una vita non è basta
La vita a roma... I feel as though I have only just arrived. Maybe it's because I've only changed clothes about three times in the sixteen days I've been here and showered two less times than that (I will explain). Those who know me might argue, “So... not much has changed, Brent”. Anyway, the following, in no chronological... err, any type of logical order for that matter, is my experience in roma thus far...
Okay, it will be kinda chronological, because I have to start somewhat at the beginning so that I can explain my clothes situation. The airport lost my bag. That bag had everything in it. I had with me a small backpack containing a calculator, a few pens, and random papers. On my person I had my camera bag with camera and such, wallet, passport, and phone. Notice I did not mention extra pair of boxers or socks. Fortunately, it was easy for me find where to go. I found a group of seemingly pissed off italians crowded around a desk. The words I picked out of the mess were, “Dove sono i miei bagagli?” - “Where are my bags?”. So I too waited, though I was not quite as animated. I was just happy to know that there were others in my situation. This gave me hope (as it turned out it was a false hope) that since several bags were missing, a company like British Airways would quickly resolve the issue and I would have my bag the next day - at most two days. I gave the woman my address.... my address, which takes me to the next adventure.
Unlike the other 233 students in the program, when filling out the application to study here in rome, 4 of us checked the box that said we would like to live with a family in rome as opposed to dorm style residence. I received the address I would be staying at a week or two before, and I had looked it up on Google Earth. The address is Via Clementina, 11. According to Google Earth it was not far from Stazione Termini (huge train/bus station). So I figured that if I could get to that station, I could walk the rest of the way to where my house would be. I managed to find a train that goes from the airport to this station. Then I followed a map I had found, this map was in black and white and did not show Via Clementina. However, I knew some of the main intersections around Via Clementina. This was not enough. If you have not been to rome recently, it has not changed. The roads still change names every three blocks. They still zig-zag in very illogical ways. The roads are still barely wide enough for a car to pass through, let alone a car and a pedestrian simultaneously (at this point I was thankful I did not have my bag to lug around). After a bit of searching and no luck, I decided to call the school. The school called Paola (my host mother) and Paola came to my rescue. It turned out Via Clementina was a street I walked past several times, but it was not labeled and thus I never walked down it. In the end, I was very close and proud of the fact I made it as far as I did.
I will end for now because I'm hungry and it smells like Paola is cooking something very tasty. I will update soon in more detail on my host family, people I've met, the ridiculous public transportation, the continued mystery that is the location of my bag, classes, and blah. Love.
Okay, it will be kinda chronological, because I have to start somewhat at the beginning so that I can explain my clothes situation. The airport lost my bag. That bag had everything in it. I had with me a small backpack containing a calculator, a few pens, and random papers. On my person I had my camera bag with camera and such, wallet, passport, and phone. Notice I did not mention extra pair of boxers or socks. Fortunately, it was easy for me find where to go. I found a group of seemingly pissed off italians crowded around a desk. The words I picked out of the mess were, “Dove sono i miei bagagli?” - “Where are my bags?”. So I too waited, though I was not quite as animated. I was just happy to know that there were others in my situation. This gave me hope (as it turned out it was a false hope) that since several bags were missing, a company like British Airways would quickly resolve the issue and I would have my bag the next day - at most two days. I gave the woman my address.... my address, which takes me to the next adventure.
Unlike the other 233 students in the program, when filling out the application to study here in rome, 4 of us checked the box that said we would like to live with a family in rome as opposed to dorm style residence. I received the address I would be staying at a week or two before, and I had looked it up on Google Earth. The address is Via Clementina, 11. According to Google Earth it was not far from Stazione Termini (huge train/bus station). So I figured that if I could get to that station, I could walk the rest of the way to where my house would be. I managed to find a train that goes from the airport to this station. Then I followed a map I had found, this map was in black and white and did not show Via Clementina. However, I knew some of the main intersections around Via Clementina. This was not enough. If you have not been to rome recently, it has not changed. The roads still change names every three blocks. They still zig-zag in very illogical ways. The roads are still barely wide enough for a car to pass through, let alone a car and a pedestrian simultaneously (at this point I was thankful I did not have my bag to lug around). After a bit of searching and no luck, I decided to call the school. The school called Paola (my host mother) and Paola came to my rescue. It turned out Via Clementina was a street I walked past several times, but it was not labeled and thus I never walked down it. In the end, I was very close and proud of the fact I made it as far as I did.
I will end for now because I'm hungry and it smells like Paola is cooking something very tasty. I will update soon in more detail on my host family, people I've met, the ridiculous public transportation, the continued mystery that is the location of my bag, classes, and blah. Love.