Welcome to Italy (Europe Saga, Part I)

Kiss my grits because I'm in Italy bitches!

I am studying law of the EU, international Art Law and international Environmental law at the university of Sienna. N.B. if my typing is jacked up, it's the italian keyboard. So let me tell you my experiences thus far, it is some funny shit (i will later add the the blog, but for now...):

So, i fly first class alitalia to Roma. Anyway, I sit next to a very nicely dressed Italian man in his 40s who ignores me completely except pokes me from time to time when I'm asleep. I imagine that this is what it's like to be married to an Italian man. I sleep on the plane a good bit since they have what Dad likes to call the basonettes -- you recline almost completely and it's pretty sweet. Also I watch "The Incredibles", which is quite cute, if you haven't seen it.

So we land, and I feel like I am going to puke and my ears are all poppy poppy and I hate everyone. My bag is the very fucking last one on the belt and i am pissed. so pissed i decide to go pee. i walk pass at least 10 guys who say "cab ma,am" and I say "no" as this is how i once got screwed in new york and ended up in a limo instead of a cab. so i walk outside to the cab stand where there is some older cab dude, the cab lord if you will, who is dividing up people and he hands me to my cabbie, roberto.

roberto speaks prob. the least english of everyone i have met thus far. we get in the cab and i give him the address of the hotel (written down) and he's not quite sure where it is but its near the university so we go. and we drive around forever. i am sure he was taking me for a ride in all senses of the word. then he starts telling me am beautiful and other bs in broken italian. i smile and say gratzie and try to ignore him largely but politely as he attempts to make conversation. At some point he pulls over to look at the map and takes this opportunity to grab my hand and kiss it. am getting creeped out. he is rubbing my arm at this point and i want to get out, but i have no clue where i am in Rome and i would be sans luggage so i just sit rigidly. He tells me I am tense, and i am like no shit asshole! so we FINALLY get to the hotel where he stops and wants to give me his number. i say ok thinking this will be the end of it. I get out, he gets out and helps me with my luggage. then unfortunately he starts helping me with my luggage to the hotel, which has a buzzer at the front door. while waiting for door to be buzzed in, he grabs me and procceds to stick his tongue down my throat. He is 40, NOT hot (but surprisingly tall) and a smoker. I also notice a wedding ring. I am less than enthused and he shouts to call him at ten or some b.s. Am angry, mostly at self for not punching him. I go inside and all I want to do is shower, but first I must find a hostel for Tiny and D and self for the next day. Hopefully Tiny will take cab from old, impotent man.

Anyway, hotel has internet so i am able to quickly find a hostel and then grab a shower. Then I go collapse for about 7 hours. When i wake up it is 8pm local time so i dress and decide to get some dinner. Turns out I am in newer 70s, icky part of rome. oh well. I find a cafe to eat at, and am enormously proud of self for ordering entirely in italian, but poorly of course. Best part: I think I am ordering 5 euro glass of wine, turns out am ordering 5 euro *bottle* of wine. Also, apparently it is dump on Americans evening at the restaurant and I wait for my food while everyone else is served. I do mean everyone. While am waiting eternity for food, I find in my phrasebook about 15 times "what is taking so long?" --clearly this happens -- and the waiter clearly starts to feel bad but I smile nicely and proceed to drink my enormous bottle of wine. After 5 glasses and no food, I decided that I am now a cultural ambassador, probably at UN level or equivalent and will right all wrongs and make Italians and Americans all friends, no longer how long it takes to get the food. Am pretty sure am smilling like a madwoman at this point. Hahaha. My pizza finally comes (it has been 15 hrs or so since I last ate), but now I am too hungry-krunk to eat like normal person, so I sloppily devour my pizza like I'm a formerly feral wolf-child. I pay bill, leave obscene tip (am cultural ambassador remember) and stumble back towards hotel. I find a gelatto place on the way back, get some fine gelatto, again, ordering pretty darn well in Italian, and then stumble back to hotel for more sleep. Ah, sweet cleansing sleep.