Im posting from the internet cafe for the first time. Only 1.50 euro per hour to use the computers here - the downside is, the keyboard keys are different, and they feel funny. So excuse any typing errors for now, until I can go home and fix them on my laptop with AMERICAN keys.
Recently I was introduced to the "Kebap place" down the street from the Convent... Normally Iàm not a fan of Middle >Eastern food, but this place is great. Evidently other students have been eating there for a while, and built up a nice chat history with the women who work there. Itàs two Turkish women, a son, and a man who looks like a husband-owner of the place. So I went a few times, or enough for one of the women to recognize me. One day this week I heard that they were going on vacation, and wouldnàt be returning until after we leave Italy. Once the news spread, all the Oberlin students flocked there on Saturday for the final day of kebaps (a type of lamb meat sandwich on pita bread -- I usually get mine with ketchup-mayo spread and lettuce, and onions, although they also offer French fries as toppings, among others.) While there, I spoke with one of the women and asked where they were going on vacation, to which she responded, her home country of Turkey. Then she added, "If you students are ever back in town, just let us know -- say youàre the Americans who were here studying music in 2008 and we,ll surely remember you." I wished her a good vacation, ordered my sandwich, and said goodbye to the little boy behind the counter, who had been staring at me with a confused expression on his face.
Marco, the young Italian actor, has become good friends with Caroline, an oboeist friend here who knows my sister from school in Michigan. After hearing her talk about the concerts, he decided to come see Figaro for our final performance, and judging by the grin on his face I saw when I had a chance to look up, he seemed to like it.
We returned to Blu Bar, Marcoàs parents place, again today for lunch. They are always happy to see us, and chat about our classes and upcoming concerts. While eating, it dawned on me that I would only be here for three more days, and that there were many people to say goodbye to, including Marcoàs family.
After a bad day last week where I couldnàt speak hardly a word of Italian for lack of sleep, I recharged at home and returned that evening to Carloàs bar with slightly greater success. Intending only to buy a drink and leave, I heard a frantic voice as I walked out the door: "Allie! English!" I reentered the store to find a petite British woman at the counter unsuccessfully trying to order one scoop of mascarpone in a cone. After helping her out, I asked what she was doing in Italy, and found out that she and her husband were vacationing. I then told her that I was heading to England in a few days, and we chatted about that for a few minutes. Once she left, I turned back to Carlo, who had been listening and trying to understand our conversation. He asked how much longer we were here, and when I told him, he made a sad face and mimed a letter: "You will write me?" I,ll send him and Barbara a postcard when I return to the States.
The trains are running for the first time in a couple of days, due to a transportation strike (affecting buses as well, from what Iàve heard). When asked about it in class, the Italian teachers seemed not to mind, saying that it happens every two or three months here, especially during the summer.
Ok, typing errors fixed and pics uploaded later.
-Allie
p.s. I am adding the picture above several days later, as I didn't have access to my album while in the internet cafe -- it's a shot I took of the antique market that took place last weekend. (I didn't buy anything.)
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