Planes, Tranes, and Automobiles

My journey from Charlotte to Bologna has been a long and wild ride. I departed from Charlotte Douglass airport at 2:35 PM, which was headed to Philadelphia, and finally Rome, Italia. I parted ways with my family at security and headed to my gate. After reading something one of my friend's sent me, I found myself in tears, alone, in the middle of the airport. I felt ridiculous, and then I realized I was sitting near some students who I was pretty sure were going to Europe as well, so I dried my eyes and struck up conversation. They were all students from Clemson who were studying abroad in Belgium. It was nice to chat with them while we waited. Strangers who meet in airports have more in common than they would have ever otherwise realized. I sat down in my seat, only to find out that the girl sitting next to me was from UNC also. Small World. She was leaving for Seville, Spain. I didn't read that entire flight, and I barely pulled out my I-pod. We hung around talking for a while in the Philadelphia airport until we had to find our separate gates. I really enjoyed our conversation. I sat down at the gate servicing Roma, Italia, and though it first appeared that it would be mostly Americans on the flight, I was really early getting to my gate, and was blown away by how many people I could hear speaking Italian once the waiting area filled up. And there were so many adorable little bambini. I ended up sitting across from a woman with short blonde hair, probably in her mid/early twenty's who, come to find out, had studied abroad in Rome herself when she was an undergraduate, and returned after graduation and has been teaching English in Roma for the past 3 and 1/2 years. The other was a tall, skinny Italian man wearing bright lavendar pants, and I'm pretty sure my attempts to speak Italian humored him quite a bit. Next to him was yet another girl studying abroad, but this time in Roma. The flight was long. I watched the social network, and tried to sleep but I couldn't. We arrived in Roma at 9:00 AM. Everything from that moment seems like a blur, maybe from the jet lag, the excitement, or the adrenaline, or some combination of all three. I managed to find my way around l'areo, through customs, baggage, and up to a train platform where I caught a train that would take me from the airport to the train station. The train ride was about 45 minutes to an hour and when we finally made it to the Roma Termini, I had about an hour and 1/2 to kill before I would catch my train at 12:15, which would take me from Roma to my final destination, Bologna. I mostly wandered during this time. There weren't many places to sit down, and I didn't really know what else to do. I surprised myself with my Italian when I went to go to the information desk to make sure that my ticket was all squared away because I had bought it ahead of time, and I definitely think I paid too much for it, but I would have had no way of knowing. Despite that the "binario" for my train had been changed, I made it. And after carrying my luggage around all day, I felt like I had just spent hours at the gym working on my arms. The train ride was really peaceful. I listened to music and switched back and forth between staring out the window and observing this family sitting across the aisle. They had the world's most adorable little boy, and they seemed so happy. There was a bit of confusion with the seating arrangements when an elderly group boarded the train in Firenze, so after a bit of confused exchanges of Italian, I ended up relocating. My car was full, and I didn't really want to venture too far since I knew Bologna was only another 30-45 minutes away, so I ended up standing by the door. It was nice though. I had a great view out of the window, even though much of the latter part of this ride was in a tunnel. Bologna took me by surprise. We emerged from a tunnel and all'improvviso, c'era Bologna. I am blown away. I can't believe I finally made it. From the little I have seen of it so far, Bologna is more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. I left the train station, although not without receiving wishes of luck from a pastor who had shared my seating section with me for the majority of the train ride. I caught a cab to my hotel and checked in. Before I fell asleep for a 6 hour nap that was only supposed to last for one, I took a shower and changed, in the process, accidentally pulling the alarm cord in my room which was followed by a call from the man at the front desk making sure everything was okay. I was trying to figure out how to work the shower and in the end, I was unable to do it without his help. I was expecting to feel like "the American" as soon as I set foot in Italia. And even though I did sometimes, especially when I was dragging around my two huge suitcases, there were moments where people treated me as if I were one of them. I don't know if they were being nice, or if they really were oblivious to the fact that I was an American who has never been in this country before, but it made me feel confident, and as the day progressed, I felt more and more comfortable speaking the language. Now, I'm not sure what I will do. I kind of failed at beating the jet lag, but I know I am definitely going to need more than 6 hours to make up for the past 48. It's too late to really go out anywhere in the city now, but tomorrow will certainly be full of exploration. After all, I am by myself for the next few days.