We live about 2 blocks from the school, and classes begin around 8:30. My first 3 classes are: Italy, the novel, the journey and the self (which counts for an upper division english course), Italian conversations (no book necessary, we literally just talk in Italian), and then Roman Art & Architecture (which takes a trip to Rome in November to see everything we studied, how sweet is that?!). Then I head home for an hour or run a couple errands, till 1pm when lunch is served in our pensione. If you thought dinner was big, wait till lunch comes around. Gloria really outdoes herself here. Yesterday we had a delicious first course of homemade pesto which pretty much came in a bucket, it was so large. Following that, we had spinach and lemon chicken. Oh not to mention the Italian drumstick ice cream cones, post food coma from the first two courses. My next class starts at 2:15 which deeefinately does not allow enough recovery time from the giant meal. So sans nap (which is so needed at this point), I head back to school for Introduction to Florence (a course which studies the history, art and culture of Florence from its origins. Every Wednesday we take tours of the museums or whatever it is we were discussing). Then at 3:15 I start my last, and final class of the day, thank god, contemporary novel, a course I'm truly loving. For starters, my teacher is this authentic Italian man who is so passionate about novels and literature, its almost borderline creepy. However, I may or may not have fallen in love with him. Just kidding! But he is really smart and the first book he asked to read, I am in love with. Finally at 5:15, I'm done for the day. Exhausted and stuffed to the brim with knowledge, I go home do some homework and then wait for dinner at 7. This schedule happens Mondays and Tuesdays. Wednesdays I have no classes, except for the tour of wherever for my Introduction to Florence course from 10:40-12:40. Thursdays I have the first 3 morning classes but am done around 11:30.
SUPER BUSY, right? It would appear as if this would detour me from going out, but fear not (not that you actually thought I wouldn't).
The night life here is fun. We have slowly been discovering the "discotecas" or dance clubs here. We have become locals at this place called "Twice". Monzie and I befriended the bouncer of the VIP section, which is above the dance floor by the DJ, a prime spot for dancing. Not only because we have enough room to whip out all our white girl moves, but because its segregated from the rest of the people. No one is ever back there, but this one huge black guy, lets us in everytime. So we dance and dance, and if any gross Italian tries to touch or dance with us, the giant black guy steps over and asks them to leave. I'm not quite an Italian celebrity, but pretty close? It's a good time. We always go out with our guy friends too, which makes it nice since they've taken up the job of intervening frequently when the girls are in conversation with skeezy europeans to call us their girlfriends. The euroboys get the hint, and we get to keep on grooving.
However, one night, Monzie, our friend Spencer and myself were leaving this club "Twice" at a later hour, probably around 2. We had been waiting for our friends Dan and Mick so we could leave, unbeknown to us that they had left, hence why we were out so late. Even though we have frequented Twice numerous times, we decided to try a new way home. Not our greatest idea. What should have been a 20 walk home, turned into a 2 hour aimless adventure. Lost in the city, asking anyone "dove il duomo!? (where is the duomo?!) our landmark. And yes, you're right, there is NO one out at 3-4am who is coherent enough to know where the duomo is. (reminder: there is a boy with us at this point, so don't worry). We eventually run into some Italians our age, who are heading home as well. We ask about the duomo and they laugh because its approximately 2 blocks from us. They ask where we were from, and I said California. Which sparked one Italian to start spewing nonsense about America. Being the firery proud debate-lover that I am, I engaged in an hour long debate (italian style, i.e. hands flailing about) about how great the United States is, and our government, and so forth.After I got in everything I needed in, we started to head home. One of the Italian boys asked my name and grabbed my european phone from my hand. I told him my name, and he told me his name was Mario (his parents are really original with names apparently). He asked for my number and I politely declined. We found the duomo and headed home. Waking up the next morning at 7:30am , after arriving home around 4am was quite the treat! I look at my phone to check the time, and what do you know, but a text in my inbox from an unknown number, which read:
"Ehi Ellen, its me Mario. Do you want to make ride with me tomorraw in my motorcicle? ;-)"
And no I am not exaggerating. And Yes, Mario does apparently phonetically spell out his text messages (see opening : "Ehh-hi") Mario had put my number in his phone, granted I saved my own number in my phone so I could remember it, and apparently so Mario could find it too.It is now the running joke with my group that whenever we see each other or text to say "EHI!" or when leaving any sort of restaurant/club/bar/pub to ask me if Mario can come and pick us up.
Also, if there is any doubt, let me clarify..I did NOT respond to Mario and I will NOT be taking up his offer of making ride in his motorcicle. He was not very cute and he totally dissed where I'm from, so CIAO to him.It still is a great story, and now I get to be another running joke within my group, in addition to always asking me if I have my passport or if i have removed the keys from my door.
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