organised it into the three categories I deemed most appropriate, and it wasn’t until I’d reread it that I realised something strange. Usually my “Real Wish List Items” is the longest part of the list. I usually have to restrain myself from putting down everything I want for fear of looking greedy. This year, the two items under the last category were actually the hardest to thing of. I had to think hard before I came up with them and while I was typing them I was already realising how I could cope without.
It was then that I discovered what should have been obvious for ages. I didn’t really need any of them. The majority of the items were things that would help in obvious ways, such as sweaters for warmth, or clothes I’d forgotten or even peanut butter which (like the concept of home internet) hasn’t become popular in Italy. I miss my New Yorker subscription, but not my Seventeen and Teen Vogue subscriptions. Advil and Pencils just make everyday life a little bit easier and I while I could purchase them here I happen to know that they’re cheaper in the states. And that’s it.
I don’t know whether this emotional separation form material goods is a good things, a bad thing, or even a permanent change. It may be that next Christmas my “Real Wish List Items” will make up the majority of the list and I won’t know what I was thinking this year. Similarly, I can see the pros and cons of this change. It is good in the way that I’m spending less money, and thinking very down-to-earth-ly and many religions that separation from material goods in the noble, pure way of life.
On the other hand, it’s rather depressing. This evening, for example, I am in a dark, empty house. I’m alone, and I turned off the lights to save energy. My Christmas list consists of two things and it would hardly even be an inconvenience if I didn’t get them.
On the other foot, my entire attitude might change when I see my family. Yes, I forgot to mention that, but my nuclear family is flying in on the 27th to see me here. Delightful. (!)
How meeting up is going to work out when they’re not entirely sure where the train stops and can’t call me once they’re out of the country, who knows.
Best wishes, i miei migliori auguri, Thalia
Finire
Thursday, December 23, 2010 Day 119
Well, I’m finally finished. Finished in every sense of the word. When I erroneously uttered the phrase “sono finita”, translating literally “I’m finished” to mean that I was done with my food, my host mother gave me a puzzled look before bursting out into peals of laughter. Finally, she choked out a “no si fa in Italia”, you don’t say that in Italy. Clearly, ho sbagliato (I messed up). Not so clearly however, what did I actually say? And while we’re on the question topic, how does one say “I’m finished” without making an ass of oneself? Lastly, does one sound too ridiculously pretentious when saying “oneself?”
Through a method of madness, studying, and guesswork, I have figured out the answers to all these questions.
They are
1. “I am utterly exhausted, spent, so tired I could fall asleep in my minestrone soup bowl”
2. “Ho finito”
3. Usually
I am utterly exhausted. I am sick and I’ve been up and about all day, my legs are so glad to be still that I’ve been sitting in the (awkward) yoga frog position merely because I don’t want to take the trouble to move my legs.
I have finished. I finished my crostada and strawberries with sugar a few minutes, and more importantly, I finished all my Christmas shopping.
Shopping this year was different than it has been any other year. Firstly, I’d had my friends’ presents purchased for almost a month and I was mostly shopping for my family, that is, my host family. The main difference is that I’ve never had a host family, and shopping for someone you live with yet have only known for four months is a bit odd. Another difference is that I wasn’t entirely what type of gift was appropriate which was a problem because
1. It’s usually difficult for me to think of good presents for people
2. Italy is a different culture and things I may think are perfect may seem impolite or confusing here
3. I don’t know if my mother needs anything and if it is in my budget and ability to procure it for her
4. I can’t ask her as my Italian is still rudimentary
And, most important of all
5. I recently discovered that my mother doesn’t celebrate Christmas.
I realise that in our ever-changing world (sorry to use a cliché) it is less and less unusual to find someone whose religious beliefs are different from your own, however, I’ll admit that it was still a shock for me when I found out.
As Italy is so Catholic, and there is an omnipresent bible near my mother’s chair at dinner, I automatically assumed she was Catholic, but as she told me two days ago, she is a Jehovah’s Witness.
The extent of my knowledge about Jehovah’s Witnesses was that Michael Jackson’s family members were Witnesses. As of now I still know very little, except that it’s a small Christian sect, founded in the US, that preaches the Second Coming Of Christ, but does not believe in Christ’s divinity.
I’m still confused but very content to be finished.
Have a lovely day
x
Well, I’m finally finished. Finished in every sense of the word. When I erroneously uttered the phrase “sono finita”, translating literally “I’m finished” to mean that I was done with my food, my host mother gave me a puzzled look before bursting out into peals of laughter. Finally, she choked out a “no si fa in Italia”, you don’t say that in Italy. Clearly, ho sbagliato (I messed up). Not so clearly however, what did I actually say? And while we’re on the question topic, how does one say “I’m finished” without making an ass of oneself? Lastly, does one sound too ridiculously pretentious when saying “oneself?”
Through a method of madness, studying, and guesswork, I have figured out the answers to all these questions.
They are
1. “I am utterly exhausted, spent, so tired I could fall asleep in my minestrone soup bowl”
2. “Ho finito”
3. Usually
I am utterly exhausted. I am sick and I’ve been up and about all day, my legs are so glad to be still that I’ve been sitting in the (awkward) yoga frog position merely because I don’t want to take the trouble to move my legs.
I have finished. I finished my crostada and strawberries with sugar a few minutes, and more importantly, I finished all my Christmas shopping.
Shopping this year was different than it has been any other year. Firstly, I’d had my friends’ presents purchased for almost a month and I was mostly shopping for my family, that is, my host family. The main difference is that I’ve never had a host family, and shopping for someone you live with yet have only known for four months is a bit odd. Another difference is that I wasn’t entirely what type of gift was appropriate which was a problem because
1. It’s usually difficult for me to think of good presents for people
2. Italy is a different culture and things I may think are perfect may seem impolite or confusing here
3. I don’t know if my mother needs anything and if it is in my budget and ability to procure it for her
4. I can’t ask her as my Italian is still rudimentary
And, most important of all
5. I recently discovered that my mother doesn’t celebrate Christmas.
I realise that in our ever-changing world (sorry to use a cliché) it is less and less unusual to find someone whose religious beliefs are different from your own, however, I’ll admit that it was still a shock for me when I found out.
As Italy is so Catholic, and there is an omnipresent bible near my mother’s chair at dinner, I automatically assumed she was Catholic, but as she told me two days ago, she is a Jehovah’s Witness.
The extent of my knowledge about Jehovah’s Witnesses was that Michael Jackson’s family members were Witnesses. As of now I still know very little, except that it’s a small Christian sect, founded in the US, that preaches the Second Coming Of Christ, but does not believe in Christ’s divinity.
I’m still confused but very content to be finished.
Have a lovely day
x
An Explanation Post
Saturday, December 11, 2010 Day 107
Alrighty, it’s pretty clear that I have some explaining to do. Allow me to address some FAQ
Q: Why has the blog been down? There haven’t been any posts lately.
A: Yes, I know, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t figure out how to post anymore. It was working and then the next time I tried, niente. Admittedly I could have figured it out earlier had I put more effort and time into trying, but the layout was in Italian and I have so little time on the internet that I usually attack it and things like the blog fall into a giant, scary pit of “Things I should be doing, and I’m sure that I will do one day.” However, I have delved into that pit and managed to fish out the blog. Sorry again, and thanks for the welcome back :P
Q: Why are there no posts for November, you horrible, horrible promise -breaking witch of person?
A: Well… you see, the thing about November is that it’s really a demanding month. Not only did the school whisk us away to Umbria for 5 days, but the director took away my computer for a week. Oh and I was trying to write a novel. All these things make for no time to write blog posts. I’m not even sorry about this one, I felt guilty about the first question but I can deal with this one.
Q: Oh, well then, did you write your novel?
A: This certainly is embarrassing, but no, no I did not. I strongly suspect that it is due to the school trip and lack-of-computer, but no, I did not finish my novel. I still have a plot format in my head and I believe I am tossing my draft into aforementioned pit. It is currently at 19,336 words.
Q: When are you coming back to America?
A: :x. I’m afraid I can’t say much on that subject. There’s a chance of around 70% that I’ll be back at the end of May, 2011.
Phew, feels good to get all that off my chest. Carefree as a bee, that’s me. If I weren’t crazily allergic to bees I’d take that as my motto. No. That’s not the reason I’m not adopting it as my motto.
Motto sounds like “matto “
Which means crazy
Bee is “ape”
hee hee, word confusion.
Ciao!
Tally
PS. I totally made up the date on top, I’m not sure what time this was intended for!
Alrighty, it’s pretty clear that I have some explaining to do. Allow me to address some FAQ
Q: Why has the blog been down? There haven’t been any posts lately.
A: Yes, I know, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t figure out how to post anymore. It was working and then the next time I tried, niente. Admittedly I could have figured it out earlier had I put more effort and time into trying, but the layout was in Italian and I have so little time on the internet that I usually attack it and things like the blog fall into a giant, scary pit of “Things I should be doing, and I’m sure that I will do one day.” However, I have delved into that pit and managed to fish out the blog. Sorry again, and thanks for the welcome back :P
Q: Why are there no posts for November, you horrible, horrible promise -breaking witch of person?
A: Well… you see, the thing about November is that it’s really a demanding month. Not only did the school whisk us away to Umbria for 5 days, but the director took away my computer for a week. Oh and I was trying to write a novel. All these things make for no time to write blog posts. I’m not even sorry about this one, I felt guilty about the first question but I can deal with this one.
Q: Oh, well then, did you write your novel?
A: This certainly is embarrassing, but no, no I did not. I strongly suspect that it is due to the school trip and lack-of-computer, but no, I did not finish my novel. I still have a plot format in my head and I believe I am tossing my draft into aforementioned pit. It is currently at 19,336 words.
Q: When are you coming back to America?
A: :x. I’m afraid I can’t say much on that subject. There’s a chance of around 70% that I’ll be back at the end of May, 2011.
Phew, feels good to get all that off my chest. Carefree as a bee, that’s me. If I weren’t crazily allergic to bees I’d take that as my motto. No. That’s not the reason I’m not adopting it as my motto.
Motto sounds like “matto “
Which means crazy
Bee is “ape”
hee hee, word confusion.
Ciao!
Tally
PS. I totally made up the date on top, I’m not sure what time this was intended for!
Saturday Soup Kitchen
Sunday, October 31, 2010 Day 66
On Saturday, October the 30th , yesterday, another student I helped out in the local soup kitchen. I’ve always been interested in volunteering, and have often participated, but I had always contributed through something else. When I helped it was usually through another organization, such as a school, a Girl Scout troupe or extra-curricular. This time, I washed the food, watched it go in the oven and then ladled it out into bowls for people. Real, living, breathing people. Not the dry offhand comment of “the less fortunate” uttered once and then forgotten when the conversation turns to ethics or politics, but real relatable people. Women with creases around their eyes that smiled and worried in equal measure, a few children, impatient and indignant as I remember being and some men who merely approached us with a tray, ate inconspicuously and then left as if they’d never been there.
The staff workers themselves were very agreeable and, with the exception of one old woman who seemed to dislike us (understandable as we didn’t know what to do and our language skills are still shaky), welcomed us as family. Taylor Kendrick (the other student, find out more here) speaks very little (*cough cough* no) Italian so I had to communicate for both of us. I discovered, to my surprise and happiness that I had few problems getting my point across.
After a good 5 hours of work, they invited us to eat with them. It was a friendly gesture and when we had to leave they welcomed us to come back whenever we could. Once everyone gets a chance to volunteer I’ll definitely volunteer to go again.
That’s all for now
xx
On Saturday, October the 30th , yesterday, another student I helped out in the local soup kitchen. I’ve always been interested in volunteering, and have often participated, but I had always contributed through something else. When I helped it was usually through another organization, such as a school, a Girl Scout troupe or extra-curricular. This time, I washed the food, watched it go in the oven and then ladled it out into bowls for people. Real, living, breathing people. Not the dry offhand comment of “the less fortunate” uttered once and then forgotten when the conversation turns to ethics or politics, but real relatable people. Women with creases around their eyes that smiled and worried in equal measure, a few children, impatient and indignant as I remember being and some men who merely approached us with a tray, ate inconspicuously and then left as if they’d never been there.
The staff workers themselves were very agreeable and, with the exception of one old woman who seemed to dislike us (understandable as we didn’t know what to do and our language skills are still shaky), welcomed us as family. Taylor Kendrick (the other student, find out more here) speaks very little (*cough cough* no) Italian so I had to communicate for both of us. I discovered, to my surprise and happiness that I had few problems getting my point across.
After a good 5 hours of work, they invited us to eat with them. It was a friendly gesture and when we had to leave they welcomed us to come back whenever we could. Once everyone gets a chance to volunteer I’ll definitely volunteer to go again.
That’s all for now
xx
I Honestly Don't Remember Writing This One
October 23, 2010 Day 58
A place where I’m not discouraged from eating too many pieces of pizza, but in fact, looked at with dismay and concern if I do not finish at least one full pizza. My mother left me wheat she can only consider a small dinnertime meal tonight. By that I mean: a full pizza the size of a dinner plate, about half a baguette, a piece of cake with powdered sugar, a piece of a heavenly jam crostada, and water and wine. It was, of course, delicious.
Hoorah!
A place where I’m not discouraged from eating too many pieces of pizza, but in fact, looked at with dismay and concern if I do not finish at least one full pizza. My mother left me wheat she can only consider a small dinnertime meal tonight. By that I mean: a full pizza the size of a dinner plate, about half a baguette, a piece of cake with powdered sugar, a piece of a heavenly jam crostada, and water and wine. It was, of course, delicious.
Hoorah!
The Worst Week of My Life.
October 22, 2010 Day 57
The title doesn’t lie; this week has been simply horrid, from Monday (or Sunday if you want to start it there) to now, Friday. Well, actually it’s not Friday, it’s 12:04 on Saturday the twenty third, but why should we trouble ourselves with such meddlesome things as the truth.
I debated for a long time about going into detail about this week, and all it’s unfortunate events. I’ve finally decided against it. My reasons, simply, are that
- It would be a long multi-paragraphed complaint.
- It would unquestionably have to include descriptions of me crying, and that’s simply not manly enough for me to admit to.
- I have a diary I can run away and weep and confess to
- If you really wanted to know, you’d shoot me an email and ask me what’s up.
And that is why a record of my week will not grace (or mar) this blog.
Now that that’s over with, (and I’ve made English teachers cringe with my careless writing) let me mention the good parts of today (few as they may be). Firstly, I managed to reach my parents, well, my father anyway. I called them from the school phone, and we had a decent conversation
Lastly, I had an unexpectedly pleasant and meaningful conversation with someone I called out of sheer desperation.
The title doesn’t lie; this week has been simply horrid, from Monday (or Sunday if you want to start it there) to now, Friday. Well, actually it’s not Friday, it’s 12:04 on Saturday the twenty third, but why should we trouble ourselves with such meddlesome things as the truth.
I debated for a long time about going into detail about this week, and all it’s unfortunate events. I’ve finally decided against it. My reasons, simply, are that
- It would be a long multi-paragraphed complaint.
- It would unquestionably have to include descriptions of me crying, and that’s simply not manly enough for me to admit to.
- I have a diary I can run away and weep and confess to
- If you really wanted to know, you’d shoot me an email and ask me what’s up.
And that is why a record of my week will not grace (or mar) this blog.
Now that that’s over with, (and I’ve made English teachers cringe with my careless writing) let me mention the good parts of today (few as they may be). Firstly, I managed to reach my parents, well, my father anyway. I called them from the school phone, and we had a decent conversation
Lastly, I had an unexpectedly pleasant and meaningful conversation with someone I called out of sheer desperation.
martedì 21 dicembre 2010
Terracina
September 26, 2010 Day 30
Yesterday we all got back from Orientation, a still-vague field trip to the beautiful landscapes of Terracina. Terracina was a mixed bag if I ever saw one. Pros include
-Aforementioned beautiful landscape
-Seeing Sperlonga and Montagna Spaccata
-Swimming in the Mediterranean Sea
-Being able to comfortably wear summer clothes (along with the bitter little part in everyone that glorified in the fact that it was too cold for our friends to do the same)
-Learning to play Spades (Thanks Reed, Michael and Mr. Chen!)
-Having five great roommates
Cons, on the other hand, include
-Endless rain
-The damp smell caused by endless rain
-Inevitable sand in our bungalow (Yeah, suddenly the Mediterranean is a lot less of a romantic daydream and a whole lot more of an inconvenience. We Americans and our damned ingratitude…)
-Enmity growing between all the bungalows, no matter how lovely the roommates are.
Overall, Terracina gets a 6.5 on my scale. Well done, but we can do better.
On another note, I now have a cat for the first time in 13 years. My first and only cat was a feline by the name of Clyde who we had in Brixton. I don’t remember darling Clyde, but let’s see how I deal with my new little black cat, Nerina la gatina
Translation: “my little black cat, the little black cat” My these original names…
Ciao, Thalia
Yesterday we all got back from Orientation, a still-vague field trip to the beautiful landscapes of Terracina. Terracina was a mixed bag if I ever saw one. Pros include
-Aforementioned beautiful landscape
-Seeing Sperlonga and Montagna Spaccata
-Swimming in the Mediterranean Sea
-Being able to comfortably wear summer clothes (along with the bitter little part in everyone that glorified in the fact that it was too cold for our friends to do the same)
-Learning to play Spades (Thanks Reed, Michael and Mr. Chen!)
-Having five great roommates
Cons, on the other hand, include
-Endless rain
-The damp smell caused by endless rain
-Inevitable sand in our bungalow (Yeah, suddenly the Mediterranean is a lot less of a romantic daydream and a whole lot more of an inconvenience. We Americans and our damned ingratitude…)
-Enmity growing between all the bungalows, no matter how lovely the roommates are.
Overall, Terracina gets a 6.5 on my scale. Well done, but we can do better.
On another note, I now have a cat for the first time in 13 years. My first and only cat was a feline by the name of Clyde who we had in Brixton. I don’t remember darling Clyde, but let’s see how I deal with my new little black cat, Nerina la gatina
Translation: “my little black cat, the little black cat” My these original names…
Ciao, Thalia
Mourning and Idioms
September 19, 2010 Day 24
Well, the dog days have come at last. Yes, Italy is wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but I’m beginning to think that this year might be the best and worst year of my life. Then again, being young, I think that about every passing year of my life, only on reflection can I sort out the better years.
In the past couple of days I took pictures for my visa picture, started successfully Skyping, was lice/louse checked, and even braved the public transportation system to go out this Saturday. Sadly, I can’t focus on any of those breakthroughs because I have to go shopping for black trousers, black dresses, black tights and ancient old black hats. The reason for the wardrobe change is that I am in mourning. In mourning for my computer. I refuse to have the mac versus pc argument now, but I am currently using a beautiful mac book pro which now has a new outfit change as well. It now carries a dent on its left speaker. A miniscule dent, a harmless dent, but a dent nonetheless.
I can say no more on this tragic matter. Requiem in Pacem.
Well, the dog days have come at last. Yes, Italy is wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but I’m beginning to think that this year might be the best and worst year of my life. Then again, being young, I think that about every passing year of my life, only on reflection can I sort out the better years.
In the past couple of days I took pictures for my visa picture, started successfully Skyping, was lice/louse checked, and even braved the public transportation system to go out this Saturday. Sadly, I can’t focus on any of those breakthroughs because I have to go shopping for black trousers, black dresses, black tights and ancient old black hats. The reason for the wardrobe change is that I am in mourning. In mourning for my computer. I refuse to have the mac versus pc argument now, but I am currently using a beautiful mac book pro which now has a new outfit change as well. It now carries a dent on its left speaker. A miniscule dent, a harmless dent, but a dent nonetheless.
I can say no more on this tragic matter. Requiem in Pacem.
Italian Songs
September 15, 2010 Day 20
Today was quite the fiasco. I wanted to catch the 7:40 bus, my mother woke me up right before 7, and after I had eaten and dressed I lay down again, as my bus stop is a 3 -minute walk away. Of course that turned into a nap, which turned into my sleeping until 8:45. Having missed the 7:40, and the 8:20 I reluctantly waited until the 9:20. God, how stupid I was today…
On top of that, my Latin dictionary refuses to download, and I haven’t finished that essay for English. I barely trust myself with the internet, my willpower is practically zero.
The better part of today was Signora Tuzi handing out lyrics to Mondo, a lovely song by Cesare Cremonini. How many times did we hear that song? Probably three times, not counting the number of times we sang it. In my video today I mentioned that my blog posts are condensed versions of my journal. That’s mostly the truth, though today is an exception, as I think this post is longer than what I wrote today, short as it is.
Buona sera,
Thalia
Today was quite the fiasco. I wanted to catch the 7:40 bus, my mother woke me up right before 7, and after I had eaten and dressed I lay down again, as my bus stop is a 3 -minute walk away. Of course that turned into a nap, which turned into my sleeping until 8:45. Having missed the 7:40, and the 8:20 I reluctantly waited until the 9:20. God, how stupid I was today…
On top of that, my Latin dictionary refuses to download, and I haven’t finished that essay for English. I barely trust myself with the internet, my willpower is practically zero.
The better part of today was Signora Tuzi handing out lyrics to Mondo, a lovely song by Cesare Cremonini. How many times did we hear that song? Probably three times, not counting the number of times we sang it. In my video today I mentioned that my blog posts are condensed versions of my journal. That’s mostly the truth, though today is an exception, as I think this post is longer than what I wrote today, short as it is.
Buona sera,
Thalia
domenica 3 ottobre 2010
A More Patriotic Entry
September 11, 2010
Day 16
I’ve never been out of the country on the anniversary of 9/11/01. Remembering the day gave me, and the Americans I was with, a real sense of patriotism. In this strange environment we 47 minors lose a real sense of who we are. Here we’re trying to lose our sense of identity, doing our best to blend into the Italian way of life, sharing their pride their hometown, learning their traditions and assimilating into our new families. September 11th is a bona fide, albeit harsh, reminder to us all that we are Americans, that on this day, almost a decade ago, we were all receiving the horrifying news that people we didn’t and would never know wanted to hurt us.
I was, and still am, woefully ignorant of how this news was received in other countries. In America even the younger children know the importance of this day, people who escaped the plane by pure luck or circumstance sigh in relief that they escaped a terrible, if heroic, death, and families who lost people weep and receive extra pity on this day. However, when we hear of bombings in other countries, we frown and sigh and spend an extra five minutes at breakfast repeating how sad it is. We might even bring it up to discuss in a history class, but ask us on the anniversary of that bombing 9 full years later and we would all be hard pressed to recall the significance of the day.
As I was chatting with Maya, she mentioned that she will soon turn 18, and in Afghanistan there is a girl who will turn 18 on the same day as her. When they have both reached this age of maturity the most horrific thing my American thing has “experienced” heard about and been within 1000 miles of, will be the bombing of the twin towers on September 11th. She then said that the Afghani girl will have gone through so much more. Her life will have been filled with much more tragedy, and that that fact alone belittles her own sorrows.
X
Thalia
PS. The thing I did that I referenced in my video is actually very hard to guess if that video is the only thing you have, so I will give a hint on here: I walked away from it with both more and less.
I think I’ll continue hinting until someone gets it, either here on the blog or on the video.
Restrictions
September 9, 2010
Day 14
If normal circumstances applied I’d be a bad blogger, having had no prior existence and writing highly unedited, occasionally vulgar posts without a regular schedule. However, nothing about my current circumstances is normal.
IT is currently 3:29 AM, Queen is blasting in the background, I’m in a foreign country, and I’m only awake because I was woken up by intense stomach pains, (an impressive feat, I'm probably the world's deepest sleeper) and felt nauseous for a couple hours. So…. the culmination of these events and situations brings you this blog! Of course, 'twould generally be bad when a daily blogger misses not one but five days, but as NONE of them are posted as I am writing this, when you read them, you can read them continuously, experiencing my past fortnight in one sitting of a few hours or less.
You know how you can read the comic in the newspapers? You get to read a new one every week, and if it’s not amusing you merely sigh and wait for the next week’s issue. However, if you’re patient you can buy or borrow a full book of the comics, giving yourself the wonderful and terrible power of whipping through months and years of artistic effort in a few minutes. This is how I view this blog. The entries aren’t perfect by any means, but you can see all of them and if one isn’t not interesting, ignore it and move on to something that happened as much as two weeks earlier or later.
So no, I will not apologise for my lapse because I didn’t assign myself requirement as a precaution and additionally because you wouldn’t even have known unless I told you, I could have blatantly lied and claimed that this post was no more than the next day, Day 10. It would have been all the same as you spent 30 seconds scanning my blog, and you could have lived a perfectly happy life without knowing the truth. In fact, studies show that people who haven’t read all my blog posts have gone on to lead perfectly healthy normal lives.
Wait? What was that? Oh yeah! I’ve literally typed three paragraphs about my own blog, without putting any actual information in here. Today I went on a quest to find Pocket Coffee, only to fail miserably and be depressingly uncaffeinated. Hey, speaking of caffeine (or lack thereof), tomorrow's going to be HELL.
(Narrator’s voice announces “many hours later…”)
Ahoy! It’s 10:35 pm now. My dire prediction proved to be…completely true. Morning was awful, worsened by the twinges of nausea I felt throughout the day. However, the day was enjoyable as a whole. I spent a pleasant 47 minutes studying Latin during a period filled by Ancient History every other day, and I walked around the city for almost three hours after school, something that is rapidly becoming a habit. (This is all part of my grand scheme to be able to navigate from my house to the school by Christmas by the way).
I have an Art History field trip tomorrow. I’m not particularly excited for another field trip, but I feel like it would be akin to a sin if I went to Italy and didn’t study Art History.
X
Thalia
sabato 2 ottobre 2010
First Day of School
September 6, 2010
Day 9
If I were forced to choose between Italian cioccolato and my family, the decision would take a few minutes of guilt before I said goodbye to my family forever. Ciooccolato is just so incredibly delicious, despite its unfortunate physical resemblance to tar. I feel that I deserved my miniature cup of this ambrosia today to make up for how many clumsy incidents I caused.
Off the top of my head I recall stopping an entire bus by accidentally catching my bag’s hanging strap on the handrail, failing to get into a chair until I raised a ruckus moving it and the chair next to it around so much that the other chair eventually gave in to my accidental destructive power and dramatically toppled, arriving a full two hours early for school and confusing the Italian words for female anatomy and French fries. In other words, my first day of school!
No, this is not the blog of a gifted 4 year old describing her day in kindergarten, this is the unfortunate recollection of an accident-prone teenaged upperclassmen.
How ironic that on this most momentous day, my first day riding public transportation here, first day of school, first day as an upperclassman, no one where I live can exchange any similar tales. Today is Labor Day, a holiday most of the highschoolers value for the three-day weekend it provides more than any respect or even knowledge of Labor Day itself.
For more information, including my story of the good and evil identical twins I encountered see my video for today
X
Tally
PS. My military time informs me that it’s 00:00. It’s strangely ominous. Ah, the simultaneous waves of disappointment and relief as its sixty seconds of allotted time elapse and it is gone.
Un Viaggio Verso l'ospedale
September 5, 2010
Day 8
Hello you lovely people. It’s 12:00. I don’t care; I say it’s still the fifth. I finally got the damn clock to work, clock: 0 me:1 (HA! What a lie, more like clock: 5 computer: 100 Internet: 60 me: 1). Today I just became a much worse player at Never Have I Ever. I have now made a long distance phone call, have communicated by myself completely in another language for hours at a time, and have ridden in an ambulance.
To make a long, rather tedious, story short, while I was at her house, Grace asked me where the appendix was and then declared that her side hurt and that she needed to go to the Hospital. She sat down (that didn’t hurt as much) while I used her phrasebook to explain* to her family what was wrong. Their car was out at the time so her sister (Laura, you’ll know if you watch the videos) called an ambulance. We made plans to meet our (bilingual) Resident Director at the hospital and immediately set out.
During the ride and while Grace sat across from a secretary, they questioned her as to when she was hurt. She was in no condition to answer, so I tried my best to explain myself. Unfortunately, the few well-learned words of Italian that I recited to the medical staff convinced them that I knew Italian, so they fired me with rapid questions that utterly confused me. It was like that one day when you’re learning to swim, and you braggingly paddle a bit in the shallow end so the instructor sees you and plunks you into the deep end. In other words, I was soon in over my head.
Fortune smiled on us when Mr. Scanlon (the Resident Director) showed up to assist us. He was the only one permitted to stay with Grace, though he texted me updates on her (In Italian by the way, the cheeky bastard, would it kill him to inform me of crucial information in, say, English, both of our first languages?)
Three hours of waiting around were worth it in the end when Grace emerged from the hospital, full of a pain-killer that made her “floaty” in her words, but feeling much better and with a prescription for the next two weeks. She had an IV and a blood analysis, which proved her pain to be due to kidney stones. Poor Grace, I’ve heard they’re very painful. Anyone here had them? Let me know. A video about it is here
Ha, I just reread this post and I saw that I promised a shorted version of the story…. Pushing 400 words. Oops :P
However, lies aside, it’s now after 1 and I have to wake up for my first day of school as an upperclassman in less than 6 hours. Goodnight carinos.
X
Tally
Long Days Make Hectic Posts
September 4, 2010
Day 7
You know that huge drop of energy on Boxing Day? When everything is unwrapped, the clothes have been tried on, and the stockings are empty? That’s how I feel today. La Macchina di Santa Rosa was HUGE, and now everything is so **sigh**. Grace slept over last night and we had a decent time chatting. It was quite funny looking back on it, but simultaneously, and without and exchange of words, we both were overcome with weariness and lay down on the bed and rested for almost an hour.
After our siesta Grace and I played Egyptian Ratscrew and Spit for a little over half an hour before we packed up to go to her house. There, I rested again as Grace tried and failed to access Internet. Her house has wifi but weak connectivity.
A few hours later we ate (again). This meal wasn’t quite as good, as we had a…. well a repulsive fish dish. Fortunately, it was tempered by bread with olive oil, green salad, white wine and a banana. This blog isn’t even a blog anymore; it’s merely become a food diary.
I gathered a little energy/went crazy from the language overwhelming me and lack of Internet (apparently the same in my mind) right before I made my vlog for today, so you’ll see that if you watch those. However, with one (current) exception I try to at least feign some excitement even if I’m completely devoid of any energy. Yeah… I care about you (awwww lessthanthreeee)
It’s late now, and I have “miles to go before I sleep” in a semi-literal sense. I shall speak more upon this later, now it not the time.
X
Thalia.
PS. You know what should be a word? Overwhelmsion. Or maybe: overwhelmption. How splendid, right? Hell of a scrabble word too.
venerdì 1 ottobre 2010
A Better Day
September 3, 2010
Day 6
According to my calculations, today was *pauses* 648% better than yesterday!
Of course, today had it’s low parts, which I will say now to get out of the way so I can end on a positive note. Firstly, I only managed a few hours sleep because I couldn’t sleep until well after 5am (I stopped checking the clock).
(See last night’s video link here. Worse, much worse was the food for today. If you read this blog consistently then (well firstly props to you, as it’s not very interesting) you’ll know that food is superbly delicious and that yesterday it was the highlight of my day. Today was very different.
For lunch my mum served me hamburger patties. Oooh, that was an awkward situation. I haven’t eaten red meat in about 3 years and greasy bun-less ground beef did not seem to be the way to break that record. Yet I couldn’t merely refuse to eat it, it seemed to be quite the quandary. Just between you and me, I can share how I got out of it. As soon as her back turned, I wrapped my hand in a napkin, snatched the first patty and hid it in my lap until I could surreptitiously throw it away. I’m a sneaky bastard, I know.
However, my food situation did not improve from there. As you may or may not know, I have never eaten pig meat of any kind. Today, I did. It was awful; I did it completely by accident. A friend’s mother handed me a tin foil wrapped package and I, in my confused, sleep deprived state, I unwrapped it and took a bite. That one bit proved it not to be a roll of bread, but a sandwich, containing some pinkish meat. Unhappily, I thought I’d eaten turkey, but I swallowed anyway and then set the sandwich aside. A little while later, after a few jokes that the meat was cow tongue a girl there reassured me that it was ham. I was horrified and felt utterly nauseous. My spirits were a bit dampened then but I tried my best to enjoy the day, which I will describe now :)
More of the chocolate cake and the unexpected presence of my sister, Bianca, brightened what I had thought would be a slow morning. Bianca and I chatted about juice for a good time. After I’d eaten, around 10, my mum sent Bianca and me to walk down to the bank. We were eager and willing, but both rather clueless. We walked up and down and back and forth and left and writing, asking many shopkeepers before we reached the ATM. Once we finally got there it took several rough tries to actually get it to work. I’m apparently extremely technologically impaired in this country, ATMs, cell phones, Internet keys, computers… However, when I finally got it to work, we happily returned home to eat pasta with pesto (along with the burgers :-/) and Bianca popped in the Italian Aladdin for us to watch.
The last part of my day was to meet up with Grace and a few other friends in the city. We chatted amiably for hours, and I managed to get some cell phone numbers on our kind-of working phone! (Yes! Technology going my way!)
At 7 we went to a piazza to find a seat and wait for the statue, which didn’t come until after 9. That was an unpleasant ordeal as there was one more many person than there were chairs, so we played a slow, grotesque version of musical chairs where each person dreads the music stopping as it means half an hour of more discomfort and dirt.
I was very sleepy at this point, and only the hope of seeing the statue kept my lids open. It was gorgeous when we finally saw it. I really ought to put a picture in here…
Ah well
ciao, Thalia
Short Blog Post Today, I Haven’t Much To Say
September 2, 2010
Day 5
I slept late intentionally today, until around quarter to ten, and then had breakfast, which was the highlight of my day. I discovered the chocolate Grace and I saw being chopped up in a slice of breakfast cake.
Unfortunately, my day only got worse from then on. I waited for hours hoping to be able to call home, but I seem to be cursed when it comes to cell phone and Internet issues here.
We saw Grace again today, as la Macchina di Santa Rosa pre-festival started today. I realize I haven’t fully explained what this is about. Okay…storytime! Santa Rosa was an extremely devout girl who lived in the 14th century. After she died, the pope himself saw her body, which was thrown into a mass grave, as she was female and poor, and saw that her body remained perfect despite the years six feet below. The catholic belief states “perfect body, perfect soul” and Santa Rosa is now considered a saint (though on a technicality she is not a saint). Every year her heart and a six-story statue are carried through town by 100 common men dressed in the uniform of the cardinal.
This will happen tomorrow; today is the set-up and all the people getting pumped for the next day.
When we arrived near the town I was shocked. We were greeted by neon lights, balloons, carnival rides and white candy floss (that was a smaller surprise, I’ve only ever seen it dyed pick or blue). I was surprised that this religious ceremony was commemorated by lurid lights and merchants.
My mum bought earrings, as did Grace’s mother. We will go again tomorrow. This entire paragraph is brief. This post is full of passive voice. The green squiggly line doesn’t like it. But it’s appropriate. So I’m not changing it. Fuck the green squiggly line. Short sentence. Fish.
First Day of Classes
September 1, 2010
Day 4
Today, (Wednesday) was much like the Wednesdays I used to have back home. By this I mean only that it was a half-day, ending at 12:30. We all made up our schedules today, circling the courses we want when we want them; the leeway was lovely. Immediately after our new schedules were photocopied we proceeded to go to a shortened version of each class. I have 6 classes filled out of a possible 7. There are 9 periods, one for lunch and, on some days, another for a supplementary Italian class. The 9-period day is something I have always wanted, so I think it’s fantastic, I have always wanted to have a free period, and now of some days I’ll have two! *Happy dance*
However, my classes aren’t as simple as I thought they might be. I am torn between two different Latin courses (I adore Latin and it’s mandatory). The first is a class that treats Latin as any other language, giving it no preference for being an ancient tongue that died out thousands of years ago. In this class we would read the Latin books just as normal book s to be talked about instead of the usual method of assigning lines. The other is the AP Vergil course, which is exactly what it sounds like. The entire course is in preparation for the Advanced Placement Latin Exam. This is a very challenging course; just as much as the other, but more suited towards my interests (poetry), while the reading seems less interesting, but more suited to my level. I have had two years of high school Latin, so the choice is not an easy one. Now I’m trying out both workloads and taking a couple of weeks to decide for myself.
Speaking of workload, we didn’t know that we were trying out our first school day today, so few of us brought the necessary supplies. I brought only a small daypack, which is completely sufficient for a spare top, a few pencils, sunglasses, chapstick, a wallet, and two notebooks, the cargo with which it was previously burdened. It is, however, inadequate when faced with the challenge of supporting all my bulky new books. My current textbooks alone rack up an impressive 6.4 kg, add to that one binder, two journals and an array of papers and you get a small bag struggling hold itself together, nonetheless its contents.
However, I will be much more prepared for Monday. (School does not start until after the Festa di Santa Rosa, which I’ll write another post about).
I couldn’t write yesterday because directly after school I collapsed on my bed in exhaustion, my body and mind too confused to process the day. I awoke at 10, after dinner was served and spent a sleepless night trying to figure out what to do. Unpleasant to say the least. I expect a better night tonight though.
My mum and I went to visit her friend, who is harboring Grace Brown. We all ate pasta at her house. The pasta was thick and utterly delicious. The white wine with dinner was sweet and tasty. If only Grace and I could talk less awkwardly it would have been perfect. As it is attempting to talk to someone seems rude when your parents are chattering away in Italian. Back at my house Grace and I watched my mum chop up chocolate and we went to my room to talk. Now, I must get to work on my homework. I’m typing my English now, while chatting with Grace.
She’s wonderful :)
Lost and Academic Testing
Day 2.
Just in case you were wondering, I would make a horrible invader. If I ever tried to ransack your city you would likely find m curled up in a pathetic heap in the friendliest corner I could find after a few hours. Translation: I am lost in Viterbo. Today we started the day with a tour of our scuola. This was delightful, as I was expecting our placement tests first.
We broke into small groups to see the entire school. Entire makes it out to be enormous, what a lie. We saw the administrative office, and Mr. Scanlon’s (our resident director’s) office as well Dave’s (our extra-curricular coordinator’s) office and the small kitchen. There are five classrooms; the four main ones (A, B, Z, E) are named after the winds (i.e., Aeolus, Zephyr, Boreas…), which I thought was wonderfully cool. The fifth is a spare. The most unique classroom is the Art history, which has a half barreled ceiling, giving it an echo. We also get a self-assigned cubby. I tried for a top one but was promptly kicked out of it by Sheridan, who is a good 5 inches above my respectable 5’6. I don’t mind though, it was a talking (cough cough arguing) point.
After that tour we were taken on a tour of the city. This showed not only the streets we were on, but also the best gelato shop, cafes and pizzerias. After our hour-and-a-half tour (with a gelato stop half way through J) I am still lost. My current plan: travel in a (smarter) group! Come to think of it, that’s probably what the real invaders did in the first place. I’ve got you figured out, Vikings.
Today was actually so easy. After our two tours we were granted another two hours to travel the city as we pleased. Even better, Mr. Scanlon, explaining that the program couldn’t provide lunch until after the ceremony of La Macchina di Santa Rosa, the third of Settembre, gave us each ten euro to budget accordingly for today’s lunch and tomorrow’s as well. Overjoyed, we set out immediately.
In my mind there was one and only one thought: We’re in Italy, let’s go get pizza. This was quickly supplemented by other such cumbersome thoughts such as: how can we get to a pizzeria, who am I going with, and I don’t yet want to wander the streets of Italy alone. Bah, who needs thoughts anyway? In the end I went to go buy pizza and afterwards, gelato. Could we be any more stereotypical? That made for my third gelato in two days by the way. Interesting fact about that group today, we’re two redheads, two brunettes, and two blondes.
Finally, after our outing we returned to take the 100-question Italian placement test. By question 48 I was suffocating in the stuffy room, guessing on every question and praying to get out. I already knew I’d be in Italian I though, I’ve never taken it. I rushed through the remaining 52 and then took as short oral test, which went much more smoothly. In the ever-mature words of a student here (cough, cough, BEAU) “Yeah, I’m pretty good at oral.”
Tomorrow we take the Math, and for some, Latin placement tests. After our Italian test, around 3, most people left, although school didn’t end officially until 4:07. Living far away, I waited until five, when my host mum came to pick me up. Due to our visits, (to the store (negozio), seeing her friend and fellow host family, and meeting her granddaughter, daughters, sister and mother) we didn’t make it home until seven o’clock. I was already quite tired and gratefully ate the pizza and vegetables she served me an hour later. I’ve been writing for most of today, hopefully I can get in some reading, (The Odyssey and the Ovid are my current reads) tomorrow. Now it is 10:24, and I should put down my computer and sleep. Buonnanote, Thalia.
The Trip Over
Day 1
I have arrived at my house! Yes, it’s 8:52 PM, in Bagnaia, in the province of Lazio in Italy! I’ve finally made it. When our flight from Paris landed here we claimed our baggage and took the two-hour bus ride from Roma to Viterbo. It was rather unpleasant at first, as everyone was perspiring in the 90-degree weather. We all felt a bit stupid after complaining about the intense heat of the bus until one girl pointed towards the vents above us and suggested we open them. Ahh, fresh, delicious cool air! I don’t recall too much of the bus ride or even the flight to Roma because I managed to sleep. I do know, however, that a newly married Japanese girl gave me her centre seat so Reed Bruce and I (SYAers) could sit together. How do I know she’s a newlywed? Because I am such a sketchy person that when she pulled out her camera to look at pictures I saw dozens of pictures of her in a white dress and veil standing next to a smiling man. Yeah… I’m fucking creepy.
Moving on, when we arrived in Viterbo we stored our bags before enjoying a lunch of penne pasta and crustless mozzarella tomato mayo sandwiches along with orange Fanta(the Fanta here tastes like it's made with pure sugar, which, now that I think about it, it probably is). Afterwards came the suspenseful wait for out families. One girl commented (rather truthfully in my opinion) that “it felt like an auction.” We all sat in chairs and one by one our family’s name and then ours was called. I was in the last 10 sitting of the 45 students there. Yeah, stressful.
I finally met my host mother. She is a short, dark haired smiling woman who always seemed to be laughing or talking or congratulating me (in the beautiful, false encouraging way mothers are known to have) on my Italian. Her granddaughter, who accompanied her, is also named Bianca, has fair skin and prominent freckles and is adorable. She was a bit shy around me, but kissed my cheeks willingly and when we dropped her off at her parents’ house, shyly presented me with her drawing.
The last thing I can talk about before I unpack (yeah, that’s right, I sacrifice everything for you guys, I haven’t unpacked, showered or even brushed my teeth. Lovely) is the LANGUAGE. God, it hit me like a fast moving, giant (albeit beautiful) train. I am, in every sense of the word, a train wreck. However, I did expect this train wreck so I’m not devastated, but merely trying to stay afloat before I learn how to swim. Wow, I just changed metaphors. Grr, the train one isn’t even a metaphor! It’s a simile! Kind of! I really should eat and sleep and shower and...make myself presentable. Until next time my lovelies!
X
Thalia
venerdì 29 gennaio 2010
Lookin' Up
Friday, October 29, 2010 Day 64
You know those days when you start off the morning feeling great, cheerful, optimistic and ready for life… and then by the end of the day you’re so miserable you wish you’d never climbed out of your warm bed in the morning? Well, I’m happy to announce that today was the complete opposite.
Unfortunately, that does mean that my morning was hellishly nightmarish (3 hours of sleep coupled with a scanty breakfast and the remnants of a sickness doesn’t make for the best mornings, regardless of how damn cheerful you are) but the day vastly improved.
Firstly, I finally turned in the Old Man and the Sea paper that’s been plaguing the students, and then got the art history quiz out of the way. Sadly, Pscans kinda ruined my day, but it perked up because it’s a Friday. Who doesn’t love Fridays?
Yesterday, Thursday, in celebration (or at least recognition) of Halloween, we watched the Shining, which I’d only ever seen parodies of. Perhaps it was my memory, the earliness of the hour of the fact that we saw the film in our salone, but I just couldn’t get scared. There was always something to laugh at, a plot to pick apart and characters and makeup and costume to mock.
At least we have some kind of spirit,
Bacini, Thalia
PS. Italian boy called me “beauty, beautiful!” on the way back from the Shining. Woohoo self esteem. I love Italy….
You know those days when you start off the morning feeling great, cheerful, optimistic and ready for life… and then by the end of the day you’re so miserable you wish you’d never climbed out of your warm bed in the morning? Well, I’m happy to announce that today was the complete opposite.
Unfortunately, that does mean that my morning was hellishly nightmarish (3 hours of sleep coupled with a scanty breakfast and the remnants of a sickness doesn’t make for the best mornings, regardless of how damn cheerful you are) but the day vastly improved.
Firstly, I finally turned in the Old Man and the Sea paper that’s been plaguing the students, and then got the art history quiz out of the way. Sadly, Pscans kinda ruined my day, but it perked up because it’s a Friday. Who doesn’t love Fridays?
Yesterday, Thursday, in celebration (or at least recognition) of Halloween, we watched the Shining, which I’d only ever seen parodies of. Perhaps it was my memory, the earliness of the hour of the fact that we saw the film in our salone, but I just couldn’t get scared. There was always something to laugh at, a plot to pick apart and characters and makeup and costume to mock.
At least we have some kind of spirit,
Bacini, Thalia
PS. Italian boy called me “beauty, beautiful!” on the way back from the Shining. Woohoo self esteem. I love Italy….
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