First few days in Italia

Before I left I was overwhelmed with emotion, I felt horrible because I had no sympathy for my mother who has been crying for weeks or my friends who have been begging me not to go. The only emotion that was running through my body was excitement to be in the walled-in medieval town of Sansepolcro. Two days before I was scheduled to leave I was very happy with how I ‘lightly’ packed and only packed what I ‘needed.’ That feeling only stayed until I weighed my luggage and the scale read 85 pounds. This required me to re-pack my suitcase with what I felt was next to nothing. Luckily that feeling was replaced with joy due to my going away party, which allowed me to say my goodbyes to my closest friends and family. The next day, I received a phone call from Kevin who called to inform me that due the recent snow storm the airport had to cancel my flight. I wish I could have taken a photograph of my mother’s face when I told her the news about my flight cancellation; it was as if she had just seen God. Monday morning I woke up to my mother telling me all the things we had to do before I went to the airport, including but not limited to: getting Starbucks, going to the bank together, and calling my grandmother. I arrived at the airport thirty minutes late because of my mother’s detours and found my group waiting in line to check in. To my surprise, the packing and unpacking of my suitcase the night of my party actually worked because my bag checked in with three pounds to spare. Once I checked in, I said my goodbyes and was off to my very long and tiring adventure to Sansepolcro.
Two planes and a long bus ride later I was greeted by Dr. Webb (the program director and a professor) and Sara Andreini (professor and the Italian backbone of this program) outside the walls of Sansepolcro. As the group and I were walking to the Palazzo Alberti, I looked around and knew immediately that my life here would be very different than it was in North Carolina. The smell of smoke, the clothes, the people, and even the little shops in the town reminded me that I am no longer in the United States. When I came to the doors of the Palazzo I realized that pictures do not justify the building; its size and beauty are so remarkable not even a camera can capture it. Even the glass elevator the group and I sent our luggage up to avoid the hassle of the stairs was shocking. With Dr. Webb as the tour guide, I walked through the building and was astonished by how well the interior design program at Meredith decorated the rooms. The rooms are painted with very neutral colors, off-white single beds or bunk beds depending on the room, and huge armoires to fit our large amount of wardrobe in. It was a nice to walk into a calm toned setting after a semi-hectic day. One can imagine how hard it was to pick the room I was going to stay in, but I am glad I picked the one I did because it is very warm, pretty big, and close to both bathrooms. The three crazy girls I chose my room with are Kim, Shannon, and Jess; who I think are a good match to live with because they are all laid back and have a good sense of humor. I think living with them has already made me feel as if the Palazzo is a home, and not just somewhere I am staying for three months.
The first thing I learned (which did not take much time) about Italy is that many people smoke. The first thing I smell when I go outside is smoke, and the last thing I smell before I go to bed is smoke in my hair. The Italian view of smoking is very opposite of the American view; the only similarity I have observed is that there is no smoking inside of the buildings. Another thing someone should know for his or her own safety is that the Italian way of driving is completely different than what an American is used to. They drive very fast and only come to a stop at a stop light or if the driver almost hits someone running a stop sign. For example, the bus driver on the way to Sansepolcro from Rome rode in the S.O.S. lane along with other drivers to get through traffic more quickly. But this does not mean that the Italians are worse drivers than Americans; I have yet to see a car accident of any kind, I have only heard breaks that may need changing. The cars here are different too as many of them are small, like the Smart Car or Mini Cooper, and I have come to the conclusion that the reason for this is that it is easier to get through the narrow streets as well as park mostly anywhere they can. My roommates and I think that the cars here are very cute and we get excited when the different colored tiny cars are seen.
My favorite thing about living in the Palazzo so far is our chef Margarita’s cooking. I was worried before I came here that I was not going to like any of the food because I have not eaten cheese in many years (I do not like the taste) and I typically dislike Italian food. Well, I am VERY glad I told myself I would try everything once because with or without cheese her cooking is something indescribable, I am convinced that she could take the most disgusting thing and turn it into the most amazing thing one could ever taste if she wanted to. I was also surprised that Italian food does not have as much spice or cheese as it does in America. I was expecting to be handed a plate of cheese and sauce with a mysterious green leaf in it every day but from my experience so far it is the opposite. There is one rumor about Italian cuisine that is true; their coffee is amazing. I normally prefer a stronger tasting coffee, and with a lack of words their coffee is the strongest thing I have ever tasted. I have been to a couple bars (coffee shops that sell pastries and alcohol) since I have been here and their ‘specialty drinks’ are different than America’s; but in a good way. My co-workers at Starbucks would be pleased to hear that soy and non-fat milk are not usual here, and most of the drinks are made with heavy cream. My first night here the girls and I went out to a place called Happy Bar, and my roommate Shannon and I were surprised when our hot chocolate was as thick as pudding! It was quite delicious, but very hard to finish because it was very heavy.
Eating all this good food is not something to just sit on, so usually my roommates and I go on walks after class to adventure. Many of these adventures have wound up being costly because the shops on the streets have such cute clothes, and I have never been one who has been good at saving money. This nasty habit burns through my wallet but also helps with my Italian. When I went out to buy my boots, I brought a note card with me that had everything I thought I would need to say. Although the note card did not help me slow down her speech, I was able to say ciao and quanto costo which helped me through the purchase. Other than my pair of boots, I bought a long sleeved purple shirt, and groceries. It does not sound like I have bought a lot but the euro exchange rate is around sixty-five cents to one euro, so everything is more expensive. Also, the walks with the girls usually involve plenty of picture taking, cold air blowing in our faces, and stares coming from the townspeople. The stares are not a bad thing, we were told the Italian people love Americans; one person on the street actually came up to us and screamed “I LOVE AMERICA!” The girls and I are not necessarily hard to pick out of the crowd as Americans; although most of us have brown hair and fair skin, our clothes are distinctly different from the Italians, as is the way we carry ourselves. What gives us away are our pea-coats and jeans; the Italians wear longer jackets and colored jeans or tights more than blue jeans. In my opinion, the Italians dress better than anyone I have ever seen, but that idea varies within the group. My favorite thing that they wear are the water proof down jackets that the girls and I call “trash bag jackets” because they look and feel like a black trash bag. Maybe I will get a trash bag jacket by the end of this journey, who knows!