three day hump
Three days in and I'm feeling very alienated, but have no desire to leave. I suppose it's just the fact I have to try so hard to communicate is wearing me out. I could see myself doing better had I actually taken an Italian course or something, but this whole "learning by doing" bit is rather difficult. My Italian/English dictionary has become my closest (and really ONLY) companion.
I got fairly drunk last night and slept with a girl... I feel shitty about it because of the circumstances (which no, I am NOT going to share.. sorry), however, I'm awaiting consequences I'm not sure are going to come. The expression "oh?... fuck." comes to mind. For what it's worth, i genuinely liked the girl, and had a wonderful night out with her.
On another note, I honestly can't remember the last time I had this much solitude, and although back home I'd probably find it terrifying and be slowly spiraling, here it's comforting. I have all day long to write, read, study. Honestly it's amazing. I love this place, it's like a mini-sabatical. I haven't written any poetry yet, but I've been journaling like mad. I've written more in the last three days than the last month combined. Wonderful doesn't begin to cover the feeling that washes over me at that thought. I may not be able to speak the language very well, but in the strangest sort of way, I feel like I'm getting my voice back.
Although I won't post a list of every single thing my meals consist of, as an homage to Marc, I will say that my typical breakfast has been fresh oranges (still on the stem), italian "croissants", and nutella, while my typical dinner has been an anti-pasta plate of a Sicilian flat-bread, ricotta dolce, cucumbers, followed by a pasta dish (typically penne rossa), and ended with either chicken or fried fish, all accompanied by water and white wine. My portions are about a third the size of those of my friends here.
I will end by saying that I really, really, REALLY miss my guitar.
I got fairly drunk last night and slept with a girl... I feel shitty about it because of the circumstances (which no, I am NOT going to share.. sorry), however, I'm awaiting consequences I'm not sure are going to come. The expression "oh?... fuck." comes to mind. For what it's worth, i genuinely liked the girl, and had a wonderful night out with her.
On another note, I honestly can't remember the last time I had this much solitude, and although back home I'd probably find it terrifying and be slowly spiraling, here it's comforting. I have all day long to write, read, study. Honestly it's amazing. I love this place, it's like a mini-sabatical. I haven't written any poetry yet, but I've been journaling like mad. I've written more in the last three days than the last month combined. Wonderful doesn't begin to cover the feeling that washes over me at that thought. I may not be able to speak the language very well, but in the strangest sort of way, I feel like I'm getting my voice back.
Although I won't post a list of every single thing my meals consist of, as an homage to Marc, I will say that my typical breakfast has been fresh oranges (still on the stem), italian "croissants", and nutella, while my typical dinner has been an anti-pasta plate of a Sicilian flat-bread, ricotta dolce, cucumbers, followed by a pasta dish (typically penne rossa), and ended with either chicken or fried fish, all accompanied by water and white wine. My portions are about a third the size of those of my friends here.
I will end by saying that I really, really, REALLY miss my guitar.