Wednesday, I don’t have class until 3, and it’s Italian, which is only an hour and a half. My roommates plan to wake up early to go to the Boboli Garden at the Pitti Palace which is not even a full block away from our house. It was one of the official homes of the Medici’s (great rulers of Florence), but you know it’s…no big deal. I live where kings used to, but I’m not bragging. Anyways, it’s no secret that I’m not a morning person, so I don’t plan to go. However, my boyfriend, who acts as a father, talks me into going.
“Take it all in” he says, and of course…I listen. I get up and put on my dress. One of my roommates from across the hall says, “Roni can you teach me how to dress?” I thought that was so cute! Anyways, we headed to the Palace with out free museum pass, and just as we were about to go to the garden, it begins to rain, and we decide to go back home. Guess I’ll be taking it all in another day.
I go back to bed. When I wake up later, I go to the laundry mat, since our washer is still not working. I look on the map, and try to find my way. The rain has stopped, but the clouds are still gray, and I’m walking down random streets. I’m a little nervous, so I try to keep on my “I’m not scared of anyone,” face. I’m holding my hamper in hand, and I stop inside a small restaurant to ask for directions. I get a reply completely in Italian, so I say “Grazie”, and keep walking. I run into it in two minutes. To my surprise, it was 3.50 euro to wash one load, and 3.50 euro to dry. That cancels out the two loads I had planned for, so I only wash one. As I wait, I begin to read “Eat, pray, love”. I love it already. In one hour, I have already completed nine chapters. My load is done, and I begin heading home…and the rain begins coming down. I want to wait in the laundry mat, but it’s getting closer to class time so I have to go. For some reason, the hamper is also heavier. I struggle down the streets, a little confused about where I’m going, putting the hamper from hand to hand, all while crumpling up my map. After about twenty minutes of struggling, I am finally home. I make a sandwich and head to class.
After class, Katie calls me and tells me she met a guy named Fabritzio that works at our school, and he and his friends want to hang out at a Pizzeria. Wanting to get to know more locals, of course I agree to go. When we get to the pizzeria that night, Fabritzio is waiting there, and greets us by kissing us once on each cheek. We sit down with him, and eat some of the best pizza I’ve had yet. He was a nice guy, who was very attractive. He stared each of us in our eyes as we talked to him, and I couldn’t help but notice his beautiful light eyes. (disclaimer: I’m faithful) He told us about how many American students don’t get he full experience, because they don’t talk to locals. He also told us to stay away from American boys, which didn’t surprise me. He said they are arrogant, and don’t know how to behave. He told us a lot about the city, but sometimes when I would ask him a question, he would respond “Eat”, or “I’m eating my pizza”. I took it that he just didn’t want to respond. After he took us to the front, and paid for us all. The guy in the front told us we were all “Bella!”, and gave us a ticket to get free coffee at the café next door. We went and had some, and he asked if we wanted to hang out with a couple of his friends in Piazza Santa Croce. Katie agreed, and I gave her the nervous eye. We begin walking with him, and I watched cautiously. I refuse to fully trust anyone out here. He wanted to stop at his place, and they agreed. So we headed up what seemed like twenty flights of steps. When we got to his place, he tried to shut the door, but I stayed in the doorway. Another student came out, which was strange. She introduced herself, she was from Germany, and was very nice. He went into the room, and came out brushing his teeth. Katie reminded me that he’s certified because he works for our school, ut I still didn’t trust it. We then headed downtown, and walked for what seem like forever. I had my pepper spray ready. We went to this area full of locals that were all hanging out in the street smoking and drinking. We sat down, and felt a little out of place, because we knew no Italian. Fabritzio decided to ask if we have boyfriends, and we said “We all do.” “That’s not good. When you come to Italy, you leave the American boys behind.” From then on, he socialized with everyone else, but us. After a while, we decided it was late and headed home. It was an eventful night.
The Italian guys love us. Ciao Bellla is all you hear!
Wednesday, I don’t have class until 3, and it’s Italian, which is only an hour and a half. My roommates plan to wake up early to go to the Boboli Garden at the Pitti Palace which is not even a full block away from our house. It was one of the official homes of the Medici’s (great rulers of Florence), but you know it’s…no big deal. I live where kings used to, but I’m not bragging. Anyways, it’s no secret that I’m not a morning person, so I don’t plan to go. However, my boyfriend, who acts as a father, talks me into going. “Take it all in” he says, and of course…I listen. I get up and put on my dress. One of my roommates from across the hall says, “Roni can you teach me how to dress?” I thought that was so cute! Anyways, we headed to the Palace with out free museum pass, and just as we were about to go to the garden, it begins to rain, and we decide to go back home. Guess I’ll be taking it all in another day.
I go back to bed. When I wake up later, I go to the laundry mat, since our washer is still not working. I look on the map, and try to find my way. The rain has stopped, but the clouds are still gray, and I’m walking down random streets. I’m a little nervous, so I try to keep on my “I’m not scared of anyone,” face. I’m holding my hamper in hand, and I stop inside a small restaurant to ask for directions. I get a reply completely in Italian, so I say “Grazie”, and keep walking. I run into it in two minutes. To my surprise, it was 3.50 euro to wash one load, and 3.50 euro to dry. That cancels out the two loads I had planned for, so I only wash one. As I wait, I begin to read “Eat, pray, love”. I love it already. In one hour, I have already completed nine chapters. My load is done, and I begin heading home…and the rain begins coming down. I want to wait in the laundry mat, but it’s getting closer to class time so I have to go. For some reason, the hamper is also heavier. I struggle down the streets, a little confused about where I’m going, putting the hamper from hand to hand, all while crumpling up my map. After about twenty minutes of struggling, I am finally home. I make a sandwich and head to class.
After class, Katie calls me and tells me she met a guy named Fabritzio that works at our school, and he and his friends want to hang out at a Pizzeria. Wanting to get to know more locals, of course I agree to go. When we get to the pizzeria that night, Fabritzio is waiting there, and greets us by kissing us once on each cheek. We sit down with him, and eat some of the best pizza I’ve had yet. He was a nice guy, who was very attractive. He stared each of us in our eyes as we talked to him, and I couldn’t help but notice his beautiful light eyes. (disclaimer: I’m faithful) He told us about how many American students don’t get he full experience, because they don’t talk to locals. He also told us to stay away from American boys, which didn’t surprise me. He said they are arrogant, and don’t know how to behave. He told us a lot about the city, but sometimes when I would ask him a question, he would respond “Eat”, or “I’m eating my pizza”. I took it that he just didn’t want to respond. After he took us to the front, and paid for us all. The guy in the front told us we were all “Bella!”, and gave us a ticket to get free coffee at the café next door. We went and had some, and he asked if we wanted to hang out with a couple of his friends in Piazza Santa Croce. Katie agreed, and I gave her the nervous eye. We begin walking with him, and I watched cautiously. I refuse to fully trust anyone out here. He wanted to stop at his place, and they agreed. So we headed up what seemed like twenty flights of steps. When we got to his place, he tried to shut the door, but I stayed in the doorway. Another student came out, which was strange. She introduced herself, she was from Germany, and was very nice. He went into the room, and came out brushing his teeth. Katie reminded me that he’s certified because he works for our school, ut I still didn’t trust it. We then headed downtown, and walked for what seem like forever. I had my pepper spray ready. We went to this area full of locals that were all hanging out in the street smoking and drinking. We sat down, and felt a little out of place, because we knew no Italian. Fabritzio decided to ask if we have boyfriends, and we said “We all do.” “That’s not good. When you come to Italy, you leave the American boys behind.” From then on, he socialized with everyone else, but us. After a while, we decided it was late and headed home. It was an eventful night.
The Italian guys love us. Ciao Bellla is all you hear!
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