Rome Beginnings

After consulting with Piero, my cab driver who had a Roman sculptured face and looked like a runway model, I was off and running in city traffic headed for the address of my flat. As Piero zipped in and out of traffic like an autobahn expert, I felt too tired to care. It had been three flights, two days, and around 14hours flying time with intense motion sickness throughout, so Piero's race car driving style was barely of concern.

I had purchased a phone that, naturally, didn't work when I arrived in Italy though I specifically mentioned that's where I was headed two days prior when I bought it and was 'assured' it would. In my broken Italian, as Piero spoke very little English, I asked the runway model/tassista professionale if he could kindly make the call to my roommates who were aware I'd be arriving some time that night. Piero agreed and phoned and the locked door to a building of many flats opened to one smiling Raffaele. My new roommate.


I bid adiu to Piero who asked if I would join him for dinner, adding he would pay. Pago, "I pay," he said, his gladiator-like stature looming high above me. I thanked him and said I'd think on it. Seemed the right thing to say since, without him, I would have been abondoned on the street waiting for roommates to arrive home, that I'd never met. My luggage would have given me away as a potential roommate candidate but as I see it, Signore Piero saved me a potentially long wait in the cold concrete streets. For that I was grateful.

Raffaele quickly showed me around the flat and gave me a lengthy and thorough demonstration on how the locks worked. I was then given my own set of keys that appeared to be made for giants. I laughed but Raffaele didn't understand. Raffaele speaks very, very, little English which is good for me to practice my Italian. However, until my Italian is better I can see where there are going to be many awkward moments durante la nostra conversazione!

So, I just smiled and took my two five inch long keys and headed to my room to unpack.


The next day the sun shined warm for an October morning. and was welcoming. I walked to school from the flat touring thru Rome's train station that seems to buzz at any hour but particularly in the morning with commuters. Italian 'beefcake' is everywhere, here. I notice in a quick glance of the terrain, a gorgeous guy snuggling with his sweetheart, another clearly scoping out the scenery trying to figure out his 'approach strategy', while yet another enjoys an espresso standing at a nearby, open bar. I shuffle through the area and enjoy this people watching opportunity.


Once in class I meet with Gianni, my professoressa. She is spunky, frequently hand gesturing to get her points across, (as many Italians do) and with firey red hair that matches her personality. She is also a tiny, petite signora with zero body fat...also as many Italians are. Lean and stylish. Gianni hands me an assignment and just like that I am paired up with two Ukrainians Petro and Oli and the three of us begin to converse about the Italian task at hand. I am also surrounded by three Brasileiras, beautiful and young they seem to know Italian very well and speak it, velocemente. Very fast. Juliana, Bruna and Lucia make the language sound the way it's suppose to, bellisima, not like the wide mouth sounds that keep percolating out of me, regretably. (I intend to work on this.) Rounding out the class are two lovely and fun Aussie women, I immediately take too because of their zest for life. Luisa and Rachel. Followed by a young gentleman from Switzerland, Eric. And lastly, Raffaele and Monica #1 from Sweden. Monica #2 from Germany. I do not see any Americans and am told that the school has very few. This is not surprising as I experienced this scenario also when in Venice studying the language. No matter. I enjoy getting to know the different personalities and cultures our classroom pulses with.

After class I begin my passeggiata. A common phrase here in Italy as many Italians frequently go on long walks. On the way to the Colosseo I am stopped by a gal who speaks Italian to me mumbling something I don't quite understand. As I reply she adds, in Italian, 'do you speak English?' I laugh while nodding as she says, 'Thank God!' She needs directions to the train station and though I have been in the area for little less than 24hours, I am happy that I know where to direct her.


Lastly, I am proud and therefore must note, within, that I was able to set up this blog via the Italian instructions. That gets a mental gold star in my mind. As such a task originally seemed very daunting. Brava!



Ciao Tutti! A Domani!