This is the satellite view of my new apartment (I couldn't get it to make a .jpg so I had to take a pic of the computer screen, sorry for the poor image quality):
The green arrow is a little bit off. The front door of the apt building is on that piazza to the left of the arrow and you can see the street heading off to the northwest which is the one that leads to the Duomo.
This is the living room of my new apartment. The fact that it even has a living room is a vast improvement over the last place. We have a real dining table, a couch and a TV! I need to watch Italian television for listening comprehension.
This is the view from one of the windows. It opens on to a piazza where they sell antiques. The street in front leads straight down to my school and the Duomo which you would be able to see from the window if the tree wasn't so bushy. You can see the cupola (dome of the Duomo) from the street level at the entrance to my building. This new apt. is closer to the center and all the streets surrounding it are very populated so I feel safer at night. And the distance has cut my "commute" by about 5 minutes!
Out of the other window there is a park with a playground.
One of the drawbacks of the new place is that I don't have the balcony or the large windows in my room. Instead I have a large window that opens up into a concrete cube thing. It is open to the sky above but I look across to our bathroom window. And whatever laundry happens to be hanging out of the kitchen window.
My room is about the same size which is relatively large for Italy. It is darker but now I have a double bed! It is so much more comfortable and cozier than my old bed. I have to climb up the ladder (which is a bit rickety, I think it is missing a bolt) so it becomes a bit of a challenge to use the facilities in the middle of the night when it is pitch black. But I think I can manage.
My large bed in the loft:
This is on the other side of the room--there is a lot of really bad Ikea furniture in this apartment. I can't really explain its existence. All I know is that there is an IKEA somewhere within 30 minutes of here and it is plaguing these old apartments with its self-destructing furniture. Let's just hope the loft holds for another couple months.
The place where the refrigerator lives is a closet masquerading as a kitchen. You can't open the refrigerator door all the way and if you want to open it you have to squeeze past it to the other side and then open it.
The bathroom is long and narrow. I can barely fit my whole body in the shower. I think it is about 2 feet by two feet. And if I drop the soap then I have to squat down in a really painful position to retrieve it. I tried shaving my legs but that was a joke. My roommate is a lot smaller than me but maybe she can give me some tips.
This is what my classroom looks like when everyone is on break:
We have a grammar lesson in the morning from 9am-10:45am and then a conversation class from 11:15am-1pm. During the break there is a mad rush to the two little caffe shops on the corner. Usually I bring a snack but today I went down and got a caffe latte with my Swiss friend Matthias. I wanted to ask him where I should go in Switzerland for my little vacation (I need to leave the country so that I am not here for more than 3 months) and he was giving me some ideas.
Last night I met up with the doctor in the Piazza del Duomo and we went over to my friends' apt (my old apt) and hung out with them and drank the rest of my wine from my birthday. It was nice to hang out with other people instead of just with him...I think he understands that I want to be just friends--or at least he has backed off some. When I was waiting for him near the Duomo, I sat down on a bench and then one of the "bad people", the Moroccans who are illegal and sell the tourist items (like posters and designer rip-off bags) came over and started talking to me. I would only answer him with the word "No" and he kept asking me where I was from and guessing every country in the world. He was relatively non-threatening and could see I wasn't a typical tourist. So he sat down for a smoke and I asked him (in Italian) why he came to work here and he explained that there is no money to be made in Morocco and that he can make more money selling posters here. It didn't seem to bother him that it is illegal and that the police can arrest him. He was explaining something about how the police leave him alone because he is calm. And then FINALLY Emanuel walked up and saved me. As an Italian I think he was shocked to see me talking to this person. It would be like your friend from Beverly Hills was picking you up at Home Depot and saw you chatting with the day laborers. So I told him that he couldn't leave me anywhere and that this is always what happens. It is totally true though--everyone talks to me wherever I go and I can't seem to wash the "TALK TO ME" sign off my forehead.
Today I met up with my "friend" Alle who works in a restaurant in the center. Boys don't seem to understand the concept of friendship here since the whole time we were hanging out he was saying how he thinks I am beautiful (okay, that part is fine) and he wants to be my boyfriend (that part is ridiculous since we don't even speak the same language--plus I am not attracted to him). Fortunately, with my broken Italian, I was able to get across the concept of women being equal to men in my culture because that is something I have been warned about when dealing with certain men in Italy. Alle is very nice (for friendship only, please) and I like talking to him because he will only let me speak in Italian and he is patient while I figure it out. Emanuel (the doctor) wants to improve his English so he is always reverting back to that in our conversations when I am too slow in my Italian.
Now I am off to go do my homework!
The green arrow is a little bit off. The front door of the apt building is on that piazza to the left of the arrow and you can see the street heading off to the northwest which is the one that leads to the Duomo.
This is the living room of my new apartment. The fact that it even has a living room is a vast improvement over the last place. We have a real dining table, a couch and a TV! I need to watch Italian television for listening comprehension. 
This is the view from one of the windows. It opens on to a piazza where they sell antiques. The street in front leads straight down to my school and the Duomo which you would be able to see from the window if the tree wasn't so bushy. You can see the cupola (dome of the Duomo) from the street level at the entrance to my building. This new apt. is closer to the center and all the streets surrounding it are very populated so I feel safer at night. And the distance has cut my "commute" by about 5 minutes!
Out of the other window there is a park with a playground.
One of the drawbacks of the new place is that I don't have the balcony or the large windows in my room. Instead I have a large window that opens up into a concrete cube thing. It is open to the sky above but I look across to our bathroom window. And whatever laundry happens to be hanging out of the kitchen window.
My room is about the same size which is relatively large for Italy. It is darker but now I have a double bed! It is so much more comfortable and cozier than my old bed. I have to climb up the ladder (which is a bit rickety, I think it is missing a bolt) so it becomes a bit of a challenge to use the facilities in the middle of the night when it is pitch black. But I think I can manage.
My large bed in the loft:
This is on the other side of the room--there is a lot of really bad Ikea furniture in this apartment. I can't really explain its existence. All I know is that there is an IKEA somewhere within 30 minutes of here and it is plaguing these old apartments with its self-destructing furniture. Let's just hope the loft holds for another couple months.
The place where the refrigerator lives is a closet masquerading as a kitchen. You can't open the refrigerator door all the way and if you want to open it you have to squeeze past it to the other side and then open it.
The bathroom is long and narrow. I can barely fit my whole body in the shower. I think it is about 2 feet by two feet. And if I drop the soap then I have to squat down in a really painful position to retrieve it. I tried shaving my legs but that was a joke. My roommate is a lot smaller than me but maybe she can give me some tips.
This is what my classroom looks like when everyone is on break:
We have a grammar lesson in the morning from 9am-10:45am and then a conversation class from 11:15am-1pm. During the break there is a mad rush to the two little caffe shops on the corner. Usually I bring a snack but today I went down and got a caffe latte with my Swiss friend Matthias. I wanted to ask him where I should go in Switzerland for my little vacation (I need to leave the country so that I am not here for more than 3 months) and he was giving me some ideas.
Last night I met up with the doctor in the Piazza del Duomo and we went over to my friends' apt (my old apt) and hung out with them and drank the rest of my wine from my birthday. It was nice to hang out with other people instead of just with him...I think he understands that I want to be just friends--or at least he has backed off some. When I was waiting for him near the Duomo, I sat down on a bench and then one of the "bad people", the Moroccans who are illegal and sell the tourist items (like posters and designer rip-off bags) came over and started talking to me. I would only answer him with the word "No" and he kept asking me where I was from and guessing every country in the world. He was relatively non-threatening and could see I wasn't a typical tourist. So he sat down for a smoke and I asked him (in Italian) why he came to work here and he explained that there is no money to be made in Morocco and that he can make more money selling posters here. It didn't seem to bother him that it is illegal and that the police can arrest him. He was explaining something about how the police leave him alone because he is calm. And then FINALLY Emanuel walked up and saved me. As an Italian I think he was shocked to see me talking to this person. It would be like your friend from Beverly Hills was picking you up at Home Depot and saw you chatting with the day laborers. So I told him that he couldn't leave me anywhere and that this is always what happens. It is totally true though--everyone talks to me wherever I go and I can't seem to wash the "TALK TO ME" sign off my forehead.
Today I met up with my "friend" Alle who works in a restaurant in the center. Boys don't seem to understand the concept of friendship here since the whole time we were hanging out he was saying how he thinks I am beautiful (okay, that part is fine) and he wants to be my boyfriend (that part is ridiculous since we don't even speak the same language--plus I am not attracted to him). Fortunately, with my broken Italian, I was able to get across the concept of women being equal to men in my culture because that is something I have been warned about when dealing with certain men in Italy. Alle is very nice (for friendship only, please) and I like talking to him because he will only let me speak in Italian and he is patient while I figure it out. Emanuel (the doctor) wants to improve his English so he is always reverting back to that in our conversations when I am too slow in my Italian.
Now I am off to go do my homework!
2 comments:
Ahhh beautiful friend with the boo-tay all men want...always so naive...
is that a washing machine i spy in your bathroom???? it looks like a washer or dryer? can it be?? i also love the lofted double bed! it's an oxymoron. mature, sophisticated double bed, yet lofted as in college. ha ha!
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