I set my alarm for 6AM but woke at 4. Completely awake. I completed my homework exercises, wrote and put away my things as I had planned to yesterday afternoon, before I succumbed to the sleep fairy. I waited until 6 to go and attempt to use the shower umbrella. I figured the Signora would probably make a face at me, but let's remember we are supposed to be independent people. Using a shower before sunrise can't be as bad as say, staggering in completely drunk at 3AM. Right? I wasn't going to walk out of this house without cleaning up. I was still grimy from transit.
I managed not to knock anything over, or fall down, so that's a plus in my book. Didn't soak the floor outside the bathroom. She didn't knock on the door so I couldn't have bothered her too much.
She get up to ask me if I wanted a coffee. I told her no thank you, I will get one near the school. I suppose I will “turn Italian” and start having just a coffee and cornetto (croissant) for breakfast. I can do this for this week, but believe me when I start the tours, taking advantage of the breakfasts at the hotels will be gladly welcomed. Fresh fruit, yogurt and mueslix galore. Not to mention an omelet, waffles and breakfast meats when I feel the need. Besides, it's a 15-20 minute walk to the school; the morning air and moving about will wake me up better than a coffee would anyway.
But, oh boy, I can tell I hadn't eaten anything in more than a day. My last full meal was in London at the airport more than a day before. Yikes. I felt like a dog sniffing the air as I walked along. Baked bread, brewing coffee, a fruit stand setting up almost knocked me over with the aroma of fresh fruit. I made my way to the Piazza Santa Croce and sat for a few minutes, filling and drinking from my water bottle.
I've gone on about this before, but I will again for those not familiar – there's really no need in most cities in Italy to every purchase bottles of water. Well okay, once – for a bottle to carry around. This isn't me being cheap, this is also ecological as there are SO many bottles thrown away. Millions. The water in the city fountains is crisp, fresh and free and comes from the mountains just like the water in the bottles you buy. I bring a bottle with me everywhere and fill it up as needed. Unless you are looking for sparkling water, the city fountains are just fine. The pipes and aqueducts are maintained so the water is good. Always. Unless there is a major catastrophe, like the earthquake in L'Aquila a few years ago, the water is always safe to drink. I save the sparkling water for eating in restaurants.
Decided on which cafe I wanted to have my morning coffee in (the one directly downstairs from the school, Cafe Oibo, because they have huge windows where I can sit with the computer and write, as I am now, while watching the city wake up and glimpse the sun peeking from behind the facade of the church across the piazza. I installed myself in a chair and ordered a doppio (double espresso) and cornetto mandorle (almond croissant.) Gustavo the school director knocked on the window as he passed on his way into the building.
I hadn't been able to find an open wifi signal at the house, not that I truly expected to, but the school does offer free use of their wifi. I couldn't access it from the cafe, so after my so-called breakfast I went up to the school to finish up and post to the blog and hopefully call home on my magicjack.
Ay yay yayy. The internet connect is sooooo s l o w. I managed to call home, but the slow speed only allowed me to catch about every fifth word coming out of my husband's mouth. This was a huge letdown. At times like this, the distance is unbearable. I wanted five minutes to talk to him and was so close to being able to. It crushed me a little. I resolved that later in the day I would go purchase an internet key so I can have my own mobile broadband signal. They are relatively cheap here – 30E for a unit, and then you can pay as you go by the month for around 20E, no 2 year contract necessary. And it's unlimited use. Why do the US companies jack you around so badly? Hopefully, this solves my problem of connection and communication.
Classes went very well. Even though I am in an “intermediate” class, I am still ahead of the others in both the grammar and conversation classes. If I was staying another week in school I would worry about it more, but just being able to practice has brought back a lot to me. And having the last block of lessons one-on-one, I feel like I'm flying through it.
Walked back to the house after classes and promptly fell asleep for a couple of hours. I am still getting used to the time difference and the lack of restful sleep from the trip over. And using my brain makes me tired too, I suppose.
The Signora knocked on my door to tell me her daughter had arrived and she wanted me to meet her. Her name is Raffaela and she is about my age. She and her family live in the same building, on the 4th floor. She speaks English, and I thought it was kind that the Signora wanted her to speak to me to find out if there was anything I needed – for her to be an intermediary and translate anything that was confusing to me. I feel the ice in her demeanor is melting...
Raffaela asked me where I have been in Italy and I told her my story about visiting here and now working here, having friends and an adopted family of sorts in Venice. Their faces lit up. They are Venetians! They moved to Florence ten years ago. Things will be better now, I think. I told her that I am usually a very people-oriented person and am not used to only being in my room – that I love to cook, and talk, and if her mother can handle my muddled terminology, I would love to spend more time “with the family” if they were comfortable with it. Raffaela's daughter is 12 and speaks English very well, even spends summers in Jersey (England) every year. The Signora seems very pleased and I think she trusts me a little bit more now. I'm not going to go burn her kitchen down.
I asked Raffaela if she went to “liceo” (high school, secondary school) in Venice and she said yes, and why? I told her my best friend is Venetian and he grew up on Giudecca and since we are all about the same age she may have known him. There is only one public high school in the city, and they both went to it. She promised to bring up her annualle (the yearbooks) to me. It would be amazing if she and Marco knew each other. She probably more likely knew his sister Francesca if anything.
We'll see how small this world is when I see the books.
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