I figured by now I should write about some of my favorite things about Rome, or Italy in general, so here goes:
1. the best cappuccino i've ever had
2. cheap pizza with tons of different toppings...potato, eggplant, prosciutto, zucchini...that you
can buy by the kilo
3. turning around the corner and BAM! there's something ancient
4. public transportation that, in practice at least, is free
5. the kosher butcher shop across the street from my apartment (see Vanessa's blog for an
interesting description)
6. cafes with free wireless
7. saldi (sales) at every store in January
8. drinkable tap water

And to balance it out, things I'm not so fond of:
1. the mopeds that zoom past you on teeny little streets where you have nowhere to jump out
of the way
2. people in our part of town aren't real keen on cleaning up after their dogs...
That's about it, actually.

I got yelled at by a little old lady on the tram today for swinging my legs in an attempt to keep them warm. I didnt understand a word of what she said, but her gestures made it pretty obvious--first, no lady swings her legs; rather, she crosses them neatly underneath the seat (that is, if she can reach the floor, which i cannot). Second, there is a distinct invisible line between the seats that face each other, and one should not cross said invisible line unless one wants a smackdown. Third, the man who I was facing (and whose space I supposedly invaded, though he didnt seem to care) was to give his seat up to any other little old lady who wanted it. Fourth, the sea of people should automatically part whenever the little old lady wanted to get off the tram.
That said, she was the only grouchy person I've met so far. Most people have been really helpful and have spoken really slow Italian to us when we try to put together a few words to ask about something. When Vanessa and I tried to find laundry detergent that wasn't reeking with some strong chemical scent (which is almost impossible to find in this country), we asked a random lady in the grocery store, and she spent a good ten minutes trying to help us. So even though the mean old lady was, well, mean and old, I don't think she's a good representative for the rest of the country.

I've been to all my classes at least once so far, and they all look pretty good...and hopefully pretty easy, as in the big paper for each one is 5-7 pages. Sweet. I'm taking Italian Politics and Society (which my homework this week is to find grafitti related to fascism), Rome Sketchbook (basically drawing 101, and it's counting for my major haha), Church history, and an art history class about Rome, Ostia, and Pompeii which has a "mandatory" field trip to Pompeii. Who wouldntwant to take a field trip to Pompeii?! They dont have to convince me to go.
Other than that, I've been drinking way too much caffeine (sp?). I havent really gotten up early enough for my 10:30 am classes to eat breakfast and get a cappucino, so I just get the cappucino and go to class all jittery. This is the life, gotta say.

I went to the Pantheon today. You know, just thought I'd stop by one of the oldest buildings in the world after class. That's right, I actually went to class too. It was quite tempting not to, but I figured the first day is obligatory.
Shopping is also obligatory. I've only bought a sweater, a blanket (gets cold at night), and a pair of shoes in the last week. And the sweater and shoes were on sale. How could I say no? Speaking of shopping, the Italians are so well-dressed. These people have style in their blood. There are twelve year olds here who dress better than I do, and they're supposed to be all awkward. I figure all I need is a snazzy pair of boots, a Gucci purse, some big ugly sunglasses, dark hair, and about 7 or 8 inches in height to fit in here.

The first week

So we got here on Monday. There was a lot of filling out forms to make sure we dont get deported and things like that. I got desperate and decided to get a haircut yesterday at a place near school. When I made the appointment they spoke some English, but when I got there those skills seemed to be lacking a bit. I got a little anxious when the guy had a chunk of my hair in one hand and a pair scissors in the other--and they were really close together--before he asked me what I wanted. I mean, he never really asked me at all. He could have intended to give me a mullet for all I knew, so I just kept saying Solo un po'! Solo un po'!, which means Only a little!, and demonstrated how I wanted it. I think he took that more as a suggestion, because he kept cutting and cutting, and I was praying and praying that he would stop like right then. I kept getting images of some terrible 80s pouf with 19,000 layers in it, but thankfully it turned out better than that. I actually kind of like it.
I've had pizza about 8 times in the last 4 days, but it kicks the crap out of Dominos. I actually used to like Dominos; it was top notch in my book, but not anymore. Pizza here is amazing and cheap. We're living in Trastevere, which is the same section of town that school is in, but we're about a 30 minute walk from there. There are 5 girls in the apartment, and it's pretty quaint and cozy. Our neighbor is this older Italian man who on the first day tried to help us with our weird door (pictures coming soon of that one) and subsequently broke our key. He also nicely told us he'd like it if we were quiet in the evenings. We've heard that guy yelling at his tv till like 3AM for the last few days. Interesting people here to say the least.