Moving in

*yawn*

So after my minipost the other day, I went to bed at about 1:30. I woke up the next time, feeling like a million bucks. I jumped vigorously out of bed (okay more like groaned and wrenched myself into a sitting position), and looked at my phone to check the time.

1:46 Schiesse damn

I guess I needed sleep more than I had previously thought. There was a chance that I was supposed to go to a market this morning. Yeah….well, I ‘m good to go now, so be prepared to delve into a wondrous world of literary excellence detailing the thrilling accounts of an intrepid young man in the far off and distant city of Milan.

As I recall, I left off going to sleep in the hotel. So after one of the deeper sleeps that I can remember I woke up to the sound of my alarm at about 8:00 local time. I needed to call the International Relations Office and see what time I needed to be at the school to check in. Unfortunately, when I checked the paper with the phone number it also said that the office didn’t open until nine. Crap. Grumbling and cursing under my breath, I climbed back into bed with the intention of getting up in about 30 in to an hour anyways. Next thing I knew it was 10:10 and we were in danger of missing out included breakfast, which stopped at 10:30. I went over to wake up Carolyn (This was awkward. Have you ever had to wake someone up that you don’t really know except having chatted to on facebook? No I guess not. Well it’s a little strange) I didn’t know if she’d appreciate being woken up. But it was all good and we stumbled up to the café for our breakfast. I was stunned. As you may have deduced from the pictures of our room, we weren’t staying in hotel Calypso here (That’s for all of you Malta and Tunisia people. You know what I’m talking about). But here before me lay a barista and an 8.000 euro espresso machine. At this point I knew all of the stereotypes about the Italians and their coffee might have some validity. We sat down at a little table and I ordered “Verrei un cornetto e un cappuccino per favore”. It was admittedly the best cup of cappuccino I have ever had. After eating a delicious breakfast and bemoaning the canned-ham sized flakes of snow coming down, Carolyn and I went to call Lea Senn, our program coordinator about moving into our apartments. I got a hold of her easily enough and I asked her when we needed to be there.

In about 30 min, and Carolyn was supposed to be there at about 9:30. It was currently 11:25. WOOOO nothing like getting started off on the right foot. We ran around like a bunch of chickens who had drank coffee before having their heads cut off, throwing our stuff into suitcases and stuff. We checked out and called for a taxi. Standing ankle deep in slush, we waited in the frigid cold for the taxi to arrive. Finally it pulled up in front of the hotel, we muttered a harried “Buongiorno” and helped load our luggage. A few minutes later we arrived at 28/30 via Carducci, our destination for all things international relationy. I was a little nervous about having incurred the wrath of Snra. Senn, I mean I was late and I didn’t know what was going on. Luckily, she was incredibly nice and told me not to worry about it. I filled out some paper work and sat around talking to this lady named Julie, who made fun of me for my passport photo. (Damn I hate that photo. Any of you who have seen it understand why I loathe that thing. Keely stop laughing….AND I have to keep it for another 6 years. Damn it.) But after a while a guy named Stefano came into the room and told me that he was going to take me to my flat. We loaded my three bags into his yellow fiat and started off. Stefano was a cool dude and we talked about how much we liked food. The only thing Stefano and I argued about was over the merit of a hot dog. Stefano thinks they are God’s gift to man, while on the other hand I still subscribe to my cousin’s description of hotdogs as pus rockets. There, now none of you ever want to eat a hot dog again. As it should be. ;)

But as we went on, Stefano explained to me that I didn’t really have flatmates of a permanent nature just yet. For the first week I would be living with two French girls who were finishing up their fall semester exams. After they left a couple guys from another apartment would move in and either a guy from Mexico or my friend Aresiny would be moving in as well. I told Stefano that sounded cool to me. Finally we arrived at the flat. Stefano, in his desire to make my life as easy as possible, parked the car in what must have been a puddle that qualified as one of the largest bodies of water in Italy (I mean, 4 inches deep and 10 feet wide? Should have packed water wings or something. Cripes). But after fording the lake and losing several teams of oxen, I finally had all of my luggage inside of the apartment building. We took a tiny, tiny elevator to the second floor and opened the door to the place that was/is going to be my home for the next 5 months. I met my me temp flatmates, Pauline and Coline. They’re both very nice and I enjoy hanging out with them. They showed me around the flat, and told me about some of the stores and bars near our flat.

After throwing my stuff into my room, Pauline asked if I wanted to split a beer with her. After much arm twisting and cajoling, I agreed. (Okay I said yes right off. No judgement per favore). We sat and shot the breeze, chewed the fat, and all those sorts of things. As it turns out, both Coline and Pauline are from the same general region of France as Chloe. Cool beans. After a while, I asked if they minded if I could sneak off and shower off my travel scum and take a much needed nap. Our bathroom is pretty awesome. We have a rotating glass door to shield the shower portion of the tub, and Jacuzzi-ish jets in the tub itself. (Don’t be too jealous, I haven’t taken a “bath” in about 4 years. All showers).
After the shower (no I ‘m not going to talk about the shower, I’m sorry), I climbed into my freshly made bed and slipped into blessed unconsciousness and dreamt dreams of Roman forums and gladiatorial battels between fashionistas…. Later I woke up and Pauline asked if I wanted to go to the store. Since I’ll presumably need to feed myself at some point over the next 5 months, this seemed like a good idea. We took the tram down the street to this small Dutch store. It was kind of tucked away down an alley so I felt like I was going to buy some drugs rather than milk and bread. It was a great little store, with very cheap foodstuffs and all the best types of chocolate and wine. I just got some essentials bread and prosciutto, cheese and spaghetti, milk and grapefruit juice. We took the tram back (I got some strange looks from people on the tram. Are you telling me they don’t see a lot of pale red-headed fellers down this-a-ways? Well I’ll be damned.)

After getting back to the flat, the girls invited me to come to an aperitivo with them to meet their friend Ines. Before I continue with my story, I need to explain aperiitvo. It is a big part of the culture here in Milano. You go to a bar or ristorante and buy a drink for anywhere from 7 to 10 euro. Then there is a buffet of little appetizer type things. The food ranges from simple things like cheese and meats to honest-to-goodness pizza and pasta. (I’ve been to aperitivo about 4 times so far and I’m a big fan). We took the metro down to Porta Genova and had a fantastic time. The food was great and aside from a little difficulty deciding what I wanted (No way right? I never take a long time to decide :/ and a little trouble with my ordering language, we had a great night. Getting to know Pauline, Coline, and Ines was a lot of fun.

But it was getting late and the lag of the jet was still dogging my mental processes, so we eventually returned to the flat and I went to sleep in preparation for my orientation the next day. But that’s another post….