Don't Worry...

To anyone who read that entire last post...Bravo.  It's long as shit at not terribly uplifting, but I wanted to include it, because that's how I felt at the time, and I wanted to show everyone that this trip really was difficult.  I have never felt more alone in my entire life, which is why now I have so much appreciation for all of the fun I am having, because I really had to earn it this time.  Yes, it has only been a week, but those first few depressing days seemed like a lifetime.  The situation reminds me of one of my new favorite quotes, a revelation during the film Into the Wild (featuring the music of the one and only Edward Vedder). 

"Happiness is only real when shared."

So true.  When I was alone, I doubted everything from my Italian, to if I was heading to the right office, to if I was getting the right piece of paper signed by the right person and returning it to the right office, to if I should have even left the States in the first place.  After the debacle that was my trip to the Segreterie Delle Studente, I returned to the Erasmus office, got the ball rolling on the absurd amount of paper work I had to do (every Italian who looks at my passport is amazed to see that I was born in New York City...one guy told me had a cousin who lived in the Hudson River.  I knew what he meant).  At the Erasmus office I also met my two best friends here, Alberto (Mexico) and Lucas (Germany).  Since then, a lot of new characters have joined our crew, including a couple of Americans, obviously a few Italians, and about 30 crazy Spaniards.  I am having the most amazing time exploring delicious local cuisine, swimming in the Adriatic, and visiting Castle Mirimare, which is the old residence of the royal family of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and has a gorgeous view of the Sea and the City (Pictures on Facebook).

Every Wednesday, the international students gather in Piazza Unitá, one of the most beautiful squares I have ever seen, that opens to the sea.  Each group brings their own drink and cups and we make an outdoor bar, conversing in five different languages with everyone finding a way to communicate.  My Italian gets drastically better every day and I can actually understand a bit of Spanish as well now.  Whenever we are interested doing something ridiculous, we just call the Spaniards because they are a giant mobile party, and they always know where to go.  Last Wednesday, we entered the local disco at about 2 am and danced the night away to one long techno song, crawling home around 5.

The people here are so relaxed, it took me a long time to get used to offices only being open for a couple of hours a day, but now I love it. Everything takes time and a ticket here, but nothing needs to be on time. If you walk into the post office and you are the only one there, you take a ticket and you wait until your number is called, if at all.  The Triestine way of doing things is incredibly inefficient, but it's not about being efficient, it's about enjoyment and satisfaction, it's about not worrying about every little fucking thing like in the States.  For example, my classes either start October 1st, October 6th, or in November, and none of the classes have schedules made up for the entire semester, because they change weekly or monthly, making it impossible to choose classes without conflicts and prompting my advisor to tell me, "Don't worry, you will go to class if you can."  

I have come to the conclusion that unfortunately, no matter how hard I try, I will never become an old Italian man.  I have decided that they are the coolest people on Earth.  They stroll down the street with jackets hanging over their shoulders, hands behind their backs or sipping glasses of wine, even when there is no bar or cafe in sight causing me to wonder where they get the drink and the glass.  They discuss everything from politics, to soccer, to when the Borra (the strong wind from the mountains that Trieste is famous for) will arrive.  

I witnessed one such man having an argument with a cat on the street. Yes, this looked exactly like you might think, the cat sort of meandering back and forth, rubbing up against the man's leg and then moving away.  The man in a nice suit waving his arms around, talking loudly, and pushing his index finger right between the cat's eyes at times for emphasis.  I walked over to discreetly capture a picture, but he caught me and gave me the most mortified look, as if I was the son who had just walked in on Mom and Dad having an argument. After a while, the man threw his hands in the air, admitting defeat, and left the cat to cross the road.  The cat watched for a minute and then raced across the street where they continued their discussion.

Last weekend I had a silly night in Udine, a nearby city, which I will explain in detail when I have some more time...those pictures should also make their way onto Facebook soon, but now I have to go to bed because in the morning I am going to a supplementary beginner's Italian class and then we are planning this weekend's trip to either Slovenia or Croatia, so until then...

Mi Chiamo Noah.