Ciao! Arrival Update!

I wish there was a perfect way to describe the people, the smells, the old buildings, the cobblestone… the fact that I am sitting on my laptop at 4 am in the morning writing when my body can’t figure out that I’m exhausted and I need sleep, but there simply isn’t.  So instead, I will merely attempt to accomplish the impossible to share my journey with you thus far in this beautiful country of Italy.

Piazza dei Caduti, a central and often busy piazza in Viterbo

There is so much to catch up on, I’m not sure that I would be able to fit it in only a few paragraphs.  My days are completely thrown off, so I have no clue really what time it is in Boise.  All I know is that right now its 3:54 am, a bad dream woke me up, and I’m trying to fight my body to tell it that I actually am tired and I do need sleep despite my insistent yearning to get up, open the door, and pretend I am home again. 

 

But that’s aside the point.  I must get on with things because I am finally here so I have so many new things to share! I will return home in only a matter of months, so I musn’t take a single moment for granted.  They say to write is to live twice, so all the better.

Right now I am sitting in a little room in an apartment on Via Montegrappa just a 15-minute walk outside the walls of Viterbo.  My bedroom walls are a creamy yellow, evident to the colorful taste of the Italians in general, my bedding is an azzurro (blue) and giallo (yellow) patterned with fiore (flowers) and the floor is… cold (the colors just aren’t as exciting)…  All these small details that I’m sure you have been dying to know.  I have a very grande bed, I think what we call king size, but for some reason it has two mattresses.  The bed is about ¾ the size of the room so I’m assuming it will have many other uses besides sleeping by the end of this year.  There is an armoire, a nightstand, two one and a half feet red bedside lamps, and a gorgeous window with bright orange sheer curtains.

Boys preparing to carry a mini-macchina

The mini-macchina, only a hint of what is to come

  Last night I fell asleep to the song of Italian men laughing in the sweet and cordial moments of the late hours of the night, having only moments before been crowding the city streets. All of this week has been a busy time for Viterbo, as the city is bustling with people in celebration of the city’s patron saint, Santa Rosa.  The usually quiet and relaxed atmosphere of the city becomes alive with colors, laughter, and costumes up until the 3^rd of September, when 110 Viterbo men will carry through the streets a 30-meter tall, 10,000 pound statue with Santa Rosa proudly displayed at the top.  It was only the night before the official celebration of Santa Rosa, but the sounds of trumpets and clapping and singing of the young children dressed up in costumes was something still heard around the city.  

  In preparation and practice for the big day on the 3^rd of September, 110 boys and young men carried a mini-macchina.  It was really quite the place to be, and the enthusiasm of the locals was quite infectious.  As the mini-macchina processed down the streets, several around me did the sign of the cross in respect of Santa Rosa.  Though the festivities are quite loud and exciting, it was this little moment that made me realize the true importance of Santa Rosa to Viterbo, a history that goes way back to the 13^th century.

From the festival to the tours, I have been quite busy since I got here only 3 days ago.  I arrived on a group flight with USAC from Chicago that was about nine hours long.  Luckily, I slept most of the time on the plane, only awake to taste the wonderful cheese ravioli, which by the way, is a perfect smell as the cheesy pasta wafted up from between the airplane head cushions and density of travelers.  It was a wonderful way to prepare me, and be all the more appreciative of the real Italian food that was awaiting me after the nine-hour flight.  Unfortunately though, not even working in a greenhouse prepared me for the heat and humidity that smothered me as I stepped off the plane onto the bus that would take us to the baggage claim to pick up our luggage.  At that moment I was very thankful that I stuffed a pair of Bermuda denim shorts in the front pocket of my carry on, but I’d have yet to realize it’s not exactly a fitting choice among the formally dressed Italians. 

From the airport we were brought to a very nice hotel right outside of the city walls, to gain our bearings and relax amongst the busyness we have succumb to for the past few days in the hustle and bustle of everything needed to get done to move ½ way across the world.  But before that, the group made its way for dinner at a local Pizzeria, where we were served bruschetta appetizer, margherita, hot dog, and eggplant pizza, and wonderfully delicious gelato (one scoop chocolate and one scoop fiore de latte flavor).  It was the perfect way to welcome us to our future home of Italy and it was a lovely setting to be able to share the experience with fellow travelers from all over the United States.  I also had the privilege to meet Fabby, a young woman native to Viterbo who studies also at the local university.  Luckily, as my Italian is quite lacking, she spoke English almost perfectly well, so we were able to carry on a great conversation. 

The next morning everyone was split up and sent to their new living arrangements.  To prior agreements, I was sent to a host mom along with my new roommate, Jessica.  Though I was slightly nervous to meet my new host mom, I found comfort in the fact of my assumption that my host mom spoke English so I perhaps could have a bit of familiarity amongst this new foreign place.  But, boy, was I wrong.

Meeting Roberta was lovely, as she is a wonderfully nice lady who was kind enough to let us live with her for these few months that we will call Viterbo our home.  She has two children, both old enough to have moved out as they both currently call Rome their permanent home.  At home, Roberta’s closest companion is Dalila (pronounced Dah-Lee-Lah) her spunky little Yorkshire terrier who I have already come to love.  She welcomed us with a lovely pasta lunch with fresh cheese and fresh tomato.  My family is testimony to my distaste of cold pasta, but I am happy to share that the dish might have just changed my mind… (a decision which I am sure will not travel back with me to America… as comparable as the cooking is ;-)  

Dalila. :-)

 Roberta met us at the apartment door with a smile and a proper Italian greeting of a kiss on each cheek.  The taxi driver was nice enough to help bring in our luggage, despite the heavy pioggia, a word that I looked up in my handy pocket dictionary when I realized he didn’t understand that I was trying to infer about the rain in Viterbo that was currently pounding down on the windshield.  As I struggled to relate with him my mode of thought, and after I spout out pioggia, my first official Italian word other than general greetings and courtesies, he smiled, threw out his hand in felicita (happiness) and said, “ahhhh, pioggia.” All I replied was si si, but the smiles and laughter we shared was enough to get us to our new home in appreciation of eachother’s company.

Once he got our luggage in the door, Roberta showed us in, carrying on in Italian, relating to us where we would be staying for the next four months.  I was quite pleased of the spacious apartment, and I couldn’t complain about the wonderful balcony that led right outside of the back door of the kitchen, home to a table and chairs and an assortment of flower and herb pots.  “fiore,” Roberta tells me as I pointed to the small pink Mandevilla growing next to her window.  “fiore” I thought… a perfect word, right in there next to “pioggia” to introduce me to tongue and taste of the Italian language.  And as my friend said, a language so sweet, it tastes like gelato in the mouth.

After sitting us down at the table set nicely just for us, she sat on the sofa facing the table, still speaking Italian, so I had to be keen on body language and hand gestures to try to figure out just what she was saying.  After some quite choppy English/Italian conversation, she looks at me after we talk of languages and says in perfect English “I understand English.”  I looked at her, surprised, thinking what an idiot I probably sounded like now that I know she speaks and understand English, but I assume has decided to only speak in Italian to us.  I felt fooled, and quite stupid but the fact didn’t really match her sweet and innocent nature.  I felt slightly befuddled, and didn’t really say anything, pretending to be keen on the delicious pasta in front of me, trying to stop my brain running in circles trying to figure all of this out.

Luckily though, I am pleased to tell you now, oddly enough, that Roberta speaks only Italian, and does understand English, but only a small amount.  Perhaps because she said, “I understand English” In perfect English I was fooled, so I guess I had no place to draw assumptions.  Though it is quite frustrating at times to try and communicate with her in a language I don’t understand, I’m realizing how helpful it is in learning Italian.  I can’t really imagine how much patience it takes to teach two American girls who probably spout out “Ciao, si, and grazie” one hundred times to you in a day because they have no idea what else to say. 

My friend Abby and I at the local gelato shop!

Outside of the homestay everything has been quite wonderful.  I couldn’t ask for a better group of friends which I am sure will become my family by the time I must return to my home.  Even already they have provided me laughter and familiarity in a foreign country that I am still learning to call home.  From conversations at the local café to late night tours around the streets of Viterbo, snacking on Gelato, and helping me realize that in Europe brown shoes don’t clash with a brown overhang as long as it’s decent and somewhat sophisticated, I couldn’t be more appreciative of the memories we have already begun to build.

Though there is so much more I’d love to say, I know I’ll write more soon.  It’s already 5 in the morning here and I do have to catch up on some sleep for another day of walking around the city (one reason Italians don’t need gym memberships, and why I probably won’t need one either).  Thanks for keeping up with me on my journey and I look forward to sharing more with you soon.  Arrive’derci!  

I apologize for any mistakes with the Italian in my posts... I am just learning!  Also, factual information is found via research.  This post was written around 4am on the 3rd of September, so since then much has happened, including the procession of the la Macchina di Santa Rosa.  I wasn't able to post this when I actually wrote it  because I have had very little access to the internet.  But keep posted!