Still not here.
I'm sorry. That was a cruel trick. But you should have seen the look on your face!
On a serious note, unfortunately my luggage has not yet arrived. My heart skips a beat each time my phone rings (the airport said they'd call when it arrived), but alas, I have not yet received that blessed phone call. The good news is that AirFrance is giving me 100 euro for the first 21 days that I'm here without my luggage so I don't run out of underwear, and if I don't receive it at the end of 21 days they reimburse me for everything. Yesterday I began to dwell a bit on my unfortunate situation and almost threw myself a pity party. But eventually I calmed down and reminded myself that everything in that suitcase is replaceable. Sure, it's a bummer not to have my clothes, but those are replaceable. I have my computer. I have my books. I have my pictures of loved ones. I have my warm winter jacket, and in the words of Grandma Elise, "most importantly: my health." The other girls on the trip have been kind enough to lend me their clothes while I get this whole issue sorted out, so what's the big deal? If it comes, great; if not, it's not the end of the world. It really doesn't matter if it comes or not. (Eh, who am I kidding? Of course it matters if it comes!)
Now, on to the important things in life. Friday night was fun; we made a big dinner together at the other girls' apartment with Chiara. Then we met up with some of my American classmates and enjoyed a little night on the town. We might have enjoyed it a bit too much though, because one wouldn't have heard the rustling of little feet in our apartment until about 1 p.m. When I finally arose from the grave and opened my shutters, I saw that the sun was shining! Our first sunny day in Florence! My roommates and I decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and walk around. We went into Florence's equivalent of a farmer's market, which had assorted varieties of fruits, vegetables, meats, and cheeses. And when I say an assorted variety, I mean an incredibly assorted variety, as in parts of the cow you never would have dreamed of using. Long folds of hairy, blanket-like cow stomach lay in the display cases, along with kidneys, and, ahem, bull testicles. I want to experience Italian culture while I'm here, but perhaps not that aspect of it.
We grabbed some pizza for lunch, and, we were told, the best hot chocolate in Florence for dessert. It was incredibly thick and rich, and as it slid down my throat I felt like I was drinking chocolate syrup. After about a half a cup I felt like I never wanted to look at another piece of chocolate again. We walked for awhile after finishing them, which helped clear that sickening headache and stomachache that inevitably follows the consumption of too much sugar. Was it worth it? Absolutely.
My roommates and I then ventured out onto a bus to go to the grocery store to stock up on staples so we don't go broke eating out here. The fun thing about being in a foreign country is that even the most mundane activities, such as grocery shopping, feel like grand adventures. Perhaps it's the novelty of living in a new city, or the rush of adrenaline you feel when you realize you're not quite sure which bus stop is the one at which you need to get off. Wherever that feeling comes from, all I know is that it feels incredibly exciting to do the incredibly boring. Going to school, running errands, getting lost...it's all part of the ride.
Lost in Translation Moments, Part I.
1. In English, asking someone to take a picture means the same thing as asking someone to take a photograph. Thus, I asked a kind Italian man if he would please "fa una pittura," or take a picture. However, to "fa una pittura" in Italian does not mean to take a picture, but to take a painting, and the poor man looked utterly confounded and kept repeating, "una pittura? Una pittura?" Finally, he said, "Una fotografia?" I stared blankly back at him for a second and realized my mistake. "Si," I sighed. "Una fotografia."
2. When purchasing my hot chocolate today, I confidently walked up to the counter and ordered one hot chocolate at the bar without whipped cream, please. Words I've studied since my freshman year in high school; piece of cake. The correct way of saying this would have been: "Una cioccolata calda al bar senza panna, per favore." I said, "Una cioccolata calda al bar senza pane, per favore." To the untrained American ear, it sounds right. However, the difference between "panna" and "pane" is huge to an Italian, for instead of ordering a hot chocolate without whipped cream, I ended up ordering a hot chocolate without bread. Luckily the barista had the good humor to laugh at me and gently correct my mistake. "Si," I sighed. "Senza panna."
Can't seem to post pictures online except for on Facebook. You guys will have to have Kelly show you them until I get back; sorry. Also, if you want to send mail, it now has to be sent to a different address. I'll find it out tomorrow!
Vi voglio bene e ciao per addesso!
Love, Caity
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