Rome – Day 1
Departure from Washington’s Dulles International Airport.
My parents and I arrived at the airport around 1pm. My flight leaves at 5pm. Lunch and checking my luggage brought us around to 2:30pm, which is when I left them for the passenger only area.
Security was a bit rough on my nerves. I kept expecting to get shoved into a full body scanner and have my nether regions exposed for airline workers. Instead I was ushered into a line where I quickly followed suit of the other passengers and grabbed several plastic bins. Into them went my cell phone, boots, passport pouch, coat, and my little liquids bag from my carry-on. Of course in my panic to quickly get my belongings efficiently and properly through the scanners, I put my boots through third. Meaning when all my things reappeared on the other side I grabbed all of it and shuffled over to a free chair in my socks to resituate myself.
Waiting in the D15 terminal for my flight to board at 4:16pm, I listened to my iPod and blearily tried to remain aware of my situation and potential baggage thieves while also wishing to succumb to slumber.
Boarding the plane is another animal in itself. Lindsey, laden down with carryon luggage in their too tiny hallways, had to walk past first or “premiere” class, which basically looks like a one human Jacuzzi with a TV screen the size of my actual economy class seat. Business class is nearly equally as spacious. Even Economy Premium offers a bit more legroom. But I settled into my somewhat snug economy class seat. Good thing I’m travel size. I had a window seat which was exciting considering my first flight. With my carry on and coat stowed overhead and my purse-ish like bag under the seat in front of me, I nervously awaited my flying partner. Imagine my displeasure when a young girl my age, obviously traveling with the school trip taking up the middle rows of seats, asked me, point blank, not even an introduction or how are you, if I would trade seats with her friend across the row. So they could sit together. Jerk. I politely responded, “No thanks, I’d rather stay in the window seat.” Silence from her after that and she seated herself sulkily next to me. Oh Geez, I thought. Really, for the entire 9hr flight? Turns out, it wasn’t even her seat! She was in the seat in front of me and when asked by my flight companion who arrived and showed her her mistake, whether she’d rather sit with her friend, she said with a scoff “oh no, WE’RE NOT friends.” Bitch *cough*. My actual companion turned out to be a wonderful individual named Giancarlo Pelloux, a handsome middle aged Italian man. We greeted each other kindly. He asked if I intended to studying, noticing the Learning Italian book in front of me on the pull out tray. “At some point!” was my response. Wound up never happening. Giancarlo proved essential to the ease of my first flight ever. He was easily conversational but not in a stressful pushy way. He told me about his wife and kids, the recent trip to Italy to visit his sick mother who had passed away on Sunday (he teared up at this point) and how he was headed back to Italy now for her funeral. Though he grew up in Italy and lived there for thirty years, he now lives in Denver and travels a lot for business. His wife is American and they met on a trip she’d taken to Europe during college, “So be careful” he chided with a smile. He talked me through my nerves at take off, nerves which quickly turned to wonder. Those pictures showing how land looks from high up are so completely dead on. It separates into these wonderful little square of color as the details slowly fade away the higher we climb. Our take off was at 5pm so the sun was just setting and the view was GORGEOUS to behold, the cities beginning to glow orange with lights as we flew overhead. I continued to gape out the window until it grew so dark and we went so high that I could not see. What followed was a snack, pretzel and ginger ale, more chatting with Giancarlo, dinner and two inflight movies (The Social Network, and some other strange british movie about humans bred for their organs), a brief-ish 1-2hr. nap, turbulence, which Giancarlo called “dancing”, breakfast and then we were passing over the Italian cost and the plane tilted downward to land. It was all rather thrilling, although sleeping on a plane could probably never be described as comfortable. Ugh. Once landed Giancarlo waited for me on the other end of customs, then we picked up our checked luggage together. Nicest man and best introduction into Italy ever!
At the Residence
We are on the 3rd floor of an eight story building. 3 girls in one bedroom, one bath, a rather spacious “sitting” room and a tiny but efficient looking kitchen. I’m sharing the bunk bed with Mary Claire, who is currently curled up above me taking a cat nap. Katie, my third roommate, can only access facebook on her internet (go figure) while as yet I can access nothing except once my email, so she is using it to communicate with people from home. I would love to nap myself, but except for the five minute, drool fest I had on my santa blanket a moment ago, I’ve managed to stay awake. I’m attempting to beat jet lag by making it to 7 or 8pm tonight before going to bed.
We took a small venture earlier when two fellow student travelers showed up at our door, number 12 and asked if we’d like to join them in search of a ‘buon caffe’. The lady speaking rapid Italian in the shop snickered at me a bit when I followed suit of Duon and asked for a cappuccino, which was never the less delicious and tiny, and a modest 1.5 euro, or around $2.
Back at the room we unpacked and my possessions are now placed as organized as possible into several random locations, storage space being plentiful but somewhat awkward. Undies, socks, makeup, belts and hair products fit into half of a set of drawers in the room, sweaters, dresses and jeans into a closet on a different wall, and then out into the hallway to a much larger closet I share with Mary Claire where my t-shirts, skirts and blouses are taking up residence.
The Italian grocery store prompted me to look up several words in my pocket dictionary: price – prezzo, cat – gatto and where is – dov’e (doh-veh). Mini mozzarella balls, pasta and sauce, yogurt, bread, pear juice, paper towels and way too much wine, came to 16 euros split between the three of us. $25. Not too bad! The highlight of that trip was discovering that wine comes in mini cardboard boxes like juice boxes in America. The eternal shame, not realizing that it’s a ‘bring your own bag’ kind of scenario and we had to ask the cashier for plastic to carry our things home in. We’ll know for next time I guess!
Easy Italian
How much – quantos cosa
Who – qui (kee)
Where – dove
Noisy – rumoroso
Small – piccolo
Big – grande
New – nuovo
Old – vecchio
