Buon giorno, miei amici!
Sep. 10th, 2007 01:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chanticoWalking past the rope barriers and into airport security was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I feel like I left a part of myself waiting in the airport terminal, engaging in conversation with strangers just so that my mouth was moving and something like terror, but more subtle and lost, did not overwhelm me. I lost sight of me/her as I stepped through the boarding gate, and unto that plane. It looked from the inside like the gullet of some beast, ribbed like a throat and about as comfortable. The night before I left for the first leg of my trip I woke up haunted with the name of a poem I read once upon a time and one time through— Luke Havergal. It was— is— appropriate. By passing across the sea, I stepped, not unwittingly, through my own western gate, eastern though the direction might have been. Now, I feel suspended between, a thread pulled taut and about to be released.
Florence and Tuscany feel like homes I’ve never had, but also alien and very frightening. There’ve been some hang-ups that have contributed to the feeling of being helpless, washed in one direction or another by an ocean of unfamiliarity. Somehow, my jewelry disappeared from my luggage—I’m sad about that one, because I had a locket in there from my young childhood, and a gold necklace my grandfather gave me when Grandma Kok died. At the very least, I remembered to carry my sparklies directly with me, though some of them were damaged in transit . . . nothing a little superglue won’t cure. Food is very cheap here, which is good, because the exchange rate is worse than I thought. I can’t take my watercolor class, because it overlaps with all of my classes I actually need the credits for, but I’m hoping to sit in sometimes, and this means my paints, which I could not directly bring because of flight risk or something, can be sent without fear of too much time passing.
Mostly I’m lonely, overwhelmed and scared- and absolutely starstruck. The lonely part is pretty bad. My roommates are nice, but continents away from where I am and why I’m here. Apparently my Italian payphones doesn’t register on people’s cell phones, and so they don’t hear when I call, and I’m left wanting to talk to them more than before, having wistfully listened to their phone ring three or four times in hope they would pick up. My new phone card won’t let me leave messages either.
I’m sure things will get better, and quickly. The adjustment time is hard, especially when you’ve left someone behind who you miss very, very badly. Florence itself is *amazing*. I can hardly believe that I’ve seen the things I’ve seen just today—the Duomo, the Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi, the Rape of the Sabine Women, and the million small streets, shops, markets and squares (and scooters!) that are everywhere. Ohhh, do I wish I had more money . . . the shopping! Dolce and Gabbana! Prada! Armani! Versace! Miu Miu! Guess! Downtown is the leathermarket, with shoes and bags for as little as 15 euros . . . that’s about 25 dollars. And the men . . . rowr. The city s surrounded by the Tuscan skyline: mountains sublimely beautiful, a deep blue sky that turns green-gold like the underside of a leaf in the evening. I know know what “Purple mountain’s majesty”, really means. Tuscany is a land of *warmth*. Everything is red and gold and dark green, purple and charcoal, all without appearing burned out like Bloomington does right now.
I feel bad about how very, very American the group I’m traveling with really is, with a few exceptions. As I said before, my roommates are sweet, but loud and kind of oblivious. Going to dinner with a large group the other night was kind of horrifying. They were so loud and obnoxious, and seemed to have no idea that they were being so. Classes started today, and they seem really good. Sunday I had a little time to get my bearings around the city, which is freaking Kafkaesque in it’s design sometimes.
Overall-- hangups aside, WOOOOO. I have to go now and catch my classes, but tomorrow there should be some more details on some of the specific sites, and some pictures, starting with my apartment and room WHICH IS SINGLE HAHAHAHA.
Florence and Tuscany feel like homes I’ve never had, but also alien and very frightening. There’ve been some hang-ups that have contributed to the feeling of being helpless, washed in one direction or another by an ocean of unfamiliarity. Somehow, my jewelry disappeared from my luggage—I’m sad about that one, because I had a locket in there from my young childhood, and a gold necklace my grandfather gave me when Grandma Kok died. At the very least, I remembered to carry my sparklies directly with me, though some of them were damaged in transit . . . nothing a little superglue won’t cure. Food is very cheap here, which is good, because the exchange rate is worse than I thought. I can’t take my watercolor class, because it overlaps with all of my classes I actually need the credits for, but I’m hoping to sit in sometimes, and this means my paints, which I could not directly bring because of flight risk or something, can be sent without fear of too much time passing.
Mostly I’m lonely, overwhelmed and scared- and absolutely starstruck. The lonely part is pretty bad. My roommates are nice, but continents away from where I am and why I’m here. Apparently my Italian payphones doesn’t register on people’s cell phones, and so they don’t hear when I call, and I’m left wanting to talk to them more than before, having wistfully listened to their phone ring three or four times in hope they would pick up. My new phone card won’t let me leave messages either.
I’m sure things will get better, and quickly. The adjustment time is hard, especially when you’ve left someone behind who you miss very, very badly. Florence itself is *amazing*. I can hardly believe that I’ve seen the things I’ve seen just today—the Duomo, the Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi, the Rape of the Sabine Women, and the million small streets, shops, markets and squares (and scooters!) that are everywhere. Ohhh, do I wish I had more money . . . the shopping! Dolce and Gabbana! Prada! Armani! Versace! Miu Miu! Guess! Downtown is the leathermarket, with shoes and bags for as little as 15 euros . . . that’s about 25 dollars. And the men . . . rowr. The city s surrounded by the Tuscan skyline: mountains sublimely beautiful, a deep blue sky that turns green-gold like the underside of a leaf in the evening. I know know what “Purple mountain’s majesty”, really means. Tuscany is a land of *warmth*. Everything is red and gold and dark green, purple and charcoal, all without appearing burned out like Bloomington does right now.
I feel bad about how very, very American the group I’m traveling with really is, with a few exceptions. As I said before, my roommates are sweet, but loud and kind of oblivious. Going to dinner with a large group the other night was kind of horrifying. They were so loud and obnoxious, and seemed to have no idea that they were being so. Classes started today, and they seem really good. Sunday I had a little time to get my bearings around the city, which is freaking Kafkaesque in it’s design sometimes.
Overall-- hangups aside, WOOOOO. I have to go now and catch my classes, but tomorrow there should be some more details on some of the specific sites, and some pictures, starting with my apartment and room WHICH IS SINGLE HAHAHAHA.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-09-10 01:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-10 02:48 pm (UTC)There are 2 ways of doing this.
1. I can meet with you in person. I still live in Bloomington, so I can easily meet with people there, I work in Indy so I can easily meet with people there, and I am willing to drive up to Lafayette once or twice to get some signatures there. Just let me know when and where we can meet.
2. I can mail you the form and an envelope. send your address to baldred (at) indiana.edu and I will send you a form and stamped envelope to use.
Thanks,
Ben
no subject
Date: 2007-09-10 08:36 pm (UTC)Your information will be kept confidential within the paper, identifying you only as "User #"
and glad you got there safely.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 12:45 am (UTC)-RC
no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-11 01:10 pm (UTC)LOL I SO KNEW IT. That made me smile, thank you. :)