Too Tall for Italy!

So update your feeders and blogrolls and I’ll see you in Verona!

Ciao Ciao,

Jessica

After that, we climbed back into the van and headed *home*. With the house keys and the ZTL pass in hand, we drove to the entrance to our street. There we had a problem. Since our street is in the centro storico (historical center) it is very VERY narrow. It looked like the van would just barley fit. D decided to go for it, with his dad and me outside giving wild directions. He stepped on the gas and all the sudden a huge umbrella, from the bar at the entrance of the street, went flying! D accidentally swiped the umbrella with the van. Property damage was not exactly the first impression we where hoping for with our new neighbors, but the bar man was cool about it and it wasn’t ruined (neither was the van-thankfully). We still haven’t gone to that bar yet though.

I was nervous to see the new bathroom since I didn’t know what color it would be and since the last time I saw it the whole thing was a concrete hole with tubes sticking out everywhere and because the bathtub was next to the couch in the living room. But it turned out great and it was light blue and white (as opposed to scary yellow or black and pink like our old bathroom). They didn’t put the tub back in, but there was a huge shower that *thankfully* had enough room so I could bend over and shave my legs. It seems like every other shower stall I had been in here barely has enough space to allow you to bend your elbows while washing your hair. The only crappy part is we wouldn’t have hot water until the gas got turned on… in 3 days.

We got all the boxes unloaded and up into the apartment in record time. Then we went out to dinner and came home and crashed. When I woke up the next day D’s dad was already back in Rome with van! He had slept that night, woke up and had driven the 7 hours back to Rome all while I was asleep.

D and I began unpacking, realizing we need a lot more furniture than what came with the apartment- mostly in the bathroom. I hate it when there is absolutely NO counter space. Just one huge sink and a teeny tiny medicine cabinet. So we will be ordering from IKEA soon. I am pretty sure they deliver. Speaking of which, we found out Esselunga delivers groceries and it is not that expensive and since we are car less it helps us out quite a bit. We placed the order and the next day this big burly guy heaved all our groceries up the 2 flights of stairs to our door! The shipping is only 7 euros, but comparing the food prices to that of the neighborhood PAM we are actually saving money ordering from Esselunga. I love it when the easier way is also the cheaper way.

Now that we are mostly unpacked we have been making our nightly walk with all the other Veronese (that are still here) and drinking a spritz. This is definitely my favorite part of living here so far. I also love that there is so much to see right outside my front door. Everyone in Rome told me that the Veronese are really cold and unfriendly, but that has not been my experience at all. I think they are nicer than the people I interacted with in Rome. Especially in terms of customer service we have had only good experiences so far.

Of course, our phone and internet were supposed to be working by now but they aren’t. And, of course, there is no one available to come out and fix it until the end of the month. But that is all to be expected. It wouldn’t be Italy without those things happening. I am just happy the gas guy came out on time!

I also noticed how different the public offices are here compared to Rome. We went to get our residence changed and expected it to be a big, chaotic mess like it usually is when dealing with the government. Instead, we walked into this completely remodeled, air condition, immaculate building. Huh? Are we in the right place? There were clean white chairs everywhere, and the sportellos were nice glass desks facing the waiting area…and the people behind them were smiling?!?! We pulled our number and 5 seconds later our number was called. We didn-t even have time to sit in the chairs. The woman helping us was cheerful and very nice, asking us how we liked Verona. In about 10 minutes it was all over, we had our residency receipts in hand and were standing bewildered outside the office.

“What just happened?” I asked, “Was that really where we were supposed to go?”

We had asked how long it usually takes for the vigili to come to our house to make sure we are actually living there, since in Rome it took about 5 months after I applied for residency there. She said it could be up to 6 months, but it is rarely that long. So 3 days later on a Sunday morning when the doorbell rang, the last person I thought it would be was the police officer verifying our residence. Sure enough there he was. He was also extremely nice, asking us how we were getting on in Verona and welcomed us to the city.

I seriously thought it was all a dream. I just hope it continues to go this way.

PS: I am still working on the new site. But since we don’t have internet (just our cell phone modem) I won’t be able to get it up for awhile. Watch this space though! I am hoping by the end of the month it will be ready.

Since I have been gushing about moving to anyone that will listen, I keep getting asked why I am so excited to leave Rome. Well…

It never really grew on me. It’s too big for my taste. Which is weird because when I came here on vacations I thought it was so dreamy and wonderful. But shortly after moving here, I knew it just wasn’t my style. I don’t think it is Rome specifically, but just big cities in general. But what is weird is I loved Seattle, which I guess is close to the population of Rome-so who’s knows? Seattle seems smaller than Rome and it had many of the all the things I love: shows, lots of green space, water and ethic food. Which I never really found here.

Rome has a few ghosts for me too. When I was vacationing here it was a wild time in my life. I had just broken up with my ex, it was the first time I had been single, free and of drinking age. Whenever I am near Termini I avoid the street the “Hostel of Shame” is located. And just wandering around I can spot the places where I made a fool of myself. Granted during that time I had no idea I would ever live here, so it was just a place to be young, dumb and foreign. But now, in just a few years my whole life is changed. I don’t feel like I need to run away from anything, but I want a place to start new memories that better reflect my life as it is now. Verona is a new start for me in many ways.

I pledge to be more open, explore and take advantage of the fact I live in such a beautiful country. Verona will be different.

I want to make it clear I am not complaining, it was a great experience living in Rome. But I am ready to close this chapter of my life.

After a long sweaty trip to Verona our life in the north is coming together. We went up to go apartment hunting and stayed with one of D’s friends who is also in the air force. I had met him a few times in Rome while he was here but I was excited to finally meet his wife, but I found out she was down in Puglia with her family. D thinks we will really get along and she is in the same boat as me: living in a new area, military husband, no job and lonely. She sounds hilarious and that we have a lot in common-another added bonus of moving!
We visited apartments ranging from a hole in a wall near the train station (EW) to a HUGE apartment with 2 balconies overlooking Via Mazzini (For you Romans think Via Condotti/Via del Corso). I was in love with it but it was just barely above our price range. I was surprised how cheap rent is there compared with Rome-def works to our advantage. We also looked at a really pretty attic apartment a tad out of the center, but it had a view of the entire city! On foot it was about 10-20 to Piazza Erbe (we are trying to live car less the first year). Add another 10 minutes to get to D’s office and it seemed too far away. It was also on a hill and there wasn’t so much as a grocery store or a bar near, being that the apartment was flanked by a convent and a monastery. We were going to go for it anyway when we found the PERFECT place! It was just around the corner from the Via Mazzini apartment, so the street intersects with Via Mazzini but it is a on a side vicolo (which equals less foot traffic/tourists/noise). Plus, Bershka is on the corner-heaven! So the apartment is completely remodeled, and actually when we looked at it, the bathroom was gutted and being completely redone. In all ways it was perfect: size, location, newness, and rent. We would def be able to manage the city with bikes and walking. The apartment has a huge bedroom, a living room a separate kitchen and dining room and the bathroom. All for under 600 euro per month (our budget from the military)!

The owners were not in town (they live in Mantova) when we called initially but told us to stop by and look at it as the workers were there. We immediately called them back after looking at it and told them we wanted to take it. The bathroom won’t be done until the end of the month which is perfect for us since we want to move in the beginning of August. We offered to drive to Mantova but they told us they were actually vacationing in Garda and to come down (accomplishing my secret mission to go to the lake during that week even though D had initially poo-pooed the idea since we were not on vacation).

The next day we went to meet them. They were an old retired couple and were extremely nice. We chatted for a few hours and signed the lease.

I can’t wait to move!!! It’s even more exciting now that I can picture where we are going to live.

The BIG game is on right now. I can tell because no one is driving down the street, the all night pastry shop is mysteriously closed and every house has the glare of the TV radiating out of their windows.

I’m not a soccer fan outside of Becks (or Becks in a certain ad, wearing certain underwear), a certain Tim Parks book and that shirt which was 2 euro at Panorama. Basically, I just don’t understand it. I try, but my eyes glaze over and all I see is foosball. I do like American football, so I know it’s not a dislike of sports in general.

Surprisingly (or thankfully?), my Italian better half isn’t really a fan either. I know, right, he must be one of the ONLY Italians that doesn’t pray to the calcio gods. So when I walked into the living room to watch Law & Order tonight, I was surprised to see the game on.

“I knew it! You couldn’t hide your love for the game after all! Calcio Lover!” I squealed.

“Actually, I am just watching it so I have something to talk about at work tomorrow.”

Touché

In other news: I am feeling a lot better. Basically back to normal. Still have to get another round of x-rays but I think the worst is definitely behind me.

Stay Cool.

Sephora Tinted Bronzing Mist

It actually works, doesn’t look fake and has a smell that doesn’t make me nauseous. The best part? It’s only 12 euro!

I’ve been using it for 3 days have already received many compliments for finally going to the beach!

So what’s your tanning secret?

To try to cheer me up, D agreed to see SATC with me. It is playing in Rome IN ENGLISH (with Italian subs) at the Warner Village in Piazza della Repubblica. Seems like every english speaking study abroad chick dressed up in thier finest from miles around came to see the flick at the same time as me. We were in line for tickets when the group of ten 18 year olds screamed as they bought the last tickets to the 9.30 showing. Great. The next show was at 12.30am. Since we had already circled Rome for an hour trying to find a parking spot, we decided to buy tickets for the late screening. So we had like 3 hours to kill. A few strawberry daiquiris and a spritzer later, we went back to the theatre to wait.

I really like SATC on the little screen, but on the big screen it just seemed different. I didn’t hate it, but felt kind of disappointed after. Maybe it was all the hype, combined with all the waiting for it to be released (I remember thinking only 105 days left!) it got my hopes up then 2 and a half hours later it was like: that’s it? It’s definitely better than the other crap I have seen in the theater as of late (Ironman comes to mind) so it wasn’t a total loss. Still good, but just not the same.

I had a best friend. We traveled to Europe together twice, we lived in the same apartment, and I worked with her sister and even moved into her parent’s house with her when we were trying to save up money for our next European adventure. I felt like she was my sister in every way. After coming back from our last Roman holiday (the one where I met D) I decided not to mooch off her wonderful parents again and packed up my car to go live with my mom in Spokane. It was a sad goodbye. I missed her a lot. But then things got weird. When I left for Spokane, not only was I leaving her behind but the life I had spent 5 years building there. Friends, favorite places, work and my ex boyfriend J.

When I first won the free tickets to Rome from my work, I was supposed to go with my boyfriend J. He was an overall nice, nerdy guy, a graphic designer (so cliché Seattle) working from his one bedroom apartment. He was so involved with his job he often put me on the back burner. Finally we could take a vacation together in a fabulous location. But he kept pushing the date back and me away. So I told him to forget it, I was going to go with my BFF. She was my biggest defender, always telling me I deserved better than J, that he was a downer who was holding me back. I couldn’t disagree, it was true. He never did anything else but work, which is fine, but he had no business being in a serious relationship. So before we jumped on our plane to Rome (for the first time) I told him I wanted a break. Then I went wild. It was the first time I was “single” and I definitely indulged. Upon returning home, J was crushed. I was confused and the relationship was in a weird gray area. Then I told him we were going back for 3 months, I was quitting my job, moving in with my friend and her parents. He freaked, screaming that my friend was a bad influence, how could I throw everything away, ect. We still kind of saw each other, but the relationship was circling the drain. My friend was nothing but supportive, encouraging me to just forget him. Plus they had never really gotten along anyways and I was always forced to choose between them.

So off we went back to Europe and J refused to talk to me. Then I met D. I wasn’t sure where we were going, and by the time the 3 months was up and I returned back home, I still had no clue what our status was. So basically, I had two sort-of relationships. J called me when I got back. I think he wanted to see me for closure. We cried and spent 4 days together. It was weird though, because I was thinking about D. Then it was time for me to go to Spokane. My friend told me to forget J, and to get my crap together so I could move back to Seattle.

Then there were the pictures. All kinds of pictures of my friend with J all over myspace. Then I find out that she had “crashed” at his place. I couldn’t help but be outraged. We always had the rule that you don’t go after a guy the other likes, not to mention the guy you were involved with for over 2 years. What the hell was my friend doing at my ex’s house, drinking and spending the night? I talked to J and he called me a manipulative B word. Apparently he found out about D (I wonder who could have told him?). So that was the last time I ever talked to him. I talked to my friend and she told me nothing was going on. Then D and I got serious and I moved to Rome. It was weird because she wasn’t at all supportive. I felt a huge distance between us. Months passed, and a friend’s boyfriend accidentally told me that my friend and J were sleeping together and had been for god knows how long (as in, I could have still been with him while it started). I never talked to my friend again after she found out I knew. I did hear bits and pieces through a mutual friend who hoped we could reconcile, but I wasn’t interested to say the least.

Out of the blue a few months ago, I got an email from my ex friend. No apology, just “I don’t know why we haven’t talked in forever, I miss you.”

I wrote her back and told her I wasn’t interested in her friendship, that there was no way I could ever trust her again, and that I wondered if we had ever even really been friends.

What I didn’t say was that she damaged me. My experience with her breaking my heart has made me untrusting and almost uninterested in having a best friend. I mean, I have friends, but I am scared to get that close to anyone again.

The fact that all this went down well over a year ago (starting almost 2 years ago) doesn’t make it any easier. The fact that there is an ocean and a continent between us means nothing when her face is right there on a mutual friends Flickr page. Something makes me feel like this is unhealthy. In the time before all of these social networking sites, when shit hit the fan you were able to move on without constant reminders of the people you wish you could forget. I mean, I moved thousands of miles away and I feel like it is still right there in my face. Sure I am not thinking about her 24 hours a day, but when a new picture of her surfaces I get that nauseous feeling and wish I could un-see it.

I wish I could unplug and let my old life fade into a distant memory. Or better yet, I wish I learn to trust again.

On Monday (as in a week and a half ago) when D said I had to go back to the hospital after talking to our GP, I starting crying, ok bawling, which really sucks when it hurts to breathe. He promised me he wouldn’t take me back to that place since I was obviously still traumatized. I reluctantly went to the Policlinico Casilino (Via Casilina), not the best area of town but I was shocked that the hospital looked shiny and new. When we went in there was no smoking people or staff blocking the doors. There was even several large signs forbidden it. This is my kind of place!

The inside was nice as well, everything looked new, there was a million nurses running around and the chairs we perfectly functional and comfortable. It looked very much like the hospital from my hometown, and even had separate rooms for patients, plenty of beds (unbroken), curtains and more than one doctor. The wait sucked, but that’s an ER for you. When I was seen about 3 hours had passed. I walked into the room and there was this lady, a patient, dumping all these prescriptions on the bed where I was being told to lie down. She and the doctor were yelling back and forth, arms flailing widely. He was telling her that her visit was over and she needed to get out, there were patients (ME) that were in worse condition that needed to be seen. He finally got her to leave and not a minute later the door flung open and she rushed back in with 25 more questions for the doctor. He got pissed (at that moment he was trying to listen to my lungs) and told her “PER FAVORE!!” Then he called for security and these two guards came in from behind a curtain (connecting two rooms?) and escorted her out. If I didn’t feel on the edge of death, I would have seen the humor in the situation at the time. But really, that lady was ridiculous! I had been in horrible pain for 3 hours waiting patiently for this doctor and here she is, barging in.

The doctor was awesome to me though. He was excited to speak English to someone, even though it was hard for me to answer back with the bum lungs and all. I cried when he started pressing my ribcage, it hurt so badly. Weirdly, he thought it might be a kidney infection. I have had those before and they never affected my ability to breathe. But the tests were negative and he ordered chest x-rays. Back in the hall I went (where D was able to wait with me through the entire ordeal). There was about 10 of us waiting in the hall outside the room where the doctor was. Of us, 7 were old ladies, 1 was a middle aged guy, there was me and then a middle aged woman next to me. Then each of us had a person waiting with us. All 7 of the ladies were sent home with what amounted to indigestion, but they were really entertaining during the long wait. One kept wailing that her daughter hated her, even though she was right there holding her hand at 2 am. And one kept hitting her daughter with her cane telling her to go home.

An hour later I was taken down the hall. Getting the X-rays sucked because I had to stand and put my arms over my head-both terribly painful. After that I was wheeled back to D and waited. An hour later the doctor came and told us the diagnosis, pleurisy, and gave me some ineffective, intravenous pain killers. After they were done, about and hour and a half later I was released. But I was prescribed meds and painkillers.

The next morning I felt the same, but I was able to get pain relief with the help of a nurse, a syringe and a shot to my ass. Embarrassing, considering the nurse is my neighbor, but it was all good. It felt great to be able to take a breath minus the stabbing pain.

Today, I am off the meds and the only thing that hurts is my butt muscle from the painkillers. But I am not complaining. It’s still harder to breathe than normal and I get tired easy. But all in all I feel way better. The best thing is I am not traumatized by the hospital anymore, you just need to know where to go.