Tu Sei una Stella

Tu Sei una Stella

I am finding myself a bit overwhelmed. Finally getting something into words feels so good. I don't feel sad at all, and though part of me misses home, I am so completely immersed in this culture that I am distracted from homesickness. Someday I might long for Cheer King Star or Taco Bell, but not any time soon. For now I just want lots of gnocchi and gelato.

I cried intermittently on the plane. I felt a strange conflict of emotions. I cried because I felt so happy, and cried because I became overwhelmed by the not knowing, and cried because I looked down on Ireland from the plane and I knew I was close to Frankfurt. But I don't cry here. Mostly I just walk around, smiling in my eyes but not so much with a toothy smile, because I don't want to lead on any of the uomi italiani.

To get to SACI from my apartment is about a fifteen minute walk that takes me through the San Lorenzo flea market, and it's like being on a catwalk. "Ciao bella, do you speak english?" or "Bella, bella..." etc. Kind of the same pick up line everywhere. I just look straight ahead and raise my eyebrows without smiling. It is better to be a bit cold if I don't want men chasing after me.

In Indianapolis I came up with fabulous outfits in front of my own mirror only to put on the same pair of grey pants and black teeshirt. I felt like people didn't understand colorful or wild self-expression in Indy; perhaps it was me judging the colorful. I thought it was something like a need for attention or worse, but I don't believe that anymore. I feel so fashionable here. A few locals have told me I look like un'italiana, though one man thought I was una francese. Everyone checks everyone out. I notice when people are looking at my shoes. I am experimenting and I am only putting on one outfit a day. Truly, I was always afraid of being misunderstood in Indianapolis, but when I return I cannot be that same girl. It would be an insult to the blossoming woman you will see in photos of me here.

I had no one to photograph me so I attempted to show the new from above, except it looks like the myspace photos I criticize. New sciarpa rossa, new giacca di pelle, new vestito verde, new borsa a tracolla di pelle. Since I didn't bring very many clothes, everything is a variation on a theme: jacket, scarf, shirt, pants or tights tucked into boots. Mi piace l'aspetto.

I spent a good deal of money yesterday on some items I'd rather consider investment pieces than impulse buys. I bought a lambskin messenger bag; it is leather both inside and out, fire proof, water proof, multiple pockets, black. I also bought a tailored leather jacket; the man brought me a cappucino while I tried on le giacce. It is also made of beautiful, soft lambskin. And very sharp. The third thing I bought in the flea market; it was inexpensive and possibly cheap - a little watch for 8 euros. Analog, check it! It has been years since I owned a watch.

I saw a lot of girls with multiple giant bags that they could not carry themselves. That, for sure, is a shitload of laundry and the worst way to travel. It is terrible to trail that behind you on cobblestone streets, terrible to haul it up the steep stairs of italian apartments.

A few things really struck me as different about the buildings; to lock or unlock apartment doors the key must turn several times, and the doorknobs are sometimes round and in the middle of the door, though on the inside they are strange contraptions that require pushing one button to unlock a latch. The apartment hallways are dangerously dark, but there is a button you can push that will keep a light on for a minute. Electricity is very expensive here so we keep the lights off when we can. And the toilets are different. Much less water, deep bowls that produce echos when something drops in, and strange flushing mechanisms - big, flat buttons. It was like that in Germany too. In one gelateria I used a toilet with an automatically rising auditorium-like seat. If you click on the photo you'll see the pictogram they used to explain how it works.

Our apartment is homey and beautiful, with tall windows and long curtains and green shutters that can be opened to let the light in. I don't mind the mornings when my view is of a little courtyard and the streets are so full of life. People walk everywhere. When I return home, I will never drive when I can walk, unless I am going somewhere far after.

I met a girl named V last night and we had an instant connection. She was sitting down leaning against one wall, and I took a seat against the wall right across from her, and we had a conversation. I am so glad to find friends. She studies psychology at Rochester and has a flair for fashion. It is nice to know someone who likes to pick apart the workings of the brain as I do. She has a similar sense of humor and a similar personality, but we are different enough that it is interesting. It is already a promising friendship.

Everything seems so full of promise, really.