How I'm staying in shape

"You're going to gain SO much weight when you go abroad!!!!"

Yes, this warning was given to me more than once before I embarked on my journey. My mom told me that when she spent a summer in Italy during her youth, she managed to gain 30 pounds. Impressive, I thought, and I almost made it a goal to come back looking completely unlike myself. As luck would have it, Siena makes it nearly impossible for this to happen. Everything is up hill both ways. There really isn't such a thing as an easy walk. And when I get to school each day, I am panting and sweating profusely, which is very attractive. In the early weeks of the semester I thought that this walk would kill me. But as time goes on, I become more accustomed to just how disgusting I get as a result of walking to school. Even though the interior of our school building is devastatingly cold, I always immediately rip off my coat and my first layer, wipe the sweat off my neck and back and then wait about 15 minutes. Then, I realize just how cold it is inside, look around at my classmates wearing coats and scarves, and ultimately decide to put all of aforementioned clothing back on. Sweating bullets.

I have picked up a new fitness regime, though, and it's all Margherita's fault. She loves watching Mila e Shiro. Have you ever seen it? Oh God, look into it. If you are an anime fan then you know it as Attacker You! and I only know that because I looked it up on Wiki. It's classic 80's anime with, of course, Italian dubbing. There came a point in the fall when Margherita stopped demanding Friends ("sempre Friends!" as Arianna would say) and made this switch to cartoons in the evening. That is when Mila e Shiro came along. The premise of the show is...well, I don't really know what the premise is but I do know that they play volleyball and I feel that there is some element of super heroine-ess that is attributed to their ability to play volleyball. Within about a week of watching the show, Margherita appeared with a volleyball. I mostly ignored it. Sometime at the end of last week I started playing with her before dinner, tossing the ball back and forth. Then we upgraded to actual passing. I think she was very impressed with my skills, as well she should be, because I played volleyball in high school for that whole year. Passing was not enough for her; she wanted to play actual volleyball games. The hilarity of the situation mostly consists of the fact that we play in their mom's office. It's really small. The walls are lined with framed diplomas and an entire shelf is dedicated to novelty coffee mugs. Everything is capable of being broken. And yet, I sit on a couch while Margherita bounces around while we "play volleyball." She wants to be just like Mila and Shiro so she demands that I pass the ball far away from her so she can make an epic attempt at getting it. She never gets it. But it's so epic when you get to slide around on the floor, you know? Last night she wanted to make a net so I helped her. She stacked up all of the Fischer-Price toys that were laying around and then she laid a stick across the top. After some attachments here and there it more or less acted as a barrier between the teams. And she always yells at me! She always want me to set the ball  to Arianna. And in order to do that I get down on my knees and just kind of toss the ball. The best part about all of this is that the 3 of us get to eat dinner immediately after playing, and they both like to huff and puff at the table and really call attention to how hard practice way. And I do the same thing because I really like fitting in.

I understand that I should blogging about Venice and Florence, and the art I saw and the food I ate and things of that nature. But my host family is just so hilarious and great. Another example:

My birthday was on Tuesday. After dinner, Margherita and Arianna began whispering frantically. I knew that a surprise was on the horizon because I actually understand what they say, something they often forget. They ran around the table a few times (because they just do that) and then they turned off all the lights. Barbara led the parade with my cake and its one lit candle while the girls began a rousing rendition of Tanti Aguri. Fabio told me to make a wish and then I blew the candle out. They had gotten me a frutti di bosci cheesecake and as a decoration was a picture of Layla, a character from Margherita's favorite cartoon Winx, as well as the one character that looks most like me. Layla is black. The whole family sang an English only version of Happy Birthday as well. So to all of you haters who told me turning 21 while abroad would suck-you were wrong.

I'm watching John peruse the American Apparel website. I hope he buys that cardigan and the 8 others that look just like it.

October is nearly over! And today I had such a lovely stroll through Siena in search of traveling size toiletries. They do not exist, by the way. Tomorrow I embark on my fall break journey, beginning in Florence, going to Milan and then ending in LONDON! English speaking. Delightful. Speaking of languages (kind of) last night Arianna asked me if my cat bites. Bites="morse." I heard "morte." So in my head I heard "is your cat dead?" as opposed to "does your cat bite?" And i said NOOOO. which is the correct answer to both of those questions.

Lesson: Pack many wool socks if you are traveling in Italy in the fall time. Tile floors are a killer.

Mezzo e mezzo

We have reached it! The halfway point, that is. On the one hand, I really cannot believe that it has already been 2 months. Wasn't I just at the Cleveland airport yesterday, watching the Segway cop fall over a row of chairs? Then there is the other hand; the hand that is slightly more foreboding but not entirely daunting. 2 MORE MONTHS??? Yes, that sounds about right. My concept of time is completely off, though, to be entirely honest. 2 months flew. 2 months dragged. 2 months will feel like forever! 2 months will be gone before I know it. I think it is a day by day kind of thing, right?

My family is currently visiting in Italy which is, admittedly, bizarre. It's great, yes, but bizarre all the same. I have spent the last 2 months adjusting to simply being here. I have re-regimented my daily routine, sleep patterns, eating habits, etc etc. So, with that in mind, having familiarity again has been strange. I don't fear the same kind of strangeness when I go home in December, mostly because I will need to adjust everything that I had worked on for the past 4 months. It is a tricky little game, this abroad business. Just when you think you have Italy down to a science, it is time to re-emerge yourself in American culture. But back to my family. They are coming over to my host family's home for dinner tonight, which should be interesting. I truly hope that I am not expected to do all of the translating- that would surely be a big fat joke, and not a very funny one at that. Most unfortunately, Fabio will not be there! The girls will, though, and that will surely be more than enough entertainment for the evening.
Ah, families- both American and Italian.

Do you want to know about my trip to Venice? You should look at the album on facebook entitled "Venice gets its own album." I actually tried to insert some pictures on the blog but I am sooo terrible with the technology and the picture would not upload. On the bright side, though, I managed to fix the WiFi on my laptop. It was some business about an IP address? That means nothing to me, and it also meant nothing to other people when I complained about it. You should go to Venice, though. And you should also not miss your train to Venice. We managed to do that. Everything was going so well-we arrived at the train station nearly 2 hours early and all we had to do was physically get on the train. That part was difficult for us. We stared up at the board for what seemed like a life time, concentrating on "Venezia, 17:30" and waiting for a track number to appear. We then saw that the train was delayed 5 minutes...10 minutes...15? 20? 25! 30 minutes....All we did was wait. And then, sweet Hannah spoke up and said, "hey guys, we've been looking at the Arrivals board." Did you know that in order to depart from a specific location, you must look at the Departures board? Well, now you know. In a flurry we ran to the customer service office, received the good word that we could hop the next train for a mere 8 euro and have our Venetian adventure! On the train, we met a conductor named Fabio who asked us all where are are from. Usually when I say "Ohio" people politely nod and smile. Not Fabio! He said, "Ohio! Yes, Ohio! Beautiful song! Neil Young!" Yes. Yes. Yes. So, when he made his way to where we were standing (no seats for us) I showed him my I-Pod. "Look," I said, "I have it." His eyes lit up but he clearly did not believe that I knew this song. I took it upon myself to begin the sing along. Tin soldiers and Nixon's comin'-I sang to him and waited for him to finish the line. We're finally on our own! Fabio and I continued to sing most of the song. Afterwards, he asked me if I liked Pearl Jam. What a cool guy. (Please refer to the previous post in which I informed all travelers to know the music of generations past-it will get you anywhere.)

Since Venice, I have mostly been frittering away my time in the library at school, watching stupid things on You-Tube and having the most ridiculous giggle fits with my friends. Clearly, not alot is different from my time in the States. I do more writing here, though. I like that. I am currently writing a story about Dragons. That is all I can tell you about that. Fall break in 1 week! And then, I go to London and that will surely be an adventure.

Lesson: Savor your naps. I haven't taken one in about 2 months.

Con

One downside to studying abroad in a beautiful country: When people die in America, one must remain in said beautiful country. Not only must one remain but one must also accept that communication only comes in the form of e-mails at odd hours and ill fated skype appointments. One must persist and still manage to effectively communicate in Italian while telling her host sister to please please please keep her grubby paws off the laptop keyboard while she attempts to type an e-mail to her brother. It is strange when survival instincts combine with raw emotion. You know what it results in? "Margherita just...no. no no no no no. No. no no no no no no no." The Italian is gone but yet I am still understood.

Before coming to Italy, I had a legitimate moment of panic in which I realized that I could put all facets of my life on hold except for the part where people die. And now, as I sit here watching the Facebook newsfeed automatically update with reference after reference to Brian, I realize: It doesn't matter where you are in the world, or what time it is at home or how many e-mails and messages you sent today. It is going to suck. Regardless of any other factor, I guarantee you, it will suck. How's that for some wise advice? It actually is because my mom tells me that all the time when things are going badly. "Katie, I don't know where this fits into God's plan. In fact, I'm pretty sure it doesn't. It just really sucks." I think she's onto something there.

Last night Angelica threw up down my shirt. Not on it. Down it. It was after I had given her a tour of the house, walking into rooms and saying things such as, "What's that? A table? Yes, it is a table." All in English, mind you. I can't wait until her first word is Katie. Anyway we were nearing the end of our stroll when she realized that she knew exactly what she must do in order to make her stomach feel better: empty it. She did so in a quantity so plentiful even I was impressed. And as I stood there dripping I looked at her and said "Thank you." Because what else is there really to do at that point? If only I had known that puke in my bra would be the least of my worries for the week.

That anecdote was an attempt at frivolity. Haha, get it? A baby threw up on me! Yeah, it's gross, but I thought it was funny. Whatever, Brian would have laughed at it.

Lesson: "Che scifo" translates to "that sucks" as well as "that's disgusting." Che scifo, indeed.