I hopped in a cab outside of the Santa Maria Novella train station to Scuola Toscana, the language institute. We arrived and I entered the lobby vestibule to find it was on the 4th floor, actually the 5th floor to us Americans. All I saw was stairs. And I almost burst into tears. For a fleeting moment I thought to myself “I don't need clothes. I don't need anything. I'll buy everything new. Just leave it here.” Riiiight. At that moment I was greeted by two people entering the building and I recognized the gentleman as the director of the institute, Gustavo. I introduced myself and he smiled “Kristen! We are so happy to see you today!” He took my bag and brought it up to the next landing twelve steps up, where there was a tiny elevator. Thank YOU!!! Small miracles await around every corner.
They checked me in and presented me with a packet of information. Most students begin on Mondays, but they arranged for a Tuesday to Saturday week for me. Because I'm special, dammit.
Class didn't begin until 9AM so I had 45 minutes to go supply myself with enough caffeine for the next block of time so as not to start snoring in front of people (or drooling). The school is across the street from Piazza Santa Croce, and so I sat in the morning sunlight on a stone bench facing the church of Santa Croce and wondering how in the world did I get to be so fortunate as to have this adventure I was embarking on? No amount of travel exhaustion could get to me at that moment. I felt very invigorated and energized. One of my favorite places in the world – right here – in front of that church, where those amazing men of science and art, the architects of the renaissance – literally, “those” guys- are interred in their mausoleums. I am going to school. I am working my dream job. I am here, and being paid to do it. I feel like the pieces clicked together for me at that moment. Never take anything for granted.
The first block of lessons each day is review of regular everyday italian grammar. I am in a class with a german couple, Werner and Kristina. They are in their 50s. The second block of classes is conversation and everyday communication. I have Werner & Kristina there too, along with two young women in their early 20s: Fraucka (German) and Carolina (Chile). The last block of lessons is just me, apparently, and it is business & hospitality phrases and situations.
I left at 2PM and hauled my things down across the street to a taxi stand, where the happy and singing driver too me to meet my host for the week. I was a little disappointed that I am not staying in a shared apartment with other students, but I think the school thought that I wouldn't be happy living with young girls in their 20s, and they opted to have me in a more “mature” setting. I get Signora Rossana Rugi di Biasi, a tiny woman in her early 70s and her cat CeeCee. The apartment is on the 6th floor – and again – I thanked the deities for elevators!
The apartment is large and spacious with high ceilings, although it seems I am relegated to my room only. She was a little stern in her instructions to me. While giving me the lay of land she told me no eating or drinking in my room and to keep the door closed. Because of the cat. Ok. But she also said the living room is hers. I can be independent and she will not bother me. But I have my room. That's it. When I inquired about use of the kitchen, which is to be included according to the school, she made a face. Oh great. She showed me a pot I can use for pasta, and a small pan I can use for other things. And the small coffeepot for single servings. She will make a little space for me in the fridge. Oh thanks...quite magnanimous of you.
I imagine she usually has younger people staying and they don't cook, so she has become used to it. I told her I do like to cook and I promise to clean up after myself. She looked at me dubiously. I will win her over. I have no doubt.
I also have to leave the keys on the front table in the hall when I am home, so she knows I am there. That seems reasonable when you think about it. I have my own bathroom. It is three feet wide by nine feet long and completely tiled. The shower is built into the wall and the curtain is extended by an umbrella-like contraption that is supposed to encompass you. All I can imagine is that water will flow over more than the drain in the floor and I can only imagine the Signora's face.
I will be minding my Ps & Qs.
I began to put my things away, only things I know I will need for the week, but was suddenly so tired that all I wanted to do was sleep. It was 4PM and the exhaustion hit me like a brick wall. I set the alarm on my phone and went to bed. I have homework exercises, but I planned to do them in the morning.
Good night. I planned on sleeping the sleep of the dead for at least 12 hours.
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