So, I woke up this morning and realized that I couldn't open my right eye all the way... It was doing the same thing my eyes sometimes did in 8th grade (for those of you who recall) when Cate called me Quasimoto. Awesome. So when I tried to ask "la mia mamma" Maria Pia what she thought was wrong she mumbled something in Italian and brought one of those crazy gel-filled sleeping masks to the breakfast table and tied it around half my face. So I looked way more normal eating breakfast looking like a pirate, obviously. At least the Austrian girl who I live with, Rafaela, thought it was pretty amusing.
Another ridiculous day of school today. Spending hours pretending to know what's going on. But my comprehension is definitely improving. Or I'm getting better at making things up. Either way, I say ridiculous things all the time. My class is the most interesting group. There are people from all over. Brazil, the Netherlands, California, Korea, Greece, Nigeria. It's insane. Except this one d bag in my class named Vagner from Brazil. Dude sucks. He speaks Italian like fluently and interrupts people all the time. Not to mention the fact that he's like 40. Get outta here. There's a Brazilian girl in class too. Who's pretty plump and loves wearing scandalous clothing. Her sartorial choices actually became a topic in class today. Hilarious. Oh, and she has a tattoo on her wrist that says "Diva". Classy.
Well, I've spent all 3 days that I've been in Italy lusting over all of the women's gladiator sandals that I see. I don't know if they're an Italian thing, or a tourist thing, but I wanted them. And like Spence said "When in Rome, do as the Florentines do!" So I bought some. These are them on the sick pink, argyle sheet that's on my absurd twin bed. (Pictures of the decor in my room to follow...)
The weather is still amazing, and Florence is so pretty. This is not real life. It's never going to stop blowing my mind. Maria Pia is a fabulous cook. So I've put to rest any question as to whether or not I'm going to be morbidly obese when I leave. She serves like four courses at every dinner. And they're all so good. Bummer.
Thinking about going out tonight... we'll see how that goes. Obviously still haven't found my blogging voice. Give it time.
Va bene.
I hope with your new found strength in gladiator fashion that you will punch out the old brazilian man who should be at COS if anything and for his brazilian counterpart you should ask her if she really is a female version of a hustla!
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