When in Rome...Do Stuff

I "slept in" today, which meant I got up after 8. Most of the other girls in my room had already up and went, allowing me to get ready in relative privacy and quiet. I tried to keep my pace slow, but inbred habits (thanks, Mom) prevent me from strolling for too long.

My first stop was the Musei Capitolini, home to some amazing statuary and other bits of ancient Rome. From colossal statues of Marcus Aurelius and Constantine (poor Constantine was in impressively-sized pieces) to the famous wolf statue with Romulus and Remus, I enjoyed wandering through the blank gazes and broken noses of the museum's collection. My favorite part was a selection of busts of Roman women, with the emphasis on their elaborate hairstyles. In fact, a lot of the museum's focus was on the cultural context of Roman statuary, making it popular with history and art history students (who get in for 2 euro, the lucky dogs).

I dragged myself down from the museum and back into the streets of Rome. I sauntered past the blindingly-white monument to Vittorio Emanuele II (also known as "the wedding cake"), examined Trajan's column, and wandered to the Trevi Fountain. As the hour drew closer to 14.00, I returned to the train station to meet Chelsea, a classmate of mine from Perugia. She had a few hours before her flight back to the States, so we dropped her luggage off at an office in the train station and set off for a little mini-adventure before her departure. She was glad for a chance to wander around Rome, and I was glad for some companionship. My internal dialogue gets stale after a while.

We found lunch, which can be a little difficult around 15.00. We went to the Trevi Fountain and took pictures and threw in our coins, which is supposed to guarantee our return to Rome. We wondered if our chances or quality of said returns were lessened if we threw in a two cent coin versus a whole euro or two.

If the quality of my return trip is based on how much I threw in, let's just say that there aren't any 5 star hotels in my future.

We went to the Pantheon, marveling for a short time at its beauty before realizing that Chelsea needed to go back to the train station ASAP. The nearest metro station, funnily enough, was right next to the Spanish Steps. Since it wasn't high on my list of places to go (Perugia's steps take precedence in my heart), it was nice to stop for a minute or two for a picture and have a reason to move on.

I didn't want those flowers...

After shoving the half-wilted roses back into the hands of a dedicated vendor, we hopped on the Metro and went back to the Termini. It took a bit of a jog and the help of some moving walkways, but we got Chelsea onto the express train to the airport just in time. It was also just in time, conveniently enough, for me to call it a day.

Vado a Roma

Trying not to think about leaving my new friends behind and worried about making my connection in Foligno, I boarded the train departing from Perugia with a rather weighty heart. For the past month, Perugia has been home, with all of its ups and downs (quite literally, as it's a hill). It wasn't easy leaving it behind, so I listened to upbeat music (thank you, Michael Buble and Michelle Branch) to take my mind off of it all.

Nothing went amiss with the trains, which is quite the victory considering the very common occurrences of delays, cancellations, strikes, etc. I did, however, get sexually harassed at the train station by an old man who tried to give me my first kiss (evasive techniques were deployed). Using the shelter of my guidebook to ignore him, I sent a little prayer of thanksgiving to the heavens when another Stranieri student from Perugia purposely cornered my attentions until he went away. Even though she spoke no English, I understood one word: "maniac."

Needless to say, I was kind of shaken by the experience. I rarely get any of that kind of attention in the States, so I was unprepared for the comments as I walked down the street to class or the grocery store. It didn't really matter what I was wearing or the time of day. And even though I knew that this kind of thing is common in Italy, I didn't expect it to be this frightening. The constant reminders that I am being objectified was/is terrifying, and it's not something I'm going to miss.

I had recovered from my experience by the time I reached Rome. The sunshine did a great deal to get me out of my funk, to which I promptly returned as I dragged my suitcase to the hostel. Thankfully, it wasn't far, and I put my feet up for a while as I contemplated my map. I decided to seize the hot afternoon, making my way to the historical center of Rome. Taking the wise advice of my guidebook to heart, I skipped the long ticket line at the Colosseum and bought a combined ticket at the Forum/Palatine Hill entrance.

Colossal, yes, but not as much as the amount of people trying to get in.

With no one else to entertain but myself, I wandered aimlessly through the ruins. The people watching was, I have to admit, just as fascinating as the ancient columns and tumbled stones. Many tourists sat on those stones, overwhelmed by the heat of the day, the same thing my brother, mom, and I did when we last visited the Forum eleven years ago. Some things, I guess, don't change.

After deciding that my symptoms of dehydration were starting to dwarf my enjoyment of the ruins, I exited to be promptly ripped off by a nearby vendor selling cold beverages to desperate tourists such as myself. Fortified by Green Mango Powerade, I tried not to smile too triumphantly as I breezed past the long line of people waiting in front of the Colosseum to enter with my nifty combined ticket.

It's hard to picture crowds of people cheering on gladiators and various wild animals, because now the crowds are planking on ancient stones and posing for pictures with cheery smiles. The most realism I found was in the exhibit of Roman graffiti, with stones carved with fighting gladiators, snarling beasts, and praises for the crowd favorites. All done, I'm sure, during half time or a time out for a commercial break.

When they weren't waiting in line for the Roman equivalent of hot dogs and nachos.

Snapshots

My own little corner, my own little chair...

The Ham Palace

Panna cotta... Yum

Corso Vanucci

Sitting on the Steps, enjoying my final afternoon in Perugia.

A Retrospective Perspective

Today is my last day in Perugia. It's not over yet: I still have to finish packing, clean, and I have dinner with some friends later tonight. But today has been a day of goodbyes. To friends, to class, and to the places I've come to cherish over the past month.

It's difficult, especially since this month has passed so quickly. I feel like I arrived in Perugia last week, and that there is so much more for me to do. I want another month, or at least another week. But I leave early tomorrow morning, and I'm trying not to think about it.

To use my last day to its fullest, I wandered around Perugia with Helen for a few hours. We went to the Etruscan Well, the remnants of the old fortress, the panoramic view of the city, and to lunch. Later, before dinner, we'll visit one of Perugia's churches. And I'll probably be up late, mopping and sweeping and dusting and throwing things away.

But I'm not ready to say goodbye.

A Jaunt in Orvieto

This past weekend, I made the executive decision to not go on a long trip. I love Italy and I love studying the language and I definitely love traveling, but it's all very exhausting. It's a kind of bone-deep weariness that doesn't leave easily. So I spent Saturday in my pajamas, eating Nutella-stuffed French toast and scrambled eggs with Helen and surfing the Internet.

But when Sunday came, it was time for a change of scenery. Despite the complaints of my body, I got myself up before noon for a short trip. We took a late train to Orvieto, a small Umbrian town about two hours away. It was raining, the trains kept getting delayed, and we spent more time traveling than we did in the city itself, but I have to say that Orvieto is one of my favorite places here in Italy. The Duomo of Orvieto is, according to my guidebook, "funky." The paintings in one of its small chapels inspired Salvador Dali, if you should need any evidence for that description. And yes, the chapel was beautiful, but I kept turning towards the entrance of the church, like a desperate little sunflower.

Despite being worth a thousand words, pictures cannot do it justice.

The proportions were perfect, the ceiling deceptively simple...I could probably rapture about it for much longer than you would care to listen. Helen felt the same way about this particular Duomo, which made me feel slightly less crazy for adoring it so much. It was a wrench to leave. To me, it achieved something beautiful: it made me look up and smile. And that made it feel like an actual house of God, rather than just a particularly magnificent building.

Delayed by the Duomo, we didn't have any time to tour underground Orvieto, so we spent our remaining hour wandering the streets before we took the funicolare (cable car) back down to the train station for the long ride back. It was too short a time, but even a small taste of Orvieto was a treat.

Perusing Perugia

Being at ends on Friday afternoon, Helen and I decided that it was high time that we explored the cultural sites Perugia has to offer. After all, we sort of live here. Now, Perugia isn't the number one tourist destination in Umbria, despite being the regional capitol and (I think) the biggest city. That title goes to Assisi, but that doesn't mean that Perugia entirely lacks culture (even if some of the students here do...)

Our first stop was Perugia's very own Duomo. It isn't the nicest cathedral; parts of the walls seemed to have been finished only because a church ought to have some structural integrity, but it's there and it's free. And right outside the Duomo is the heart of Perugia: the Fontana Maggiore, and the steps of the Palazzo dei Priori. There are always people here: tourists taking pictures, students eating gelato, locals drinking beer, children chasing pigeons, etc. etc. Nowadays, the steps serve more as seats than as a means of ascension into the Palazzo. As a matter of fact, I sat on them my first day in Perugia, gaping at my incomprehensible map while pigeons explored the edibility of my suitcase.

We bought a card that allows us into five of the various cultural sites in the city, complete with the fastest-moving audio guide I have heretofore experienced. While the Duomo isn't much to look at, Perugia does have other places to inspect, like the offices of the old guildhalls. Forget cubicles and fake plants: the guilds hired famous artists (like Perugino, Raphael's teacher) and talented artisans to turn their conference rooms into displays of opulence and wealth that would put Hollywood celebrities to shame.

Along with the old guild offices, the Palazzo dei Priori also houses the art museum. The collection mostly consists of variations on "Madonna and Child," but I can't complain about that without bordering on heresy... Actually, it was interesting to see how different artists chose to paint the Holy Family, and there were some truly beautiful pieces that merited a second look. (And considering how hungry I was at the time, they had to be truly compelling to get me to stop.)

This is where I live, at least for another week. Time flies when you're having fun and getting lost, and I've been doing a lot of both for the past month.

Frolicking in Florence

Helen and I boarded a train for Florence/Firenze last Saturday morning, off on another adventure. We found our hostel easily, both having copied down the directions off the website. And then we were off to meet classmate Chelsea at Ponte Vecchio. Of course, there were many stops for photos along the way.

Travel buddy...personal photographer...Helen has many talents.

After we met up with Chelsea, we went to the leather market. After being schmoozed by several desperate salesmen, Chelsea found a jacket, I found a bag, and Helen found lunch. We were all pretty happy with the results.

We went to the Duomo, of which I couldn't resist taking about 50 pictures, all from various angles and times of day.

This is  photo #45 out of the 53 I took of the Duomo. 

It was suitably impressive, and I was suitably impressed. Not enough to climb the Duomo for the view, but I ended up getting the exercise and the panorama anyway.

We made our obligatory stop at a gelateria (yes, it was obligatory), and then parted ways. Helen and Chelsea went to explore more of Florence, so they ended up in a cafe. I applaud their logic and their priorities. I, on the other hand, went to explore the Uffizi, home of Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. I rather enjoyed traversing an art museum on my own; I set my own pace, elbowing my way through tour groups crowding around the art like the Magi around baby Jesus.

Footsore and overheated, I met up with the now-solo Helen, Chelsea having returned to Perugia. We returned to our hostel to clean up and sit down. It took the promise of dinner to put me back up onto my feet and the streets of Florence.

Rough translation: "There is what there is." And what there was, was good.

Needless to say, we slept well that night. Which was a good thing, considering our adventure on Sunday. We got up, changed into comfortable clothes and sneakers, experimented with the coffee vending machine, and checked out of the hostel before most of the other guests hit the snooze button. Armed with more directions, we found the offices of Florence by Bike for our tour of the Chianti region just outside the city.

We had no idea what we were getting ourselves in to. Which was a good thing, since I'd have probably run away screaming had I known about the hills.

There are prices to pay for views, but the aching muscles were worth it. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we rode through miles of vineyards, olive groves, and quiet towns. There are worse ways to spend a day, and the sense of accomplishment after we braked for the last time, back in Florence after a 20 mile ride, was priceless.

Out of respect for those who would be sitting in our vicinity on the train ride back to Perugia, Helen and I returned to the hostel not only to pick up our bags, but also to clean up a bit and rehydrate. Feeling (and smelling) much better, we walked back to the train station and collapsed into seats in the closest compartment.

To be honest, it took a day or two before we fully recovered from our adventure, and I still cringe a little at the thought of a bike seat, but I'll say it again: it was worth it.

The Everyday, Every Day

Sometimes I forget that my life is strange. No matter where I go, once I fall into a certain routine, the unusual becomes my usual, and I forget to appreciate the little moments. So this is my dedication to those moments.

Over the past week, I've continued attending classes. I have "la lingua italiana" for 3 hours four times a week, "pronuncia e grafia" for 2 hours once a week, and "Gruppo A" for 2 hours three times a week. So far, cappuccinos and my experience with French have been keeping me afloat. With, I have to admit, more than a little help from my Italian-English dictionary.

"Essenziale" is no joke.

When I'm not in class, there's the stuff that makes life go: laundry, dishes, napping, general physical upkeep, etc. etc.

Make-your-own fruit at the bottom yogurt tastes great.

I also explore Perugia. Thus far, I've found 4 grocery stores, an amazing organic restaurant, a place to put money on my phone, a newsstand with English magazines, plenty of ATM's, and where to find a towel (not as easy as it sounds, believe me). And with the Umbria Jazz Festival ongoing, entertainment is never far away.

A small parade begins.

"Bacio" means "kiss," and it's Perugia's tastiest export.

And, really, how could I ever get bored in an ancient Italian city that hosts a chocolate festival?

A Roman Resort Holiday

Eleven years ago, I moved away from Naples. No more pizza margherita, dumpster hunting, or perilous trips through streets packed with vespas and battered vehicles. This past weekend, I made my grand return. The bus left at 6:00 AM, so I dozed off and on until our arrival in Naples. Helen, her friend Nikki, and I got off our buses and went on a whirlwind tour of Naples. We started off with (surprise, surprise) a church, Santa Chiara. That is, I started off. Skipping the church itself, Nikki and Helen chose to stay outside while I paid the entrance fee to get into the cloister.

Well worth the entrance fee.

And then it was pizza time! We went to Gino Sorbillo's and I had a fantastic pizza margherita. It was the best pizza I've had in eleven years.

Before.
I would show the after, but there wasn't anything left to show.

We went into Il Duomo of Naples, complete with the reliquary of San Gennaro. He's the patron saint of Naples, and every year people gather to witness a morbid miracle: his blood liquifying. The legend goes that if his blood doesn't liquify, Mount Vesuvius will erupt. This legend is mostly based on the fact that the last time his blood didn't liquify was in 1944, the last time Mount Vesuvius erupted. We'll have to wait and see, I suppose. 

I had to race back to the bus to go to Pompeii, the ancient vacation spot for Romans. We wandered through the dusty streets, taking photos and trying to decipher exactly what was what, as they had run out of English guides. But even in our ignorance, it was a lot of fun.

Pompeii may be ruined, but we found out that we still needed a map to get around.

As the sun was setting, we headed back to the hotel for a late dinner and bed. I shared a suite with my bus neighbor, Kristina from Macedonia, and a table with Helen (Hong Kong), Nikki (Taiwan), Betsy (Virginia), Helen (Estonia), and Rodrigo (Brazil), turning the evening into an international affair. 

The next morning we got on a ferry to Capri, where the emperors played. We took a boat tour around the island, visiting the famous Blue Grotto (which was beautiful), as well as the White and Green ones (Capri is a colorful place). After lunch, we hit the beach, enjoying the sun and the warm water. My skin enjoyed it a little too much, turning pink with excitement despite rigorous applications of sunscreen. But gelato and a little shade heals all, at least for a little while.

After a whirlwind weekend, we returned to the bus for a long ride back to Perugia. 

Alora, Alora

The adventure of living in my apartment in Perugia has become a little bit of a joke. So I thought that I'd share a poem, written by Alan Whykes. It can be found in "The Little Blue, What to Do: The Stranger's Guide to Perugia."

Apartment (Un)available

No students.

The price for the room doesn't include the gas.

Or the electricity.

Or the water. Or the rubbish.

Or the building services charge. Or the agent's fee.

Or stamp duty on the rental contract. Or...

The door's only a little broken.

Kitchen? We eat out.

This is the washing machine. It works great but we don't use it because it floods the apartment.

No males.

You have to go through the other bedroom to get to the toilet.

You get used to it after a while.

Room, well, yes, the advertisement did say room.

We meant a corner of the living room.

No foreigners.

I'm not sharing my house, I'm only renting a room. Understand?

There's no shower or bath but the toilet works fine.

Working people only.

How do you like my giant dog?

The room's a bit small, I know, but you can study in the hallway.

Sorry, it's been taken.

You have to pay a month's rent in advance.

And two month's rent as bond.

And another month's rent as bond for the service bills.

And we'll need to keep your passport...

Garage? Unfortunately it's a bit full of old furniture and faded newspapers. It's actually much more convenient to leave your motorbike outside. On the street. In the rain.

What language to you speak? Pardon?

What lang-uage speeaakk?

As you can see the house is very secure, because there aren't any windows.

This is the key to the room.

The lock's missing, but we had one a few years ago.

Can you call again tomorrow?

You'll only have to share the room with one German drug addict, one Romanian neo-faschist, and a Siberian hamster.

Those maggots don't come from our rubbish, they just fall down from the flat upstairs.

Short week only. What does that mean? It means you can't stay here on weekends because the other guy uses the room.

No visitors.

This is the coffee cup so try not to break it.

Of course we have a telephone. It's just not connected.

How much rent? We haven't decided yet.

How much can you afford to pay?

After a few months you don't even notice the traffic.

Or the fire engine sirens.

No no no. The room is taken. No.

Advent of Adventuresome Academia

Classes began yesterday, beginning my summer routine. I had class in the morning, 8 o'clock sharp. I didn't get lost, which was a good start to the day. And all of the buildings begin with "Palazzo," which makes the search for Classroom Two (or, Aula 2) sound very romantic. What wasn't romantic was my dress getting stuck in an escalator. The rip is no problem-- a needle and thread will fix it, no problem. The oil was a different issue. I'm just glad that I could get it out of the escalator at all. There's always a silver lining, I suppose.

A little disheveled, but thankfully fully clothed, I arrived at my first class. It was larger than our poor instructor expected. By the end of the third hour, a class of little over twenty had ballooned to a over forty. So we were divided up into two classes, giving me a new timetable and a new Palace to find.

After class, Helen and I went for a quiet lunch near the main building of Universita per Stranieri. It was only 11:30, so we gave the restaurant staff, which included a perky dachshund, quite a turn. But the food was good, and I had plenty of time to return home for a nice nap. My next class was at 5, and I gave myself plenty of time to find my new palazzo, Palazzo Proschiutti. I was overjoyed to be put in the conversation group that I wanted-- the timetable leaves my Fridays open after 10 AM, leaving me with long weekends for the rest of my stay in Perugia.

Today was day two, when the challenge really begins: no more introductions, no more distractions. My first class this morning was actually a language lab. We practiced pronunciation in a computer lab with headphones that made the whole thing feel like mission control. The practical aspect was very interesting. After class, I went to the supermarket. The plan was to go back to the apartment, make some lunch, and do some laundry. Plans, however, can derail with alarming skill.

Our door, it seems, is just as finicky as our router. Today was the second day I was locked out (with keys). Yesterday, one of my flatmates was home to let me in. Today, loaded down with groceries, I was not so lucky. I bought lunch at a cafe, took shelter from the blazing sun in the Universita, called my landlady, and was lucky enough to have Helen as a friend. She let me into the monastery where she has a room and helped me stow my groceries in the kitchen.

Monastery Monteripido. The hike to get there is worth it.
Picture from: Key to Umbria: City Walks

We went to our language class, where we learned about articles. Because Italian nouns have genders, this isn't an easy concept, but it was great to get past "Mi chiamo Alicia" and "Io sono americana." And when I returned, the door had been opened. I retrieved my groceries and proceeded to cook myself a nice, big dinner. So tomorrow the plan is, once again, to do laundry during my break. Fingers crossed, it will actually happen.

Ascending Assisi

Assisi is one of the more famous hill towns of Umbria (the Italian province of which Perugia is the capitol) thanks to her famous son, St. Francis of Assisi. Known for his dedication to a life of poverty and the service of others, his followers still wear the brown robes and rope belts and leather sandals I've always associated with Friar Tuck. Thank you, Disney's Robin Hood. Sadly, there were no tonsures to be seen.

Anywho, thousands of pilgrims and sightseers flock to Assisi every year, so it's kind of become a bit of a tourist trap. To paraphrase my guidebook, the roads lined with souvenir shops capitalizing on the saint's fame is probably making said humble saint roll in his tomb. But it's also retained a great deal of its medieval charm, with winding streets, lots of red geraniums, and churches built of light stone. And stairs.

Up, up, up the stairs!

We hiked those stairs to Rocca Maggiore, the medieval fortress that looks down upon Assisi with appropriate majestic intimidation. The views of the town and the surrounding countryside were amazing, though the winding staircases to the tower made my heart pound and my knees knock. The exhausting beauty of the fort sent us to a nearby cafe for sandwiches and water before hiking back down the hill to St. Francis' Basilica, or San Francesco. The Basilica, while definitely beautiful, is more simple; the walls are covered with colorful frescoes depicting the saint's life, and there is very little stained glass to be seen.  We sat inside for a while, enjoying some quiet contemplation (and, to be honest, the cool interior).

When I arrived at the apartment, the internet had been fixed. However, the router is still a finicky piece of...equipment...requiring us to restart it about every 15-30 minutes. Alora. Despite that issue, the internet has helped my achey, tired self decompress from a long day, and just in time. My Italian class starts tomorrow, pulling me away from my gelato-filled tourism. The past few days have been a whirlwind beginning to the month, and I'm excited to finish settling in and see what the rest of this gift of a trip has in store for me.

A Day in Siena

I spent Friday running errands. I registered for class (yay for being a "very beginner!"), went to the supermarket, and reserved a place to go to Siena on Saturday. I was very pleased with myself, and had the first substantial meal in days.

Yummy!

Early Saturday morning, about 50 people climbed into a double-decker tour bus to make the hour and a half drive to Siena. I wish I could have sneaked a picture of our guide, Riccardo, who was very easy on the eyes, and funny to boot. But he spoke primarily in Italian during the drive there, reserving the English until our arrival in Siena to explain the rules. So I tuned him out and enjoyed the sunflower-strewn landscape of Tuscany instead.

The rules were for attending "Il Palio." It is a bareback horse race dating from medieval times. 10 horses, chosen at random from the 17 contrade, or neighborhoods, of Siena, are raced around a tiny track in the Piazza del Campo. It is a rough-and-tumble Kentucky Derby, and quite literally so: a horse had died in a crash the previous day during training. Jockeys are allowed to use whips, not only on their own horses but on the other horses. And since only the horse has to cross the finish line for a victory, the jockeys are known to throw themselves off their horses in order to sabotage other riders. Crashes are many: three horses crossed the finish line sans jockey. Rumor of drugs and tampering abound, forcing the city to protect both horses and riders in the hours leading up to the race.

The piazza closes at around 4, even though the race starts at 7, so we were directed to find a place near the edge of the track before then. Riccardo suggested finding one of the contrade's churches to see the blessing of the horse at 3:30, but other than that, we were left at ends. So, with my new friends Helen and Rae from Hong Kong, I went to the Duomo of Siena. Now, I've seen a lot of cathedrals in my day, but this one actually looks different from all the other Gothic spires I've taken pictures of. We bought a pass to see the museum, cathedral, baptistry, crypt, and panorama view of the city, and it was worth it.

View of the Duomo from the panorama. I love the stripes.

After touring the cathedral, we found a pizza place and wandered through the winding streets of the medieval town. The different contrade were decorated with flags and lamps in their colors. Some of the animal sigils were quite amusing.

Like the weird carp-thing of this particular neighborhood.

I bought a scarf for the Tortoise cantrade, while Rae opted for the Little Owl. Helen, who is taking the picture, chose the Goose. Helen's jockey won. Mine was the first to fall off. Alora.

We got some gelato and claimed a pretty good space (relative to elsewhere) near the track. It rained off and on, but at least it was cool. After hours of waiting, and a medieval-style parade that took almost two hours on its own, the race finally started.

The jockeys start warming up their horses for the big race.

Afterwards in the crowded Piazza del Campo: the celebrations were boisterous, to say the least.

Arriving in Italy

For those of you who've been in the near vicinity of my person in the past year has probably heard my travel tales of woe. It was a rather long string of unfortunate events compacted into the space of about six months, so since then I've been rather paranoid when it comes to flying and airports.

Thankfully, this is not one of those tales. I got to Atlanta and through security with ease, and my flight left for Paris on time. I got to Paris, through security and passport control, and managed to find my gate with the help of a heavily armed French soldier and an extremely bored airport staff member. There was a two hour delay, thanks to technical difficulties throughout the airport, but since I didn't have to catch another flight, it wasn't that much of a problem. I even managed to find the shuttle to my hotel in Rome and check in and order room service.

The next morning, I took the Sulga bus to Perugia. Note to any future travelers to Perugia: if you have a suitcase of more than marginal size, get a taxi to your destination. Because Perugia is a hill, and their convenient escalators only get you so far.

My trusty suitcase managed to survive the ordeal.

I found a tourist booth with a map, and headed in the general direction of where I was told the university would be. I crossed Perugia's biggest square, got marked as a "turisti" by some curious passerby, and dragged my suitcase down a treacherous set of stairs. And just when I had given up all hope of finding the university, I looked up. And there it was. Right across the street.

Universita per Stranieri di Perugia

I entered and went to the welcome station. With the help of one of the few English-speakers on staff, they told me what I had to do. They gave me a sheet to fill out and bring with me the next day, and the times for the entrance exams the next morning. They even got on Google maps and showed me the street (really, a glorified alley) where I would be living.

My landlady, Carla, would not open the apartment to me until 6:30, so I had about 4 hours to kill. So I dragged my suitcase across the street to a little park, bought a pear, and called home. I read the section about Perugia in my guidebook. I watched people. I shooed away curious pigeons. That took about 30 minutes. So I wrote in my journal. I read about the entire region of Umbria. I ate some half-melted peanut M&Ms. Another 30 minutes. 

So I took my suitcase back to the university, where they were kind enough to store it behind a desk for a while. My load thus lightened, I went into a bookstore and bought a dictionary. Next door was a cafe, so I sat down, had a cappuccino and read. 

Sometimes boredom can taste really, really good.

After a while, I reclaimed my suitcase, returned to the cafe, and got a sandwich and another cappuccino for dinner. And, finally, it was 6:30. I went into the alley and waited for Carla to let me in. The internet didn't work, I didn't have a towel, I was exhausted, but the day was over. I had a room, I didn't have to drag my suitcase anywhere, I had a hot shower, and the view from my room was/is fantastic.

My room with a view.