September 2, 2012 Paris, France
It’s 3:50 a.m. where I last slept, sunny California, and I’m
(almost) wide awake here in the muggy Paris airport at what is 11:50… almost
lunchtime? I can’t decide if the pain in my stomach is hunger, lack of sleep or
nerves. Oh, and I think I’m starting to smell.
Thus far the trip has been a whirlwind of emotions and
experiences, and I haven’t even gotten to Italy yet. Sheesh, I have a lot to
learn.
I woke up early (but not bright) on Saturday morning after
struggling though restless sleep, nightmares and a late night check that my
flight plans were still according to schedule. They were. Still planned for
7:00 a.m. Meaning my mom and I would wake up at 5 to catch a 5:30 shuttle to
the airport. When we got there and no one was at the Delta check-in to check
bags we thought maybe they’d open at 6… we waited a few minutes… no one came.
Oh well, time to get breakfast? The Burbank, Calif. airport is tiny, meaning
not a lot of options but I did get my prized bagel with cream cheese (all I
ever wanted).
Eventually someone did come and checked my bags. I stayed with
my mom after, not quite ready to say bye yet. But the time drew closer and the
line for security got longer and soon I was on a flight to Salt Lake City. Had
I planned better maybe someone would have visited me from Provo since I sat in
the SLC terminal alone for about 5 hours. It provided plenty of time to sucker
all the free wi-fi I could and try desperately to stay focused enough to read
my book.
Eventually Amber, my roommate, arrived from her flight and
it was nice to not feel so alone again. Traveling can be scary and it’s good to
hear someone else share your concerns so you feel more normal.
We boarded and I was seated next to a dear French man who
spoke little English. But, bless his heart, he really wanted to talk so we
struggled to communicate. It felt funny talking to him knowing that very soon I
will be the poor foreigner trying so hard to understand, to get my
pronunciation clear and just plain wanting to be heard.
When 11 p.m. California time rolled around it didn’t seem
late, but I knew I should try to sleep. In my attempts to normalize the
situation and calm my nerves, I tried a trick I use to fall asleep back home:
listening to the radio. It didn’t work. A combination of the glare of some Jack
Black/Steve Martin/Owen Wilson movie and the interesting voices of Jad Abumrad
and Robert Krolwich kept me awake until maybe about 1 a.m. when I finally
drifted into some form of rest. I woke to breakfast two hours later, 9-ish
France time, 3a.m. California. I ate it, all of it, and that might be my biggest
regret of the trip thus far. Eesh, my stomach.
Now, one passport stamp and a shuttle ride away, I’m here
waiting to hop a flight to Florence and then a bus to that town which will be
my home for three months, Siena, Italy.
Thank you family, friends and kind Parisians to being so
helpful and supportive.
September 3, 2012 Siena, Italy
Amber and I made it to Italy! I slept almost the entire
flight to Florence, but was able to take some cool pictures of clouds as we
descended on the città .
Some nice ladies at the airport helped us in our
confusion and we managed to find a shuttle to the train station where we then
asked for more help finding the bus station. I’m not afraid to ask questions
whenever I’m not sure what is going on… especially when it comes to getting
lost because I hate being lost. We found the train station and I tried to stay
awake through the trip to Siena, but my head kept bobbing up and down and I’d
realize I had fallen asleep with my mouth open. Che bella. We got to Siena two
hours later than expected and didn’t really know what to do so we asked (again)
how to find a taxi. When we finally got to our host family, they were so nice
and understating and helpful and great. I really like them. La donna si chiama Fiorella e l’oumo si chiama
Giuseppe. They have a daughter named Federica. They are all nice and
really understanding of the fact my Italian is not very good. I fought off
sleep through small conversation and what was, for me, a late dinner. After
this I finally got myself clean and hopped into bed. I fell asleep in
approximately 2.5 seconds. But jet lag was up for the challenge! I woke up
around 4:30 a.m. and despite the fact I knew my body was tired, I could not
fall asleep. I tried music, counting down from 100 in Italian and calming
myself. Niente. Boh.
The people here are nicer to tourists than I expected. Not
that I expected anyone to be mean, but I thought I would annoy people or offend
them, but everyone has been really nice and sympathetic to my lack of skills.
This is good news.
The first day of class was today. It was stressful. We left
35 minutes early for what should be a 20 minute walk and ended up being an hour
late. We were so lost and we only found the school, Dante Alighieri (DA),
through a kind old lady who only knew the whereabouts of a school, not if it
was the DA. Only by lots of
luck were we able to stumble into it. When we got to the school we were
thirsty and tired and stressed and all I wanted was water. Instead I got a test
(don’t worry I got my water eventually and it seemed like one of the best
things I’d ever had, especially without the carbonation; call me American).
Test taken, class started. It was good; my teacher was una ragazza carina who
was so nice and funny and great. We finished our time with the school by
touring a little bit of Siena with the other studenti nuovi. Oh, and it poured.
We huddled under an awning for about 15 minutes before seeking refuge in the
underground bus station. After that Amber and I hung around the DA so we could
get some sweet wi-fi. Our host family doesn’t have the internet, or a phone and
realizing how far you are from communicating with everyone in the States can
feel pretty lonely. When we finally got home I read (okay, napped) until dinner
which was zuppa caldo. It was so nice because it was surprisingly cold today.
And now I am in bed typing this up.
I won’t lie, this whole other language, different culture,
being foreign thing is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I guess I knew I
wouldn’t be very good at communicating, but I wasn’t prepared for the emotional
toll it is trying to say something and having no words other than English. Okay,
maybe some words, but not many. And I feel so very, very far from Provo and
California and people I know and love. It just makes me appreciate that while
I’m still adjusting in Italy, I do
belong somewhere and that is a comforting thought because I don’t necessarily
feel like I belong here. I’m sure I’ll feel more comfortable eventually, but
now, the change is difficult, as it usually is.