enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

La bella figura

I'm having some difficulty posting and commenting (the INternet keeps on going down), so I'll TRY to make this brief.

This morning, I was in a huge muddle. Really, there is nothing to say but that I had a freak out over Paris. I don't know exactly why, but maybe it has something to do with the pressure that I put on myself in my job and maybe French reminds me of this? (Also I don't want to be in France realizing that my French is still crap.) I don't know. I don't feel these things consciously, but I suspect that there's something there.

In the end, however, the crazy (but it turns out very cool - I liked her) lady from Boston and the two others (a German and a Kiwi) that were in my room (all over 30, which was interesting - I think that St. P@ncras attracts older people given that it is right by the international train station) sang me happy birthday this morning and in unison said, "GO TO ITALY! Paris can happen another time!"

Still, I went down to the tube/train station and almost got on the train. This was particularly true when I got into the tube and into the crush of people, only to find that there were mechanical difficulties on the Piccadilly line and so I had to route around it. And of course someone told me to go to Hammersmith. Once I got on that train, which took forever because of the aforementioned crush of people, I didn't know that getting off at P@ddington would lead me to express trains to Heathrow (they cost an additional 16 pounds though), so I continued on to Heathrow. Hell, at Hammersmith I even got on a train and nearly got crushed getting off when I realized that it didn't stop at terminal 4.

Can you say "I want to cry?" or "HELP! TAKE ME TO PARIS!"

But anyhow. I got there in the end. I got on my flight. I was pretty tired, because two very interesting Indian students who are studying at Oxford came into our room last night. They went to bed reasonably early, but for some strange reason they decided to get up at 6 a.m., shower, doodle around, and then get back into bed with their clothes on. Don't ask me why. SO my sleep was not ideal.

I got to Rome and I must say that any panic and doubt that I was having about my choice (stupid choice, really, I know - not like this is Sophie's Choice: "Boy, or girl?") was kind of erased when I was surrounded by those cocky Italians. They make me laugh, those Eyetalians (as witty is wont to say), but I love them.

So...without further ado...I got to Florence and ANDREA was waiting for me at the airport. It's so strange, because I haven't heard from him lately. He had researched the planes though and realized that I must be coming in on that one...and there he was. He wouldn't let me carry my bags. He pulled the car up so that I wouldn't get any rain on me (all three rain drops that were falling). It was very nice. Fortunately he was happy to drop me off and leave me alone for the evening, but we are going out tomorrow night.

He didn't like that I was staying at the hostel though. It's not what you think. Every Italian I tell this to turns his or her nose up. First, I am by the train station. Not good. Second, I am on an unfashionable road. Not good. Third, I am SLEEPING WITH OTHER PEOPLE. To this last one, I told a little white lie and said that I had taken my own room.

Joan told me that when she had told the woman she was staying with on her homestay that I was staying in an ostello by the train station, the proverbial sh** hit the fan. That same woman also dismissed the woman from Calgary in our art class who was dressed like a typical North American ("Joanna! That is not a friend for you!)

So that's how it is. I knew that he wouldn't be pleased. He's going to look for another hotel for me. Frankly, I don't think I'll mind for a few days. I do love this ostello and it is very cheap, but tonight I am in a room full of very young people. I don't mind, but I do wonder if they mind. I don't like feeling like an old fart...but I suppose I am one.

Oh dears. I did hear some funny things today. I wish I'd written them down. For one, a couple of middle-aged (more middle-aged than me) gents were waiting in the lounge in London to go to Rome. They were English. They were having a hilarious conversation about dating. I suspect that they were speaking of dating of the online kind. The one guy was talking about dating a nurse. "Don't ever date a nurse. The first morning that she was to prepare a cooked breakfast for me she asked me about my cholesterol. So I went to have my cholesterol checked. This here, look at my eye, this is the effect of cholesterol. Yeah...don't date a nurse."

The other guy: "Women with tattoos and who like motorbikes seem to like me."

(Both gents were more of the tweed than chains and leather variety.)

I did laugh when the first gent told the story of being on a date with a woman who "was a completely different person when she drank. She accused ME of being drunk, which I wasn't, and then she insisted on calling her EX-HUSBAND to take her home. It was mad!"

Well, I'm tired. But I'll leave you with the last funny tidbit of the day. Did you know that sitting on the tarmac with a plane full of Italians talking on their two or even three cellphones each is very annoying?? Thank goodness for safety videos from Al!talia that inform you that "In the event of a crash landing, please do not take your stored hand luggage with you. Remove your high heeled shoes (there was even a photo...I don't know, I think they were Gucc!) and make your way to the exit." (But hunky flight attendants are always welcomed.)

To be continued, bellas! XOXOXOX

10:49 p.m. - 2010-05-12

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next

other diaries:

stepfordtart
ohell
awittykitty
annanotbob
manfromvenus
smartypants
fifidellabon
hungryghost
hissandtell