It continues, to be continued

I am trying to catch up, but lest things become too drawn out, what follows are excerpts from journal entries. You will just have to believe me when I tell you this is the abridged version.

1. 22. 10
Scavenger hunt (caccia tesoro) in the town center:
I met up with my partner, and it quickly became evident that we did not care too much about achieving the directives of the hunt; we were more interested in going wherever our eyes drew us. We found a chocolate shop with at least ten different flavors of chocolate gelato (milk, dark, pepper, orange, cherry, etc.). Honestly, any food item in any window looked scrumptious. Pizza, sandwiches, pastries; our mouths were always watering. We wandered everywhere and anywhere. We went into a department store and I got some shampoo. It’s funny to try to navigate toiletries when you’re not sure exactly what they say or even what they are, and even funnier when you find things like ‘gluteal volumizing lotion’ (increases by 2-3 cm and improve firmness of skin!). One thing I see everywhere, for men, women, and children, are shiny puffy purple jackets. If you see them in the US, you will know they were here first.

A couple times, when we were feeling a bit more on task, we asked people for directions to certain areas. Despite the overwhelming friendliness and eagerness to help, even if you can understand the words of the directions they are giving you, that does not mean you can understand what or where the reference points are, but at least you get a gist of the general direction you should hope to go. It seems like on every few blocks there is a statue or a memorial or a church, and we saw so many buildings that seemed significant, but often we could not figure out what made them important.

After about two hours of wandering in the near-zero (Celsius) weather, we decided it was time to rest our feet and warm up with some of Italy’s famed hot chocolate. It was…different. I actually like it because it wasn’t overwhelmingly sweet, but in terms of appearance and consistency, it was essentially a cup full of melted chocolate, and I ate it with a little spoon. As we were preparing to leave, we were exposed to the first of many inescapable reminders of the American invasion, and ‘Fireflies’ started playing on the radio. Is it appropriate here to say, ‘small world’?

I got on the right bus to go home this time, but my life on public transit seems incomplete without the little details. I was the last person left on the bus as we approached my stop, and there was another bus parked to the left. Perhaps the driver was a little overconfident, but we hit the other bus. Exactly next to where I was standing. No big deal, and as I got out the driver smilingly hopped out to assess the results and consult with the driver of the bus he’d hit.

In language classes, when it is obvious that everyone is lost, there is always a point when the professor is willing to switch into English just to make sure everyone understands. Here, there is no such option. Listening to my mom and sister discuss amongst themselves which buses I should take next week to get to the university, I half wish I could say, ‘ok, just so we’re clear, I should …’ but I can’t. I have noticed that it is also harder for me to know whether people are talking to me if they are not looking at me or we are not already in conversation. I admit that I sometimes start to tune out when it is obvious people are talking amongst themselves, but when they decide to start talking to me again, I don’t notice, and they think I can’t understand. I feel like half of the time I legitimately can’t understand, and the other half of the time it’s just that people speak too quietly or a little too quickly. There’s a great David Sedaris story from Me Talk Pretty One Day, in which he describes his experience in listening and trying to understand French as something like:
Today, Pierre and I adidkeml innoghin after I reesdniww groosghi, and then we barefferidi. Would you like to join us tonight?
I had not previously been in a situation where I quite understood, but that is a good approximation of some of the conversations I participate in. Obscure a few key words from an exchange, and suddenly its entire meaning is obscured. It is as though I am popping in and out of a cloud of (mental? auditory?) smog throughout the conversation.


1. 23. 10
When I got home today, I was going to go around the back of the house and up the stairs like I usually do, but the front/garden gate was open, and Jody saw me. I kept walking, but she came out after me. There was a brief instant where I imagined her mauling me or some such thing, but I went up to her and asked if she wanted me to follow. She turned around and together we walked back to the garden gate and into the house through the kitchen. I think I am officially a part of the family if the dog recognizes me and bids me come in through the family entrance. I arrive home and find pizza bubbling in the oven. Mamma mia! (Incidentally, today was the first time I actually heard someone use that expression.) Delicious, homemade pizza. It was cheese pizza, but then we layered prosciutto onto it if we felt so inclined. Worthy of note: my family has an elictric cheese grater for their Parmesan cheese and a small industrial deli slicer for their prosciutto. Today, instead of wine, we all split a beer. Perfection! My mom also made me fresh squeezed orange juice -- spremuto -- with regular and blood oranges.

In the evening was the welcome party. I got to meet my tandem partner, Alice, with whom I will be meeting throughout the semester to do a sort of language exchange. We will work on my Italian and work on her English.


Miscellaneous observations:

• I can't half-listen. Either I am listening with all my attention and with all my senses, or I am not. When I can casually listen to Italian, I will be proud. Also, when I can understand someone who is speaking while yawning, I will be proud.
• Keys in Italy are very different. In America, we have one key per lock/bolt. Here, I have to turn the house key four times, with earch turn sliding one bolt. Every time I got home I would turn the key once, try to push open the door, and fail. Now I know. 
• It is amazing what little things you have never consciously noticed but have nethertheless built habits around. In America, you pull on most shop doors to enter, because doors should open out to facilitate emergency exits. In Parma, it seems like most doors open in, but of course there is the occasional exception to confuse you when you think you've got it figured out. This makes me feel foolish every time I bang a door shut instead of managaing to open it, or think a place is closed when the door won't pull open. I never thought opening a door would require so much forethought and concentration.
• The movie The Hangover is translated as The Night of the Lions. I don't know if this is the phrase they use to describe a hangover, or whethery that's just how they decided to title the movie.
• It has been said before, but there are roundabouts everywhere. It seems like the right of way is determined either by having the smallest car and the least fear, or the biggest bus and the least concern.
• In Italy, a plate at the end of the meal is as clean as the day it was born. This is because everyone mops everything up with bread, lest any deliciousness go to waste. Furthermore, there is always a different kind of amazing, bakery-fresh bread with every meal.
• Watching people grind while headbanging to heavy metal is hilarious.