My goodbye to the United States yeterday was a half-price happy-hour Starbucks strawberry and crème frappucino at the Washington-Dulles airport. My uneventful flight was started with a rather bland movie, and then was wrapped up by me trying in vain to get some sleep- armed with eyemask, earplugs, and neck pillow. I kept drifting off into random thoughts but not sleep, one of my tho ughts was wishing that I were one of those really petite Asian girls who could just curl up their legs onto the economy class seat into a neat little ball. I saw a girl from Malaysia do that once- I was at once very impressed and very envious. I don’t usually resent that I am not short. Except when I am on a plane.
But I arrive in Munich! The airport is more spotless than Narita, and I am impressed. The border official asks me what I plan to do in Torino. “Look around.” You really can’t demand people to come up with elaborate sentences when they have just gotten off an 8 hour flight. He smiles at me and teases, “Look around? At hot guys?” I laugh and look at his smile and realize the border guy is quite cute himself, shaved head and all.
I decide I like German people. They have a very clean airport. Some of them (or maybe only the border guy) are quite good looking. They seem to have nice smiles. (The lady at the Lufthansa ticket counter also gave me a smile that made me feel like a million bucks, do they include this in all types of employee training?) And they are tall. I don’t know. I have a thing for tall people. I do. Except for when I want to be curled up into a ball on the plane.
And Lufthansa has free coffee, free espresso. I drink two of them waiting for my flight to Torino, which turns out to be a good idea, because it turns out to be delayed and at 10 a.m. Germany time in the morning my body is screaming 4 a.m.! 4 a.m.! 4 a.m.!
It might’ve been coffee or boredom, but in the middle of the bustling shiny clean airport I get out my laptop, and (gasp!) start doing work! I make 2 rough plots while waiting for my flight, humming “Good Morning Baltimore” to myself. I don’t know why this song has been stuck in my head for a few days now. It is the perkiness I aspire to in my life. Of course I aspire to it mostly because lately I am more glum than perky, especially when it is rainy and cold in Ithaca. But while I’m humming this and working on plots, I feel being in a different country is helping. Anyways, by the time I shut down mathematica, I feel like “every day’s like an open door, every night is a fantasy!”
On the short 1 hour flight to Torino, they have free wine. (okay, I know, wine is cheap in Europe, cheaper than Coke probably). But in actual glasses made out of glass! And the flight attendants smile at you when asking what you want to drink instead of exhuming impatience. (I understand that it is hard to be a flight attendant, but then it is also hard to be a passenger too).
I spend the flight staring out the window at the alps. I tell myself I should go hiking sometime. But at this point the thought just makes me feel tired. And then I stare at the towns in between… for some reason, Europeans seem to have an obsession with red rooftops. I think it is cute.
And I get to Torino, the caffeine wearing off, and I'm tired and beat, but Gianfranco is there to greet me. Gianfranco is a very enthusiastic host, as he drives me to where I’m staying he tells me about the city, where to eat where to shop what to dowhere the main market place is… There is a main plaza: Plaza Castello, that reminds me of Plaza Mayor in Madrid, except better scenery. Torino is situated near glacial hills and mountains. It’s quite pretty. And the holy shroud, it’s on exhibit, I need to go see that.
I notice, on the flight and in the city, that I don’t understand what’s going on, not when people are talking nor reading the signs on the street! I realize this is the first time I’m in a country that I don’t know the language. (So in Mexico and Spain I sort of knew the basics). Here I don’t even remember the word for bathroom. It is an exhilarating thought. Once now and then I catch an interchangeable phrase with Spanish or something simple (such as the pilot apologizing for the delay by saying “molto molto trafico”). This and the fact that spoken Italian sounds like singing is enough to make me feel at ease… for now. Later I’ll have to deal with ordering at restaurants or getting an internet connection or a phone card or something nasty and then I’ll start feeling homesick. But for now I’m excited.
The self-service apartment I’m staying in is very cosy. So it is a room with a bathroom and a kitchenette. The kitchenette turns out to be disguised as a cabinet. Not that I expect I’ll be cooking at all…
Gianfranco shows me around the area and points out where to get essentials, where to get food… it turns out he used to work near here as a scientist some years ago, and so knows where is the best coffee, etc. Then he says "see you tomorrow morning!" And I am ready to venture off into the Italian speaking Torino!
I go to Carrefour and pick up some soap and shampoo. Good old Carrefour! Although I don’t understand anything, I figure out which price is for which thing, I can survive this! I like Carrefour. It was my supply of cheap everyday food when I was in Barcelona three summers ago. It is my supply of cheap snacks and teas when I’m in Taipei. I try to remember Gianfranco’s advice when randomly crossing the road “be certain, that’s the key”. (Basically people are crazy and cars are crazy and I’m amazed that the few hours I’ve been here, I haven’t seen an accident).
But then it’s dinnertime… I decide to be brave and eat at a proper restaurant. No it’s not dining alone that scares me. I have gotten over my fear of dining alone quite some time ago. I have traveled alone enough that it has become a necessity. And I’ve adapted. I’ve found it’s quite fun to rudely observe other people while waiting for food, and then quietly concentrate on the food when it arrives, and then take time to sit and sip water (or a drink) and muse about your experience after you are done. And there’s no trouble in dividing the cheque whatsoever!
No, what I have qualms about is the Italian and my lack of understanding of it. I figure I won’t recognize much on the menu, and I’ll stumble my way in ordering food. I decide to go to a pizzaria. There’s two in the neighborhood that Gianfranco mentioned. One that’s hit or miss, the other that’s good but the people are mean. I figure I’ll go with the nice people my first day here and risk the bad food.
I go into this place. It seems just the right atmosphere. The clientele include people in suits that have just gotten off from work, teenagers hanging out, families with babies… this makes me at ease. This must be the equivalent of applebees or something…
I am greeted with “Buona sera”, and the server points me to a table and hands me a menu. I stumble with a “Grazie”, and start to struggle reading the menu. I decide on the rosmarino, just because I recognize all the ingredients, and then vino bianco. (only because I don’t want beer or Coke, and besides the wine IS cheaper than the CocaCola…) I close my menu and sit purposefully, and the waiter comes over and writes a 30 on the table, saying “treinta”. I look quizzically at him. He says something in Italian and I realize he means that this is my number… And he suddenly understands that I’m a foreigner (I wonder it wasn’t obvious?) and asks, “English?”, and hands me an English menu. But I am ready to order, so I say with uncertainty what I want, and the most difficult part is done.
I do not know if the pizza was good. By my own tastebuds it was okay. Not spectacular but okay. I am too self-conscious at this point to take a picture of my food (which is what I often do when I am a tourist). I neatly finish my food, and ponder how to ask for the check. I remember reading it in the guidebook somewhere. But all that comes to mind is the Spanish version “la cuenta, por favor”, and I’m sure that’s not right somehow, might be close but not right. I’m all frazzled about this when I discover people just up and leave an pay at the front. I am so relieved at this! And as I get up to go I think to myself I need to go look this up! And I'm thinking if only I had gotten that phrase book from my officemate when I had the chance...
It is "Il conto, por favore." And if I want dessert next time, that is "tiramisu, por favore". Haha.
Fascinating. I hope you have time to keep writing these :)
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