Apparently banks and I are not made to be friends. I do not intend to use this blog to gripe, but I do think that at present, my misadventures are more interesting than my 'adventures,' which consist mostly of laundry and folding clothes.
Today, I went to the bank to get Euros. I knew they'd have to be ordered, but I figured they'd be ready by tomorrow or Saturday at the latest. Instead, because the banks are closed Monday, it turns out they might not be ready until Tuesday. Doable, but a little tight. So, the teller suggests that I go to the downtown branch, on the corner of Main and Travis, where they keep Euros in stock. Fair enough. I set out on my way, and as I decide to get onto Main, I cross Travis. What? Yeah, it turns out that they're parallel, and there's no such thing as the corner of Main and Travis. Luckily, the teller also decided to give me the branch's actual address and phone number, and after driving in zigzags and circles through downtown's beloved one-way streets, I manage to find it. Of course, finding it is not the same thing as finding where to park. Not wanting to drive in more circles, I call the bank to ask where they suggest that I park. Here's how our conversation went:
Teller: asdlkfjdflks
Me: Hello?
T: Is this a branch?
M: Hello?
T: Is this a branch?
M: I called a branch...?
T: Oh, I must have picked up before I dialed.
...
M: I found your branch, but I was wondering where to park.
T: Well, I don't know... hang on...
(hold music)
T: Ok,
...
By the time she told me where to park, I ended up pulling into the nearest parking lot, which was actually the one she ended up telling me not to park in, but was actually cheaper than the one she suggested. I then proceeded to spend the next 15-20 minutes driving around and around the parking lot, looking for an open, unreserved spot. I didn't find one until I got to the 10th level. I have to say, there is something disconcerting about driving around in a packed parking lot and not seeing a single other moving car. Anyway, I headed down and across the street and into the bank. Five minutes later I was done and back. I considered taking a little downtown tunnel detour just for fun, but decided not to increase my parking expenses and headed back to the car. If it was nigh impossible to find a parking spot, getting out of the parking lot should be a Mensa qualifying exam. Luckily I had paid attention on my way in, because apparently someone decided that by the time you get past the 7th or 8th level, exit signage is extraneous. On the fourth level, a flashing sign halfway down indicated that, as a visitor, I would have to turn left, instead of making yet another right turn, as I had been doing since I began my attempt to escape. I made the turn at the end of the pass, and halfway down the next I was confronted with another flashing sign telling me to turn right. Judging from the previous sign, I assumed that I would turn right when I got to the end. Wrong. All of a sudden I was back on the fifth level and had to resume my descent, this time turning right immediately upon arriving at the second flashing sign. A few turns and dollars later, and at long last I saw the light of day once more. Freedom!
In other news, I dreamed in Italian last night.
Showing posts with label getting ready. Show all posts
Showing posts with label getting ready. Show all posts
14 January 2010
13 January 2010
And then some
Things are happening. I have crocheted four hats and my hands are cramping. I have gone shopping -- despite my resolve not to do so. I have started reading my book. 30 pages down, 270 to go. That's really not so bad considering I'll be reading about Italy's history starting in the year 400 and ending with 'The Republic.' I have to admit, while it is not quite scintillating, it is also not as bad as it looked at first glance. I got an email from my host sister, and she sent me a picture of the family's dog, Jody. I have started to start packing, or at least am doing pre-packing gathering. Packing spreadsheets are soon to follow.
Today, I went on a small money saga that was a lot more stressful than I could possibly make it sound, and more stressful than it reasonably should have been. I went to a Capital One bank to ask about applying for a credit card, because they cover the international transaction fees levied by credit card companies. After waiting in line, I am told I can only apply for a credit card online, but if I want to talk to someone anyway I can sign in on the clipboard and wait some more. So, I wait for a banker to be available to meet with me. In the meantime, I listen to a woman who is meeting with a banker because she lost her card. I am thankful not to be in her shoes, which, incidentally, are a lethal-looking pair of black platform stilettos. Speaking of shoes, while I continue to wait, I watch another banker ask all the women where they got their shoes. Finally, it is my turn. Mario the banker correctly guesses my age, and when I tell him I'm surprised because people usually think I'm younger, he replies that I do indeed look young, but I am also very mature. I tell him I'm going to Italy, and he tells me a story about not believing his gangster-film-loving-brother's claim that they were part Italian, but then he went to Italy and it just so happened that the phone booth he used had his last name in it. I tell him I'm a linguist, and he asks if I know what 'ni hao' means. He is shocked when I correctly translate it as 'hello.' He tells me he impresses Chinese clients that way. He also tells me I kind of look like Angelina Jolie. Umm, thanks. Long story short, I leave the bank sans card, and head home to apply online. Well, not quite. After much mental tossing and turning, I realize that it's way too complicated and probably not that worth it. The odds of getting it in time, seeing as how I have one week left, are slim to none. Who even knows whether I'd get a useful limit. So, crossed off the list but not completed. Is that an accomplishment?
Vocabulary: Familial terms
famiglia - family
parenti - relatives
genitori - parents
figlio/figlia - son/daughter
fratello - brother
sorella - sister
madre - mother
padre - father
nonno/nonna - grandfather/grandmother
zio/zia - uncle/aunt
cugino/cugina - cousin (m./f.)
This is a good segue into the pluralizing process, which is a lot more complicated in Itaian than in English or Spanish.
For masculine words, usually ending with an o, the o becomes an i.
Fratello --> fratelli zio --> zii
If the word is masculine but ends with an a, often the case with words of Greek origin, it still becomes an i.
Tema --> temi
For feminine words, which usually end with an a, the a becomes an e.
Sorella --> sorelle zia --> zie
Articles and relatives are tricky. For blood relatives/nuclear family, you only use the possessive article:
mio fratello, mia sorella
For extended family, or if you're talking about multiple relatives, you use both the determinate article and the possessive article:
il mio cugino, le mie sorelle
Lastly, even though parents are part of the nuclear family, if you use the more affectionate/informal forms, you have to use both articles as well:
mio padre OR il mio papa mia madre OR la mia mamma
Today, I went on a small money saga that was a lot more stressful than I could possibly make it sound, and more stressful than it reasonably should have been. I went to a Capital One bank to ask about applying for a credit card, because they cover the international transaction fees levied by credit card companies. After waiting in line, I am told I can only apply for a credit card online, but if I want to talk to someone anyway I can sign in on the clipboard and wait some more. So, I wait for a banker to be available to meet with me. In the meantime, I listen to a woman who is meeting with a banker because she lost her card. I am thankful not to be in her shoes, which, incidentally, are a lethal-looking pair of black platform stilettos. Speaking of shoes, while I continue to wait, I watch another banker ask all the women where they got their shoes. Finally, it is my turn. Mario the banker correctly guesses my age, and when I tell him I'm surprised because people usually think I'm younger, he replies that I do indeed look young, but I am also very mature. I tell him I'm going to Italy, and he tells me a story about not believing his gangster-film-loving-brother's claim that they were part Italian, but then he went to Italy and it just so happened that the phone booth he used had his last name in it. I tell him I'm a linguist, and he asks if I know what 'ni hao' means. He is shocked when I correctly translate it as 'hello.' He tells me he impresses Chinese clients that way. He also tells me I kind of look like Angelina Jolie. Umm, thanks. Long story short, I leave the bank sans card, and head home to apply online. Well, not quite. After much mental tossing and turning, I realize that it's way too complicated and probably not that worth it. The odds of getting it in time, seeing as how I have one week left, are slim to none. Who even knows whether I'd get a useful limit. So, crossed off the list but not completed. Is that an accomplishment?
Vocabulary: Familial terms
famiglia - family
parenti - relatives
genitori - parents
figlio/figlia - son/daughter
fratello - brother
sorella - sister
madre - mother
padre - father
nonno/nonna - grandfather/grandmother
zio/zia - uncle/aunt
cugino/cugina - cousin (m./f.)
This is a good segue into the pluralizing process, which is a lot more complicated in Itaian than in English or Spanish.
For masculine words, usually ending with an o, the o becomes an i.
Fratello --> fratelli zio --> zii
If the word is masculine but ends with an a, often the case with words of Greek origin, it still becomes an i.
Tema --> temi
For feminine words, which usually end with an a, the a becomes an e.
Sorella --> sorelle zia --> zie
Articles and relatives are tricky. For blood relatives/nuclear family, you only use the possessive article:
mio fratello, mia sorella
For extended family, or if you're talking about multiple relatives, you use both the determinate article and the possessive article:
il mio cugino, le mie sorelle
Lastly, even though parents are part of the nuclear family, if you use the more affectionate/informal forms, you have to use both articles as well:
mio padre OR il mio papa mia madre OR la mia mamma
09 January 2010
Not horseshoes or hand grenades
The more days that go by, the more real this all becomes. I oscillate between unmitigated enthusiasm and borderline panic. I just said goodbye to Vicky less than an hour ago; that was a big step. She'll be on her way to Ireland, and I am ten days away from my own new I-country. My visit to the consulate on Thursday proved both mercifully swift and mercifully fruitful, and I now have my visa and one more reason to exhale. Though I would still have a bit of a time cushion, it's nice to know that's one thing I don't need to worry about.
Somehow, the closer I get to leaving, the more I keep trying to speak Italian. The thing is, that's about as useful as trying to communicate with people using Morse code. With my family, I can push it a little, but eventually the dissimilarities pile up and there's a communication breakdown. Instead, I settle for pointing at things and saying their names in Italian. 'Cielo,' 'oceano,' 'tartaruga.' Sky, ocean, turtle. I guess it's better than nothing, but it's certainly not conversation. What's weird is that I'm not consciously choosing to switch to Italian, but words and thoughts come in that way. It's like my brain is trying to transition, but it can't yet because no one here can understand me. For now, I can just hope that this will serve me well by the time I get to Parma. Still, I have the somewhat irrational fear that I will in fact be able to say nothing at all, say everything wrong, or inadvertently say it in the wrong language. Sometimes a word comes to me quickly, but then I'm not sure what language it is in, and I have to go through its manifestations in Spanish, French, and Italian to be sure that I'm saying it in the right one. My game of vocabulary proclamations is also a little disquieting at times, because it reveals to me the gaps in my vocabulary. As I was explaining to a friend, it is those everyday things that you might mention daily but would never have a conversation about that I find myself not knowing -- things like spoon and socks. I am more equipped for literary or linguistic discussions than I am for dinner-table exchanges. But, that's the point of all of this: to learn. So, I'll just have to hitch up my britches and get to it.
Also, in an un-Italian vein, I found this listing of Texas words, phrases, and such. Several of the phrases and sayings are unfamiliar to me, though amusing, but almost all of the definitions ring true. Actually, they are so right that it's strange to think that they might not be so clear to a non-Texan. The comments are pretty good too, and of course, "you never have to ask a man if he’s from Texas. If he is, he’ll tell you on his own. If he ain’t, well, there’s no need to embarrass him."
Somehow, the closer I get to leaving, the more I keep trying to speak Italian. The thing is, that's about as useful as trying to communicate with people using Morse code. With my family, I can push it a little, but eventually the dissimilarities pile up and there's a communication breakdown. Instead, I settle for pointing at things and saying their names in Italian. 'Cielo,' 'oceano,' 'tartaruga.' Sky, ocean, turtle. I guess it's better than nothing, but it's certainly not conversation. What's weird is that I'm not consciously choosing to switch to Italian, but words and thoughts come in that way. It's like my brain is trying to transition, but it can't yet because no one here can understand me. For now, I can just hope that this will serve me well by the time I get to Parma. Still, I have the somewhat irrational fear that I will in fact be able to say nothing at all, say everything wrong, or inadvertently say it in the wrong language. Sometimes a word comes to me quickly, but then I'm not sure what language it is in, and I have to go through its manifestations in Spanish, French, and Italian to be sure that I'm saying it in the right one. My game of vocabulary proclamations is also a little disquieting at times, because it reveals to me the gaps in my vocabulary. As I was explaining to a friend, it is those everyday things that you might mention daily but would never have a conversation about that I find myself not knowing -- things like spoon and socks. I am more equipped for literary or linguistic discussions than I am for dinner-table exchanges. But, that's the point of all of this: to learn. So, I'll just have to hitch up my britches and get to it.
Also, in an un-Italian vein, I found this listing of Texas words, phrases, and such. Several of the phrases and sayings are unfamiliar to me, though amusing, but almost all of the definitions ring true. Actually, they are so right that it's strange to think that they might not be so clear to a non-Texan. The comments are pretty good too, and of course, "you never have to ask a man if he’s from Texas. If he is, he’ll tell you on his own. If he ain’t, well, there’s no need to embarrass him."
07 January 2010
Making progress
Followers already! I feel like I should start being interesting. Alas I have nothing with which to entertain you save a growing and shrinking checklist.
winter coat - acquired! Now I just need to waterproof it, perhaps
Concise History of Italy - acquired! (unfortunately the text looks about as dry as a rusty nail)
visa - still pending (!!!). I plan on going to the consulate tomorrow to check progress, seeing as how their phone is not exactly useful (they only answer the phone when they're open but not open to the public, but didn't answer when I called, anyway, and the recording before you leave a message says please call back later (so why are you letting me leave you a message?))
money matters - pending
host family - identities revealed! Hooray! In my case, family really means family. I'll have two parents and two older siblings and a dog! (ok, cutting back on the exclamation mark overload) Also, they're apparently very athletic. So much for not packing athletic shoes... unless I can convert them all into yoginis...
Lastly, to 'keep it educational,' some more trivia, quoted from my old Italian textbook.
winter coat - acquired! Now I just need to waterproof it, perhaps
Concise History of Italy - acquired! (unfortunately the text looks about as dry as a rusty nail)
visa - still pending (!!!). I plan on going to the consulate tomorrow to check progress, seeing as how their phone is not exactly useful (they only answer the phone when they're open but not open to the public, but didn't answer when I called, anyway, and the recording before you leave a message says please call back later (so why are you letting me leave you a message?))
money matters - pending
host family - identities revealed! Hooray! In my case, family really means family. I'll have two parents and two older siblings and a dog! (ok, cutting back on the exclamation mark overload) Also, they're apparently very athletic. So much for not packing athletic shoes... unless I can convert them all into yoginis...
Lastly, to 'keep it educational,' some more trivia, quoted from my old Italian textbook.
Italian students consider it bad luck to wish someone good luck (buona fortuna!) on an exam or a paper. Instead, they use the expression 'In bocca al lupo!' (literally, 'In the mouth of the wolf!'). The appropriate response is not 'grazie' (thanks) but 'Crepi!' (May the wolf drop dead!)Try that one on someone one of these days.
05 January 2010
It's official
My departure date is now two weeks away. Count-downs are now officially legit. So, 14 days! It doesn't seem real yet. I promise I'll try to keep the pre-Italy posts to a minimum. Emphasis on 'try.'
While I get ready, so can you.
First, everyone asks where Parma is.
1. It is in Italy.
2. It is in northern Italy, as I like to say, in the lacy stocking part of the boot.
3. It is in the region of Emilia-Romagna (like a state).
Want to know more? Here's the wikipedia page (as if you couldn't find that yourself, but that and a John Grisham novel compose the majority of my knowledge about the city, sooo lots to learn!) and a Google map.
Some other notes:
It is the home of Parmesan cheese (smack yourself on the forehead now if you hadn't put two and two together until now).
I have been told it is 'the capital of stuffed pasta.' My palate eagerly anticipates.
Mildly relevant trivia:
There is a Parma, Idaho that is just a few minutes off from being at the same latitude as Parma, E-R, Italia. I can thank Google Maps' indecision for revealing that nugget to me.
Now, some Italiano.
I can't help but start with phonology. It's almost the same as Spanish, vowel-wise. Consonants, lucky for us, are also pretty consistent between English, Spanish, and Italian, with a few orthographical exceptions.
You are now ready to go forth and read Italian out loud and perhaps sound like you know what you're saying.
P. S. This would have been infinitely easier if everyone knew the International Phonetic Alphabet. Perhaps you should go learn that, as well.
While I get ready, so can you.
First, everyone asks where Parma is.
1. It is in Italy.
2. It is in northern Italy, as I like to say, in the lacy stocking part of the boot.
3. It is in the region of Emilia-Romagna (like a state).
Want to know more? Here's the wikipedia page (as if you couldn't find that yourself, but that and a John Grisham novel compose the majority of my knowledge about the city, sooo lots to learn!) and a Google map.
Some other notes:
It is the home of Parmesan cheese (smack yourself on the forehead now if you hadn't put two and two together until now).
I have been told it is 'the capital of stuffed pasta.' My palate eagerly anticipates.
Mildly relevant trivia:
There is a Parma, Idaho that is just a few minutes off from being at the same latitude as Parma, E-R, Italia. I can thank Google Maps' indecision for revealing that nugget to me.
Now, some Italiano.
I can't help but start with phonology. It's almost the same as Spanish, vowel-wise. Consonants, lucky for us, are also pretty consistent between English, Spanish, and Italian, with a few orthographical exceptions.
- ce or ci: pronounced che or chi, otherwise it's a hard c, like cat
- (c)che or (c)chi: a hard c, like kilt
- qu: pronounced like the English qu, like in QUeen
- gue or gui: the u is pronounced
- Double vowels are held longer. Imagine 'ecco' like eck-co and 'ucello' like ucelllllo. Of course, in real speech the distinction is more subtle, but that's the theory anyway.
- s: pronounced like z before a vowel
- ss: pronounced like super
- z: pronounced more like a tz, easy reference, pizza!
You are now ready to go forth and read Italian out loud and perhaps sound like you know what you're saying.
P. S. This would have been infinitely easier if everyone knew the International Phonetic Alphabet. Perhaps you should go learn that, as well.
04 January 2010
The standard
It seems that every travel blog must start with a 'getting ready' kind of post. Here's mine, or perhaps the first of a few. I'll try to avoid the 'I can't believe it's so close!' 'I'm not ready yet!' kind of thing. We know that's true. So I'm getting ready. I'm not really sure what that means. Crocheting hats? I hope so, because that's what I've been up to. Right now, getting ready is mostly just trying to see people before I go, and doing a lot of mental packing. Sometimes, I wish I could just set out my suitcase and put things in whenever I think of them, but that's a little excessive when I have just over two weeks to go before my departure. I settle for lists on digital sticky-notes. I'm kind of addicted to lists and sticky-notes, as it is.
It's weird to me that I'm not nervous about being there. I'm a little anxious about getting everything ready right and on time, but I feel like once I get there, everything will fall into place. If it doesn't quite turn out that way, well at that point I'll just have to make due. Probably, sillily, what most concerns me - more than the 'language barrier,' which I am in fact thrilled to throw myself against - is braving the cold. I've always said I like cold weather, but that's easy to say when a high in the 30s is the lowest temperature you see maybe once or twice every couple of years.
Preparatory challenges to be faced:
packing 5 months into a single suitcase and leaving room to grow
acquiring and reading A Concise History of Italy
finding suitable gifts for host family
getting my visa in time!
...
It's weird to me that I'm not nervous about being there. I'm a little anxious about getting everything ready right and on time, but I feel like once I get there, everything will fall into place. If it doesn't quite turn out that way, well at that point I'll just have to make due. Probably, sillily, what most concerns me - more than the 'language barrier,' which I am in fact thrilled to throw myself against - is braving the cold. I've always said I like cold weather, but that's easy to say when a high in the 30s is the lowest temperature you see maybe once or twice every couple of years.
Preparatory challenges to be faced:
packing 5 months into a single suitcase and leaving room to grow
acquiring and reading A Concise History of Italy
finding suitable gifts for host family
getting my visa in time!
...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
