It's Only Been Three Weeks!

Today marks three weeks ago that I stepped off the plane at the Ancona airport and began this little Adventure. If you're counting, that's 21 days. When I was buying my plane ticket to come here, it was cheaper to purchase a round-trip fare instead of one-way. As it worked out, choosing October 8th as the return date ended up making for the lowest price. I told Lothar yesterday morning that it was his last chance to get rid of me. Just say the word and I would pack and he could drop me at the airport tomorrow and I'd be on my way back to Portland with a three week vacation in my past. He said I could stay so I guess this is going to last a bit longer. Three weeks. It feels like a lot longer. I think because this is my life and I've had to acclimate to so much that time seems to move more deliberately. After three weeks I've begun to feel a little more settled at work. I can mostly navigate my computer's Italian operating system. I know the names of most of my co-workers (no small feat since I struggled to learn these at work in the States) and can greet them in the morning. I've almost contributed something useful to the business.

That's my desk. On the right.
That's my computer. It speaks Italian only.

After three-weeks I know where things are in the grocery store and can order cheese and salami from the deli counter with only two or three strange looks. Only once have I come home with something different than what I expected. It was pork-chops instead of beef..

After three weeks I feel like I'm starting to make a little progress in learning Italian. I know three irregular verbs, can describe what a person looks like and what they are wearing, and nine or ten regular verbs. I almost understand prepositions, but can at least make the singular plural and vice-versa. I know the alphabet and most critically, can order pizza, gelato and espresso comfortably.

With hind-sight, I marvel at how naive I was about how big a change for me this would be. In the months leading up to leaving, I was pretty ambivalent about it all; it was all excitement and fun. Falling asleep the night before I left, it was anticipation and nervousness but at no time was there ever a full realization of how much of a change this was going to be. I figured Italy, how different can it really be? A lot! I guess there are some pretty well established stages of acclimation for people who move to live in a different country - something like: honeymoon, hostility, integration/acceptance, home/settled and 'normal' - I think the honeymoon is definitely over so bring on some hostility!

Culture shock - A visa was hard to get but is useless now that I'm here. No one cares about it. The real paper to have is the Permesso di Siggiorno. That's the permit to stay in the country. All foreigners need one to stay or they are 'clandestine'. Try getting one. We had to go to eight different offices, some of them more than once, to sort out the application. Like any good bureaucracy, no one wants to be responsible. Everyone has a similar story. Brushes with bureaucracy are the stories told at the bar. What else? Everything closes at noon for three hours and reopens in the evening. Nothing is open on Sunday. Buy bread in the morning because it will be gone in the evening. My grocery store sometimes closes on Thursdays if they want to. There is no Heinz. Sidewalks are streets to scooters. Crosswalks are targets to help the cars line you up to hit you. Espresso at a table costs twice as much as espresso at the counter. Kebabs are the best food ever and cheap. When in doubt, just say Ciao. But not to the Head of Immigration. To him say Buon Giorno Signor. Walk with your eyes down, there's dog poo everywhere. It's easier to get crummy pizza than good pizza. The good pizza is amazing. Gelati is the plural of gelato and I have had molto gelati. The tip is included. This is not a beer culture. I will not buy skinny jeans.

After three weeks, it has been sunny every single day except for one when it rained for a few hours and then was sunny again. It's usually between 17 and 23 degrees which is fine but it's really humid. I can't stand the humidity. I'm moist all the time. Ha, ha. I said moist.

After three weeks, my favorite place so far is the patio on our roof. There is always a breeze blowing, the views of the old city are amazing, the sunsets are incredible, and I can stand up there and laugh at the fact that I'm living in Italy. It is all pretty good.

This is the elevator in the building where I work. It's tiny.
Those are my toes against the back at the bottom and the door is at the top.
I ride it to overcome my claustrophobia.

I wonder what Eric is doing right now?