Cheating is for idiots. No seriously - I'm totally an idiot!

So, today I 'sat' my evaluation test for entrance to my new Italian school in Melbourne. I say that like it's a formal thing, but it wasn't. In fact, I got to print it out and take it home. I suppose they expect grown adults, who are also teachers, not to cheat.

Cheat? I ask, as though the concept is totally foreign to me, and I've never accidentally used just a little too much of wikipedia in my essays. I'm a good girl I am - as if I'm going to cheat!

Actually, the sad reality is that I have a compulsion not to look stupid. If cheating makes me look less stupid, I will do it.

So I did.

Note to universe: I NEVER cheated when I was at school and only very rarely in university, and I always tell my students not to cheat else they feel my wrath. For the most part, I was pedantically well behaved at school, and couldn't even grasp how to cheat in the subjects I wasn't so brilliant in.

True story: whilst I would NEVER write the answers for trigonometry up and down my arms in high school as others did, I had no scruples not to for Fare and Essere on my very first DAY in Italy! And I got caught. AND looked completely stupid!!! So I guess it's a vicious circle that really can come back to bite you on the arse! But I tried, because I have only discovered my inferiority complex in the guise of la lingua di Italiano.

(Second note to universe: Ok, that's not quite true - but this blog is not about my inferiority complexes, so we'll just leave it at that and you can give me a hug or a cupcake later!)

The long and the short of it is that I literally spent hours on it. After the first page, which was pretty basic verbs, and then half a page of passato prossimo - which I'm pretty adept at now, thank you very much, and I can even remember the feminine essere and those irregular verbs that have TOTALLY different past tenses - it quickly entered a downward spiral of six pages of increasing torture! Moving hesitantly through definite articles, and then fare, before I knew it, I'd wizzed past imperfetto with a moderate degree of success and was gun toting with my old nemesis. You got it - four bloody pages of li, la, lo, gli blah bloody blah Pronomi. Even sitting on my couch, thousands of miles from feeling like a fool in Firenze, I had flashbacks to being a moron. Granted, this was a test - and I was always going to fail a lot of it, and that's what they want to test me on. But I have this sneaking suspicion that I simply failed the easy bits.

Or I would have! That's the beauty of cheating: between the dictionary on my phone, the dictionary on my computer (no, not google translator, cos it's cavoli), my actual dictionary and, well, google translator, three full notepads of notes from 6 weeks of studious behaviour in Firenze,and the help of my fluent Italian-speaking colleagues, I soon completed the eight pages perfectly.

I am the smartest girl alive!!!!

Epic fail, actually. It was only as I went to post it that I recognised the invevitable holes in my ingenious plan: based on this test, I'm now going to be put into Italian-Genius-level 101, and be stoned to death by Italian anyway.

Oops! Hey - I've never said I'm the smartest girl alive ALL the time!!

Now I can't resit the test because I have a very good memory for multiple choice, and I think I can remember all the answers. So I'm going to have to wait until I forget them. As I appear to have a talent for forgetting the very basics in Italian, I'm hoping that won't be too long - cos if this thing isn't in the mail within the next two days, I can't enrol anyway!!

Dear Santa/tooth-fairy/Jesus: please help me to forget Italian just long enough to be honest about how much I actually know. And then give it back, plus some, and make me fluent!

And while you're at it, kill particelle pronominali. Amen.

Posso andare in Italia per Natale? Per favore!!!

As life returns back to normal - which is my polite way of saying I am SO freaking busy right now! - my search engine is often directed towards bestflights.com and the dream of a cheap escape back to Europe. Without ever really anticipating that one exists cos, you know, I had to sell half a lung and a kidney on the black market to cough up enough for an airfare last time. And coughing is really hard work with half a lung.

I get why people just hire a rusty dinghy for ten thousand bucks to come to Australia!

My bad!! I don't know why I'm joking about asylum seekers lately. It's no laughing matter and I don't want you to take my glibness seriously! They just fit so well into my metaphors! I guess what I am saying is that I want to be a refugee. But one that eats pasta and torta della nonna. And gets shit on by bats by the Santa Maria Novella.

I never told you about the bats, did I? Gesu Cristi! Ew Ew EW! Not a fan, Firenze. Not. A. Fan.

I had too many beautiful things to be ruined by bat poo. And I'm still paying for them now!

Which brings me to today's Una problema, when the cheap flight became a reality. Cheap is actually too light a word, but I have forgotten how to use adjectives properly - making me a fraud in my year 10 English class. In any case, four and a half magical weeks in Italy beckon to me at Christmas, for a bargain basement price that I can barely believe. And I would still be here for actual Christmas, so my poor mother wouldn't disown me. (Hmm. An interesting opportunity for emotional blackmail just cropped up!!!) Even as I sit here eating fagole con tonna - cheap - so I can pay for coats I bought 6 weeks ago, I feel I would be a fool to pass this golden opportunity up. I'm rationalising it this way: it's less than a fortnight's pay; it's 260 days of coffee consumption, or thirty hours of tutoring. It's not stepping foot inside Myer for a few months.

The change at the back of my couch! HA!

It's nothing. Right?

Oh my God, can I go, Santa?

New Oh my God: I'm going to tutor again?! Seriously??!

BIGTIME OH MY GOD! I'm considering giving up coffee to go back to Italy?!!! So I can drink fabulous coffee again. What sort of insane paradox is that?!

Am I still jetlagged? Sleep-deprived?? Overworked??? Or am I just nuts? If I'm even considering giving up caffeine, I'm going with starkp-raving crazy. And if I'm going to tutor again, I'm positively certifiable. Get me a straight jacket, I'm going back to Italy.

Maybe. Let's justify some more!

I've already given up shopping! (Hi - my name's Katmol, and it's been 14 days since my last shopping experience. Sort of. Cos underwear shouldn't count). I haven't even been to a shopping centre, unless you count going to the movies. And just that one little time I went to check out this season's new boots :-) But I was good; I didn't buy anything! And I'll continue to be good - NON FARE DA SHOPPING!!! Per sempre!
I need a hug.

But I also need to go back to Italy!! I miss nutella gelati SO MUCH! And I realised, after I attended my first Italian class in Australia last night, that though I have come along way since Monday the 17th of January, when as a lost and frightened Aussie Italian wannabe I rocked up to Firenze and was nearly stoned to death by a foreign language, I could still go a few more weeks in real Italy. I mean, I'm still estranged from pronomi and my divorce from fare is imminent. But on the other hand, I can no longer spell imminent without using a spell check, so surely this qualifies me for special asylum: I can no longer speak one language (ok, point taken I never could!) and I can't spell in the other.

Class in Melbourne was fun and all - sort of. Talking about relazioni industriali di Giappone in any language is pretty tedious - but it wasn't the same. For a start, it wasn't proceeded by half as many espressos, and the pasta I cooked for dinner afterwards was just RUBBISH! And that's just the food aspects that were different - the teacher was too. She spoke in English, in a conversation class. Hello! I can already do that!!!

And I miss pannini. And speck. And speaking English in Italy to my friends!!! And my friend, the scary gypsy lady in the purple coat. And running away from the scary gypsy lady in the purple coat!!

And I miss Firenze, even if I wouldn't necessarily stay there next time. Cos Milan has more shoes and Bologna has better Sangiovese :-)

So, riddle me this Jesus: Is buying an airfare considered shopping? Surely not. After all, shopping for food is an essential - and therefore exempt from self imposed ban - form of shopping, and I promise in Italy I will eat lots of food. I can stake my life - and my last remaining heart valves - on it, actually!

Send me a sign, universe. Send me a sign! And a new credit card statement doesn't count!!!

Though it should. I suppose.

Cavoli.

Any last blessings, Scary gypsy lady? Please?!

Home again, home again, jiggedy-jig!

But no fat pig!!!

Pretty much the first comments made by each of my parents, separately, on my return, were grand salutations on how fat I was NOT! And more followed. It would seem that when you write a blog that centres around food - and how crap you are at love and languages, which I suppose leads to connotations of comfort eating - people expect you to come back the size of house!

I kind of expected it too!

To be fair, I've put on a couple. But I'm wearing my old jeans today, so 6 weeks of gelati and cheese has clearly (VERY clearly) decided to stake its claim on my face. And my chest. I'd like my chin to return to normal, thanks heaps, and hope to God there's no delayed flight to my arse. PLEASE!

I'm going back to the gym tomorrow to make sure that last bacon butty stays away!! Between running for the first time in three months, and that very bacon butty ... and all the other bacon butties ... I expect to have my first heart attack tomorrow as well, and must remember to renew my ambulance membership, which has lapsed. :-)

Good times, food. Good times! Tu sei la mia amica! Per Sempre!

But I am home, and how glorious it is to be home! Now that the sleep-deprived psychosis you were all privvy to has subsided after two nights of comatose-ness (I love you pillow!), I am enthralled in enjoying the following:

1. My friends. Have had a big weekend of catch ups, scrambled eggs (I might as well sign up for a heart transplant now, really!), vino (I did miss you, New Zealand's finest sav blanc - no matter what hurtful things I said during my affair with Sangiovese!!), surprise conversations in Italian with random Italians met at parties (didn't do too badly I must say!!) And coffee. Sort of. But not really.

I do miss good Italian coffee. I know it exists here, but I've had some rather rubbish macchiatos to date - it's the baristas, perhaps, and not the coffee beans. I have also decided that soy lattes are incredibly shit, and am renouncing them. What was I thinking??? You can't put soy milk in coffee!!!! To boot, my mum just this minute offered me one of those 'little packet things' - powdered milk cappuccinos.

Need I say more?

I nearly wet my pants, actually! For the past 6 weeks, I have been bastardising la lingua di Italia, but I will not disgrace my memory of their coffee!! Powdered milk has no place in coffee - it's just one thousand disgusting granules of wrong-ness, and I laughed in her face!!

Yes. It is true. I am now a pretentious twat! I'll get over it :-) And for the record, I have always hated powdered milk cappuccinos! How can ANYONE like them???

2. The Australian summer. Or autumn. It's not scorching, it's not freddo, it's just perfect! I've had two magnificent days working on my tan whilst drinking said sav blanc and rubbish coffee, and I plan to be able to say I stopped off in Tahiti on my way home, my tan will be so fantastic! (I didn't - but my plane went everywhere else in the known universe, so it's barely a stretch. I slept a lot between my SURPRISE leg between Singapore and Melbourne (WHAT did I say about cavolo surprises?!), so it could have stopped anywhere, really. I might have been to the moon. I might have been to Christmas Island!!!)

3. Wearing a t-shirt. Burn in hell coat! BURN IN HELL! You were fine, you were beautiful, and you were Italian and I'm so glad (see first post) that the gypsies didn't get you. But after 3 months, you stank and you were heavy and cumbersome, and I am renouncing you too! Long live singlet tops! Until the weather turns.

4. Thongs! And I mean the kind you put on your feet!!! Especially now that my giant, swollen piedi, complete with weird sharpei ankles (I've been expecting to die of a blood clot since Friday!) have gone down, and my feet are normal again! As normal as feet get, anyway. Feet are kinda weird, aren't they?! But my point is, no more boots!!! I love thongs! And again, for those of you in the Northern Hemisphere, I am talking comfy rubber slip ons here. And I'm getting into more trouble the more I write, so I'll stop. Viva la thongs!!

Please don't turn, weather! I've been keeping tabs - you've been rubbish! But you're here now. Let's be friends!

Now I have to return to real life. This means lapsed bills, leaking roofs (stupid Australian summer) and work. Funnily enough, though, I am ready to return to work. A crazy idea did pop into my head that I could do ET work next week, but I quickly quashed it. I think it was the sleep deprived psychosis talking! In truth, I hope to enrol in a new Italian course in Melbourne. I've already sent out a couple of emails - in Italian! - but as I've received no reply, I'm wondering what I actually sent. I've said some pretty random, and often downright embarrassing things, whilst cultivating my understanding of this language! I was pretty sure my email was a straghtforward inquiry about classes, but I probably offered to murder somebody's goldfish. Or worse.

I've said much, much worse!

Now, time to go and drink a daiquiri by my parent's pool. In the sun. In a t-shirt.

Mi manca tu, Firenze, ma eri fa freddo!!!

This blog will contain language that may be offensive to some viewers.

*SWEAR SWEAR SWEAR SWEAR SWEAR*!!!!!

Think F word, think S word, think C word - and I am NOT talking about my recent forray into using vegetables as substitutes for my filthy language! This is the real deal, people! Take cover!!!! KMO is NOT HAPPY JAN!!! I don't actually have anything more interesting to say than these hysterical ramblings, so some of you may just want to close the link now. And I also warn you that this post may contain images of dead people. Because I am ready to kill someone!

Greetings from Dubai International Airport! Some people, when they go on holidays, stay in hotels. I stay in frigging airports!

For the second night in a row, I am trying to position my carry on bag so it makes a comfy headrest, as I jam the small of my back into an armrest, and hope that I can get some sleep in the world's most uncomfortable chairs. For the second night in a row, I am downing rotten espressos as I fight sleep amidst crazy people. Because surely only crazy people actually sleep in airports.

For the second night in a row, I am that crazy person!!! Forget having conversations with myself in Italian - this is way more indicative of instability!! Oh my God! How have I gone from FLORENCE to an airport?! Christ!

I'm starting to feel like I should be seeking asylum or something. Hey, maybe when I get back, because I'm now so incomprehensible in any language, the Australian government will send me to Christmas Island!! I could do with a hunger strike right now!

Note to public: I jest because I am tired, and if I don't laugh I will become hysterical. And throw things. And maybe sob. Which would be very bad as I have no tissues, and don't need the runny nose issues. And I am sure I will then sit next to someone who is extremely good looking, when I already look less than top quality. So crying is not allowed!!!! I have no feelings of joy (wrong word but I SO can't think of what I am trying to say right now) about asylum seeker policy in Australia usually. And I have no idea how this blog just became political. I hate politics at five am in the morning. It was less painful talking about it in Italian. That is SAYING something!!

In short, I just missed my connection from Duabi to Melbourne. I was 15 hours early to Heathrow, but the plane was 2 hours late. Cavolo! Now I'm wondering the terminal and trying not to take out my credit card, which is generally what I do when I'm this tired and stroppy. Actually, that's a lie - I have never been shopping whilst feeling this tired. I've never been anywhere but bed!!

Dear Jeses: please give me my bed. Amen.

I just spelt Jesus wrongly, but I don't care. Maybe someone else who's actually called Jeses will hear my plea. As I don't believe in either person, it's no less likely! I feel so sorry for myself right now, and I am sure that scary gypsy in the purple coat is behind all this. She's probably been following my blog and knows I diss her on a regular basis :-) Mi dispiace.

Anyway, this is getting out of hand. I am just ranting. But once again, another unplanned blog post at five am in the morning! Time to go and cash some euros and buy some Arabian coffee - from what I remember, it wasn't half bad. And though I drank it pre Italy, it's post England. Do the math! (Starbucks in London should be forced through the gates of hell for all eternity. Disgustoso! Loro sono un criminine contro umanita'!) At the very least, they are a crime against people who have an addiction to high grade caffeine. Do you give a high-class coke addict washing detergent? I don't THINK so!!!

Still, trying to stay positive. Pfft! What good has happened thus far? I suppose I did get to watch La Bella E' La Bestia on the plane, in Italian, as I promised I would! It was hysterical!!!! Must hang on to that moment of pure glee when Belle starts singing about her vita di provincia. And the fact that they mix up Bongiorno and Bonjour because, sometimes, Italian just doesn't fit. ("Tutto qui, l'bel paesino! ogni die li non cambiare mai! Il cosi della gente vivi con semplicità ... BONJOUR!!")

Next movie I watch should be The Terminal. I didn't like it, but I'm starting to relate to it. I need some tips on how to sleep, eat food other than McDonalds and 4 day old croissants, and not go completely insane! You really will see me on television soon - I'll be the one one carrying two suitcases and speaking a third, equally unintelligable language: stark-raving-sleep-deprived-crazy!!

Can I go home now? :-( I'll even go to Christmas Island! Amen.

This is the blog that doesn't end ...

Every time I say there will be no more blogs, and then I come back for more. Ok - I like blogging, it's not a chore. But why doesn't that work in other situations? Why, Jesus/Santa/Toothfairy are you making me eat those words over and over again, but didn't listen to me when I said 'I don't want to be in Florence any more. I want to go home now.' It stands to reason that I should, therefore, be stuck in Florence forever!

Cos I did actually say that. Once. Probably after I lost a round against Pronomi or something. Which I'm just about to study because I have FIFTEEN HOURS AT THE AIRPORT NOW, WITH NOTHING TO DO!!!!

That is the reason for this blog! I thought I would be on a plane right about now - at exactly about now, actually - possibly nursing my excess baggage - and reading my dictionary because I would now very much like to know how to say the C word :-) I am instead undertaking my second all nighter in only 5 days. I don't think I've done two all nighters in 5 years!!! Not since the days of Nietzsche and the existential uni thesis have I kept so many late hours company. And I've just mentioned Nietzsche twice in almost as many blogs, so I'm either just really nostalgic for syphillitic philosophers and late night musings, or I'm on the verge of a nihilistic crisis!!

I am sooo tired, and I apologise! This will be a very innane post! It's two am, and I'm still waiting for that third espresso to kick in! And it's airport coffee too, so it may never kick in - I'll just die!!

Last Friday I didn't sleep for vodka (and, I have discovered via photos, TEQUILA! EVIL!!!) Tonight, I am keeping vigil at Heathrow. I'm only about 50% confident that I'm getting on a plane tomorrow! Now I'm afraid to leave the airport because NOBODY seems able or willing to reassure me. I think it's going to be a surprise!! Now, I'm a big fan of surprises - I've long wanted a surprise party, a pie in the face at any event bar my wedding, and random flowers are always welcome. This surprise, however, is SHITHOUSE!

This is positively the last time I ever use a travel agent. Amen.

In short, the ticket details I am looking at RIGHT NOW are 11 hours out. The flight I have on it doesn't exist, and for about an hour nobody would tell me if I had a seat on any Emirates flight at all - real, or imaginary. Preferably real.

WTF?

How does this happen? Emirates kepts cutting me off, STA wasn't open and as I began to unravel with a flat battery on my cell phone, Mia Sorella stepped in to become my champion. Grazie mille, bella! Sei straordinaria! Spero vengo a casa presto!
When I missed my plane in San Sebastian (because, admittedly, I am a mental midget) it was an adventure. When I missed my train in Rome, though I was pissed that I might miss class (I am SUCH a nerd!) I got over it. When I thought (still present tense, actually!) I might not be leaving for Australia this year - cos if I don't get this plane I will be spending 2011 begging with the gypsies to pay for another one! - I. Spat. The. Dummy. Non voglio essere un gypsy! Their clothes are rank and they are SCARY! I don't want to be scary! I'm so angry at the travel agent right now, and yet I won't ever say anything to them; I'm nice! And weak as piss! I just want everyone to get along and live happily ever after!! I want my bed. I want my friends. I want Jack Bauer. I want my mum!!!! (I want a surprise that's not cavolo!)

The upside is that I now have time to elaborate on my lovely trip to Cornwall, which went longer than expected because it was just so brilliant to be with friends by the seaside chilling out! I worked with Laura ten years ago, and yet it only felt like ten months since I'd seen her. And now she has a two year old, who is the most enchanting being ever! He stole my heart - and made me more than a little bit maternal :-) (In-joke: Mummy - there's something wrong with your lady!!!) I want one - Laura and James, he is magic!!

I visited the Eden Project, and fell in love with the coastline. I also remembered why it is I love England so much: Black faced sheep and clotted cream!!!! I swear to God, I am the reincarnation of a heroine in a pastoral novel!

Funnily enough, London hasn't had quite the same effect this time around. I am ashamed to admit that I STILL haven't seen Westminster Abbey, and will have to keep that dream fresh for another ten years now! I think I prefer my cities small. With Duomos. And Chianti!

Dear Melbourne: Please get a Duomo. And move to Italy. Amen.

Ok, I'm going to go and study verb conjugations now. It's quite a nice environment for it, actually - I don't know that there are any actual Italians at Heathrow presently, but there are certainly quite a few crackpots, so if I start conversing with myself I will fit RIGHT in :-) And maybe even end up on You-Tube!

Me: Come Stai, Kathryn?
Me: Sto Arrabbiato. E Tu?
Me: Sono annoiato con questa conversazione con me!

I repeat: I am so tired!! Hopefully this really is the last blog from Europe! Time for another killer espresso ...

The Last Post. Sort of. Cos I'm not dying or anything!

Last blog, and last cadbury chocolate bar! It's taken a long time to develop my taste buds, but I think my ten year romance with English Cadbury has finally come to an end. Perche'? Oops - why?! It may be from the 1KG box of Lindt I consumed/gave away/threw out/never-want-to-see-another-Lindor-ball-again, but I finally had my first cadbury bar in England (this trip), and it was nasty.

Well, ok, not nasty. I ate it. And if someone offered me another one, I'd eat that. I'd eat my own head as long as it wasn't covered in tripe or snails if I'm hungry enough! But the NEW suitcase I bought at Marks and Sparks for the sole purpose of trafficking illegal quantities of chocolate bars over international borders will now need to be put to better use.

Oh. I used the wrong tense, there. It already has been. Thanks Monsoon - you are the best! Christi Cavolo mamma mia FUCK! I don't need ten kilos of chocolate, but I don't need ANY new clothes or shoes, either!!! Goddamn you London! Can somebody please get married/have a party/invite me to dinner so I can wear my fancy-schmancy shoes and frocks? (I like the word frock now: deal with it gli miei amici!!!) They are pretty though :-)

And necessary. I am a cultured European now (pfft) and only like all things fine, including wine, shoes and chocolate :-) (I'm almost wetting my pants at this impression of myself as I sit here in a cafe wearing my Zara trackies and a beret and looking like a bucket of shit!) However, coffee: this is where I draw the line! I found 'Laura's' coffee shop today and thank God I did - I thought I was going to need strapping down in a dark room, with complete removal of stimulus! I was drinking 6 ESPRESSOS PER DAY!!! Jesus Christ! Finito!

Until Lygon st!!!

Today is my last full day, and I am doing it in style! Basically, I have a list of things to eat, and I am working my way through it!!! When I have a heart attack later this year, remember this day as the one that started the ball rolling! Bacon butties, banoffee pies and cream teas will all feature on today's schedule, along with the city landscape, obviously. And no more shopping!!!! Non FARE da shopping! (I hate you FARE). I have just packed my suitcase for the last time, and I do not intend to jam anything else into it - I should actually say I have just packed all of my bags, for I now have four! If customs wants to open them to see if I am indeed trafficking copius amounts of chocolate back to Australia, they can just have them. Blow them up!! There are so many little eiffle tower souvenirs-come missiles in there, they will be the deadliest suitcase bombs ever!!!!

I kid. I so kid!!

But seriously, picture a grown woman wrestling, spreadeagled on top of her suitcase, with a zipper for half and hour and you've got a fairly clear image of what my morning was like! I am not going through that in an airport!! I also emerged from that experience with the clear conviction that, though a shit movie, Confessions of a Shopaholic was like a window into my soul. Minus getting the hot guy, of course. And her green sciarpa was better than mine!!!

Is intervention time!

I am announcing, from London, my intention to give up shopping. Amen. If I can do this, then I will reward myself.... With shopping!! Who wants to come?!

Alright. Much to see, only a few short hours in which to see it. Ciao Regazzi! In Aus, I will see you shortly. In Europa, thanks so much for the memories! And watch this space - now I get to go back to banging on about winning the Pulitzer!! Or whatever the hell it was! Maybe I will just settle for a few thousand dollars, so I can come back and live in Italy and marry whoever and eat spaghetti. Simple dreams I have. Simple dreams!!!! xoxo

Withdrawal symptoms ...

Greetings from the mother country! (The one that abandoned me and didn't want me back!!! Well, now I don't want YOU! I am moving to Italy, England. So there!!! You can jam my birth right!)

Or, I am just going back to Australia. Which is nowhere near Italy or England, and where I'd better be able to get good coffee or I will die! No, I think I really will - io sono soffro da crisi di astinenza!! My current withdrawal symptoms from 6 espressos/macchiatos per day, down to none (sorry England - you can jam your coffee also) include chest pains. Yep. I am officially an addict. And I need my fix of real Italian coffee NOW!!!

And I need to speak Italian, too. Cavoli! I keep having conversations with myself, and my friend's two year old son, so I won't forget passato prossimo. And sending emails to my sister in which I hope I've used pronomi correctly, cos otherwise google translate will make no sense - not that it would anyway. So now, my friend's 2 year old son probably thinks I'm insane, and in truth I probably am insane, because I'm having conversations with MYSELF in Italian!!! (And because I'm even attempting to use pronomi!)

It doesn't take long to adjust to new climates, unfortunately. Within five minutes of arriving in the UK, I was speaking with my English accent again - to the extent that I believe Immigration thought I was taking the piss - and I was clearly already using English idioms, like 'taking the piss'. I am just an international cameleon: when I am in Australia, I speak Aussie; when I'm in England, I am English. And when I am in Italy, I am ... still Australian, with massive delusions of grandeur!

That's unlucky. It's very unlucky; I think I am becoming less fluent as the hours go by (and yes, Italy, I am taking the piss!) For the first 12 hours after leaving, once I'd recovered enough strength to actually communicate in words of any language (Vodka has betrayed me), I was still full of enthusiastic Perche' and grazie and posso prendere per favores. Now I'm just asking for tea and cucumber sandwiches, with rounded Os and dropped Hs and not a Si in sight!

Oh my God!!!Non posso dimenticare!

So worried was I that I would forget to speak Italian after a day, I remembered that several weeks ago I bought an iTouch for the purpose of hearing Italian, and I decided to use it. So out of its box it came!! It's pretty and shiny and new, still! On my epic journey to Cornwall (needed a day trip!) I ran through the podcasts of Alcatraz, which I'd gone to the trouble of downloading and then never listened to because I couldn't understand Italian and it sounded stupid.

I can now understand it, and it IS stupid! But at least I understand it enough to know that. I have not forgotten. Thank God! Grazie mille il mio Dio!! lol. It was like shoving pebbles through a sieve getting Italian into this brain - I'm sure as hell not letting go of it that quickly!! What is even less amusing than Alcatraz podcasts is that I spent an obscene amount of euros on an electronic device that's been sitting in my bag for three weeks. Maybe four. And in the meantime, I broke my phone so I should have just held out for an iPhone, and left that sitting in a box for three weeks!

True story: on this trip, I have broken:
1 Brand new camera
1 brand new laptop
1 expensive phone
And soon, no doubt, one brand new iTouch. (which I already don't know how to use, anyway. It keeps switching to loudspeaker and I don't know why). I am dangerous electronic devices!

Anyway, I am now in Cornwall, trying to navigate my way around the English keyboard (I need that little e that has the accent - where are you? Is impossible to pretend to speak Italian without you!!) and chilling with my mates before I head back to London. (I can't believe it's been ten years since I've seen Laura!!!) I have to get back to the Northern Hemisphere more often! I just had a Cornish pasty, proving once again that food is the best thing I've done on this trip!!! I am also trying to remember how to spell in English. It would appear that while I was shoving Italian into my brain, the English language was falling out.

No, seriously. I keep forgetting how to talk. Now I'm a moron in two languages!!

Anyway, back to London I soon go, and then ... back to real life. After spending a million hours on a plane, of course. Maybe I will have my own tv, and I can watch a movie in Italian.

La Bella e' La Bestia!!!

Ciao Reggazzi!

But wait, there's more ... more ennui!

Apologies, but you are getting two blog posts in two days - mostly because I need to vent my frustration and ennui (again!) and have no one to do it to until tonight when I meet up with my friends and we break loose on a bottle of tequila and a dance floor. Hopefully, I will lose my passport and my credit card, and end up roaming the streets of Firenze with the Roma gypsies - but not the scary one in the purple coat who gives me nightmares. She's terrifying.

Oh Mio Dio!I am SO SAD RIGHT NOW!! And pissing myself laughing because I just wrote 'Oh Mio Dio'. Who do I think I am?

Ok. Basta. That's enough seriousness for one blog entry! I'm British; I'm supposed to be far more reserved, so I apologise :-) As I'm far more comfortable with sarcasm and self-deprecation, I'm going to go back to that now. *clears throat*
Here's why I think I'm actually sad about leaving Florence:

1. I was supposed to have fallen in love. It's Italy, for cavoli's sake. (Yeah, I know - bad alternative. And for those of you who don't know, that word means cabbage. I'm now saying cabbages instead of swearing. I'm going to get my head kicked in, aren't I?)

2. I was supposed to know how to make Tirimasu. I'll probably still try - and kill everyone. You'd all better eat it, or I'll kill you anyway!

3. I was supposed to buy one of the fancy-shmancy wedding dresses from the shop across the way from my albergo. (Not albero, as I professed to be living in just the other day.)

4. I was supposed to be fluent. (I called my hotel an albero two days ago. Clearly, if I think I'm living in trees ...)

5. I didn't really think I would be fluent. In my imagination I am. So there!

6. I was supposed to become best friends with Pronomi. But we are mortal enemies, like the Montagues and the Capulets. But Not Romeo and Juliet, because I hate pronomi - so yes, it's a bad metaphor, and I apologise.

7. I was supposed to be on my honeymoon in Cinqueterra right now. (Actually, I never hoped for that. But I needed a seventh dot point and I didn't make it to Cinqueterra or my honeymoon, so it was a nice fit.)

8. I was supposed to have bought those kick-arse boots with fur trim. But I forgot where I saw them.

9. I was supposed to be pregnant.

10. I so was NOT supposed to be pregnant. Lol. Jesus Christ, I only just got married!!!!! :-)

11. Dotpoints 9-11 were jokes. In case you take things literally. :-)

Can I just come home to Australia now? If I can't be in Florence, I don't want to be anywhere else. Sorry England.

Amen.

The hourglass is emptying ....

So, my life is like a Russian novel. Why? Because I am feeling much existential angst at the prospect of leaving one of Europe's most beautiful cities and I have nothing - no great art, no God, no great love - to inspire me. So oppressed by this newfound nihilism was I, I even popped into a church this afternoon, but only for about a minute and a half. (Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking, either! Let's put it down to churches being pretty in Firenze and leave it at that! We all know I don't teach RE any more for a reason!)

Thanks Nietzsche. Thanks a whole bunch. (I don't know why it's his fault. I think I just wanted to see if I could still spell Nietzsche after ten years. I don't even know if I did - after 6 weeks of learning Italian, I can barely spell anything and am pretty certain I'm going to look like a complete cretin in many of my classes this year!)

Mamma Mia!

Tomorrow is officially my last day in Firenze. How has this happened? How have the last 6 weeks sailed by so quickly, and yet Pronome are still about 6 weeks more away from being learnt? Some would say 6 years. I JUST DON'T GET THEM!!!!! It's like talking to YODA!!!

Nasty little phlegm wads! Flemma; voglio ucchiderti. (I'd fully piss myself if that was correct, after all this heartache.)

But, I am pleased to say that I am fluent. Yeah, I just laughed out loud, too, in an internet cafe full of people! I am fluent minus about 60 verb conjugations and a complete understanding of Fare. But otherwise, sure - why not?! I believe my teacher's exact words were: as long as you don't get too frustrated or too angry, and concentrate on keeping it simple, you can say whatever you want.

Bless. At least, I think that's what he said - cos he said it in Italian!!! I'm going to pretend, anyway. :-)

I've had the best six weeks ever living in my bubble in Firenze, and I've spent the last week madly trying to finish everything I had to finish: places to visit, food to eat, and dear new friends to spend last few days with. (I will miss you guys heaps! xo) The food part has been excellent: last gelati at Vivoli (chocolate mousse gelati - you are God in disguise. And I am eating you.... Oh well - that's what you wanted, right? The metaphor works!) Last chianti and sangiovese (by the bottle, obviously); last melanzane parmagiana, fagiole con tonno ... first and last EVER trippa.

Sweet Jesus, why is this even a food? WHY??

Last night, after offending someone with my admission that I would eat horse, and snails - basically, I'd eat my own head before I ate tripe - I decided to bite the bullet. I'm here, it's Fiorentino. And there was always the chance it would be the most amazing thing that ever was invented.

I failed maths in year 9, but I remember something about odds in Probability. Well, I reckon the odds were against me on this one - it's the lining of a bloody cow's stomach and it was pretty much always going to taste like the most revolting thing that it's possible to put in your mouth. And I don't care where your mind goes with that. It was GROSS. Worst of all, with every mouthfull my mind was screaming: you're eating the intestines of a cow!!!!! Until at last, after a persistence that didn't pay off, after about five mouthfuls - and for about two hours afterwards - I was sure I was going to vomit!

Epic fail, trippa. Epic fail!!

But otherwise, my culinary experiences this week have been fabulous, and I am sure I have put on a good stack of weight and will therefore have something to do when I get home. I'm going to literally run my gelati-laden ass off! And never eat spaghetti again. Until April, at least. Or next week. Amen.

Anyway, I am full of ennui at leaving this beautiful city. Melbourne has the goods, but it aint no Rennaissance city! But I will probably go back to uni now and study Italian and the history of art (I know, right?!!) and then move here. In like April, or next week. Lol. I wish. First I have to pay off the credit card - OUCH! How did THAT happen?!

Farewell to Firenze, and next stop Lundra. And maybe only one or two more blog entries before I get home. Wow! But soon, I will finish my novel and then write one in Italian - just laughed out loud again - and be so rich and famous I really will be able to pop back to Firenze whenever I feel like it, and marry my existential sweetheart and lose my ennui. Oh hang on, that's Tolstoy ... I really haven't read enough Italian literature.... But I do have Pride and Prejudice in Italian and that's good enough. Italian Mr Darcy, come on down!!!

Anyway, must be off. Have to pack at least 50 kilos of luggage into a suitcase and make it seem like it's only 20 ... is that even possible? I'm not very good at physics, but that sounds like a long shot. I may have to actually pack 50 kilos worth of luggage.

Cavoli.

Dear credit card - a new present for you! Another suitcase, and about $500 in excess baggage. Grazie mille!

And the commonwealth bank says 'Prego'.

So close, yet so monumentally far!

Dear Brain: whose purpose are you serving here? Mamma Mia! Sei molto stupida e embarrassante, caro!

An evening of highs and lows was my Saturday. (The day itself was high - thanks, girls, for a great day in Siena!) Ieri Sera, the high began with a few bevvies and then I managed to practice/inflict my Italian in a most useful way, and direct a nice elderly couple towards one of my favourite cosy trattorias a few blocks away.

I hope.

But, in fairness to me, after lying to them and agreeing that I was indeed a local of Firenze, they seemed quite prepared to believe that I was fluent in Italian. I would have come clean if they had needed, like, a hospital or diplomatic immunity or something! I was just getting ready to believe in my alleged fluency myself when I got back to my palazzio. Here comes the low bit: standing out on the street was a helpless and forlorn Patrick Dempsey-meets Ben Affleck Uomo di Italiano. He asked me, in Italian, did I know where to find the Hotel Bavaria?

And I did. I live there, hot Italian man who also dresses well and has glasses, so is therefore intellectual :-)

I managed to blurt out this easy response (minus, of course, the superlatives that I kept for myself!) in fairly flustered and incomprehensible Italian and we went up to the hotel. In silence on my part. In silence because, although I KNOW how to say much more than the following basic bloody sentences: What's your name? Where are you from? How long are you in Firenze? You're unbelievably good looking and I am looking to get married to stay in Italy forever and have 15 children and Sunday lunches in Fiesole - my brain went to butter. No, it was already butter. My brain CURLDED!

Cavolo! It would seem I am now my own worst enemy; even my own brain is turning on me! It won't speak in Italian even when it knows how to. I didn't need to give an Italian oral presentation on the pros and cons of asylum seeker policy in Australia, for God's sake! (Although, I have done that!) Just basic small talk, brain. Christ - I could have given him directions as I was taking him up the stairs; it would have been better than nothing! Cavolo! (That's my new non-swear word, as apparently I swear too much!) It would seem my own brain does not want for me to have 15 children that look like either Patrick Dempsey or Ben Affleck. Why not??? Is it really holding out for Matt Damon? Cos this was a fairly reasonable substitute - work with me here, buddy!

I'm now trying to concentrate on the positives - the one positive - which is that he didn't even say thank you when we arrived. It's still kind of a shame, though, as I had recovered my A Game (ha!) and had my best 'prego' prepared.

Cavolo. Prego! That is apparently the best I could do after only ten minutes before giving word perfect directions. Oh Crap!! I probably sent that couple to Siberia! I hope there's no 'bad' area of Firenze. I hope I don't soon pass two elderly persons huddled in a doorway clutching a cardboard sign that reads: need money. Mugged after following the directions of anglo with delusions of Italian grandeur!

I think my A Game is ever so slightly flawed!

Dear Brain: You owe me big time! You must repay me for the damage you have done!
Devi farmi parlare molto bene l'italiano questa settimana. Altrimenti ti ucciderò. Ti ribelli! Basta!

Cavolo!!! Or, cavoli? GOD DAMMIT!!

Anyway - my last week. I have pledged to speak in Italian for the whole week. No exceptions.

This should be a really interesting week. lol.

One more week. EEK!

Another slack week - but I don't have time to write in English! My goals are, some would say, extreme (Pazzo is a better word) but I've been very busy pretending to become fluent in Italian so I can move to Italy and marry a nice Italian regazzo (senza the madre!) and have 15 children that I will take to Sunday serivce in the Duomo, I simply haven't had time for writing in ENGLISH!!! It's a big job making such grand plans whilst running the gauntlets that are continually being thrown down by my mortal enemies: Fare and Pronome. I really hate you guys! And I already feel less than affectionate towards the verb teneses I haven't met yet - I've heard there are a million of them, and I'm fairly confident they're going to screw me and my future wedding in Venice to the wall!

Not nice, Italain. Not nice. Nice - what kind of an adjective is that?? Oh my God. I can no longer communicate in Italian OR English effectively!

(By the by: Dear Jesus, make it all happen and I really will reconvert and take my 15 children to the Duomo each Sunday. Or maybe that church behind the Piazzale di Michelangelo, so the fat little bastards can walk up all those stairs. They will be eating a lot of gelati, and after 15 children I'll probably need it too.

Oh - and that's just a figure of speech, Lord; they won't really be bastards, I swear it! (And I might settle for two children - I'm an extremely col-lapsed Catholic, after all. We can't expect miracles now, can we?!!)

Anyway, today marks the beginning of my last week in Firenze. And yes, I am already playing with the idea of staying just one more little day!!! It's been a great week - Switzerland (Zurich) last weekend, which was amazing, and this week - no scenery, no study, but plenty of socialising and cheap chianti!!! (I have studied a bit, actually, I'm not crazy - incurring wrath is not part of my itinerary!) I WILL MISS THIS LIFE SO MUCH!!! (Are you LISTENING Jesus/Santa/Zeus???!) Zurich was great: I can sum it up in one word, really: food. Not even particulary glorious culinary experiences, actually - I just ate. I don't know whether to put it down to Friday being especially epically rubbish or just that sausage and chocolate and rosti are ... divinity in an edible form!) I also went to the Zurich museum of fine art, and for the first time I had a REALLY good time being in an art gallery. I love Monet, and I must have spent about an hour just looking at his 6 paintings.

I'm so wonderfully cultured after 3 months in Europe :-)

Anyway, I promise I will elaborate on this culturally (deficient) high calorie weekend at a later date. I have to go to class now. I have one more week, as I said, to become more amazing than that pathetic entry in Italian a few weeks ago. I AM ROCKY!

Or just a rock. Oh Dear!

I am the smartest idiot alive!!!

So, another day, another decision to make - and this time, it's a big one: when one is in Europe, where does one go for the weekend???

I've been pondering this AWFUL question for the past week; and it is awful, because I have too many choices - and they are all awesome. Because this is Europe! Do I stay in Italy and inflict my Italian, like a plague, on the poor and unsuspecting inhabitants? Cinqueterra? Milan (Shoes!!)? Sicily? Siena? (Is close, at least!!) Or, for two measley days do I jump a train to Prague, Croatia, Greece?

Why am I even naming countries and cities? There are a million to choose from!!The real quesiton is, what do I want?

I know! I want to stay here for the whole of 2011 and see them all!

Yeah. Fuck off universe, I hear you. I will be returning to Australia in exactly 4 weeks. How repugnant! Lol.

So, thus the reason for my quandry: 4 weeks equals 4 weekends. 3 actually, because the last one is taken. Oh My God!! I have to see the rest of Europe in 4 weeks!!! Why the hell did I stay so long in Florence???

Because I love it :-). And, excellent news on the news front - I PASSED LEVEL ONE!!! After saying no to too many bevvies all week, I managed to spit in the face of ci (HORROR), pronomi (TERROR) and essere and fare (the devil and the antichrist respectively). When yesterday I was running to the bathroom to cry quietly in the foetal position under the sink (no, not really but it could have happened - and my classmates thought that was why I was going!!) today, like Rocky, I was punching the air in triumph!!! While yesterday, I wanted to punch Italian in the face!!! (No,not really!!)

My analogy worked! I wonder if I should also go for a run up some stairs. Will I get fit in one single montage of exercise like Rocky did? And lose the 4 course dinner I had the other night (and the gelati I've had every day?!!!)? Hmmm. 4 course dinner ...

Food is good!

Anyway, enough bullshit. I passed, Florence is ace and all is well. Except for the fact that I can't seem to download my photos, but if that's my biggest problem today I can live with that! And I'm sure I will also decide where I want to eat dinner momentarily, whether it will be pizza or pasta, and if I want the boots with fur on them, or without - those swanky black ones.

Hmm. Do you hate me for the kind of decisions I have to make right now?? Is a far cry from when the year 12s will do the SAC and what will we do in the meeting!!!!

Now, about that weekend? Sheesh! Maybe I will decide on Saturday :-)

Yay for sun, sangivonese and spaghetti Bol. Oh, and Venice!

A great weekend - two in a row (actually, about 8 in a row but who's counting?!)

This weekend saw me head up to Venice on the early train yesterday for some freezing fun. Whilst it was forecast to be 15 in Florence, I missed that - there is no way it could have been more than about 5 - and froze my little fingers off. But who can care when they're in Venice? It was as magical as I remembered - and as expensive!!! Jesus H! I took out all my money for the week and came back with nothing - and all I had to show for it was a vaporetto ride, a couple of panini and a handful of coffees.

A handful of coffees. Methinks I'm now addicted to espressos. I want one NOW!

It was beautiful, and I'll be boring the socks off everyone shortly with the photos - I must have photographed every little alleyway in Venice! I visited a few basilicas, the odd church - San Marcoàs, of course - and the Palace of the Doges, but beyond that I just spent hours wondering.

And getting very, VERY lost.

Dear Jesus: your maps of Venice are wrong. Yep. They are not to scale, they lie about where streets are, and I don't see how it is possible to get from one side of the grand canal to the other without crossing a bridge. And yet it happened. I swear, it did!!! I felt like I was having a seizure!

Maps of Venice are the devil, and eventually I lost it, and didn't really seem to fare any worse!! Eventuallt, you either end up at San Marco's, the Realto or the ocean - it took all bloody day of being lost, but eventually I buffered my way between these places, stopping here and there for a ten dollar coffee. And these awesome cookies that apprently used to be favourites of one of the Doges, but which is probably just an excuse to charge five dollars for a cookie.

It was worth it.

Today I met with my friends (who didn't join me in Venice due to outrageous fortune of it all) in Bologna - home of the Bolognese and tortellini that is now in my belly, along with most of the bottle of Sangiovense. Oh red wine, you really are delicious in Italy. But not in Australia. Amen. :-) Then we had gelati and strolled/tottered around the beautiful old city, pretending to speak Italian in slurred voices. Actually, I think when I'm drunk I really CAN speak Italian!!! Going to buy a bottle of tequila right now in time for class tomorrow!!

No. I will be good. I will go home and study right now. Right after I find a McDonalds!!!!! Hangover food is hangover food, no matter which side of the world you are on!!!

And tomorrow, I am going to wake up fluent anyway, because I am Rocky. Amen.

Ciao Il Miei Amici!!

A new day, a new comittment.

Ok, so I was a bit of a cranky pants yesterday; I blame the mixture of tequila, chianti and Heinekin that, when taken together, acts as a portal to another world, where one can't speak Italian and gets all shitty and teary that they can't speak Italian. Or do other things (oh my God I HAVE to stop daydreaming about that in class too, because it is NOT HELPING!!!)

Well, not literally teary. Actually, I just wanted to smash Italian's face in (before my teacher smashed mine!)

Anyway, I have renounced this evil world and from now on will only drink chianti and Heinekin separately. And I will not drink tequila at all!! I made a solomn oath ten years ago never to touch tequila again, and that resolution has held fast until now - tequila is the antichrist. Amen!

So, after a good night's sleep, I made the decision to stay yet another two weeks in Florence. And also, to be absolutely, resolutely determined that I can speak and understand Italian within that month. I am Rocky!!!! I shall triumph - either by speaking fluently or, like Rocky, smashing my opponent's head in!! (And please note, I am speaking metaphorically - I am not going to smash ANYTHING!:-)

Today was better - in a sense. That sense being that I didn't get upset when I got EVERY future bullshit essere verb thingy wrong. I just laughed and heaped on the self-deprecating humour that all Australians love but that seems to really upset Italians. So, I can't win - I'm upsetting my teacher whatever I do!!!!! But, relaxed I did throw in a few pearler comments that I think were fairly impressive, and made me look less remedial.

Oh, the pain of being remedial. As I said today - in Italian - I am so used to be being ONE of the smartest people in the classroom, not the stupidest person in the SCHOOL!!!! This is the self-deprecation that gets me into trouble. They should be concentrating on my ability to joke in Italian, God dammit!!!

Anyway, another month and I can't wait :-). This weekend is set to be awesome, too: Venice with some friends from school, from which I will return early(ish) to watch the superbowl with some other friends on Sunday night. NO TEQUILA AND NO BEER. Just wine this weekend.

And I will study my arse off as well!

Caterina sucks and is not going to be biligual today

I've been a bit slack with this blog - one measly entry, and in Italian, in almost two weeks - but I've been so busy immersing myself (formal for fucking drowning) in lingua di Italiano, I barely have time to write or do anything else during the week - apart from those weekly beer drinking sessions at Salamancas, that is! And I will NOT be doing that again: when drunk, I reckon I can speak Italian as well as the next student; when I'm hung over, I have brain damage and can barely communicate in English, let alone Italian. And I can't stand the mortification. I'm STILL embarrassed about how shit I was yesterday. Note to universe: am I just wasting everyone's time?

I suck at Italian.

I feel this week like I am making absolutely no progress at all, which places me in a quandary: on the one hand, I really do love it here - it's Florence for God's sake! I have good friends, and when I don't look like a halfwit, I have a lot of fun. And I do not want to fail at this!!! So now I'm stuck between staying longer in Florence, and sticking out at what I started, or fleeing for dear life because I feel like any day now one of my teachers is going to smack my head in!!!

Second part of the quandry: I have to whole of Europe at my disposal and I don't want to be anywhere else. I love Florence!!! But I don't want to suck at Italian any more either!!! So, Jesus/Santa/tooth fairy/fairy godmother/Zeus: I need to wake up fluent really soon!!! Tomorrow would rock. Amen. If not fluent myself, can I please friggin understand what my teachers are saying? I feel like Italian is an organ transplant and my brain is rejecting it. I need some anti rejection medication stat!

On a brighter note, there is Gelati and I spent last weekend with my very old friend Kirsten and her husband, when I travelled to Germania. I haven't seen Kirsten in 10 years, and it was so awesome to catch up with her again. We went on a two day tourism spree, and I ate lots of sausage and German beer - so I was happy :-) They were fantastic hosts - it was like I'd seen Kirsten every week for the last decade.

Anyway, I am going to STUDY my ass off tonight. And tomorrow I will speak to hotel manager and actually make sense: I'm pretty sure is merely hiding a truckload of frustration behind a veneer of extreme handsomeness and congeniality. This makes me very sad :-(

I think I need some new shoes.

Coming to you live in Italian ... NO GOOGLE TRANSLATE!!!

Firenze e un bellissimo citta e sono arrivuto qui due settimane fa e io non posso dicedere quando a partire da Firenze perche mi piace Firenze troppo. Mi piace l'storia e la grande architecturo e vicinanza da altra citta in Italia. Qualche volte io manco il miei amici ma io vado in Australia e io torno a lavorare presto quindi devo gradire molto Firenze io potere. E, ho Facebook!! Anche, il collegi da lavorato sono tornato alla scuola Santa Monica ieri mattina. Io non geloso essere in Europa perche sebbene io studio, e piu divertamente e rilassare essere una studenta! (Yeah. Rivetting stuff!)

Cosa mi piace di piu Firenze?
Numero uno: il duomo. sull esterno e molto bello, e molto grande e colorato. La cuppola e spetaccolore! Ma, penso sul interno e poco noioso. Si! E vuoto!

Numero due: spaghetti. Posso mangiare spaghetti in altri posti ma mi piace spaghetti a Firenze con oglio e peppe. Buona!

Numero tre: gelati. Posso inoltre mangiare gelato in altri posti ma mi piace la gelataria accanto a Plaza San Marco perche hanno biscotti e cioccolato gelato!!

Numero quattro: io mangio il cibu di Toscana, in particolore ribollita e il piatto con i fagioli e tonno (No so il nome). E bevo chianti. In Australia, non mi piace vino rosso, ma il chianti e buona in Italia. BUONA! Ma se io bevo troppo, io avro un mal di testa! Ho un mal di testa oggi!

Numero cinque: il ponto vecchio. Mi piace gli edificio antico e negozi; ci sono molti negozi sull Ponto Vecchio!

Ma, quella che mi piace di piu a Firenze sono i negozi. Posso trovare tutti! Le Scarpe e magliette e dvds di La Bella e la Bestia! Ieri sera ho trovato le traduzione in Italiano di Orgoglio e Pregiudizio perche e il mio favorito libro in Inglese. Io non posso leggare questo libro in Italiano ma non mi interessa. Ma, io voiglio imparare a cantare le canzone di La Bella e La Bestia quindi io posso cantare sotto la doccia, in Italiano.

Quando io torno a Melbourne e staro bene ma io pensero a Firenze e la migliore citta nell' universo e io voglio vivere qui. Amen.

Pisa, Pizza and Piss ups!

So, a fabulous weekend after a fabulous week … and yet today began just like last Monday. With me feeling like a total and utter moron!! WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER THESE VERBS????? It is my own fault, I spent very little of my weekend – five minutes, as I sheepishly admitted – studying. Because the weekend was far too good for studying! I had exploring to do, I had eating to do, I had piss ups to go to … and I had Pisa!

This weekend, I took a road trip (more accurately, rail trip) to Pisa with some mates I've made at school, where we took in the leaning tower for about twenty minutes before spending about three hours eating ridiculous amounts of pizza and chianti. Yum! I am happy to report that the leaning tower is still leaning, and that by the end of the day I was leaning myself!!! And I really need to leave my fricking credit card at home if I am going to drink, because I have somehow ended up with a new pair of shoes and another jacket. I have no idea how I will get them home, either – I doubt I’ll have enough ON my card at this rate to pay the bloody excess baggage. I think I will have to buy my suitcase its own seat, it will be cheaper!!!

My new year’s resolution was not to shop in 2011. Epic fail. EPIC!!!! AHHHHHHH!

But I have done many other things this weekend, too. I was sorely admonished by IDB for not having seen anything of Florence in first week. Basically, I’m getting into trouble at school when I don’t study, and then getting into trouble when I do at the expense of the Uffizi gallery! So, Saturday I took in the artwork of the 4 turtles at the Uffizi, climbed the Duomo for stunning city views, and slogged my way up to the Piazzale Di Michelangeo (between the two giving myself a minor heart attack, I think) for even better views of the Duomo. And I did all this on the coldest freaking day they have had this year. (Other resolution to stop swearing).

FA FREDDO!!!!!! Jesu!

But it was stunning, and worth it to be up so high even with the gale force winds that made my fingers so cold I nearly dropped my camera right over the side of the duomo – 414 steps up! (Which is far. I don’t know how far, but it is!) And, given my mini heart attack and all the pizza that is quickly making its way to my arse, I have today joined the gym!! I am in Florence, working out AND studying. Is a very strange turn of events!!!!

The other exiciting thing that happened this weekend was that I got lost – that’s just par for the course, really and not the exciting part – but then I asked for directions IN Italian, and I got directions IN Italian and I followed them ... and I got there. Amen.

Who cares? You might ask. Well, you won't all be asking that. Those that know me well also know that I CAN’T EVEN DO THAT IN ENGLISH!!!! I get lost inside an empty room! Are you proud friends, or do you not believe me? Yeah, thought not. Well, it is all true!

Anyway, back to school today with my new jacket and my new shoes and my new sense of incompetence. Dear Italy: why so many verb conjugations? Why not consolidate a little, so fuckwits like me can keep it together?

I need to find another gypsy!!!!!

And the winner is ... Florence!

Ciao one and all! I am sorry to those of you who keep asking for more entries, but at the moment I am too busy doing two things:
- fawning over the Italian dreamboat in my hotel, who I am NEVER going to get
- learning to parlo Italiano

Greetings from Firenze. I arrived last Sunday and, though I realise this is starting to sound just a little hollow in its sincerity (after saying it about EVERYWHERE!), I absolutely, positively am over the moon about Florence, or Firenze. It is my favourite place in Europe, and has given me the best 4 days, of any I have had so far, hands down. Of course, this comes as very little surprise. I've been to Firenze before, and had anticipated spending two, maybe three weeks here.

I am now signed on for five!

In fact, I am basically spending the rest of my trip here - with weekends to the other cities of northern Italy - right here. And I wish I could spend the rest of the year! (A quick stop over in Britain is still on the cards too. Very quick!)

I haven't quite always felt this way. My first day at Italian language school was a fair disaster, in which I learned that Katie is not always as intelligent as she thinks she is. It was a fair punch to the ego - I don't have a lot of confidence in many of my abilities save my brain, so when it failed me too I just wanted to kiss my money good by and get the hell out of here! But then I went out and had dinner near the Duomo, some gelati, bought a pair of jeans (shopping IS very therapeutic, you know) followed by some drinks at a bar near the school. And then some more drinks with my class mates, and before I knew it, it was Thursday - it is Thursday! - and I was hooked.

And a tiny little bit smarter. Io posso parlare in Italiano perche faccio studiare.
I'm still learning prepositions and such, but that should pretty much translate! I had a great time yesterday texting people with their own private messages in Italian. I did fuck them up - va instead of fa, the wrong prepositions. But I can actually have little conversations in Italian now!!!

Yesterday I woke with a cold, and buoyed on by successes in class - my teacher informed the whole class that I was far less inept than I had been. Thanks. Really not embarrassing at all - I decided to go into the Farmacia and tell the pharamcist what was wrong with me and what I needed in my pigeon Italian. It worked - he understood perfectly! Too well, perhaps: before I knew it, he was banging on in quick Italian about how to take the 'pseudoefadrina' and I didn't understand a scientific word, except that I could have two tablets four hourly.

Umm. Isn't that what he said? I really did think so! So, I had 4 in the six hours before bed. 8 hours later, it was time to get up, and I hadn't slept a wink!!! Oh my GOD! As wired as anything, I spent the entire night studying - more texts, emails; 'fun' studying! - and feeling pretty proud of myself because I thought I was going to blow everyone away after my outstanding night of practice.

When I almost fell asleep at the table, teacher was not happy. He thought, I could tell, I was a moron for taking four pseudoefadrina in six hours, and that I must have had brain damage. He was molto arrabbiatto.

And then I made a fool of myself at the hotel in front of Italian Dream Boat!

Shame. Our bilingual children would have been stunning, taking after him, and taking after me they would have been ... short!

But, in all seriousness, I find myself far more relaxed and at peace than I have been these past few weeks. Florence is just too beautiful, and I am having a great time: my palazzio is fantastically fifteenth century Italian, and the other students at my school are a lot of fun. And I am learning!!!! Slowly. Sort of. Yay!

By the by, I can actually read Italian better than I can hear it. So when I read the instructions of the packet of tablets just a few moments ago, it was, in fact, one tablet four hourly. How I got una and due mixed up, I'll never know. I'm just lucky I didn't hear otto or something!!

Next post: the elopement. Ha ha ha.

He might want a visa?

Rome, if you want to!

Great; now I'm going to have that stupid song in my head all day!

So, I am in Roma, and have been for two days after a very comfortable sleeper train bought me here from Paris. I have no idea why anyone would ever take a train sitting down, when they can lie there, and wake up just as the train is pulling in to the station. I will never do so again!

I've had a very pleasant few days, beginning in Paris and meeting Bridget, where we did all the things one is supposed to do when in Paris: the Louvre, Versaille, the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Dy Lysee, eating cheese baguettes, eating chocolate croissants, and absolutely stuffing yourself rotten with creme brulee and a nice Bordeaux. The highlight of day one was being lasciviously perved at the whole time we were eating, by the old-man waiter, who then politely informed me that 'I had nice woman'. Shudder. I wish it were actually permissable to be like Grace Kelly and slap people across the face; that would have been grouse!

Versailles, by the way, is just fantastic. It's so decadently gorgeous, it made the many long, wrong turns we took to get there very worth it. More gold in each room that I've seen in one jewellery shop! Bridget and I have each reserved wings for ourselves, and encourage everyone to come and visit, for it will be our summer residence! (Our winter residence in the Louvre).

Arriving in Rome, I also did what any good tourist must do (after majorly cracking the shits and bursting into tears because, though I was AT the hotel, I couldn't figure out how to get inside it. There was no door. I guess sleeper trains don't actually provide you with a great nights' rest, for I should never have been so emotional otherwise - and the nine serves of dairy that made me vomit in the middle of Paris. That didn't help either!) Anyway, I did what any good tourist would do: I jumped on a hop on/hop off bus - HELLO! What else was I going to do?! There are Manolos at stake here! - for a tour of grand old Rome. Then I got over it, and walked. And ate the weirdest assortment of food ever, including pizza with apple, mushrooms and gorgonzola (yes, it was vile) and these delightful pork and spanish olive meatballs that will haunt my dreams forever. I'm salivating right now! Followed by more dairy in the way of vanilla gelati - though I'm limiting my dairy intake to one serve now, lest I vomit in the middle of Rome too.

Why does dairy hate me so? When all I want to do is marry it and have its children: chocolate, cheese and creme brulee children? That I will then eat. Sick.

Anyway, today I roamed the Colisseum (sic. How the hell do you spell it?) which was very cool; strolled the forum, which for my mind has always been even cooler, and ate some more pizza. I have decided that for the next three weeks in which I make Florence my home, I am not allowed to eat pizza every day, or I will come back as doughy as one myself. It's amazing I haven't turned into an Oompa Lumpa yet - must be all the walking.

Anyway, to Florence I go! To learn to speak me some Italiano!

Ciao!