Chatter, Strikes, and Killing the Power

I sat on one of the wooden benches lining the grassy courtyard. Professors and students alike mingled, ambling aimlessly through the grass or sitting and talking. 

I scooted further down in my seat and let the sun's beams spread across my face; I became a lizard, stretching languorously in the heat. I closed my eyes and opened my ears. 

And I listened. I listened to the conversations like one might tune into radio chatter. I let the language roll over me in waves, picking out words and phrases I knew, but overall losing myself in the unknowns and mysteries of the foreign melodies.

It was beautiful. Everyone surrounding me could have been talking about what they had for lunch, or complaining about homework, or gossiping about that stupid boy in class - it didn't matter. The words hit my ears like silk and were beautiful all the same. 

With a strange smile spreading over my face, I knew English could never sound this way. It was polluted and trashed beyond saving.

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Ciao tutti!

I guess it's been a while since I've submitted a new blog post. The past couple weeks have been pretty groovy, I suppose, without many strange or otherwise intriguing happenings (like my getting hopelessly, horribly lost, for example). There have been a handful of curious instances, though, which I will briefly touch on here.

Last Wednesday, (the 5th of March), I experienced my first Italian strike. Apparently they are very common here and the Milanese people just groan and grumble about it before adjusting their schedules around it. The strikes are held by the public transportation employees, those who pilot buses and guide the metro through the bowels of Milan underground. So, on these days (which are generally Wednesday's and sometimes Friday's, or so I'm told), the drivers declare that they will collectively run only between specific, brief hours in the morning and evenings - nothing more. 

As a person who has only encountered a strike in the way of seeing it on the news days after the event, I found the organization odd. Typically, in my little head, I thought strikes were definite, a sort of all-or-nothing deal, but that's not how they work here. 

Thankfully this complication didn't contort my schedule too much; I needed to use the metro to get to and from school within their operating hours anyway, so I didn't have to walk or taxi in either direction. Attempting to walk would have been flirting with disaster, so I'm glad I didn't have to (it's a forty-five minute stroll at best, two-point-three miles - that leaves a huge spread of opportunity to get lost). 

Aside from the metros being impossibly crowded and stuffy (I couldn't even lift my arms on the ride home) and the overall dismal atmosphere constructed by everyone's mutual frustration, nothing was different. I survived the strike and the longest day of my week at school (9:30am to 5:30pm straight, four back to back two hour classes with no real lunch break) and was eager to get to the apartment, cook up something to eat, and relax.

Well, that had been asking too much.

I had hit the store just a five minute walk away and bought a pre-made pizza I could heat up in the oven (not necessarily frozen, but not fresh, either). Thus, I cranked on the dials and waited for the beast to warm through and pop the delicious, cheesy beauty in.

As soon as it made the clicking sound that indicated it was beginning to heat up, everything in the apartment shut off.

The kitchen was dark. The fridge quit humming. The oven was dead. The lights on the modem stopped blinking, cutting me off from nearly all communication to the outside world.

Keep in mind, too, that darkness descends here right around 6pm, so I had no help from natural lighting. I had to use the flashlight on my phone to maneuver through the apartment.

Thankfully I was able to contact someone of the housing staff from the international office after several frustrated attempts on the phone, and he was able to walk me through how to fix the issue. I had thrown the breaker by turning on the oven, which was odd because my roommate and I had used it numerous times before without any trouble. Anyway, I was able to restore power to the apartment after about an hour or so of uncertainty, and I knew how fix it if it ever occurred again. Piece of cake, glazed over with familiarity. 

Oddly, though, for the next week or so we couldn't use the oven or the itty bitty laundry machine because turning either one on threw the breaker. This was obviously an issue, as we hadn't had trouble with it in weeks before, and it didn't make sense. We were able to get the overall problem solved within a couple days, and the apartment is now operating at full potential, so I can warm up all the pizzas I want without trouble.

Other than all of the above, it's been pretty peachy keen here. The weather has been gorgeous, borderline springtime sort of thing - pretty, clear blue skies, and sunshine everywhere. At one point I glanced at the ten day forecast for Milan on my weather channel app, and it was high 50s and 60s all ten days with zero percent chance of precipitation all across the board. I don't know about you, but I have never seen such a forecast. And it all came true just as it said it would, which makes me a very happy, very warm little individual.

I certainly hope all is well back in the states (except for the weather - sorry! I'll try to send some sunshine your way!) and I miss you all very much. Being here has been a marvelous experience, and I'm only 1/4 of the way into it. I'll be happy to be home at the end of May, but man is Milan a nice place ;)

With love and gratitude,

V