After arriving at the hostel and sleeping with my passport, credit cards, and cash clutched to myself I awoke tired and listless. Instead of concisely and intently pursuing the city in a succinct manner I took to wandering around looking for coffee.
I was stuck with my bag and had all morning to kill.
Wandering into a cafe I asked the bartender for a cup of coffee. "Cafe," I said confidently. Luckily this was one word that translated from Spanish to Italian. Unfortunately, I didn't know where to start with "water." So I just said "water" and pointed to a plastic bottle of water behind the counter.
He said something which I guessed to be "with or without ice?" I said "without ice." Then he whipped out a bottle of vodka. I laughed and said "no! That!"
We all laughed and chatted about it in a smattering of three languages. I learned that it was "aqua." So I should have just tried the Spanish word "agua."
After this I scanned the streets for signs of the cathedral. I decided to spring for a packet of cigarettes. They were about 6 euro. They were good bargaining chips in the days to come.
I wandered the city, lost, for many hours. I had no map and no drive to find where I was going quickly. There was a beautiful art museum that featured ancient paintings and uncommon artists. In that gallery I thought of Walt Whitman's quote "This is common air that bathes the globe.:
The Duomo was beautiful. It cost 12 euro to climb to the top and enter the building. I chose to save the cash because the surrounding countryside wasn't quite as visually stunning as some places I've been.
I sat in the plaza for several hours observing people coming and going. The senegalese salesmen were hard at work peddling bracelets and birdseed to feed the army of pigeons that come to nest on tourists heads at random.
After settling there for a while I headed back to the train station where I waited for 3 hours before having a blast in the car with 3 Italian girls.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Arrival in Milan
Rome has been a trip... in both senses of the word.
I arrived at Barajas with the feelings of anticipation and apprehension which usually accompany any adventures of this importance. "This is my recluse from the stress of teenagers, constant movement, separation from my family, and tedious planning...I'm going to make it count!"
Darting to the terminal T1 I was immediately confused. Ryanair, the cheap company with which I usually fly, has a "visa-check station" next to a security entrance to the gates. Easyjet had a long checkin line and no helpful signs. I met some nice English people in line and mulled over the confusion of the airport.
At the front of the line, finally, I asked the worker if I could check in. He politely informed me in Spanish and in English that the type of ticket that I had should go directly through security. The screen showed my gate: C41. Peacefully, I wanderd around the gates and stopped to talk to a nice saleswoman who tried to give me a credit card.
Then came more confusion. The flight was at 21:15 and the gate closed at 20:45. 20:50 came and there was no change in the movement of the line. Then they said something in Spanish that I didn't hear clearly. Half the line moved quickly and the other half stood still. Then they said it in English, I still couldn't hear it, and the other hal.f started moving. So I simply followed in anticipation of a change in planes.
Not only was it a change in planes but also the farthest distance that the change could have gone. I ended up running and then asked someone in line "is this the flight to Milan?"
She answered "yes it is." That's when I met my first contact on the trip. We chatted a long time about nothing and everything in Italy. Forebodings, sob stories, and ominous warnings were the majority of the information that she shared with me.
On the plane, finally, I met a creepy little Philipino man who was very smiley. We talked for over 2 hours before the plane took off. He asked me "how old are you?" I said, a little irritated at the fact that we had been talking less than 5 minutes before he asked that, "guess!" He replied "no, seriously, tell me your age."
This past year has taught me a lot of things about meeting someone. Don't ask their name before they ask yours...because it doesn't matter. Don't ever ask age...if you're really curious about something (if they're legally an adult or over 21) tell a story or ask an oblique question. For instance with one person we were talking about gun violence and he brought up September 11th. Curious about his age I said "man...I was in 6th grade when that happened and it was terrifying!" He replied "I was in the university and they..." that gave me an idea that he was at least 6 years older than I.
Another thing I've learned is that once a conversation is broken it's hard to bring it back.
So we kept it going until the plane took off. 2 hours late.
When I arrived in Milan, a city some view as particularly dangerous, it was dark. Having based my directions on the metro route I was disheartened to learn that, being 1:30 a.m., the metro was closed. Waiting for tourists outside the station there was a group of grizzly homeless Italian beggars and a few people drinking beer while sitting in circles. One got up, approached, and asked me "where you go?" I replied pointing in a direction - "That way. No thank you." Luckily, there was a British man walking his girlfriend to the station. He let me use his phone for a map and I trekked toward my hostel: the Black and White.
By the time I got there nothing was open but I was exhausted from the stress of walking a mile with my luggage. My own shadow scared me on parts of this walk...because I had over 500 euro on me in cash.
I arrived at Barajas with the feelings of anticipation and apprehension which usually accompany any adventures of this importance. "This is my recluse from the stress of teenagers, constant movement, separation from my family, and tedious planning...I'm going to make it count!"
Darting to the terminal T1 I was immediately confused. Ryanair, the cheap company with which I usually fly, has a "visa-check station" next to a security entrance to the gates. Easyjet had a long checkin line and no helpful signs. I met some nice English people in line and mulled over the confusion of the airport.
At the front of the line, finally, I asked the worker if I could check in. He politely informed me in Spanish and in English that the type of ticket that I had should go directly through security. The screen showed my gate: C41. Peacefully, I wanderd around the gates and stopped to talk to a nice saleswoman who tried to give me a credit card.
Then came more confusion. The flight was at 21:15 and the gate closed at 20:45. 20:50 came and there was no change in the movement of the line. Then they said something in Spanish that I didn't hear clearly. Half the line moved quickly and the other half stood still. Then they said it in English, I still couldn't hear it, and the other hal.f started moving. So I simply followed in anticipation of a change in planes.
Not only was it a change in planes but also the farthest distance that the change could have gone. I ended up running and then asked someone in line "is this the flight to Milan?"
She answered "yes it is." That's when I met my first contact on the trip. We chatted a long time about nothing and everything in Italy. Forebodings, sob stories, and ominous warnings were the majority of the information that she shared with me.
On the plane, finally, I met a creepy little Philipino man who was very smiley. We talked for over 2 hours before the plane took off. He asked me "how old are you?" I said, a little irritated at the fact that we had been talking less than 5 minutes before he asked that, "guess!" He replied "no, seriously, tell me your age."
This past year has taught me a lot of things about meeting someone. Don't ask their name before they ask yours...because it doesn't matter. Don't ever ask age...if you're really curious about something (if they're legally an adult or over 21) tell a story or ask an oblique question. For instance with one person we were talking about gun violence and he brought up September 11th. Curious about his age I said "man...I was in 6th grade when that happened and it was terrifying!" He replied "I was in the university and they..." that gave me an idea that he was at least 6 years older than I.
Another thing I've learned is that once a conversation is broken it's hard to bring it back.
So we kept it going until the plane took off. 2 hours late.
When I arrived in Milan, a city some view as particularly dangerous, it was dark. Having based my directions on the metro route I was disheartened to learn that, being 1:30 a.m., the metro was closed. Waiting for tourists outside the station there was a group of grizzly homeless Italian beggars and a few people drinking beer while sitting in circles. One got up, approached, and asked me "where you go?" I replied pointing in a direction - "That way. No thank you." Luckily, there was a British man walking his girlfriend to the station. He let me use his phone for a map and I trekked toward my hostel: the Black and White.
By the time I got there nothing was open but I was exhausted from the stress of walking a mile with my luggage. My own shadow scared me on parts of this walk...because I had over 500 euro on me in cash.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Movement
I have just moved in to my new apt. It is spacious for a European place and my room is exactly the size that I need. Single bed, desk, large mirror, dresser with a lot of drawers, bookshelf, and space under the bed are all I need. There are about two square meters of empty floor. No dead room. My closet is in the hallway which is a bit strange but I don't mind.
My roomates are a French woman, Portuguese man, and a Spanish guy. The French woman is a teacher and designer, the Spaniard is an engineering student and the Portuguese is a physics PhD. I think that this is going to be a great set. They are organized and all professional.
I have a little money left after paying back rent, two months deposit, and transport. I want to put all I have left toward that student loan in the United States. Again, I wish that they wouldn't haggle specifics when deferring those. Although I initialled and signed the documents they said that I missed a line, the second time they said that my social security number was wrong, and after that they said that my technical income was too much.
The reason for the hassle is roughly apparent: banks make more off overdrafts than deferrals coupled with on-time payments in the future. That could just be my conspiracy theorist mind at work.
After talking to my roommates for a while I realize what a good position I am in to be living in Spain. The becario position we auxiliares have is enough to survive with plenty of time to experience Spain. Me, on the other hand, I would prefer more work over free time.
Which is why I'm shooting out advertisements a lot this weekend. It cost about $15 total but through that I now have 14 hours weekly extra classes.
All last night and this morning I have been studying epidemiology and anatomy. Tonight I plan on calling my parents (again) to see what has changed back home. I haven't spoken to them since Thanksgiving.
I'm off to eat something, work out, and then study more. Hopefully this week I'll have more students and a clearer picture of how I will spend my holiday.
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