Where to begin...

Well, Italy definitely started off with a bang. Literally. Like a 4.9 earthquake kind of bang. First off I’ll recap my journey to this land of pizza, pasta, and pervs (haha no worries they’re harmless).

I couldn’t help but laugh a little when I walked up to the check-in line of the airline I was using from Toronto to Brussels. It was an Indian owned airline and I was the sole white person in line. I laughed because Rosie (my Sri Lankan roommate) and I have this running joke that I’m always the “token white girl” whenever I’m around any of her friends or family (they just love me lol). Four years of living with Rosie and Tanya has led me to a love for Indian/Persian food and culture. Since nobody on the plane but the stewardess spoke English, it was pretty hard negotiating with the old Punjabi man that was occupying my seat to move it or lose it. Finally after backing up traffic for a good 10 minutes I got the seat next to him. It was a pretty good flight since they had new movies for free on the headrests in front of you, and they served some awesome spicy chicken curry and rice! The only issue after that was when the old man tried to talk to me in Hindi with hand gestures that looked like he wanted more alcohol… I know I’m a cultured white girl but for reals man, do I look like I speak Hindi????

I successfully landed in Brussels and had a few hours to spare before my flight. Between my stupid high-heeled boots + 50lbs carry on + 50lbs backpack + a 30 minute trek to the terminal, I almost collapsed. It was 7:30am so I grabbed a croissant and watched as everyone else around me drank pints of beer. Huh. I had just taken my hair down as I was walking over to the small café and stood looking at the menu. Two minutes later I hear a man’s voice behind me say, “You have such nice hair. I saw you take it down and it’s so nice and full.” CREE-PY. I kindly laughed, said thank you, and watched as he continued on over to his wife who was waiting for him. After breakfast I walked back to the terminal and decided to have a nap before my flight to Rome. Apparently a young girl in an airport curled up for a nap in a terminal warrants some strange looks. Oh well. I eventually woke up to find no one else in my terminal and we were supposed to be boarding in half an hour. Shit. They had changed the terminal but luckily it was only one over, which was behind the washrooms. Crisis averted and I made it safely to Rome.

Rome. Friggen Italians. So I check the board in Terminal 1 for Verona but the info isn’t up yet since it’s too early. No worries I’ll just ask the information desk where the counter for Meridien is…they say oh Terminal 3. I haul my 300lbs worth of luggage outside to see that Terminal 3 is like 2 football fields away. I could barely roll my crap as is. With many stops I make it to Terminal 3 only to keep wandering like an idiot for a good half-hour. I ask another person who works there where it is and they say oh it’s in Terminal 2. I struggle back towards terminal 2 while I get weird looks. No surprise there… it’s not in Terminal 2 haha. I find myself back in Terminal 1 looking lost and stupid. I tried getting one of those luggage carts but didn’t have change and no one else did either… so I bought a toothbrush. Finally got the bloody wheely cart and made my way to Terminal 3 where I finally found Meridien (HALLELUJAH!!) Meanwhile during my 4 treks between the Terminals, I got a real taste of Italian men. Even as I turned around to find a basketball team checkin out my butt, they refused to look away. The fun really didn’t begin until I had to check my bag and pay the extra 100 euros for overweight luggage. Ya of course they couldn’t tell me where exactly it was I had to pay so that was another adventure.

Finally…I MADE IT TO VERONA!! But alas, the taxi driver got lost on the way to the apartment lol. In the end I made it to the apartment where all the guys were there to greet me. My roommate Rajko made pasta for everyone and shortly after I went to bed… ha ha ha.

My bedroom was (still is) -5 all day and all night. The only blanket I had was a tiny sheet and the small blanket I brought from home. That night I wore 2 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of pants, 2 sweaters, and a scarf wrapped around my head. I looked super sexy.

1:30am (or so I was told later) I woke up to the entire building shaking. My first thought was ‘no I’m positive there is NO train nearby’ and then ‘should I ask the guys?’ Nop, I went back to sleep obviously. The next morning when I woke up I couldn’t remember if I had been dreaming or not until I was walking into town with Chris (from England) and asked if he had felt anything last night. He says “well now that you mention it I’m pretty sure that was an earthquake!” Awesomeee Pam’s gonna have a heart attack if she sees this on the news before I talk to her and papa Ian. Get into to town to find that they’ve evacuated everywhere because they were expecting another, much larger earthquake within the hour. Luckily it never happened. Apparently I’ve brought the Canadian winter with me as Europe is now experiencing a cold snap with record lows. Did I mention I left my winter jacket and boots back home??