I’ve packed 2 weeks’ worth of activities in the past 3 (or 4? I really don’t know, I’ve lost any concept of time) days. Wednesday morning (I guess it was the 18th) seems like forever ago. I got to the Tupelo airport at 9:00. My bags were BULGING. I ended up having to take some clothes out of my suitcase because it was 56 pounds, and the fine for exceeding 50 pounds was $90. 90 dollars! Seriously? Anyway, luckily my mom hadn’t left yet, so I handed her some things to take home after frantically rifling through my stuff in the middle of the airport. (Luckily the Tupelo airport is not exactly a frenzied and hectic hub of international coming-and-going…clearly). It was about 98 degrees outside, but I ended up having to wear jeans, a sweater, my fleece, and my huge rain boots because they were so heavy and took up so much space in my suitcase. So I’m walking through the airport in 98-degree weather, dressed for the Arctic, hauling my purse, paperwork, an overstuffed suitcase and a literally EXPLOSIVE carry-on bag (as in any time I even thought about touching the zipper, clothes or something popped out.) To say I looked ridiculous would probably be the understatement of the year.
The flight to Atlanta was probably unnecessary, but I was glad I didn’t have to drive 5 hours there and then fly 8 and a half. Once I was in the Atlanta airport I had a good 8 hours to kill, so I spent most of that time wandering, napping, listening to music and eating. About 3 hours before our British Airways flight to London, a girl named Peyton who is in the same program as me showed up, so we hung out and bonded at McDonald’s. (When we got the list of program participants, we were also given a list of other people on our flight. Peyton and I were the ONLY ones flying out of Atlanta…nearly everyone else flew out from Boston, L.A., New York…there are a grand total of 3 people from the South on this program. Well, there are some Texans, but that’s like a nation in itself. Haha.)
The past few days have felt soooo much like the first few weeks of freshman year, minus all the slideshows/speeches with the deans and “Whatever You Like” being blasted everywhere. (Oh T.I….i’ll never forget.) You don’t know ANYONE, you’re meeting people from all over the country, you’re kind of just hanging out with whoever seems cool and wants to hang out with you or whoever just happens to be going to the same place as you. You have to kind of feel people out and you don’t really know what anyone’s about or their reasoning for studying abroad. And there are definitely those attention-hungry people, but it’s just a little more embarrassing for them now since most people have moved past their freshman stage in life and can actually act like a functional human being. For the most part, I really like everyone I’ve met in the group. I do miss having those people around who you can just be 100% comfortable with, There are still some people that I haven’t really been around much, but I (along with most of the people in the group) am predicting that Europe is going to eat them alive, so…we’ll see how that turns out for them.
I found myself hanging out pretty consistently with this one group of people, and a girl named Lauren and I were really getting along, and it turns out she’s one of the Southerners (like me), was arts & crafts head at a Christian camp for 2 summers (like me), was a counselor for the oldest girls in camp (like me), is an art history minor (like me), etc. So basically, we were getting along because we’re the same person. (Not really, but it was cool to realize we had all that in common. Of course when we got to talking about our camps we talked forever until some poor non-camp soul shut us up).
The flight to London was actually really nice and smooth and comfortable. I had a window seat and a whole row to myself. I also had young Leo DiCaprio to keep me company because I watched Titanic. Siiiiiiiiigggghhhh. Y’all…these movie choices were way better than ANY of the choices I’ve had on any other flight ever. Everyone around me was sleeping, of course, but this 11ish year old girl randomly showed up on my vacant row (how dare she!) toward the end of the movie, during all the most intense scenes, and decided to just creep there and WATCH me get all weepy and ridiculous. I did a pretty good job of keeping it quiet, but come on, there I am, wiping my nose on the British Airways logo napkins and drying my eyes with the airplane blanket, delirious from the lack of sleep and emotionally exhausted from the epic wonderfulness of the movie, (and FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, the “ROSE, YOU’RE SO STUPID!/IF YOU JUMP I JUMP, REMEMBER?” SCENE IS HAPPENING, SHOW SOME RESPECT!!!) but she’s just hanging out on the end of the row, gawking. I mean, geez…it wasn’t like she’d been there the whole time and I was getting on her nerves. She could have gone back to her seat or at least pretended to sleep or look away. I don’t know why watching my breakdown would be entertaining. The nerve…
Landing at Heathrow was exciting but I was already exhausted. We headed to our hotel in London where we’d be staying for 2 days. Peyton and I were able to get our room right away, so we dropped off our luggage and started exploring after quick showers and naps.
The time in London was, I think, a fantastic “transition” period. It was new and different, but everyone around us speaking English made it easy to be comfortable right away. I went to London years ago with my grandparents, but London, Oxford, and the Cotswolds in England are the only places I’ve been in Europe before this semester (except for 2 or so hours in Paris that I don’t really count).
That first afternoon in London, Peyton and I wandered around Hyde Park (right across from our hotel) and checked out the neighborhood, visiting a few coffee shops. A group of us went and ate fish and chips at a pub called The Mitre. (I ate at a place called The Mitre in Oxford on that trip years ago with my grandparents, so I wondered if there was any connection there). The next day was full of exploring. (Now that I’m starting to write about it, I can’t believe it all happened in one day…it definitely didn’t feel like we just “stopped” in London, but like we’d been there for weeks). AIFS scheduled a bus tour for us that morning, which was a good way to get the most out of London that we could in such a short period of time. We went to Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, St. Paul’s Cathedral, and the Tower of London, but we didn’t have much time to spend in any of them. I was so grateful that I’d been to London before and had been on thorough tours inside all those places, because I think otherwise I would have been frustrated about missing the opportunity to really check them out. Our tour guide, a Scottish, puppy-obsessed guy named Sean, was hilarious. I was glad I had a seat in front because I was able to hear everything clearly; he pointed out every single puppy on the street and did some ridiculous gushing, and he wasn’t boring at all-at one point on the tour he started to pretend that he was not, in fact, our hired tour guide, but just a random guy who saw a bus full of Americans and thought “Hey, it’d be cool to tell them about the city.” He almost had me convinced.
When the tour ended, we were dropped off in the Covent Gardens area, filled with plenty of shopping and restaurants. After exchanging some currency I went with a group of about 6 girls to buy a London Underground day pass. We ate lunch at an Italian place, which seemed a little dumb since we’re about to head to Florence for 3+ months, but we were all starving and it was right there and smelled so good. After that we crossed the Millennium Bridge (from Harry Potter) to the Tate Modern Art museum. We didn’t get to spend as much time there as I’d have liked to, but I was really satisfied just seeing the whole floor they had dedicated to Surrealism and “dream representations.” Lots of Dali and De Chiricho, so that was cool. And admission to the museum was FREE! We went to Topshop after that, which was fun because I’ve spent hours browsing the website before but have never been inside one. A girl named Kristin and I ended up buying half-priced tickets to Jersey Boys, the show about Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons. Both of us really wanted to see The Lion King or Les Miserables, but the tickets were twice as expensive and we’d both seen at least one of those shows before. Jersey Boys ended up being really good, though—the music was obviously fun and familiar. The actors’ harmonies were pretty insanely perfect, and I sat by this sweet old British woman who was so funny and really fascinated by my “accent.” It’s always nice when people at least pretend that they’re enamored by your voice and give you a look that says, “Aw, you cute, naïve American student” rather than when they do the whole daggers-in-their-eyes, “You dumb American” thing. Not so fun.
Kristin and I had an hour-long adventure trying to figure out the bus system at night. I’m pretty sure we just went in a circle after getting off at the wrong stop TWICE. We eventually made it back to the hotel, though, and with ALL our stuff, so I felt like keeping up with all the crap I was carrying was a success in itself.
The next morning we had to drive back to Heathrow to board our flight to Pisa. Checking in was pretty seamless. Once again, had to wear my rain boots, fleece, and sweater. Super cool. Going through security was obviously tons of fun…my boots look like prime terrorist apparel. You could easily fit weapons, drugs, or a small child inside them. I’m half serious.
I was dead tired, but even though my body wasn’t really agreeing with me, I was definitely able to enjoy our flight because it was the most scenic one I’ve ever been on, and I had a window seat. We flew over the Swiss Alps and the view was unreal.
When we landed in Pisa we went through the easiest passport control and Customs ever. I literally don’t think the guy even looked at my face. He stamped my passport without a word, as opposed to London, where I felt like I was being interrogated about a murder. We rode the bus to Lido de Camiaore, the village where we’re staying for two weeks of orientation. We’re doing an “intensive” language course-so few of us know Italian. I thought I was going to be in the minority and that most of the students would be really good at it already, but there are only like 10 or so people (out of about 80) that are in any classes above the elementary level. We’re going to be in class for four straight hours. It’s going to be a little intense, but I feel like they’re really going to drill it and we should be able to learn fast, especially since we’re staying in such a non-touristy area of Tuscany right now. We’re the only Americans for miles and everyone knows about us. And that the majority of us are girls….awesome. A gelled-up Rudolfo informed my friend Lauren of this last night. Cooooolll!
Now, back to the three things I mentioned at the very beginning of this post, those things that I take for granted in America. Readily available trashcans were one of them. Today a group of girls and I took a pizza back to our hotel to eat in this really pretty garden, and when we finished there was nowhere in sight to throw the box away. We searched all over the hotel’s garden and courtyard area, then went inside to the lobby and found nothing. We asked the receptionist where we could go to throw the box away and she told us to leave the hotel, take a left out and walk two blocks down to find a trashcan large enough. So we’re crossing these crazy busy streets (there are no signs or lights anywhere in the area that I’ve seen), our lives flashing before our eyes and the top of the pizza box flapping in the wind as we run. At least now we know where the trashcan is!!
The box was pretty cute as far as pizza boxes go:
Another thing that is going to take some adjusting is making the switch to Coca-Cola Light. Anyone who’s known me for more than 5 minutes knows I love (slash am addicted to) Diet Coke. Anyone who’s known me for more than 10 minutes knows that I prefer nearly-icy can to fountain DC, fountain to glass bottle, glass bottle to plastic bottle. It’s just a taste hierarchy I’ve gotten used to. I was alerted by Cary Benton, who studied in Siena, of the fact that Coca-Cola Light would be the closest thing. “You might not be able to taste the difference, though,” she said. I laughed. Oh Cary…how I wish that were true. Sewanee kids reading this, Will Stanley was also in the room and laughed because he shares the Diet Coke addiction and knows that anyone who drinks a lot of the delicious poison has their packaging preferences and VERY particular taste buds that can sense the dreaded urine of soft drinks (Diet Pepsi) from miles away.
Point is, I had Coca-Cola Light with my lunch today. Thankfully, it was in a can (a tall, thinnish and very cute can, actually…) but it was noticeably sweeter and a little intense for me. I’m sure I’ll be drinking it and get used to it fine, but I’m also going to use this semester as a chance to tone the addiction down (gasp!) at least a little bit.
Ciao. Wow, I’ve got to start posting more often because there’s no way I’ve covered everything and look how long this is. Ridiculous.
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