Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Paige, this isn't spanish....

            The title is once again dedicated to my host sorella who loves to remind that Italian is not Spanish because I often pronounce a new word or say the word in Spanish if I don’t know the Italian one for something. A really bad habit but atleast my three Spanish teachers would be proud.
                Also I would like to say at this moment I will be trying to type every word correctly and triple reread this. Because someone put my blog post on the website for my Rotary club, and put the horrendous picture from my application on there as well. You could have warned me, or picked a better post. Better yet let me have sent you a better picture, I look earily like death warmed over in that picture.  They also informed my whole high school about my blog post as well from what I gathered. (Glad I’m all the way in Italy) I’m not naming names because you know who are. But guess what? Your still an awesome person, scratch that an amazing person and part time saint.. so your forgiven. J But a small heads up next time would have been awesome…. Food for thought.
                So last time I updated I had just informed of a semi-normal week compared to this last one I had. I’m not going to go into full detail but I am going to hit the main points. Monday was an awesome (they always seem to be in Italy). Tuesday school didn’t start until 9, because the Chemistry teacher was not going to be there. Yes I said Chemistry I nearly danced with happiness. And that’s another upside to Italian schools, they don’t waste money on substitutes who just give you busy work, you get the hour off. (Someone should suggest this to the Texas School board, I think it has merit.) Wendsay as well as Monday I had gym.
                Now I know I did a whole blog about gym before but let me just say for insurance reasons it should be one of the Rotary 6 D’s when it comes to me. My gym teacher will eternly remember me as the clumbsy, ungraceful, most unatheletic American alive. I haven’t had a hand full of gym classes yet and I had fallen off a balance beam. Pegged myself in the head multiple times with a tennis ball. Gave myself rope burn from a jump rope. Messed up my back when she tried to get me to so a somersault on the floor. (yeah that didn’t work out. I have a fear of that, always have and was in near tears by the time that one was done. But I guess it paid off because I roll on the floor now. Like a three year old. Yep.) I have crashed into hurdles, fallen onto hurdles, plan just fallen and have become that kid when getting picked for a team its out of sympathy that no one wants to leave the exchange student as the last one. In other words they should just have a ambulance ready outside the school because I can assure with my grace before I leave I will have broken something... that’s almost guaranteed with the way this is going.
                Okay so I had gym, then Thursday we got out in hour early (NO CHEM AGAIN!!!) and had Arte. In a school for Science and Math that’s code word for something that earily looks like college grade architect design involving graphs compasses and those triangular rulers you always wonder what’s for. I know now. And because I have no clue how to do any of it my teacher let’s me sit their and color. Thought I do watch when he draws on the bored, because he pretty funny, even If I don’t catch everything he says. And every time he sees my face, which I’m sure is confused or awed, he cracks a smile, and gives a chuckle. But this time in art I drew the Texas Flag, and it was pretty good if I do say so myself.
                 Thursday night I hung out with friends. And the funny part, aside from the whole night, about this is. Usually you know once a day I’ll post something on facebook, or send my mom a facebook message that I have not been ran over by a moped. (By the way in Italy they don’t have motorcycle gangs, but scooter gangs.) Now the rule my YEO from home has there is talk to your parents at most once a week. I wasn’t ever told anything here so I abide by that rule as a guideline. Or I’m sure after something amazing just happened I would jump on Skype and talk my mom or dad’s ear off. But to ease my mothers worries I’ll send her a message usually later in the afternoon my time so she wakes up knowing I’m okay. Well because I was out with friends I didn’t get to send the message and I hadn’t posted on Facebook so she actually talked to my dad and asked him if he had heard from me and if I was okay.
                I never had much of a social life back home because I was always so school focused. And since I don’t have school seriouse here pretty much anytime my friends from school are in Carrara I go and hang out with them.
                So after my mom told me about worrying about when I Skyped with her on Sunday I laughed. Because never before would I have been out with friends, it was rare. So it just goes to show in ways I’m already changing. I’m becoming a social creature… and that’s a scary thought.
                Friday was the best day because their was no school. Why? You might ask because their was a sciopero ( I believe that is spelled correctly) and that translated, is strike. It was also the first day it was freezing cold in Italy and I stayed huddled in a blanket most of the day.
                Saturday there was school. One a side note of that, I’m ready for my school to go ahead and figure out the permanent timetable so that way I can get my personalize one to see if they put me in school on Saturday’s or if there going to allow me to have the day off so I can roam Italy unleashed and unsupervised. (also a scary thought, though most likely won’t come to fruitation.)
                But Saturday was also the day of “Red River Rivalry” in Texas. The football game the cotton bowl between my boys the Longhorns, aka the greatest team ever. And the Sooners. Who are only known because they play the Longhorns. I stayed connected to my computer the whole night listening to the game and getting updates from my dad via e-mail.  Even thought we got squashed we are still the greatest team ever. I’m also glad I’m in Italy it helps make the defeat a bit more easier to cope with and never again will I miss a game. They lost because their favorite and biggest fan was not in the stands cheering, or screaming is more like it.  But next year victory will be ours…. I will just say that and start the gloating now.
                Sunday was also freezing, and once again my blanket was sewn to me. But I also got to Skype my mom and Nanny which always crack me up when their together, and it’s great to talk to them. I also got the treat of Skype-ing with my Mamaw for the first time as she is visiting my dad and step-mom for a while.
                Monday was Monday. And Tuesday, today.. well were Monday’s weren’t my day in Texas Tuesday’s don’t seem to be my days here.  Even though we got to enter school at nine again today.
                As for my Italian. Sometimes I am convinced I will never learn. Other times I feel like I just won the Olympics with it. I’m starting to understand simple sentences and catch words. But as for talking, or anything complex,or even a book? Yeah you might as well forget it.
                Today in Physics we had an intergoation. Think of it as an oral exam as you may, but only a few people at a time. Well I had been drawn. But I, of course, could not do it. Well you get three times to say no, that was one for me. And no doubt two will come around before Christmas. I just shudder to think what will happen when all three strikes are gone and I pray by then that I can atleast say something or understand something, because as of now I would most likely start crying in the seat and think it was cruel and usual punishment.
                Also because I don’t remember what day it was, but I just have to share this with you because it’s hilarious. I was waiting at the bus stop and at the stoplight this guy pulled up in this beat up old pick-up truck. I swear up and down to god above if you had stuck him in a line-up neck to a bunch of rednecks from back home he wouldn’t have stood out until he opened his mouth and spoke Italian. It shocked me so bad I had to look around at the streets sings and shops to make sure I hadn’t somehow click my heels three times and got back home.
                Which would have been great, not the being home part, but just clicking my heels three times. After the flight here I’m dreading the flight back. Like “hey dad/mom why don’t you fly here and then fly home with me?” dreading. First of all I know I will most likely but either a numb or hysterical mess. And then theirs customs, which I avoided going through in Italy somehow, so I still have never gone through them, so add that on top of being a mess. I’m just not looking forward to it. No sirey. Plus I officially hate planes. I mean you get preferred economy and you have more leg room but unless your against the wall you can’t curl up and go to sleep comfortably. Yet if you have regular economy class I have this fear that I’m going to get stuck next to a bigger person, or worse yet one that snores. I’m not skinny myself so I need all the seat I can get anyways.
                Bust speaking of body image. I have come to be a lot more comfortable with my body in Italy. I think it’s because I’m surrounded by statues that were sculpted when people remembered and men appreaciated that real woman had curves… and not size 0 waistlines.
                Not saying that I’m embracing obesity but a love handle is not the end of the world.
                And speaking of food, okay fat, but you get fat from food so it coincides. I was informed that Italians eat horse. Now I know your never supposed to turn food down and atleast always try it, which I have, and everything has been surprisingly delicious, even vegetables. But I looked my host mother straight in the eyes and told her I would eat tar tar for the rest of my exchange as long as she did not make me eat horse. An then proceded to tell her if she made me eat it I would most likely have a mental break down worthy of “one who flew over the cuckoo’s nest” in the middle of the floor and have to be sent home. This was more to try to distinguish the evil glint that had appeared my host brother’s eyes. I think it only feed the flame. I have already resolved not to trust any food he gives or makes unless my host mother is around to confirm that he’s not about to feed me Charlie’s ( my horse) long distant cousin.
                As my parting note I would just like to say that God gift to Exchange student’s are amazing host families… and Nutella.

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