Whew… exhaustion is hitting hard.
Milano… a city of… what? Beautiful sights? Not really… unless you count all the model-types running around. But that’s not really my style… So. Why am I here? Well, besides my wonderful solitary day at Lake Maggiore, at the foot of the Italian alps (more details to come), I have aptly taken advantage of Milano’s stereotype as a fast-paced and efficient city to ‘take care of business’, if you will. Bought a new mole-skin journal to continue my daily scribblings… added a new book to my luggage with Ian McEwan’s Saturday (since Poirot in French is almost finished and will soon be left behind)… got the photos developed from my disposable camera (for a whopping 30 euro because I tried to do the entire transaction in broken Spanish-trying-to-be-italian and thus accidently chose a humongous picture size and didn’t understand the doubles literally cost double)… and finally, after seeing the grainy, could-have-been-awesome photos taken by the cheap disposable… I purchased a new camera. Dun-da-dun!
So… what is the name of this new baby of mine? The bigger brother to my sunken camera: Canon Powershot A700. Not what I was planning to get. But frankly, camera-shopping gets me so worked up, so stressed out, so indecisive… that it’s no wonder that I went for what I knew. Even though the price tag was *gulp* quite painful. In euros. I don’t even want to multiply it by 1.25 to find out the US cost. Let’s just say, within the last six months, my two camera purchases could have added up to by me a fine digital SLR. But alas. This will save me the time agonizing over the decision, searching for another camera in a more picturesque and sight-filled city, lamenting the inability to snap 50 pictures of a random rock that caught my eye… in other words, I am back in the game!
Luckily, Gretchen’s camera was working decently well in Hungary, Vienna, and Venice (more updates to come!), thus we do have a considerable amount of photos. And my disposable did do SOME justice… particular to a very cute picture of log cabin building Romain during the mountain party, which I am quite happy about. Not that I’ll be flashing around the picture to show off the attractive mountain man I spent three days with in the Vosges… really…
So that’s that.
Oh… and the other thing Milan is good for? Random encounters with the likes of Ariana!!! Yes, indeed, I found myself sitting in the Duomo today, totally by chance that I chose that exact moment to enter and take a seat looking up at the ceiling, when all of a sudden I heard a disbelieving and yet familiar voice… “MeLIa TICHenor… oh my god!!” And I look up to see Ariana and her mother coming towards me with wide eyes and smiles.
The world, it seems, is indeed small. Or perhaps Europe’s top visitable locations are what’s small. But Milan? In the Duomo on a Thursday afternoon, soon before Ariana and her mom would catch a train to Florence and I would move my stuff to my new host’s place… it was rather unbelievable. And after being alone and tired in Milan for the morning, it was nice to have some fresh energy (and a yummy sandwich that they treated me to… thanks again, ariana!) and a familiar friend, even if only for about an hour. I do, however, leave for Siena tomorrow to meet back up with Gretchen, and we are planning a day trip to Florence… so it’s possible that I’ll see the likes of Ms. Denney again, who I think is rather eager to spend some touristy time with peer company as opposed to her mother’s…
As for my company these past few days… I must say, Laura, our Italian neighbor and family friend from back in Albany, has some mighty cool friends here! And mighty generous as well for letting me stay with them (thanks to Laura’s asking… greately appreciated!). I stayed Wednesday and Thursday night with Simonetta, a high school friend of Laura’s who lives in a town just outside of Milan. She was more than accommodating, setting me up on her (super comfortable!) futon couch, offering a late dinner, breakfast, directions, train timetables, suggestions… everything! Including a night out for a true pizza dinner with some of her friends, two of whom spoke English, one of whom didn’t beyond some simple words, which made for an interesting bilingual night.
Being here, I can’t help but be confused by how similar Italian sounds to Spanish. While I guess I knew this before hand, I never knew to what extent… hence, I feel like I should kind of understand and kind of be able to speak the language (due to my one semester of intensive Spanish back in freshman year…), and yet, it’s just that much different to throw me off. When getting my photos developed, I managed to use just enough broken Spanish with a ‘ciao’ and ‘arrivaderci’ (sp?) thrown in to be able to go through with the transaction (though I obviously missed a good deal of what the woman was saying to me… hence the $30 bill). But it’s frustrating! Almost more so than in Hungary, where there was simply no way to understand the language, hence I didn’t stress myself out trying.
And then there’s my never-ending impulse to speak French whenever I find myself in a foreign situation/country. Every time anyone bumps into me, I still say “pardon” the French way. Took me long enough to get into the habit, and now it seems it’s here to stay! And what’s more… I miss French. I’ve been gone, what, a week? And I’m already missing speaking the language every day… missing my persona that goes with the language… the situations in which I would speak French. While these two months of traveling are probably a good way to ween myself of the past semester, I still know it’s going to be TOUGH to come back and leave the daily use of this beloved language behind… took a long time before I felt like I was really improving, but suddenly, right before I’m set to leave, something clicks, and I realize how comfortable I am inside French. If that makes sense. Sure, I’ll always be in a bit of a bubble, a now-translucent wall of bubbleness separating me from the ability to truly live in French on a fluent level. But I do feel like the bubble’s walls were stretched and reduced during this past semester, even though it was a struggle that often left me feeling like I was getting worse, if anything. But now… *sigh* It seems I’ve gotten off topic…
Okay, enough babble for now. New entry to come regarding some of the amazing flukes of the past week. The kinds of circumstances/happenings/situations that just make you laugh and shake your head and wonder why anyone would want to live a logical life…
So… what is the name of this new baby of mine? The bigger brother to my sunken camera: Canon Powershot A700. Not what I was planning to get. But frankly, camera-shopping gets me so worked up, so stressed out, so indecisive… that it’s no wonder that I went for what I knew. Even though the price tag was *gulp* quite painful. In euros. I don’t even want to multiply it by 1.25 to find out the US cost. Let’s just say, within the last six months, my two camera purchases could have added up to by me a fine digital SLR. But alas. This will save me the time agonizing over the decision, searching for another camera in a more picturesque and sight-filled city, lamenting the inability to snap 50 pictures of a random rock that caught my eye… in other words, I am back in the game!
Luckily, Gretchen’s camera was working decently well in Hungary, Vienna, and Venice (more updates to come!), thus we do have a considerable amount of photos. And my disposable did do SOME justice… particular to a very cute picture of log cabin building Romain during the mountain party, which I am quite happy about. Not that I’ll be flashing around the picture to show off the attractive mountain man I spent three days with in the Vosges… really…
So that’s that.
Oh… and the other thing Milan is good for? Random encounters with the likes of Ariana!!! Yes, indeed, I found myself sitting in the Duomo today, totally by chance that I chose that exact moment to enter and take a seat looking up at the ceiling, when all of a sudden I heard a disbelieving and yet familiar voice… “MeLIa TICHenor… oh my god!!” And I look up to see Ariana and her mother coming towards me with wide eyes and smiles.
The world, it seems, is indeed small. Or perhaps Europe’s top visitable locations are what’s small. But Milan? In the Duomo on a Thursday afternoon, soon before Ariana and her mom would catch a train to Florence and I would move my stuff to my new host’s place… it was rather unbelievable. And after being alone and tired in Milan for the morning, it was nice to have some fresh energy (and a yummy sandwich that they treated me to… thanks again, ariana!) and a familiar friend, even if only for about an hour. I do, however, leave for Siena tomorrow to meet back up with Gretchen, and we are planning a day trip to Florence… so it’s possible that I’ll see the likes of Ms. Denney again, who I think is rather eager to spend some touristy time with peer company as opposed to her mother’s…
As for my company these past few days… I must say, Laura, our Italian neighbor and family friend from back in Albany, has some mighty cool friends here! And mighty generous as well for letting me stay with them (thanks to Laura’s asking… greately appreciated!). I stayed Wednesday and Thursday night with Simonetta, a high school friend of Laura’s who lives in a town just outside of Milan. She was more than accommodating, setting me up on her (super comfortable!) futon couch, offering a late dinner, breakfast, directions, train timetables, suggestions… everything! Including a night out for a true pizza dinner with some of her friends, two of whom spoke English, one of whom didn’t beyond some simple words, which made for an interesting bilingual night.
Being here, I can’t help but be confused by how similar Italian sounds to Spanish. While I guess I knew this before hand, I never knew to what extent… hence, I feel like I should kind of understand and kind of be able to speak the language (due to my one semester of intensive Spanish back in freshman year…), and yet, it’s just that much different to throw me off. When getting my photos developed, I managed to use just enough broken Spanish with a ‘ciao’ and ‘arrivaderci’ (sp?) thrown in to be able to go through with the transaction (though I obviously missed a good deal of what the woman was saying to me… hence the $30 bill). But it’s frustrating! Almost more so than in Hungary, where there was simply no way to understand the language, hence I didn’t stress myself out trying.
And then there’s my never-ending impulse to speak French whenever I find myself in a foreign situation/country. Every time anyone bumps into me, I still say “pardon” the French way. Took me long enough to get into the habit, and now it seems it’s here to stay! And what’s more… I miss French. I’ve been gone, what, a week? And I’m already missing speaking the language every day… missing my persona that goes with the language… the situations in which I would speak French. While these two months of traveling are probably a good way to ween myself of the past semester, I still know it’s going to be TOUGH to come back and leave the daily use of this beloved language behind… took a long time before I felt like I was really improving, but suddenly, right before I’m set to leave, something clicks, and I realize how comfortable I am inside French. If that makes sense. Sure, I’ll always be in a bit of a bubble, a now-translucent wall of bubbleness separating me from the ability to truly live in French on a fluent level. But I do feel like the bubble’s walls were stretched and reduced during this past semester, even though it was a struggle that often left me feeling like I was getting worse, if anything. But now… *sigh* It seems I’ve gotten off topic…
Okay, enough babble for now. New entry to come regarding some of the amazing flukes of the past week. The kinds of circumstances/happenings/situations that just make you laugh and shake your head and wonder why anyone would want to live a logical life…
posted by Melia at 4:27 AM
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