I recieved my first package yesterday. When I saw it downstairs, I assumed it was from Carole (who has sent me misquito killers!), and didnt look at the name on it, but rather stuck it in my bag and started the hike up. I had also recieved two slips from the post office telling me that two of my boxes from home that I had mailed to myself, had arrived and were waiting for me at the post office (couldnt they have brought them to me?). When I got upstairs, I got out the package and stareted to open it, when I noticed that it had a customs form on it. That's strange I thought, and then looking closer, noticed that it wasnt from Carole, but was from AJ! I then remembered that she had said that she put something in the mail for me. I quickly opened it and dumped out the contents: A card, Reeses Peanut butter cups (shaped like pumpkins!) and Taco seasoning!

As I read through the card and happily munched on peanut butter goodness, I was reminded by AJ of good times and good friends in the past. She wrote that "it still hasnt set in that you're gone, and that I'm leaving soon, and that everything is going to be really different." In a way it still hasnt set in for me either. I'm not sure if it every really does set in though. I understand that I dont live in Corvallis anymore, and that I'm not going to see my friends from there for a long time, but it never quite feels real. I think part of it is living this life in Italy. Whenever I come to Italy it always seems like a parralelle life to Corvallis. As if while I'm in one, time stands still in the other. Then, when I return, it slowly becomes obvious that time hasnt stood still. sometimes it's a hard concept to grasp when you're so far away.

Still, good friends are always there for you. AJ, having watched me prepare several packages for Jackie full of peanut butter cups and seasoning packets knew exactly what to send me. :) And as I sit here reading a suggestion for a Spicy Layered Dip, good memories of Bombs Away Cafe, pints of Heff, and bomber nachos come into mind.

Thanks for the package AJ!


Me and AJ at our Halloween party last year.

After my eventful morning at the immigration office, I decided to trek out to the bank in my second attempt to cash my check. When I arrived at the very large piazza where the bank was supposed to be located at, I wondered around for awhile, looking. I finally spotted a sign for the bank across the street. Off I went. As I got closer to the sign though, it became apparent that it was a large parking lot. well where the hell is the bank at? Just as I was about to ask someone, I spoted another sign, about a door. It was inside the fenced parking lot. Shit. I wondered around for awhile, and to my surprised actually found an open gate to go in. As I approaced the bank, I noticed it was a bit different than the other, there was only one door to go through at this one, and it opened automatically for me.

Once inside I grabbed a number (Italians love those little machines that spit out numbers. I blame the machines for the Italians lack of ability to stand in a line), and again waited. This time my wait was only about 5 min though, and when my number came up, there was a nice little desk and chair for me to sit down in.

Cashing the check was extremely easy. I just handed it, and my passport to the teller, and 5 minutes later I was walking out the door with my money. It felt strange as I left. That had been too easy. Was I still in Italy?

This morning was my third time waiting in line at the immigration office here in Milano. The first time, when I first arrived in august, I waited in line for 5 hours to get my permit of stay for tourism. During which time I argued with a dozen different people, that yes, even though I was American I NEEDED to get my PdiS for tourism (It is actually required for all americans to file for this within 8 days of entry, needless to say most dont as its not common knowledge, and the police really dont seem to care if an American has one or not).

The second time I went, two weeks ago, I was told after an hour wait that they were not handing out anymore numbers for the day. I then made the mistake of showing them my PdiS for tourism, which then caused the lady at the front desk to begin yelling at me saying that I shouldnt have gotten one for tourism if I was a student. I then had to yell back (as I've learned this is the only way she will listen to you), and explain several times that I had to get my PdiS for tourism because I entered Italy begenning of August, and my student Visa wasnt valid until beginning of Sept (which as well all know, is well more than 8 days later). After about 15 min of yelling back and forth I finally got her to admit that I was right and she was wrong. Then she told me I could either come back at 6 the next morning to wait in line, or make an appointment for the end of the month. Appointment please!

When I made the appointment, it was for 9 am. I asked them what time I should show up to wait in line, they told me to come between 9 and 10, and that I wouldnt need to wait in line, but could come straight in, get a number, and go inside to wait. Yeah right.

Needless to say when I showed up at 8.45 this morning, there was already a long line of people (way more than would actually be able to get in that day before they closed), and when I went straight in (through the exit) and tried to get my number, the lady (yes, the SAME lady) told me and another girl who had showed up at the same time, that we had to go outside and wait in line and come in through the other door. Apparently how it works, is that even though you have an appointment, you still have to wait in line to get a number. Everybody who was in the line either also had appointments for that morning, or they were waiting to make appointments. One line. One person working the desk. About 200 people in line before us. Not gonna happen.

So in the true spirit of Italy we said to hell with the line, and pushed our way forward cutting ahead of people and got into the line at the front. We still had an hour wait before we got our numbers and were able to go inside. I got number 55. When I got inside, they were on 43. It was 11 am. You'd think I wouldnt have to wait long. yeah, that's what you'd think. guess again. I still needed to make photocopies of all my documents, and take my photos in the little booth. First mistake I made, was choose the photocopier next to the photobooth. Apparently the concept of putting 3 euros in the slot, pushing the button and smiling is too much for people. I had 5 people asking me how it worked. Meanwhile, after about 15 photocopies, I realized that I had been putting all of my originals on the scanner the wrong way. So I had 15 photocopies of the middle of all my pages. Good thing I brought lots of change. Eventually I got them all made, and got my photos taken.

It was now 11.30, they were on number 47. Off to the chairs I went to wait. Finally around 12 they were on number 54. I waited, knowing my turn was next. All the sudden I noticed a new window has opened, and they were on number 59! WAIT! 60. 61. 62. they started fliping through numbers, giving people about 15 seconds to show up. Me and the lady who had been in line behind me both ran up to the front. great, what do we do now. A different both in front of us flipped to number 63. We ran up to it, and showed him our numbers, explaining that we hadn't seen our numbers come up on the other booth. Luckily, he was really nice. He said first he had to help number 63, and then he would help us. Okay. 10 min later it was finally my turn. Everything went relatively smoothly, except for that the consulate in SF had stamped the letter from my school that said that they would find me housing (a lie, they just wrote the letter to satisfy the consulates need for me to have housing), instead of stamping the letter that said I was actually enrolled at the school as a student. Luckily I had a photocopy of the letter from my school. The guy was also confussed as to why I had multiple student visas (uhhh maybe because I studied here before?) and as to why I went to Macerata. All in all though, it went smoothly.

I was then sent to wait in another line, for my number to come up. Fingerprinting time! The last two PdiS I've gotten (studio and turismo) I hadnt had my fingerprints taken. I'm not quite sure why I had to this time. But whatever. Another half hour later it was done, and I was finally waiting by the final window for them to call my name. Another half hour, and I had my PdiS and was out the door.

Thank god I dont have to do that again for at least a year.

My friend Jordan from OSU is coming to visit me! I *think* he is coming on Sat, at least that is the last I've heard from him. :) He's currently somewhere in Italy (amalfii coast maybe?) traveling, during part ofo a 6 week trip in europe, mostly focused on Italy. I have no idea how long he's going to be here for, or what he wants to do while here. While I can find my way around the city just fine, and get to anywhere, I still dont have much of an idea of what there is to do/see here in Milano. In a perfect world he would show up and say to me "I want to see A, B, and C." and I could take him there and it would be great. Somehow I doubt that will happen.

So, taking my cue from Jackie, Macerata's own little tour guide, I figured that I should have some ideas prepared ahead of time. I've got a variety of travel books on Italy, and while honestly, I've never read that much about Milano (hey, there's plenty of time for me to discover it all!), there must be something good about Milano in them. So this morning I decided to do some research. however, when I went to grab some books I quickly remembered that the majority of them were still in the mail from back home. All I am left with is The Heritage Guide/Touring Club of Italy, Milan and Turin.

I'm not sure exactly why I bought this book. Well, no, I know why. I wanted a more detailed book about Milano, and this was one of the few that I could find at Borders. For some reason people dont like to write books specifically on Milano. Since buying this book though, I really haven't used it much. It's not really my style of writing. But I am determined, there must be some information in here that made it worth buying. And even not, I should at least read through it once, I mean hell, I paid for it.

In the mean time, if anyone has any suggestions of things to do in Milano (minus the obvious duomo, la scala, etc - unless you have some insider tips for them), Please SHARE!

PS- Carole, I was thinking maybe a day trip up to Como/ and or surrounding area if he was interested. Any suggestions? Can we do it easily by train? I have nothing in my guidebooks on the lakes! (maybe I'll go buy a new one today! The only other two I have with me are Rome and Sicily! ha! as soon as I buy one though I KNOW my boxes will get here! oh well, you can never have too many books!)

A few blocks away is the Birrificio Lambrate, or the Lambrate Brewery. It was recommended to me by Alice Twain, and Saturday night I finally went for their happy hour. I met up with Michelle, a Chilean girl from my program. It's a nice, cool, chill atmosphere reminding me a lot of Bombs. We didn't stay very late, as we took off to go back to her place and later checked out a club (free entrance cause we're foriegn, wohoo!), but as I was leaving, I knew that I would be back. I didn't however realize how soon I'd be back.

Yesterday Stefano came, and while calling around to some other students from our school, we found out that three of them were nearby. Well, two students from our school, Juan and Laura from mexico, and Laura's Italian roommate who goes to the Politecnico, Carmela. So anyways, all of them came over for dinner, and then afterwards we decided to go get a drink, and where did Carmela suggest we go? But of course to the Birrificio! So off we went. This time it was around midnight, and there were tons of students there, the inside was packed full (its not very big inside) and the street outside was overflown with people standing around in groups drinking. That's one nice thing about here in Italy, is you can drink in the street. So you simply go in, get a beer, and then head back out. It seems like quite the social atmosphere, and Carmela said that it was like that every night.

While they may not have dancing on the tables, I think I may have found my new 4porte.

Yesterday I actually went out and bought a new phone. yay! I splurged a little bit, rather than getting the cheapest, I got a slightly nicer one that was on sale. Not a ton of functions, it's a camera phone. And I think I can actually download different ringtones for it (a first for me). It's very pretty looking though, and most importantly the screen works! I'm still trying to figure my way through the navigation of it. I suppose I could change the language to English, and it might be a little easier. But I understand most of it, and I need to learn the other words anyways.

A nice thing is that this one is actually a tri-band, so, assuming I still have this phone next time I'm in the states, it'll actually work there as well, and I wont have to buy a new one again. The only annoying thing about it so far, is that there is a blue light on the front of it that flashes every couple of seconds. I'm not exactly sure why. It's quite annoying at night though while trying to sleep. I must figure it out before tonight... But at least I dont have an alarm going off anymore. :)

Anyhow, just because I'm a dork and I can, here are a couple photos of it:

Italian TV is full of these shows that really dont seem to have much point, other than to show barely clothed girls dancing around. Okay, I must admit, I have never actually watched one to find out if perhaps there is deeper meaning to them. But from the channel surfing I've done, there doesn't seem to be. Anyways, I just think it's funny how these shows exist, and how they always seem to be the same. There is a host, someone who isn't as you would say, your typical Italian Stallion. There there is a selection of Italian beauties around him who always seem to smile, laugh, and nod at everything he says. When they aren't dancing, they take up a position around him.

I shot some photos real quick as the credits were running - not the best, but they'll give a slight idea of what I'm talking about.

As said before, my apartment is on the 6th floor of my building, without an elevator. My old place in Macerata was on the 4th without an elevator. Jackie's apartment is on the 5th. Somehow the extra flight of stairs here seems like a lot more.

In general the rules for stairs are that they're really not that bad unless its
1. really hot outside
2. you're really tired
3. you have a lot of bags

I've discovered something with my stairs though, rule number 3 doesnt apply to them. Sure enough, the first time I dragged my bag up the stairs they seemed like they never ended - Id also just had a very long train ride from Sorrento. But the second time I brought bags up the stairs, when I got my things out of storage, I noticed something strange. I seemed to arrive at the top faster than normal. I shrugged it off. But it happened again, when I had groceries. And again. And again. And I've noticed a trend with it: The more I have, the quicker I get to the top.

Today I bought my biggest purchase from the store yet- one full bag of groceries AND a six pack of water. Arms loaded I started up the stairs, ready for what undoubtably would be a long hike. Trugging along I looked up when I arrived at what I thought to be the 3rd floor (I try not to count, as that eneviably makes the climb longer), hoping that it would be the 4th instead. To my surprise, I was looking at the door which I swore to be the one belonging to the 5th floor. Puzzeled I continued on. I must have gotten the doors mixed up in my mind. After all, there was no way I had already climbed 5 flights. Sure enough though, when I reached the next floor I saw my door staring back at me. Again, I thought there must be some mistake, I couldnt possibly be at my door already. I put down the bags and started to put my keys in the door. A moment of fear came over me, was I sure this was my door? I looked up. Sure enough, the stairs ended. So I turned the key, and the door opened.

As I entered the apartment two thoughts came to mind.
1. I'm finally getting used to the stairs -or-
2. I need to start buying groceries everytime I come home.

It's amazing how much our fingers know how to do, without us having to think about each specific movement. It's like when we first learn how to type, it takes awhile but eventually our fingers move across the keyboard without much thought from us. My fingers in particular also know another keyboard, that on my cell phone. As any other avid text messager is sure to be able to do, I find myself able to spit out msgs on my phone almost as fast as on my computer. Of course a lot of this is due to the help of T9 mode, but even with T9 off (to write in english), I never have to look at what key I am hitting, or how many times I hit it. My fingers know.

Yesterday I discovered a new skill that my fingers know. One I hadn't been aware of even developeing. I can in fact use my phone to make a call, without looking at the screen. I discovered this handy skill, after the screen on my phone decided to stop working. I had been fighting with my screen for the past few days. It would occasionally go out, or be streaked with lines, or sometimes bits of image from a different part of the screen would show up in the wrong place. So far I had been winning the battle, as after a bit of poking and proding it would come back on. Alas though, I have finally lost. I've spent the last day poking my phone, to no avail.

It wasn't a particuarly nice or expensive phone, and I had bought it almost 3 years ago. Considering this, I got quite a bit of use out of it. And while I can still make and receive calls without problems, I can not see who's calling me, use my phone book, see if I missed a call, or read/write text messages. I managed yesterday to call Jackie, as I knew that her name was the first J in my phone book. So through a series of button pushes, trusting my fingers to press the right ones, I placed the call. The purpose of the call, to find out what time it was. Yes, without being able to see the screen, I also have no clock.

I think I will invest some time this week in searching for a new phone.

I know I'm in the land of coffee, and I should be hung for saying this, but I WANT Starbucks. I NEED Starbucks. While I apprechiate a good cafe or cappacino, they are no replacement for the creamy blend of flavors that I am so used to having. The sweet flavored goodness of coffee like only they know how to make. It's been 46 days since my last caramel macchiato. I'm beginning to forget the flavor.

When I was searching for the bank last week, I saw a suspicious looking green sign across the street. For a split second my heart stopped, as even though I knew there were no Starbucks in Italy (yes, I checked), I hoped, that perhaps it was a starbucks. Upon further inspection, I discovered that it was nothing more than a plant store.

My cravings have gotten so bad that I've begun looking at Ryanair. with 24 hours and 45euro I can fly to London and back, indulge myself all day in coffee heaven, and pick up a hefty supply of flavored syrups. caramel.. hazelnut.. toffee.. vanilia...

Of course I wont actually go. But the thought is still there. Tempting me. Knowing that starbucks is only two hours away is a dangerous thought.

The last time I lived in Italy/England, I was still in college. I kept my room at my house in Corvallis, and when I went home I still had a life there, my friends were all still there, it was still home. Now, as most of us have graduated, (or will be graduating soon!) we're all moving off to different places and starting our lives. Most people have stayed in Oregon, moving to various cities, yet others (like myself) have gone further away. Kari and Christie are getting ready to move to San Francisco, Hollye moved to New York, Jeff to Reno, and Chad to Santa Barbara (happy now? - I added you!). Sean moved back to China to teach English (he studied in both China and Japan while in college), and AJ is off tomorrow, heading to Senegal, West Africa where she will spend 2 years in the Peace Corps working with the sustainable agroforestry program.

When people ask me when I'll be going back home, I'm never sure what to say. Having spent the majority of the last 15 years of my life living in Corvallis, I would consider it to be home. Yet now, with no family, and soon to be very few friends still living in Corvallis, I see very little reason to go back there. As anyone who has been to Corvallis knows, there is little to do there if not visit with people. This brings up the question for me of "where is home?" Sure, I have family in America, and they have homes there, but I wouldn't consider any of their homes to be my home. I lived in Portland when I was younger, but I barely remember it and so wouldn't consider it to be home.

While I've only spent a few months in Macerata, I generally consider it to be "home" in Italy, as the majority of my Italian life has happened there, the highest concentration of my friends live there, and I know the city the best out of all of Italy. Yet, although it feels as though I'm going home when I return to Macerata, I dont have a house there any more. Instead, my house is in Milan. And while I have the majority of my belongings here with me, I haven't lived here long enough for it to be home.

So returning to the question of where is home, and when I'll be going back, for the first time in my life, I really dont know. In a way it's quite liberating, and I'm rather enjoying the new sense of life that I am experienceing. While I know that I'll be in Milan for the next year, and that I hope by the end of that year it feels more like a home to me, I'm really not sure where I'll be going next. Perhaps I'll find work and stay here, maybe I'll try my luck in England again, or I might end up heading back to America. Wherever I go though, I wont be going home, I'll be taking my home with me.

___________________________________________________________________

Good Luck AJ! We'll be thinking about you!
Remember, if you have any problems just call up Jose - A pimp always takes care of his girls!

Christmas before last, a bunch of friends got together for a party and white elephant gift exchange. Feeling a bit creative, I made a set of refridgerator magnets, featuring myself and some friends, to throw in the pot. After a year or so, the magnets eventually made their way back to our house where they lived (in various positions) on the fridge. Now, after sadly having to leave "the house of death" behind, the magnets have made their way to Italy with me, where they live on the radiator in my room. Perhaps one day they will venture out to the fridge again, but for now I think it'd be better not to scare Stefano when he moves in. :)



There was always demand for additional magnets to be made, but being lazy as I am, I never got around to it. So finally, after much delay I'd like to introduce the two magnets that were in highest demand, Jose and Kari. (unfortunately I lack the resources to actually make the magnets! But the images are ready and hopefully someone back home will help me out and make them for me!)

I figured it was about time that I posted some photos of my new place. Note that my bedroom is missing, because I need to clean off my bed :) So that photo will be coming later. In the mean time....



The kitchen/dining room, seen from the front door.



The dining room, seen from the patio door, (the big yellow door is the front door)



Stefano's room, which is normally the living room. It's where the tv, and internet are located.

It's a cute little apartment, decorated with paintings that Paola (the owner) made, as well as lots of things that she has collected on her travels.

So I finally made my way out to EasyBox, where I had stored my bags for the first month, to pick up the check for my security deposit. When I got the check, I asked here where I should go to cash it, she replied, "the bank" and then continued on saying that there was one in the piazza nearby. Great. The bank.

Up until today I had never gone inside an Italian bank. In fact, I didn't even fully believe that it was possible, as unlike in America, the doors are always closed, locked, and I had never actually seen someone go in or out of a bank before. Futhermore, I wasn't even sure until today that checks existed in Italy. I had never seen one be used before. Never heard of them being used before. i was sure there was some sort of method for paying people other than cash or credit, but I didn't know what. Sure enough though, the check looked very similar to what we have at home. Somehow though, it just didn't seem right that you would go to a bank to cash it. When I wanted to change euros into pounds, I went to the post office. The post office always seemed to act like a bank. You pay bills there. You can have a debit card through them. They do it all. And while they're not always the most efficient establishment, I had rather hoped she would tell me to take it to the post office to cash. But no such luck.

So off I went, in search of the piazza, and the Banca Intessa. Well, I found the piazza where she had said to go, but couldn't find the bank. Allora, che faccio? I knew that there was a Banca Intessa right near my apartment, so I figured I would just try going there. Afterall, they're all the same bank. I just hoped that I would be able to figure out how to get inside. When I arrived at the bank, I stared at the door for a min. There was a button I could push, or there was a slot to enter a card. I wasn't sure what to do, as no instructions were written out. As luck had it though, for the first time in Italy, I saw two people exit the bank, and the exited through the door I was standing in front of. I quickly went in behind them. Okay, I'm inside. Almost. Now I was standing in a little room, with another set of doors in front of me. This time the round kind where you must first enter, and then wait for it to close behind you before it opens in front of you. One person at a time.

This time there was a picture of a finger pressing a button, so I pressed. The door open, in I went. I didn't see another button, so I waited. After a few seconds the door closed behind me, and once I was securely trapped inside, the door in front of me opened. Once through this obstacle, the bank inside looked very much like a bank at home. There was a counter. There were a couple people sitting around talking, and there were computers. The people behind the counter greeted me and asked what they could do. Not knowing how to say in Italian that I needed to cash a check, I just put on a smile, excused my bad Italian, and handed them the check. They looked at it, and then started to ask for my ID, but then quickly stopped, saying that they couldn't cash it.

Now I was confused. I was at the bank that had issued the check, I had made it past the series of doors to the inside, why couldn't they cash it? Perche? I asked. Apparently, although they are all branches of the same bank, you must go to the specific branch where the check came from. The branch that was supposedly in the piazza. The one I couldn't find. The one that was a 40 min trek back across town.

Then, right after finishing telling me that I had to go all the way back across town, he looked at the check again and said "well, it's only for 25, maybe we can do it here." So he started typing away at his computer. I'm not sure exactly what he was doing, but after a few minutes he asked for my ID again, took it and photocopied it. Handed me the check and asked me to sign the back. Then he took it and ran it through his machine. I no longer like his machine. It was no use. His little machine told him that he couldn't cash it. He looked at me and apologized, saying I'd have to go back across town. He genuinely seemed to be sorry, as it's quite an annoying journey to make for only 25 euro.

Tired and hungry I decided to head home. My trip back across town will have to wait until tomorrow.

Last night as I was sitting at home, feeling a little bored and perhaps a bit homesick, I turned on the TV. As I was flipping channels I came across a Meredith Brooks video. Normally I'm not a huge fan of her music, but I couldn't help but find myself laughing and smiling as I sat and watched her video, and suddenly didn't feel so far away. It wasn't because she's an American, heck, the TV is full of those. Rather, it was because like me, she's a Spartan - A Corvallis High School Spartan that is. Although I never knew her (she was long gone by the time I went there), I do remember when she came back and had a "concert" at our school. She was a piece of home, right here in my apartment, in Milan.

When I think about it, little bits of home are everywhere, even if at times that sense of home is a bit obscure. I consider myself to have been fairly active on the airlines in the past few years, yet I'd never run into someone I knew in the airport before. That is until I was catching my flight from Indy to Newark. I'd gotten there early and had a bit of time to kill, so I thought I'd try calling some people back home. Unfortunately, I got all voicemails (AJ! Chad! Jeff! Whatever happened to answering your phones!) As I was sitting in my little phone cubicle, leaving a message for Jeff, a little girl ran by. How cute, I thought to myself, but also how strange, she seemed so familiar. A few seconds later her mom can walking by, and I suddenly realized I knew them! The girl had been one of the flower girls in Jackie's wedding the day before. I quickly yelled after the mom, and hung up on Jeff. What a coincidence we thought, as we talked and learned that we were not only on the same flight, but my seat was directly in from of theirs. 2 days prior they would have just been strangers on the flight, but instead, I felt an odd comfort from talking to them. Although I didn't know them well, and chances are I'll never see them again, they were still a bit of home- a bit of America, and a bit of Italy all in one, a link through Jackie.

As I sat on the couch last night, having said goodbye to Meredith, I turned to my computer, and to Ex Pats, where I discovered yet another person who Jackie was a link to. As I was looking through the forums, I noticed that Cyndi had posted a reply to a msg about my blog. As I read it, I found myself in a state of shock and amazement, much as I'm sure Cyndi found herself, as she wrote that while reading my blog she almost fell off her chair when she learned that I had been in Indy for Jackie and Antonello's wedding- She had been there too. I had never imagined that someone else on expats knew Jackie, much less had been at her wedding. While we later figured out we had not actually met at the wedding, we did discover that we would both be making the journey back to Macerata in November for another celebration with Jackie and Antonello. In the forums I had found another connection to Macerata and to Jackie and Antonello, good friends who so often feel like family.

What a small world I thought to myself as I went to bed last night. It's beginning to seem that no matter where I go, if I look in the right places, I'll find a piece of home.

I know blogs are typically an account of current events, but I feel as though I have a bit of catching up to do since I left home almost 2 months ago and have yet to tell many people about the trip so far. So in an attempt to give a short recap of events - although nothing ever seems to be short when I write it - I'll give a brief outline of what happened, knowing that I'll probably make other posts referring back to events in more detail.

So to start off, was my week in Indy for Jackie and Antonello's wedding. I arrived at the airport, where after an hour wait discovered that I had been forgotten (which I was later assured was only because they loved me the most ^___^ ), but was quickly picked up later at the hostel and whisked away to Jackie's house where wedding preparations were well underway. The following days are a bit of a blur, as we all rushed around between canoeing, shopping, the bridal shower, the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, and all the preparations that needed to be done. Over the days a new language seemed to form, consisting of a mixture of English and Italian, as more and more Italians arrived, and those of us who spoke some Italian attempted to translate. I often found myself speaking the wrong language to the wrong person, but in the end everything turned out beautifully.

The day after the wedding I was off to Italy, meeting Kari at the airport in Newark where we both had layovers, before flying to Milan together. The first few days were mainly spend running errands, and trying to get all of my paperwork in order. Then we were off, on our own version of a very fast grand tour. In two weeks we went from Milan to Venice, Rome, Florence, Siena (for the Palio), and Sorrento with day trips to Capri, Positano, and Amalfi. The first two weeks are again a bit of a blur as we rushed from one city to another, one site to another, trying to take in a taste of all different aspects of history spanning from Roman to modern times. In the end we were to put it simply, exhausted. As we bored the train in Naples it was obvious what we both wanted - to be home in our beds. Well, we weren't heading home for another two weeks (Kari to the states, and me to Milano), but we did go to the next best place. Macerata.

Macerata, the town where I studied and lived almost three years ago, always feels like home to me when I return. This time, we were lucky in that a friend of mine, Emanuele, invited us to stay at his apartment. While we were done seeing all the "must see" sites, the adventure was far from over, in some ways, it was just starting. As we got off the train in Macerata we were looking not for Emanuele who was at work, but rather for a friend of his, a friend wearing "a white hat." I had never met this friend before, and wasn't even sure of his name. I wasn't too concerned though, as Macerata isn't exactly a tourist hug with lots of train traffic. So sure enough, as we entered the waiting room there was a guy on his phone, wearing a white hat. We both kind of looked at each other, smiled, and I assumed this was the person we were to be meeting. However, as he continued to talk on his phone, and not to us, I continued to look around in case there was a second white hat hovering about. Soon enough though he ended his conversation and greeted us, introducing himself as one of Emanuele's roommates, Luca.

A few days later we met another of the roommates, Matteo, and over the week and a half we made ourselves at home in their apartment, living the daily life - life without trips to churches, long lines for museums, or eating out every night. We woke up in the morning and made cafe, and in a lot of cases also lunch, while still wearing our pajamas. We watched tv, we laid in the park, or sat in the piazza people watching. We went to the grocery store, cooked dinner, and had dance parties till early hours of the morning. It was in essence, a vacation from our vacation, and was exactly what we needed. When we arrived in Macerata I didn't know Emanuele that well, and wasn't sure exactly what to expect. When we left, we felt as though we were leaving behind 3 great friends who we had known for much longer. I was glad that Kari was able to experience this side of Italy as well, the side away from tourists, where people can just be.

With heavy hearts we left Macerata, and returned to Milano where our trip had started. For Kari the next few days were the end of her trip. For me, they were the beginning of a new life. We moved into my new apartment, meeting Stefano my future roommate (who will be moving in at the end of the month), and spent the days wondering the streets, learning where the atms are, the grocery stores, and the subway stops. We took a day trip to Modena where we ate Gelato with balsalmic vinegar on top, and to Bologna where we met my friend Irene (who I had met at Jackie's wedding), and wandered through the many portacle covered streets.

Soon, the day came for Kari to return home, and for me to face Milano alone. I was sad to see Kari go, after a month together it was an odd feeling to wake up the next day and have her gone - but I was, and am, excited for the adventure that lays ahead, the chance to get to know this city and its people, the chance for it to become home.

Ah... The long awaited first post. Well, truthfully I was probably the only person waiting for it, as it gives me something to do. I've decided since my brother is in the middle of a move, with business trips taking him away from home so often that I would just create a blog here while I wait for him to get the one on my site up and running. So here it is. Special, isn't it?

I ask you all to please ignore the horrific design of the blog, as I've yet to learn html and have to use a pre-designed template. It is almost blindingly ugly, I know. but I will try to figure my way around the coding and make some adjustments to it. With my luck, I'll probably end up deleting the entire thing... but even that might be better than.. 'this'.

As expected I'll probably 'blog' a lot at first, as it's new and fun, and I really don't have much else occupying my time at the moment. As time passes I'll probably forget, but hopefully I wont be as forgetful as some people (*cough* *cough* jackie). I don't promise to post anything particularly interesting to all, but rather just snapshots from my life here, thoughts on different experiences, customs, and events that happen as I once again adjust to living in Italy.

So read, enjoy, and perhaps even laugh a little - above all, have a magician nite.