A few days late because of lack of Internet access, this post is what I wrote after finally arriving in Italy:
August 30th
What a day.
After staying up till 3am on Friday night to finish packing, this morning mom stepped up onto our scale, subtracted her weight, and told me that my suitcase was over the 50 pound weight limit. I frantically redistributed things from my large suitcase to a smaller one as my dad yelled up to my room “Ready yet!? We should already be out the door by now and on our way to the airport.” A combination of getting flustered by this, then running about the house last minute grabbing forgotten but vital items, discovering a broken zipper on the pair of jeans I wanted to wear for the flight, and finally realizing that I wouldn’t see my family for over three months all welled up in me and I burst into sobs as I struggled to drag that damn heavy suitcase down the stairs. I momentarily lost it. For a minute or two, the flood of tears overpowered my vision and I could not speak because of all my blubbering and body wracking heaves. Disabled by my sudden fit, dad took the suitcase the rest of the way to the car.
I did not anticipate getting this upset before my departure and the intensity of my emotions took me completely surprise.
No one talked in the car ride to the airport and to fill the space between us we listened to Leo Kottke One Guitar, No Vocals. Then once regaining composure I said goodbye to my family. The next time I’ll receive hugs from them with the distinctive green and purple Portland Airport carpet under my feet won’t be until mid December.
On the flight over from the States to Frankfurt, an elderly woman sat next to me. We didn’t speak to each other until over halfway through the flight when she couldn’t figure out how to use her personal TV screen and finally resorted to asking me for assistance. As we began talking, Liza (pronounced “lee-sah”) told me that she is Croatian and from the region of Dalmatia, which she told me is where the Dalmatian breed of dogs first originated. After chatting with me for less than 5 minutes, Liza gave me her passport to write down her first and last name and told me I must come visit her and her husband at their home on an island. She had not even asked for my name before offering me such hospitality. I felt very uncomfortable however and tried to evade Liza’s insistence that I come visit. Still, Liza’s convinced I’m “such a sweeeet girl” and wrote out her phone number and said I must call her if I’m ever in Croatia during my travels in Europe. Eventually she asked for my name, which I gladly provided. We made sporadic small talk for the rest of the flight. She told me how she had lived in Portland for 8 years and gone to PSU when she was young. Now she has a brother and sister who still live there and who she’d just been visiting. Liza also listed about 5 Oregon governors, none of which I had ever heard of. Either my knowledge of Oregon history is very incomplete or Liza had somewhat faulty memory.
At one point, I asked “What breed of dog do you have?” Liza responded, “it is a mutton.” Probably the highlight of my day.
In the Frankfurt airport I was struck with the flood of diversity streaming around me as I walked towards the security line. Hearing such a wide variety of languages enlivened me from the stupor of sleeping on the plane. I felt a strange compulsion not to speak so as not to reveal my American identity around all these intriguing people. Then again I did not really even have anyone to talk to, and was painfully aware of my singularity against the families surrounding me. Even all the businessmen seemed to at least have one partner traveling with them. For the first time the buckle of my belt set off the sensitive metal detector, and I got a full pat down for the first time. It was somewhat embarrassing and uncomfortable to have a stranger’s hands searching over almost every part of my body, to say the least.
Customs in the Florence Airport consisted of smiling at the two security guards and walking through the exit without having anything to declare.
After leaving Portland Saturday morning, many hours later and an ocean apart, I finally arrived at Pensione Ottaviani on Sunday afternoon. If I had not set an alarm for dinner after settling into my room I probably would have slept through it and woken up hungry and disoriented at 4 in the morning because of the effects of jetlag. Luckily I did set an alarm and had a wonderful orientation dinner with the ACM group of students and professors. Meeting everyone in the program has been a somewhat overwhelming process, but by now I have everyone’s names remembered. I can’t wait to get to know my peers better once we begin our elective courses.
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